Chapter 7: Arrested
'Corner,' she shouted, 'where's Corner?'
'He went forward.'
'But where is he?'
'He went forward,' I shouted, 'when we ran away he went forward.'
'Oh no.'
'I've never seen anyone move that fast.'
We stood outside watching the door. Selkie clung to my arm, I had one hand holding hers, kids streamed out of the club, the Bouncers looking confused, unaware of what had happened.
'Stokes?' said Selkie, 'did you see what happened to Stokes.'
'I saw him go down,' I said, 'and Nugget.'
'I saw that,' she said, 'we all saw that.'
'I've never seen anyone move that fast,' I said again.
'Oh god,' whispered Selkie, starting to cry. More and more people ran from the door. None of them were Corner. I put my arm around her and held her. I could feel my heart beating violently against the weight of her skull resting on my chest. This is what shock feels like, I thought. My eyes were dry but everything was confused. I couldn't process a coherent thought. I couldn't concentrate on the people running past me. I couldn't even begin to think what we should do. We just stood there.
Then we heard the sirens.
'Shit,' said Selkie, 'come on.' She pulled my arm and together we ran away from the noise, Selkie dashed down an alleyway around the side of the building, I heard a voice behind me shout 'Oi, stop,' and I halted dead. It was not a really a conscious decision, I was not thinking for myself at that point and simply obeyed when I was ordered. If Selkie had told me to keep running I would have. She did not. She stopped and looked back at me, confused and scared. She was already around the corner, the police would not have seen her. Flashing blue light spilled around me onto the tarmac.
I mouthed the word 'go,' and she turned and ran, almost ending up straight under the wheels of a white van that screeched to a halt just in time. The kid from the support band poked his head out of the passenger side window.
'It's you,' he said, 'we're getting the fuck out of here.'
'I need a lift,' she said. He held open the passenger door and she jumped in on top of him. The van was moving again before her feet had left the ground. I stood, rooted to the spot, breathing rapidly but otherwise still, and watched the van disappear around the corner before I was grabbed from behind, my arms twisted back and handcuffed, and dragged away.
I was put in the back of a police van with a crowd of kids looking on, I was not the only one, anyone acting even remotely suspicious was arrested. I did not care. I was done for. I had reached the limit of my capabilities. I had nothing else to give. I wanted to be arrested. I wanted to be taken care of. More than anything, I wanted to sleep.
I was woken at some point in the middle of the night, I did not know when but it was still dark outside, and taken from the cell and placed in an interview room and given coffee in a paper cup. About twenty minutes later a tired looking man walked in the door accompanied by a uniformed officer. The tired man sat down opposite me, yawned, and introduced himself as Inspector Thorne.
'Mitchell Wallingford,' he read from the form that had been filled in when I was first processed, 'let's start with why you were in Bedford tonight.'
'I came to see the band,' I said, 'the Monstermen.'
'Are you a fan?'
I shrugged, 'kind of,' I said.
'Long way to come for "kind of'
I shrugged again.
'Who did you come with?' he asked.
'I came alone.'
He looked up at me and said, 'are you sure?'
I nodded.
He leaned back in his chair and folded his hands behind his head and yawned again. 'You know Mr Wallingford, supposedly you can spot a guilty man because when you arrest him, he instantly goes to sleep, an innocent man's troubles have just begun but a guilty man can finally relax. Have you heard that before?'
'I think so.'
'I can't say I've ever noticed it in my experience but other's swear it's true. Now when we take into account the fact that you were arrested fleeing the scene, that after you put in the cell you instantly went to sleep, that you claim to be a fan of the,' he looked at his notes and read the word very slowly and carefully, 'Munstermen,' he looked at me pointedly, 'but you pronounce their name wrong, and you claim to have come alone when I have numerous statements identifying you as arriving in the company of the two victims. When we take all that into account, it all begins to look somewhat suspicious. Wouldn't you say, Mr Wallingford?'
'Yes,' I said weekly.
