Chapter 109

The basement wall was sturdy and well made, but it was no match for Poe as he poured his rage into every swing of the sledgehammer. The first crunching blow sent a piece of brick shrapnel humming towards his head. He swerved out of the way, but it nicked his ear. He felt the warm blood on his neck.

‘Maybe you'd better stand back a bit, Tilly,' Poe said.

There were no references to his authority this time. Bradshaw stepped to the side and made sure her safety glasses were snug.

Poe lifted the sledgehammer again and sent it crashing against the wall.

He did it again.

And again.

As Bradshaw watched in silence, Poe hit the wall until the sweat had plastered his hair to his forehead. He hit it until his eyes were stinging. He hit it until he could no longer lift the sledgehammer. And when that happened he ignored the blood and the pain and used his hands to tear out the remaining loose bricks until he had made a hole big enough to fit his head through. He stepped back, panting, grabbed a CSI lamp and dragged it across the floor. He aimed it through the hole but the air behind the gap was thick with brick dust and visibility was down to zero.

He couldn't tell if it was a walled-up room or just a wall cavity.

Poe spent the extra time widening the hole. It wasn't long until he could fit his head and torso through. While he waited for the dust to settle, he rooted among the search team's gear until he found a heavy-duty torch. It was twelve inches long with a black, vulcanised rubber handle. He headed back to the hole and forced his upper body through. He switched on the torch. In the dark basement the beam was an almost physical thing. A solid white tube, like one of the lightsabers Bradshaw waved around at Halloween.

The gap behind the wall was almost fifteen feet deep, far too big for a cavity wall. Poe aimed the torch straight ahead and picked out the wall on the other side. The original wall. He was right; this end of the basement had been sectioned off. The wall he'd knocked through was a false wall.

The beam of light picked out something among the gloom and the dust. Something angular, a shape even a child could recognise.

‘Oh no,' he whispered.

Waves of nausea threatened to overwhelm Poe. He jerked his head out of the hole in the wall and raced up the basement stairs, Bradshaw hot on his heels. He grabbed an empty evidence bag from the CSI table and, as his stomach heaved, got it to his mouth and vomited noisily.

When he'd finished, Bradshaw passed him a moist towelette and he cleaned his mouth and chin. He threw it into the bag and sat on one of the pews, head in his hands. Bradshaw passed him another towelette, took a seat beside him and hugged him tight. He pressed the damp cloth against his face and the back of his neck.

‘What did you see, Poe?' Bradshaw asked.

A crowd of cops had begun to gather around him. One of them was Nightingale. Joshua Meade was hovering over her shoulder. Poe struggled to his feet and shouldered his way through the crowd. The gymnasium descended into a charged silence. Joshua shrank back.

‘Did you know?' Poe said, quiet, menacing.

‘Know what?' Joshua said, backing away.

Nightingale nodded at two uniformed cops and they blocked Poe's path. They didn't put a finger on him, but the message was clear: they would if he tried to push past them.

‘That Cornelius Green and Israel Cobb were murdering people as part of their conversion therapy!'

‘What are you talking about?'

Joshua's righteous indignation had returned now he was no longer in physical danger.

‘Cornelius Green was abducting gay men from the streets and he was forcing those poor boys to murder them. Right under where we're standing now, he was strapping them into something he called the mercy chair and making the boys stone them to death. So, I'm asking you: did you know?'

Poe took another step forward. One of the cops held up an arm. Poe would now have to go around him or through him.

Joshua considered what Poe had said. The cops watching Poe aside, all eyes were now on the Children of Job's most senior member. It didn't look as though anyone had any sympathy for him. The mood had darkened.

‘Like I told you, I wasn't here then.'

‘This is still on you!' Poe snapped. ‘People like Cornelius Green can't exist in a vacuum. They need their enablers, their snivelling politicians. They need people like you to justify their actions.'

‘That's enough, Poe,' Nightingale said.

‘You think the Nazis had the skills to manufacture their gas chambers, ma'am?' He jabbed his finger in Joshua's direction. ‘No, they needed their lickspittles, people too scared to dirty their hands but fanatical about the cause nonetheless.'

Joshua said nothing.

‘Or maybe I'm wrong,' Poe continued. ‘Tell me you condemn what Cornelius did. Say it now. Loud enough so the rest of your obscene cult can hear.'

‘I'll do no such thi—'

‘Say it!'

Joshua looked round for support. Got nothing from the massed ranks of Nightingale's cops, technicians and ancillary staff. They didn't know everything, but they knew enough. For a moment, Poe thought Joshua was going to capitulate. But an excited chatter at the far end of the hall caught his attention. Some Children of Job members had entered, no doubt drawn to the shouting. They were standing around aimlessly, like there had been a badly organised fire drill.

Poe saw Joshua's resolve harden.

‘If what you say is true, that's unfortunate,' he said. ‘But—'

‘That's it?' Poe said. ‘That's all you have to—'

‘But homosexuality is a sin, Sergeant Poe.'

Nightingale joined her two cops. She turned her back on Joshua and said, ‘Go home, Poe.'

‘I'm not going any—'

‘I won't ask again. Go home. Spend some time with Estelle. We can take it from here, and rest assured if this man does know something, we'll find out.'

Bradshaw placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘Come on, Poe,' she said. ‘I'll drive you home and stay with you until Estelle gets back.'

Poe slumped in defeat. ‘We can't let them . . . how did he put it last time we were here? . . . "redirect the narrative", Tilly. Not this time. This time the world has to know what their hate led to.'

‘They will, Poe. I'll help you.'

Joshua offered a sad smile. It didn't reach his eyes. He doesn't care, Poe thought. Worse than that, he approves. He knows the timelines make him bulletproof.

‘And what about Bethany Bowman?' Poe said, his voice steady. ‘Was she a sinner too?'

‘I don't know who that is.'

‘She's the fourteen-year-old girl Cornelius Green and Israel Cobb murdered. She wasn't gay, she was just a schoolgirl whose parents didn't like her. Cornelius put her in the chair anyway. Had her brother throw rocks at her head. And when that didn't kill her, Israel Cobb slit her throat.'

The mood in the hall changed again. This was news to almost every cop in the room. Even the cult members at the back of the gymnasium looked uneasy.

‘Learn her fucking name, Joshua,' Poe said. ‘She's about to make you famous.'

Joshua cleared his throat nervously, aware that every eye in the room was on him now and not Poe. ‘Well, yes, that does seem to have been a regrettable lapse of judgement,' he said.

‘A regrettable lapse . . .'

‘I'll pray for her.'

Poe lunged.