Chapter 13
Chapter Thirteen
Other than accepting Nikolas’s chocolate digestive earlier that day, Ben had never done a selfish thing in his life.
It wasn’t in his nature. You didn’t join the army and then Special Forces if you were jack—someone out for yourself.
Or if you did, you didn’t last long in that environment—a way of life that demanded selfless sacrifice to a shared ideal.
Ben lay on the luxury bed. He thought about the vast bathroom, and he salivated over the thought of the huge cooked breakfast being prepared for him, but then he stood up and announced, “We have to go back.”
Nikolas was on the phone to Kate. He clearly heard Ben but finished his conversation and only then hung up. He pursed his lips for a while, staring out over the view from the bedroom window.
“If we don’t go back, they’ll know something is up, and we’ll blow it all—ruin any chance we have to find Squeezy or find out what’s going on. No way would Nigel Stannis pull this kind of stunt. He couldn’t afford it, for a start.”
Nikolas was about to answer when there was a soft knock on the door.
Ben went to answer it, hoping it was the breakfast, which he could possibly consume before Nikolas agreed with him that what they were doing was breaking cover and therefore very dumb.
It was John. He had James with him. Ben frowned but let them in.
John declared simply, “I don’t know who you two guys are, and frankly I don’t care, but thanks—for what you did for us tonight, and this, I guess. But I can’t stay here. I’m going back. I’m worried about Mark.”
James had been watching him and his hand went unconsciously to his face. “I have a few things I want to say to Dr Fergus. I’m going back with John.”
Before either Nikolas or Ben could respond, Samuel poked his head around the door and crowed gleefully, “Orgy!” Then he came in with Mathew.
“We’re going back. Fuckers. Think they can scare us?
This the best they can do?” He held up his plastered wrist. “I’ve had worse than this from my dad.
” He toed the ground for a moment. “And I’m kinda worried about Noah—the fucker. ”
Mathew just shrugged. “I don’t wanna waste my money. I think this therapy’s really working—What? What? What did I say?”
Nikolas sat on the end of the bed and regarded his small, militant flock.
He closed his eyes for a moment. “We need to get our story straight. We didn’t come here.
We took taxis from the hospital straight back to the course, yes?
” They all nodded. He glanced very slyly to Ben.
“However, they won’t know if we have a missing hour… I suggest we indulge with breakfast?”
* * *
They all stayed in the one suite, variously sitting on the bed or at the table.
The food was superb and limitless—more than enough for Ben—and even Nikolas indulged more than he usually would.
He was astounded he not only found the atmosphere comfortable, he was actually enjoying the other men’s company.
It wasn’t long before their talk turned to their experiences that night and then in more general terms to the course. John was the first to say directly to Nikolas and Ben, “You’re not a florist, and he actually is ex-Special-Forces-expert Ben Rider.”
There was an uneasy silence in the room, until Samuel suddenly blurted out, “I knew you weren’t gay!
Wow! Oh, my God, is this, like, a covert operation or something?
—no! I know! We’re all on reality TV! Oh, my God, this is like Big Gay Brother or I’m A Gay Guy Get Me Out Of Here!
Oh, God, wait till I tell Noah! He’ll be…
What? I’m talking too much, aren’t I? But I knew you weren’t gay. Awesome.”
Nikolas couldn’t repress a small smirk of triumph to Ben at Samuel’s clear recognition he wasn’t gay but then held each of the other men’s eyes for a moment with his cool gaze.
“A friend of ours has gone missing. We think it’s something to do with this course—or rather what comes after it.
Some men who’ve attended it have stayed on for another three weeks—”
The universal chorus of dismay at this idea silenced him and all asserted nothing would make them stay longer than the allotted week.
This was the first time Nikolas had thought about this, but it made sense.
Whatever it was that tempted men to stay on, it clearly happened after this experience.
Perhaps this night out as gay men in a very unfriendly environment acted as some kind of watershed…
What happened on the rest of the course to make men want to stay?
John suddenly laid down his knife and fork. “I don’t think tonight was supposed to go as it has. I mean, what would have happened if you guys hadn’t been there?”