'Now we're both tired,' he said, 'and I'm not looking for a murderer, he's already been taken care of, all I want to do is understand. So why don't you cut the crap and just tell me what happened.'
A thought struck me, 'what happened to Corner?' I asked.
'Corner?' he said, 'oh you mean Edward Teffler.'
'I don't know,' I said.
He looked at his notes, 'yes, Edward Teffler aka Corner, aka Big Ed. You know him Mr Wallingford?'
'Yes,' I said, 'well I only met him today, err¦ yesterday.'
'He was stabbed three times, and lost a lot of blood, but the doctors say he should be okay which is more than I can say for the other guy.'
'The other guy.'
'Our unnamed Norwegian murderer, your mister Teffler hit him on the head so hard he crushed three of his vertebrae and killed him instantly, broke about every bone in his hand doing it.'
'He killed the¦ the murderer?'
'With one blow to the head, yes.'
'And he's okay.'
'He'll live.'
'And Stokes and Nugget?'
'Don't you call anyone by their names? Kenneth Proser, aka Stokes and James Wilkes, aka Nugget. I'm afraid they're both dead.'
I did not react, it was all that I had expected, I felt dead inside, empty, incapable of emotion.
'So Mr Wallingford,' said the Inspector, 'I take it you will not deny arriving with the three aforementioned individuals.'
'No,' I said.
'As well as,' he looked at his notes, 'two other men in motorcycle leathers, and a woman, all of whom have disappeared.'
I nodded my head.
'And I don't suppose you would be able to tell me their names.'
'The two men,' I said, 'I'm afraid I don't know, we only met yesterday.'
'And the woman.'
I swallowed. 'Selkie Pfinnenwicken,' I said.
He made a note of this and then asked me to spell it. I told him I'd never seen it written down.
'Do you know where she or the two men are?'
'No,' I said, 'we got split up when we left the club. I was looking for her when I was arrested.'
He looked at me suspiciously. 'Okay then,' he said, 'how did you and all these people you'd only met for the first time today end up coming here tonight.'
I closed my eyes, trying to think what to say. 'If I tell you,' I said, 'you'll think I'm mad.'
'I wouldn't be so sure of that Mr Wallingford,' he said, 'I've spent most of tonight talking to a Norwegian pagan rock star call Johannes Darkwater, who says that the murderer was a druid from the sect of the Black Goat called Cathbad. I've had him give a blood sample out of pure curiosity to see what the hell he's taking.'
'The murderer,' I said apologetically, 'was a druid from the Black Goat sect.' The inspector dropped his face into his hands. It was still in his hands when there was a knock at the door and he left the room.
I took the opportunity to try and work out what I was willing to tell him. He knew Selkie's name, so there was little that was worth keeping secret anymore apart from where she had gone, I decided I would still prefer not to mention that we were already wanted by the witch finder people, if for no better reason than it still made very little sense to me. I tried to figure out some sort of story, perhaps leaving the entire trip to Avebury out in case it was already well known that suspects evaded the security services there but my mind went blank, I was not up to the job of inventing.
'That,' said the inspector the moment he opened the door, 'was the biggest shit storm I've ever seen landing right on my head, and all because of one Miss Selkie Pfinnenwicken, who I'd never heard of until you mentioned her name. It seems that locating and apprehending this Miss Pfinnenwicken is of the highest importance to national security, and that Miss Pfinnenwicken, together with her mother, one of the three deceased, and an unknown man matching your description, escaped arrest in the town of Avebury yesterday afternoon with the aid of several unidentified bikers.'
'Ah,' I said.
