‘Yes, I’m here. Sorry, I was distracted by my own thoughts.’
‘Is there anything that you feel compelled to share?’
‘I was considering what the principal motive for the kidnapping might have been.’
‘Money. Isn’t that what kidnapping is always about?’
‘But why kill the girls?’
‘To leave no witnesses?’
‘Or to torment Wildon and his family.’
Epstein exhaled deeply, then said: ‘I knew him.’
‘Wildon?’
‘Yes. Not well, but we shared certain interests.’
‘Any that you feel compelled to share?’
‘Wildon believed in fallen angels, just as I do, and just as you do too.’
I wasn’t sure that was entirely true, despite anything to the contrary I may have said to Marielle Vetters. Most people who talked about angels seemed to picture a fusion between Tinkerbell and a crossing guard, and I remained reluctant to put that name to the entities, terrestrial or otherwise, that I had encountered. After all, none of them had sprouted wings.
Not yet.
‘But he also believed that they were infecting others,’ continued Epstein, ‘acquiring influence through threats, promises, blackmail.’
‘For what purpose?’
‘Ah, there Wildon and I differed. He talked of the End Times, of the last days, a peculiar mix of millenarianism and apocalyptic Christianity, neither of which I found personally or professionally appealing.’
‘And what do you believe, rabbi?’ I asked. ‘Isn’t it time that you shared that with me?’
‘Truly?’ He laughed: a hollow rattle. ‘I believe that somewhere, on earth or below it, an entity waits. It’s been there for a long, long time, either by its own will, or, more likely, by the will of another; trapped, perhaps even slumbering, but waiting nonetheless. The worst of these others, these creatures formed in its image, are seeking it. They have always been seeking it, always looking, and while they search they prepare for its coming. That is what I believe, Mr Parker, and I admit that it may well be proof of my madness. Does that satisfy you?’
I didn’t answer. Instead I asked, ‘Are they close to finding it?’
‘Closer than ever before. So many of them emerging in recent years, so much hunting and killing; they are like ants set in motion by the queen’s pheromones. And you are involved, Mr Parker. You know this to be true. You feel it.’
I stared out of my window at the shapes of trees and the silver channels of the marshes, the pale specter of myself floating against them.
‘Did Wildon own a plane?’
‘No, but a man named Douglas Ampell did. Ampell went missing around the same time that Wildon disappeared. Ampell and Wildon were acquainted, and Wildon used Ampell’s aviation services on an occasional basis.’
‘Did Ampell file a flight record in July 2001?’
‘None.’
‘So if that was Ampell’s plane, and Wildon was on it, then where was he heading?’
‘I think he was trying to reach me. There had been some contact between us in the months before his disappearance. He had followed up on hundreds of rumors, and was convinced that there was a record in existence of those who had been corrupted. He believed that he was close to finding it, and it seems that he might have done so. I think he was bringing that list with him when the plane went down.’
‘And not just the list. Who was the passenger? Who was cuffed to a chair in that plane?’
‘Wildon was obsessed with finding those responsible for killing his daughters,’ said Epstein. ‘It destroyed his marriage, and his business, but he became convinced that he was drawing closer to them. Perhaps on that plane was the man who killed Wildon’s daughters: a man, or something worse than a man. You must find that plane, Mr Parker. Find the plane.’
34
Darina Flores learned of the deaths of Becky Phipps and Davis Tate shortly before she and the boy moved against Marielle Vetters. Darina had been concerned when she had not immediately heard back directly from Phipps; they had been searching for a definite clue to the location of the plane for so long, yet hours went by with no contact. Darina, always cautious in such matters, was reluctant to disseminate what she had learned any wider than was necessary, but preparations needed to be made.
While she debated what further action to take, she received confirmation from Joe Dahl that he was ready to move when she was. Dahl had been hers for a long time: she and her agents ensured that the inveterate gambler was permitted to fall deeper and deeper into debt until everything he owned was effectively theirs.