Samuel paled. “I’d have been fucked if they hadn’t.
That big Scottish fucker would’ve had me.
” The talk returned to the fight and each telling wry stories over what they’d done or thought.
Nikolas was silent, pondering something.
He rummaged in his pocket and pulled out the licences he’d taken off the men in the pub.
Scottish? It wasn’t particularly odd the man attacking Samuel had been Scottish, but it sparked his interest. It was odder still that one of them had been Polish.
And how could the absence of the police and the non-appearance of the injured men at the hospital be explained?
He fanned the licences out on the table.
Not one of the men lived in Burnley. Besides the one who lived in Glasgow, all came from London.
The other men were beginning to drift back to their rooms to take the opportunity to shower before they left to return to the course.
When they were gone, Ben went into the bathroom.
As soon as he was alone, Nikolas quickly called Kate and gave her the names and addresses on the licences. He stayed on the line as she checked them out. After the first two, Nikolas told her he’d call back and clicked off.
Actors.
Actors.
All with Facebook profiles and easy to find.
He was about to call out to Ben when he thought back to the fight in the bar—the damage Ben had done to the men.
Ben could be funny about things like this.
His damn conscience would get in the way again.
If Ben knew they’d only been actors…That they’d both misread the situation so incredibly badly…
That he’d effectively allowed hunger to override his sixth sense for danger…
Therefore, when Ben came out of the bathroom, rubbing his wet hair with a towel, Nikolas disclosed nothing about his discovery. He slid the incriminating evidence into the backpack and pretended he’d been watching something interesting in the grounds.
Ben asked if he was going to shower.
Nikolas nodded, but he wasn’t really paying attention. He was still thinking. “What makes people join together?”
“Huh?” Ben had discarded the towel and was sniffing suspiciously at his shirt with a wrinkled nose.
“What turns individuals into groups?”
“Common purpose, I guess. Having things in common. This shirt is fucked. Why are you—?”
“Fear. It’s fear and anger.”
“To achieve what?”
“Radicalization.”
Ben’s eyes rose. “You think this is a training camp to radicalize us?”
“Do you know what the first step in the radicalization process is? It’s creating the perception of injustice or humiliation. I think we were supposed to come back to the course humiliated, sick with our weakness, angry at those who made us feel weak—who humiliated us.”
“Bloody hell. So we turn back up supposedly humiliated and angry…then what?”
“That’s a very good question. Shall we go and find out?”
* * *
It occurred to Nikolas on their return to the large Victorian house that whichever way the evening had gone—humiliation or fighting back—the outcome appeared to be much the same.
The other group appeared as shell-shocked and as angry as they did, only without the broken bones and other evidence of the fight.
John quickly discovered from Mark that they’d similarly found themselves deposited at a pub.
They’d been jeered at, pushed around and eventually made to crawl out with their jeans and shorts lowered, arses bare.
It had been the single most humiliating and unpleasant experience of Mark’s life he’d told them—and he taught health and hygiene to Year Elevens.
Perhaps this group was less angry and more defeated than Nikolas and Ben’s group, but it was a close thing.
Doctor Atwell didn’t make an appearance for an hour.
Nikolas wondered if he was taking furious phone calls from suing actors.
He wondered what was next in store for them.
He knew what he’d do next—had done to his recruits.
For was this not just like creating a soldier?
He couldn’t help but smile therefore when Ben leant closer and predicted in a subdued voice, “They’ll turn our anger at them into anger against the real enemy now.
” It was amazing how similar they thought sometimes, given they thought differently about almost everything.
Nikolas turned so their heads were even closer together and murmured, “But who is the real enemy?”
They found out. Doctor Fergus Atwell marched into the room, slammed the door behind him and asked angrily, “When was the last execution for sodomy in this country, gentlemen? Anyone?”
After a few nervous glances, John hesitantly offered, “Henry the Eighth’s time?”
He got a derisive gesture of dismissal. “Anyone else?”
Samuel suggested, “Elizabeth? The Catholic thing?”