The Devil Inside Read online

  “This is the most hope I’ve had since he joined that awful cult. Thank you Mr Brodie. Already my son feels closer.”

  “We need to tread carefully. Once in the church it’s very difficult to get out again.”

  “I know after speaking to Elaine but, unlike her, Steven will have his family behind him. We’ll fight the bastards together.”

  “I like your spirit doll. I’ll keep you updated.”

  “But I can’t just sit here. I need to be doing something. I have to speak to him.”

  “Please Susan,” he said gently. “Let me handle this, it’s why you hired me. If we push too hard we’ll only shove him further into the church.”

  “Yes, you’re right of course.” She took a deep breath. “I have to be patient.”

  “Sorry,” he said when his phone bleeped. “I’ve got a call waiting.”

  “Is it about Steven?”

  “I’m no’ sure yet. I’ll let you know if it is. Talk to you soon.”

  “Thank you Mr Brodie. You’ve already achieved so much. The polis were right when they said you were the man to talk to.”

  “Out of curiosity, which officer recommended me to you?”

  “Sergeant Hayward. He was working on reception when I went in.”

  Brodie knew Hayward. He’d worked with him when he was on the force. No way was he a member of Higher Light. He’d be kicked out for eating all their biscuits, excessive farting and generally being a slobby, arrogant bastard. Plus it would be typical of that arsehole to tell her he was called Mr Brodie because he knew people getting his name wrong got on his tits. “Right, thanks doll. I’ll speak to you later.”

  “Yes, goodbye Mr Brodie.”

  He hung up and answered the call waiting.

  “Alright pal?” Pete said in his ear. “Fancy meeting up at the café across from your office for a brew and a bun? I’ve got some news for you.”

  “Aye alright then. On my way.”

  Brodie left the office and wandered across the road, dodging in and out of the busy traffic. He walked into the café to find his friend sitting at a table by the window.

  “Alright pal?” said Pete. “Sit down, take the weight off your gob. I ordered you a coffee and an empire biscuit.”

  “Nice one. Right, what’s this information you have for me?”

  “I’ve done some digging at work on Higher Light, asked around my grasses and some pretty disturbing information has come to light. The majority of stories were about encounters with bats who got too aggressive with members of the public but one fair gave me the shivers.”

  “Go on,” said Brodie, biting into his empire biscuit.

  “It happened to a couple of constables when they were on duty. They got a call to check out a disturbance at the church’s headquarters here in the city. They turned up with another constable to find a window had been smashed at the side of the building. Both constables heard yelling inside. They kicked in the door and rushed in, all gung-ho. They didn’t find anyone but there were signs of a disturbance - the furniture in a side room was knocked over and a vase was smashed. Then they saw it.”

  “Saw what?” said Brodie.

  “The dark pool on the floor.”

  “Blood?”

  “Piss.”

  “Someone had pissed on the floor?”

  “Well, that’s what they thought at first, until they took a closer look and saw it was water.”

  “What dingbat thinks a puddle on the floor is piss instead of water?”

  “Well, they were creeped out, so their minds leapt to conclusions. Anyway, before they could check out the rest of the building two bats turned up. They said they’d had problems with vandals attacking the church before. When one of the officers asked why they’d never reported the vandalism they said it was because they chose to forgive the culprits instead. The officer pointed out the water and asked what it was. They said a cat must have got in through the broken window - apparently that had happened before too - and smashed the vase, which explained why it was broken on the floor and the water had come out of the broken vase. The officer pointed out the vase was six feet away from the water and why was there water in the vase but no flowers? The bat replied the cleaning lady had taken out the flowers as they were dead but had forgotten to empty the water.”

  Brodie sighed. “Is this story gonnae get more interesting than vases and puddles of water?”

  “Aye, I’m getting there. Then they saw it.”

  “What?”

  “The marks in the floor. They were sure they could see the outline of a trap door. There was a square cut out of the carpet.”

  “Really?”

