The Devil Inside Read online

  “Hello,” she chirruped. “My name’s Eve. Can I help?”

  “Err, no thanks,” he replied. “I just need some peace and quiet.” Despite Brodie’s orders to come across as lost, the woman gave him the chills and he wanted her away from him.

  In spite of what he’d just said, she sat down beside him anyway. “Do you need someone to talk to?”

  “No thanks. Like I said, I just need some peace and quiet.”

  “A burden shared is a burden halved.”

  Elliott forced down his irritation. “I want to be alone with my thoughts.”

  Eve’s gaze turned thoughtful, her searching green eyes seeming to penetrate right into his mind. “You do deserve all the good things in your life.”

  He blinked at her. “Sorry?”

  She gestured to his wedding ring. “Your wife. You do deserve her, your job too. You’re a good person, err?”

  “Adam.” Inwardly he cringed. That was the alias he usually used during the course of his work but she was going to think he’d only said it because she was called Eve.

  “Adam,” she beamed. “What a strong name, from the very first man.”

  “Yeah, so I believe.”

  “You’re a good person Adam, I see it so clearly and you deserve good things.”

  “How did you know…”

  “That you feel unworthy of everything you love? It radiates off you Adam, I feel it so strongly and it breaks my heart. I used to feel like that myself once and whenever something good came into my life I’d push it away, afraid I would lose it anyway.”

  Elliott was torn between running out of the building, feeling creeped out and listening to more. “Yes,” he breathed.

  She patted his hand. “Here at Higher Light we understand. Here there is no judgement, no scorn, only love and understanding. Actually we have a support group here this evening for people struggling with the same issues you’re struggling with.”

  “Thanks but I’m okay.”

  “Really? Wouldn’t you like to feel better, to feel truly deserving for the first time in your life? It would only enhance your relationship with your wife. If not for yourself, do it for her.”

  Elliott realised he was seriously considering the prospect and was shocked by how quickly this woman had got into his head, he’d assumed he’d be invulnerable to their mind games. Disconcerted, he shot to his feet. “Thanks but I’ve got to go.”

  “If you change your mind Adam you know where we are.”

  He nodded before hastily leaving.

  “We’ve an appointment with Mason Mortimer,” Cass told the chirpy receptionist at the office of The Glasgow Courier while Brodie stood beside her, glowering, arms folded across his chest.

  “Please take a seat and I’ll inform him that you’re here,” smiled the receptionist, doing her best to ignore Brodie and his mood.

  “Thank you,” replied Cass, being extra courteous to make up for Brodie.

  They took two of the line of seats opposite the reception desk.

  “I can’t believe I’m doing this,” sighed Brodie.

  “You want information, he’s got it.”

  “He’ll stick his nose into my investigation, get in the way and just be the fanny that he is.”

  “Give him a chance. He might be able to help. This case is huge, we could use some help.”

  “Suppose.”

  Cass smiled at the way he sounded like a sulky child and took his hand. “If you promise to be a good boy you’ll get a special treat when we get home.”

  His eyes lit up. “What?”

  She whispered in his ear, what she had to say making him grin.

  “Really?” he said.

  “Really.”

  “Let’s sack this off and go home then.”

  “That wasn’t the deal.”

  The door beside the reception desk opened and a short wiry man with thick black glasses, slicked-back black hair and a thick black beard appeared. He wore tight blue jeans and a blue and grey checked shirt, over which was slung a black jacket. Inwardly Cass sighed. If there was one thing likely to prod Brodie’s anger, it was a hipster.

  “Well, well, well,” smiled Mason. “Brodie MacBride. I never thought I’d see you back here after the stapler incident.”

  “Don’t get excited wee man,” he growled back. “I’m no’ here for an autograph.”

  Mason turned his attention to Cass and looked her up and down. “Ms Carlisle, Brodie’s inimitable second-in-command. What a treat.”

  Brodie wrapped his arm around her and yanked her close. “Don’t even think it pal.”

  “You’re together?” exclaimed an incredulous Mason.

  “Aye we are,” retorted Brodie. “We’ve bought a house together and everything, so hands and eyes off.”

  “Now we’ve established that,” said Cass, freeing herself from Brodie’s suffocating embrace. “Can we talk? It’s about Higher Light.”

  All amusement vanished from Mason’s eyes, which took on a serious, almost haunted look. “Please tell me you’re investigating them,” he said quietly.

  “We are,” replied Brodie.

  “I’m glad someone finally is. Come on through.” Mason looked to the receptionist. “Kerry, please hold all calls and visitors.”

  “But you’re expecting a call from the local MSP…”

  “Tell him to bloody wait,” he snapped, causing her eyes to widen. He took in a deep breath, the smooth smile returning. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shout. Just please, hold all my calls.”

  “Will do,” she replied, giving him a forgiving smile. “Would you like any tea or coffee?”

  “No thanks. We don’t want to be disturbed. This way,” he told Brodie and Cass before trudging back the way he’d come.

  They followed him through the office, which was buzzing with life and efficiency, populated by people frantically pounding away at computers or with phones jammed to their ears.

