Read Online Pig Island by Mo Hayder - Free Book Online

DNA. “I know,” I said. “I look like a docker.”
    “Yeah, you do. You look like a docker.”
    I snapped on the lens cap and studied her carefully. “Sovereign,” I said, “what goes on here? What happens in the church? What rituals was it made for?”
    She laughed. “I know what you’re thinking. I know about the video. I told you: we see TV.”
    “Then what is it? The thing on the beach. Who is it?”
    “That depends on who you ask. One person says one thing, someone else says something else.”
    “What about you? What do you say?”
    “I say we’re not Satanists. Nothing happens in the church except the usual shit. Prayer meetings, tambourines, Mum and Dad making total muppets of themselves. It’s, like, so boring it’s not true. And cold. Mum’s stopped making me go, except on Sundays.”
    “What about the locks on the doors? Those are some serious locks. Makes it look like they want to stop someone getting out.”
    Sovereign blinked, confused. Then her expression cleared and she gave a short laugh. “Duh, Joe!” She tapped her temple, as if to say, “How stupid are you?” ‘Not out! In . They’re not trying to stop anyone getting out . They’re trying to stop something getting in .“
     
     
    “You’re not going to answer any of the questions I want answered. You don’t want to talk about your rituals or the rumours going round. Or about why everyone is so antsy about whatever’s at the top of that cliff. Instead you’re giving me a pretty good press release on how well the PHM is taking care of Cuagach Eilean.” I leaned across the table and helped myself to another shot of Blake’s gin. It was late—nearly midnight—and we’d come back to his cottage after the evening meal in the refectory. We sat at the kitchen table near the window that faced the cliff. It was dark outside, and all we could see in the glass were our reflections—our faces lit from underneath by the small table lamp. Sovereign had given me clues: I needed Blake to give me the truth.
    “And you know what?” I said, pushing back the bottle and settling in my chair, nursing the drink. “It crosses my mind that this has only happened to me once before. Almost ten years ago. The Eigg revolution.”
    Blake rested his head sideways on his thumb, a cigar burning between two outstretched fingers, and looked at me levelly. “Yeah. And?”
    “I was one of the journalists who broke the story. Got them the publicity they needed.”
    Blake nodded silently, waiting for me to continue. I smiled at him. “Malachi Dove’s money bought this island, right? You moved here with him, but he’s not here now—and no one wants to talk about him. So, I’m going to make a little leap of faith here, Blake , and call me forward, but I’m going to suggest you’ve got me out here on false pretences.” I pointed my finger at him, smiling slyly over the top of it. “See, I don’t think I’m going to hear much about Satanism. Or the video. What I think is that Malachi left you all here to go wherever it is he’s gone—and you’re insecure about that. You want to raise the money to buy Cuagach from him. You’re not going to make it from selling those crosses so you’ve got to appeal for donations. You want me to do for Cuagach what I did for Eigg.”
    “You’re a sharp one, Joe.”
    “Yes, Blake.” I downed the gin, put the glass neatly on the table in front of him and met his eyes. “I am.”
    There was a long silence. I wanted him to squirm a bit. After a long time he cleared his throat and lowered his eyes, tapping his cigar in the ashtray and shifting uncomfortably in the seat. “We’re cold out of luck here, Joe. Things have not been good.”
    “It’s OK.” I sighed. “It’s straightforward. You give me the story I want—that’s the Satanism one—and I’ll attach a sob message to it, get one of the nationals to run it as a feature and before you know it you’ll have the nation crying with you. Is Dove ready