  “Aye. And then they heard it.”

  Brodie huffed. “If you don’t stop with all the melodramatic shite I’m gonnae knock you out.”

  Pete smiled mysteriously. “Voices, under the floor. It was brief, like a yell then all went silent. When the officers challenged the bats about it they denied hearing anything and suggested the officers were overwrought and they could give them some relaxation techniques created by Malachi to help them calm down, which they wisely turned down. So they returned to the station and told their commanding officer, who refused to let them dig deeper on the basis of a sound they think they might have heard and some water on the floor.”

  “Weird,” said Brodie.

  “I agree. They never did get to the bottom of it. They tried, kept going back to interview the witnesses. They said one bat in particular was all squirrelly and they were sure he’d crack with a bit of pressure. Then all of a sudden they were pulled off the case and banned by the Chief Super from pushing it any further.”

  “You think the Chief Super could be a secret bat?”

  “Nah, not that stubborn old mule. His skull’s too thick for anyone to try to brainwash him, they’d never get through. That order came from higher. But after asking around I don’t think any of my lot are bats, not even the executive officers. I think it was political pressure. Apparently our local MSP recently gave a large donation to the church.”

  “Really? I need a wee chat with that useless fud.”

  “Well you didn’t hear it from me.”

  “Aye, don’t worry. I’ll keep you out of it.”

  “I’d love to raid that compound they’ve got behind the church, I bet it’s hiding loads of juicy secrets.” Pete frowned out of the window. “Bloody hell Brodie, look.”

  Brodie glanced out of the window and almost choked on his empire biscuit. “What the fuck?” he exclaimed.

  “Oy Brodie, language,” chided Edith, the owner of the café, rolling her sleeves up her meaty forearms, as though she was preparing to chuck him out for his profanity.

  “Sorry doll,” he distractedly replied, keeping his gaze fixed on the circus taking place outside his office block.

  He raced out of the café, Pete hot on his heels, dodging the traffic to get across the road, coming to a halt before the group of twenty disciples congregated outside his building waving placards and bleating about persecution and evil hiding in plain sight.

  “Oy you wallopers,” yelled Brodie. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  A bat stepped forward out of the colony, smirking. “You’ve begun a vendetta against our church Mr Brodie.”

  “It’s MacBride,” he sighed, to little effect. “And there’s no vendetta. As usual you’re all completely deluded.”

  “Still you persist in your persecution and insults,” he shrieked.

  “Hey, do you see me protesting outside your church? No. The only person I can see being persecuted here is me.” He looked to Pete. “You gonnae do something about these eejits pal?”

  “No can do Brodie,” he sighed. “They’re on a public pavement, they’ve not attacked or intimidated anyone.”

  “We’re exercising our democratic right to protest,” announced the bat. “And no one can do anything about it.”

  Cass, Elliott, Ross and Christian tore out of the building, comi
ng to a bemused halt when they saw the gathering outside the door to their office.

  A few seconds later the door opened again and Roger bustled out self-importantly. “What on earth is this furore now?” he cried. “Brodie MacBride, I might have known you’d be at the bottom of this. You’re the source of every loud noise in this city.”

  “Hey, this is no’ down to me. These loons have got it into their heads that I’m persecuting them.” He looked back at the bats. “Looks like you’re just after some publicity to me.”

  “We are not,” said the lead disciple.

  “Aye ya are. Any opportunity to grab the headlines. Well Malachi might have followers willing to do his bidding but so do I.”

  “What are you doing?” said Pete when Brodie took out his phone.

  “Getting this lot cleared up.” When his call was answered Brodie retreated a few steps so the others couldn’t overhear. “Hi Mickey. You free? Nice one. I need you and the gang at my office pronto to cause your usual mayhem. I think you’ll enjoy it. Aye, course I’ll pay you. Thanks son.”

  Brodie hung up with a smile and looked to Pete. “You coming up for a brew?”