  Mason led them into an office at the back of the room. He closed the door behind them, blocking out the noise from the main room. He peered through the window before pulling the blinds, shutting out the rest of the office.

  “Take a seat,” he told them.

  Brodie and Cass settled themselves in the chairs opposite his desk while Mason turned his attention to the window, gazing down at the street below.

  “Does anyone know you’ve come here?” he asked them.

  “Apart from your receptionist,” replied Brodie. “No.”

  He turned to face them and ran a hand through his greasy hair. Brodie noted his hand shook slightly.

  “I take it you came to me because I’ve made it my mission to bring down that cult?”

  They both nodded.

  “The thing is,” continued Mason. “After all my boasting, I have to see my promise through. But the truth is, I’m shit scared.”

  “They’ve threatened you?”

  “Threatened me, followed me, even broken into my home. I can’t prove the last one but I’m sure they have. They don’t like what I’ve been writing about them and they want me to stop. At first I was defiant, refusing to give in to intimidation but it’s been going on for six months now and it’s wearing me down.”

  “Have you gone to the police?” said Cass.

  “Aye I have but I’ve not been able to get hold of any evidence, so they can’t do anything about it. Fucking useless,” he muttered, slumping into his chair. “So what made you start investigating them?”

  “Our client’s feared for her son,” replied Brodie. “He joined the church seven weeks ago, sold everything he owned and cut himself off from his family. She wants us to make sure he’s okay.”

  “If he’s in with that lot then he’s far from okay. Who is he?”

  “We can’t divulge that. Client confidentiality. We need everything you can tell us, particularly about the leader, Malachi. Cass has done her research but we need everything you can tell us about him.”

  “Malachi,” said Mas
on with a humourless laugh. “You mean Johnson Cryer.”

  “So we believe,” said Cass.

  “No one knows where he came from. He’s got an English accent but I think he was born in North Ayrshire. Then he went abroad, his father was in the military...”

  “Yes, we know all that,” sighed an impatient Brodie.

  “Did you know that after he left the family nest at eighteen he drifted around Europe and cultivated several aliases around the continent.”

  “So he’s one dodgy bastard then?”

  “Without a doubt. But his most powerful weapon is his personality - he’s been described as hypnotic, as possessing the ability to see into your soul.”

  “You mean he’s good at mind games?”

  Mason nodded. “Aye. One of my sources said he travelled to India and spent some time with a group of eastern mystics. While they thought they were helping him to develop spiritually, the only thing he wanted their wisdom for was to learn how to dominate and control others. But that’s just rumour, I’ve never been able to confirm it. He made his way around Europe using cheap con tricks to make a living, making people think he could read their minds. He was arrested on a couple of occasions but never charged because he always managed to charm his way out of it.”

  “How do you know all this?” said Cass.

  “I spoke to the Spanish and Italian authorities. Even though it was years ago they still remembered Malachi, which goes to show the force of his personality.”

  “Have you met him personally?”

  “Twice. Once at a charity event I was covering. Usually stories about rich people being benevolent are such a yawn fest but I specifically requested the assignment because I heard Malachi was going to be there, doling out cash to charities other people had been forced to hand over to him. He cornered me in the toilets, said he’d read the articles I’d written about his church.” He stifled a shiver. “I’ve never been one to be intimidated. I’ve investigated drug dealers and violent criminals, even confronted them face to face but none of them were as daunting as Malachi.”

  “Why, what did he do?” said Brodie, genuinely intrigued.

  “Got into my head and pulled out every fear and dark secret I had. He unravelled my life right before my eyes. I don’t mean he’d gone online to do some research on me or hired an investigator. He’s an expert in psychology. This creep could reduce Hannibal Lecter to tears. Malachi can just look at someone and know everything, just by reading them. I know it sounds like I’m being a big Jessie but it freaked me out. It was the way he said it too, in this cold sinister voice. Never in my entire life have I felt so powerless. Don’t look at me like that Brodie.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you think I’m a big girl’s blouse. You don’t know what it’s like until you experience it.”

  “Did he threaten you?” said Cass.

  “Not overtly. He’s far too clever for that but he made it very clear that if I continued denigrating his church then he’d pull me apart - not professionally or physically but mentally. He insinuated that when he was finished with me I’d be left a gibbering, drooling wreck. And you know what? I believed him. The second time we spoke was when I was doing a live report outside his church here in Glasgow. He came up to me but he couldn’t pull his weird mind games because he was on camera. He asked me why I was persecuting people just seeking some solace and comfort in their lives. I asked him about the allegations of abuse, intimidation and fraud. He said they were lies by heartless people hoping to interfere with those who needed healing. Then he got in his car and drove off. It was only when I got home that I found the note that had been slipped into my pocket describing the worst thing that has ever happened to me.”

  “Which was?” said Brodie.

  Mason sighed. “I don’t want to go into details but let’s just say it happened when I was a child and someone was put in prison for it.”

  Cass and Brodie nodded, able to guess it involved some sort of abuse.

  “It was written in Malachi’s usual creepy style,” he continued. “Designed to mess with my head. But that wasn’t the worst thing. I couldn’t figure out how he’d managed to slip it into my pocket. I watched the footage over and over again and nowhere could I see him putting that note in my pocket.”

