29th March
Helen and I carried our breakfast trays across the dining hall to where Joan and Etienne were already eating.
‘Good morning,’ said Joan, taking a sip of her coffee.
‘Good morning,’ responded Helen. ‘How is he?’
‘I’ve got to hand it to you two,’ said Etienne as we sat down, ‘if driving vicars insane ever becomes an Olympic sport, you’ll be our Torvill and Dean.’
‘He should probably give up voyeurism as a hobby,’ I said unrepentantly. ‘Is this going to wreck plans to interview him?’
‘Well, oddly,’ replied Etienne, ‘it may have helped us.’
Helen and I gave Etienne a questioning glance.
‘Peter Smith had to sedate him last night,’ Etienne explained, ‘but when he came round this morning, his amnesia had gone. I think he’s found another psychological strategy to manage his conflicting emotions.’
‘What’s happened?’ Helen enquired.
‘He believes that Swan is the new Messiah, and Leadbetter has become his most fervent disciple.’
‘St. Swan’s sounds rather nicer than St. Basil’s,’ I said.
‘The serious side of this,’ interrupted Joan, ‘is that he may tell you all he knows about ARK.’
‘I also think,’ added Etienne, ‘that if you interview Leadbetter this morning, with us suggesting lines of questioning and responses through a hidden earpiece, it will provide good experience for doing the same thing on videolink with Arkangel this afternoon.’
My phone beeped with an incoming message. I checked the text.
‘You look surprised,’ said Joan. ‘Anything to do with ARK or Arkangel?’
‘Not this time,’ I said without expanding further. ‘It’s a funny old world though.’
~*~*~*~*~
‘What was that text about?’ asked Helen as we walked back to our quarters.
‘It was from Duck,’ I replied. ‘He said that Jenny was helping him with the harvest.’
‘I didn’t think you harvested sheep,’ Helen responded.
‘You don’t,’ I said. ‘You harvest the cannabis plants that Duck grows in an underground factory beneath the big outhouse. If she’s helping him, then I would say that they’re getting along rather well.’