  “But what about this shower?” he replied, gesturing to the assembled colony.

  “What about them? Like you said, they’re no’ breaking the law so we can’t touch them.” He smiled at the disciples. “Enjoy.”

  “Enjoy what?” said the lead disciple.

  “I don’t want to spoil the surprise,” smirked Brodie as he headed into his building followed by his friends, an outraged Roger bringing up the rear.

  “You gonnae gie’ it a rest wee man,” sighed Brodie as Roger’s berating voice followed him up the stairs. “I didn’t ask them to come here and behave like dicks.”

  “But it’s because of you they have done. Honestly, I don’t know why I stay in this building.”

  “Me neither pal. Want me to help you move by throwing you headfirst through the window?”

  “You’ve threatened me so many times it’s lost all meaning.”

  “No Boss,” cried Elliott, holding Brodie back when he turned on the stairs and lunged for Roger, who squeaked with fear. Christian and Ross assisted in holding him when he almost broke free.

  “Brodie, calm down,” said Cass, her gentle chiding much more effective than the men’s combined might.

  “Well,” said Brodie, shrugging himself free from their grips. “He gets on my tits.”

  “Go back to the office. I’ll speak to him.”

  “Alright hen,” he said more gently before continuing up the stairs with the others, leaving her to diffuse Roger.

  “Can you believe the nerve of those prick bats?” said Brodie. “I’m persecuting them. How?”

  “It must be after you confronted Malachi yesterday,” said Ross. “It’s revenge for attacking their exalted leader.”

  “You attacked Malachi?” spluttered Pete. “Have you completely lost the plot?”

  “I didnae attack him with my fists or anything,” replied Brodie. “He was preaching his utter shite in the middle of Buchanan Street and I pulled him up on a couple of points, that’s all.”

  “How?”

  “How what?”

  “How did you pull him up about it?”

  “I asked him a couple of questions challenging his dogma, that’s all. Then he…he…”

  “He what?” said Pete.

  Brodie nodded him to one side of the room. “He started telling everyone about when Ricky killed my da’.”

  “What? Just like that?”

  “Well, he didn’t go into details but he knew what had happened.”

  “He’s done his research on you then.”

  “Aye, seems so.”

  “But how did he know you’re investigating him?”

  “Someone grassed but I’m no’ sure who yet.” He looked out of the window at the street below and smiled. “Mickey and his pals have arrived.”

  “Isn’t that the wee ned who helped sort out Rab the prick, who was doing the bidding of the Creegans?”

  “Aye, him and his crew. They’re no bad for wee neds.”

  Everyone joined them at the window to watch the show, Cass having calmed down Roger and sent him up to his own office. Brodie shoved open the window, the noise from the street below drifting up to them. The chanting of the disciples was drowned out by the reedy voices of the neds, who numbered ten in total.

  “Look at those clothes,” cried one. “They’re pure mingin’. Do they no’ like colours or something?”

  “Listen to that patter,” said another. “What the hell’s a mejiah?”

  “Messiah,” exclaimed the lead bat. “We’re saying worship the messiah.”

  “Messiah?” said another ned. “Is that no’ a car?”

  “It most certainly is not. It is our saviour.”

  “He’s talking about Fords,” said another ned. “The Ford Saviour. My uncle had one.”

  Ross and Christian hung out of the window, laughing loudly.

  “I mean Our Lord Jesus Christ,” screeched the bat. “He died to save our souls.”

  “Who are you calling an arsehole?” said an aggressive ned.

  “Not arsehole, our souls.”

  “I think steam’s gonnae come out of the top of his head,” chuckled Pete.

  “What, you mean the sole of your shoe?” said a ned. “You needin’ some more gear mate? No wonder you’re pissed off if your shoes are falling to bits. My cousin can get you some pure minted Nikes for cheap.”

  “I’m not talking about clothes you bampot. I mean Jesus Christ who was crucified on the cross for our sins.”

  “Why? What did you do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “So why did he die then?”

