SEVEN

WEST HAMPSTEAD, LONDON. 13 JUNE 2011. 2.45 P.M.

‘Max, relax for chrissakes.’

‘I never told you to go and interview some bloody lawyer, or the bloody neighbours! You’ve enough to get through without digressing. I hope I’ve not misplaced my confidence and my trust in you, Kyle.’ At the other end of the phone, Max’s voice shook and not just from anger; he sounded close to tears.

‘Whoa. Whoa. Hold on. Your brief directly specifies that we are to research and film the evidence of paranormal phenomena arising from the belief system of The Temple of the Last Days. That’s straight from your pitch, Max. Interviewing an ex-tenant of their original headquarters, who was directly affected by said uncanniness is directly relevant to this film. And this “bloody lawyer” is a damn sight more credible than Sister Isis, by the way, who looks like a freak show.’

‘Don’t be so unkind! That lady is as honest as this day is long. She was there. There, Kyle! The lawyer and her neighbours were not. Susan White would never embellish her story. Whatever she told you, you can take it to the bank.’

This was unfamiliar ground. He’d not encountered Max as anything but genial and unruffled, if not self-superior and covertly sly. But now he sensed instability. Someone irascible and emotional, if not controlling. And he really did not care for it. ‘Look. My work speaks for itself. I am thorough, Max. I follow leads. I do not overlook important testimony. Credible, believable testimony from reliable witnesses. Rachel Phillips is a barrister, Max. A barrister! How do you think this film is going to look with a load of old hippies in their seventies talking about “presences”, and “The Seven”? Eh? And playing to the gallery. Think about it. It’ll look like a load of Dungeons and Dragons, mate.’

‘Please. Do not raise your voice. You must try and understand—’

‘No, Max. I cannot. I cannot understand why you are balling me out for taking some initiative here. This is not a good way to start a working relationship. I do not expect my decision to seek a corroborating story to be questioned. I told you that when we first met. You gave me creative autonomy. I will not be steered, Max, by an agenda. It’s not how I work. I don’t have an axe to grind here, Max, and I am not going to grind one of yours either. Particularly as you were a member, eh?’

There was a long silence from Max. But at the other end of the phone, Kyle could hear the old man’s tremulous breathing. ‘No. Kyle, you are right. I apologize. I am under a lot of pressure right now. Bear with me.’ His tone had softened to conciliation, to penitence, as if he were now surprised by, or unsure of, where his own outburst had originated. It seemed to have taken them both by surprise.

Kyle remained cautious; instinctively wary of any meddling authority in film-making. God knew he’d had enough of that. ‘Why did you not tell me that you were part of The Last Gathering? That’s a major omission. You were balls-deep from the beginning, mate, but you chose not to tell me. So what’s that all about?’

‘Susan should not have mentioned that. I told her not to.’

‘Why? You left the group in the same week as her! You could have told us the same things as Susan. Maybe we should interview you—’

‘No!’

Kyle flinched, as if he’d been electrocuted by the handset of his phone.

‘Sorry. I am sorry. It’s a difficult time for us right now.’

‘Us? Who is us?’

Max let out a long, tired sigh. ‘Another one of us went in the night.’

‘I don’t follow, Max. What are you telling me?’

‘We can’t waste any more time. It’s paramount we get Gabriel’s testimony this week. And I need the London footage right away. Uploaded to the ftp site. You have the address?’

‘Yes. But wait. Hang on. What do you mean, “another one of us went”?’

‘We’re old. There’s not many of us left. Some of us are unwell. And a dear old friend of mine recently left us.’

‘You mean he died? Who?’

‘Doesn’t matter. He was unwilling to break silence for the film. Would never have been involved. But I’m very upset about it.’

‘Sorry. I’m sorry, Max.’

‘I heard yesterday. It’s all very sad. We’ve all been through so much together.’ Max cleared his throat. ‘Call me when you’re in France. We can talk more then. We’ll meet when you get back.’

‘Wait.’ But Max had already hung up.

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