  “You still not figured it out?” said Brodie.

  “No.”

  “I take it you had a camera crew with you that day?”

  “Yes, well one cameraman and one sound engineer.”

  “One of them slipped it into your pocket. It would make sense that a man like that would have insiders on your team. They were the ones who warned him you’d be there in the first place.”

  Mason turned pale. “My God, you’re right. It never occurred to me that it could be one of them, I was so busy trying to figure out how Malachi had done it.” Mason shrank in on himself. “He has spies in my office.”

  “Yes,” replied Brodie. “Whether they’re actual parishioners of the church or just paid informants is another matter. Who do you talk to here about your work?”

  “Just the editor. My sense of paranoia made me stop sharing with everyone else and it’s impossible to cut the editor out of the loop.”

  “Can you trust him?”

  “She’s the editor, so I have no choice in the matter. Everything has to be run past her.”

  “From my research,” said Cass. “I know Malachi has some powerful backers.”

  “He does,” replied Mason. “Celebrities, politicians, police officers. If someone’s wealthy and influential Malachi is interested in them. You heard of Brett Martins?”

  “The actor?” said Cass.

  “Yeah. He started small time in some crap soap opera. Now he’s big in Hollywood but he loves Glasgow and when he’s not filming he comes home. He’s become a major representative of the church. I heard he’s trying to spread the church’s message to his influential friends in tinsel town.”

  “They pure lap up shite like that over there,” said Brodie.

  “True but it seems Scientology has the monopoly, so he’s had a bit of a hard time. But Malachi likes to cultivate those in the public eye to help spread his message and give him huge donations of course. Brett is currently filming a Hollywood blockbuster in Glasgow. These big companies like to film in Glasgow because it’s cheaper and apparently it resembles Philadelphia, so he’s on a huge charm offensive for the church right now.”

  “I know the wee fanny,” said Brodie. “I lost two hours of my life watching one of his shitey films.”

  “He’s Malachi’s golden boy. My sources tell me he’s donated over two million to the church.”

  “So he’s thick as well as a crap actor.”

  “Not thick no, just…under the thumb, brainwashed, whatever you want to call it. Believe me, Malachi is more than capable of doing that to someone. Listen Brodie, I know who you are and your reputation but watch yourself with this case. It will get into your head and mess with it. Don’t blunder about in your usual way.”

  Brodie’s amber eyes turned dark and sherry cask. “I never blunder.”

  “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “Who are your sources?” said Cass.

  “You know I can’t tell you that,” replied Mason.

  “Someone in the church?” said Brodie. “There’s bound to be people who want out but can’t escape, so they talk to you, hoping you’ll be able to bring them down.”

  “Well, yes, alright but keep that to yourself and I refuse to give away any names. They’d probably vanish like so many already have.”

  “Do you think Malachi killed them?” said Cass.

  “Yes. Word is the woods at the back of the fort are a graveyard. If only the police could get in to search I’m sure they’d find the bodies but they’re too shit scared to even try because of all Malachi’s powerful friends.”

  “He might have powerful friends but he’s got powerful enemies too,” said Brodie. “No one is invulnerab
le pal, you just keep that in mind.”

  “You should bear it in mind too,” retorted Mason.

  Brodie dumped his card on his desk and got to his feet. “Let me know what else you find out.”

  “Right back at you Brodie,” said Mason, handing him his card.

  “What now?” said Cass as they left the newspaper offices.

  “Let’s head back to the office and call Elliott, see what he’s found out.”

  CHAPTER 5

  Elliott was sat at his desk, staring at his computer screen, which was switched off, wondering how the hell he’d allowed one of those cult freaks into his head so easily. From above came the sound of chimes. Roger - the holistic therapist who occupied the office on the floor above - was treating one of his clients and Elliott was finding the sound rather soothing.

  He was relieved when Brodie and Cass staggered in, kissing, Cass pushing Brodie’s jacket off his shoulders. They were something solid and reassuring after it felt like his life had been invaded. He was so pleased to see them he didn’t even feel embarrassed about being there while they thought they were free to get it on.

  He cleared his throat and they jumped apart, breathing hard, Brodie’s jacket hanging from one arm.

  “Elliott,” exclaimed Cass, turning crimson. “We thought you’d still be out.”

  “So I see.”

  Brodie frowned at him, tugging his arm free from his jacket. “What’s up with your face? You look like a proper nippy sweetie.”

  “I had an interesting encounter at the church of Higher Light,” he sighed.

  “What happened?” said Cass, pulling up a chair.

  He described his encounter, Brodie’s puzzled frown increasing with every word.

  When Elliott had finished, Brodie shrugged. “Doesn’t sound like much.”

  “I know but it was,” replied Elliott. “You see, that’s exactly how I feel.”

  “Like you don’t deserve Morgan?” said Cass.

  “Aye,” he nodded. “Or our son or this job or any of you, my extended family. I just don’t deserve it,” he sighed, hanging his head.

  “Why would you think that daft thought?” said Brodie.

  “Because I’ve done bad things in the past.”