  “I don’t mean my sins, I mean yours.”

  “What have I done?”

  “Plenty no doubt.”

  “Ooh things are hotting up,” said Ross happily as the ned thrust his face into the bat’s.

  “What the fuck are you saying ya prick?” snarled the ned.

  “That you’re clearly some sad, lost soul who exists on the proceeds of his criminality.” The bat held up one of his leaflets. “But there’s still hope of salvation. Join our church and save yourself from the fiery pits of hell.”

  Brodie grinned at the look on the ned’s face. “Oh this is gonnae be good.”

  The ned’s forehead connected with the bat’s nose and he toppled backwards. A loud battle cry issued from both sides as they charged at each other, meeting with a clash of baseball caps and placards.

  “I don’t see anything,” said Pete, turning away from the window and taking a seat at Elliott’s desk.

  “You no’ gonnae break it up then?” said Brodie.

  “You must be joking. I’ve already been whacked over the head with a bible. I’m no’ keen to repeat the experience.”

  “That wouldnae happen. Mickey’s crew are hammering them. Ooh the cavalry’s arrived.”

  They watched a police van pull up amid a scream of sirens and lights. The doors were flung open and half a dozen officers leapt out. Mickey’s lads, who were much more savvy than the disciples, raced off in different directions, leaving the bats bleeding on the ground.

  They all retreated back into the office, Brodie closing the window, distancing them all from the mess below. “Well they shouldn’t be back in a hurry.”

  “You need to watch yourself pal,” said Pete. “Malachi has expensive lawyers on the payroll. He could come after you legally.”

  “I don’t know why he is coming after me. We only had one encounter. If he harassed everyone who questioned him when he was preaching he wouldn’t get anything else done. He must know about Elaine.” Something cold slithered down his spine and he snatched up his car keys. “I’m gonnae check on her.” He looked to Pete. “You’d better come too pal, we might need someone official.”

  “I’ll come with you,” said Cass, hurrying after them to the door. “You thin
k something’s happened to her?” she asked as they charged through the doors and down the stairs.

  “Christ I hope not. I hope she’s safely on holiday but Malachi must know she spoke to us. It’s the only explanation.”

  CHAPTER 8

  Half an hour later Brodie, Cass and Pete pulled up outside Elaine’s bungalow. The curtains were still drawn, so it was impossible to tell whether she was in or not.

  They rushed up the path and Pete raised his hand to knock on the door.

  “No,” said Brodie. “Let me do it. She won’t open up to anyone else.”

  “Alright pal.”

  Pete patiently waited while Brodie hammered on the door.

  “Elaine it’s me, Brodie MacBride. Open up.”

  No reply.

  “I’ll check around the back,” said Cass.

  Brodie kept pounding on the door but there was no answer. After seeing how it had been reinforced from the inside he didn’t even attempt to put his shoulder to it.

  “Brodie,” called Cass.

  He and Pete took the path leading down the side of the house to a large back garden that was overgrown and bursting with daisies and dandelions.

  “What is it hen?” he said.

  She indicated the bedroom window. The glass had been smashed from the outside and scattered across the bedroom floor.

  “Elaine?” Brodie yelled through the house.

  The bedclothes were disturbed, clothes strewn across the floor. The bedside cabinet was tilted to one side, as though it had been knocked over, the clock, book and glass of water that had been on it on the floor.

  “Definitely signs of a struggle,” said Pete.

  “Oh shit,” said Brodie, vaulting through the window and inside. Cass and Pete leapt in after him and they split up to search the bungalow but there was no sign of Elaine. They met up in the kitchen, which was pristine.

  “She’s not here,” replied Cass. She dumped a brown leather handbag on the small dining table. “But I found this. No way would she go anywhere voluntarily without it.”

  “Christ, they found her,” said Brodie. “I promised to protect her and the fucking bats took her back to that hellhole.”

  “I hate to say it but it’s looking that way.”