'"Ah indeed Mr Wallingford. And now lots of very important and very powerful men are casting down shit from up on high, and most of it appears to be heading in my direction. I have three dead people Mr Wallingford, and another in the hospital, I don't need to find a murderer and I sincerely doubt any charges will be brought against Mr Teffler, all I have to do is wrap this up and go back to bed. And all this talk of druids and black goats, Mr Wallingford, isn't making that any easier to do.' He looked at me, a long searching gaze. 'So here's what I'm thinking of doing, I'm going to throw Mr Darkwater and you to whatever dogs will take you in the hope of deflecting the shit pile headed my way, then I will hope to god that the coroner finds something illegal in this dead Norwegian that would explain his actions, then I shall forget all about druids and black goats and go back to bed.'
And with that he stood up and walked out of the room. Shortly afterwards I was escorted back to my cell where thoughts of shadowy security service spiriting me away to some unknown Guatanamo Bay style prison never to be seen again prevented me from sleeping. I lay on my back, listening to the drunks shout at each other, looking up at the ceiling, and worrying. Worrying about Selkie hitching a ride to the South Coast in a van, about Corner fighting for his life in some hospital, and most of all about myself, just laying there doing nothing but worrying.
In the bunk across from me a large man turned trying to get comfortable and swore in English, but in a heavy Norwegian accent. He propped himself up on his elbows and looked across at me.
'Hey you dude,' he said, 'what are you in for?'
'Leaving the scene of the crime,' I said.
'Everything is a crime in this country,' he said, 'in Norway I would be home by now.'
I doubted that was the case but did not argue. 'Are you Johannes?' I asked.
'How did you know that?'
'I recognised you.'
'Yes,' he said, 'they would not let me keep my cowl on. Now I am worried that the fans will discover I'm here and storm the police station like in night of the living deads.'
I doubted that was going to happen, especially after the performance tonight, although to be fair, the fans had seemed to be enjoying the show a lot more than I had.
'Hey,' he said, 'were you at the concert tonight?'
I nodded and he clambered laboriously down from his bunk and walked over to shake my hand. I introduced myself.
'Pleased to meet you Mitchell,' he said. 'You do not look like our fans normally look like.'
'I'm not really a fan,' I said, and then, shifting my position to avoid looking him in the eye whilst I said it, 'but it was good, I enjoyed it.'
He lay back on his bunk and said 'cool.'
'That was scary,' I said, 'what happened tonight.'
'That was Cathbad,' he said, 'he was batshit loco nuts man, batshit loco nuts. He only wanted to come to England this time to join the Black Goat sect so we said he could come with us if he did our show for us. He is actually a very competent roadie.'
'The Black Goat sect?' I asked.
'They are batshit loco nuts. In Norway when we have these people we arrest them because they become dangerous. I do not know why you do not in England.'
'I don't know,' I said, 'perhaps they never actually broke any laws.'
He laughed loudly but fleetingly. 'You English,' he said, 'always valuing law above everything, even justice. Everything that is right and everything that is wrong with England is because of this.' He rolled over onto his side and propped himself up uncomfortably on one arm so he was looking right at me. 'When men like the Black Goat remove themselves from society they become something apart from society, if they live in the wild, after a time they are not the same type of man as one who lives in a house. They become dangerous, like wolves, they see so much death they cease to think death important, they live so close to each other, and so removed from anyone else, that they only care about themselves. They are like a wolf pack.'
He looked at me as if expecting an answer so I nodded my head.
'In Norway we recognise this, it is only natural, often in Norway men used to be trapped alone in the winter and when the summer came you would go and find them but the man you once knew had changed. Sometimes they went mad in little cabins in the hills, sometimes they killed the first man they saw. Now the roads are better, it doesn't happen so much these days. But we recognise that men must not be allowed to live apart from civilisation because it changes them. In England you worry about the law, but there are higher laws, and unwritten laws. If you wish to keep sheep you must kill the wolves, that is a law.'
'Why did he want to go back?' I asked.
'Cathbad,' said Johannes, 'he said they were on the cusp. Those were his words, in English, on the cusp.'
'On the cusp of what?'
'I do not know. I do not think Cathbad knew either. But look at me, I am a priest, I talk to the older gods, the wind and the sun and the rain, and here, especially the rain. I talk to them and ask them what is happening.'
He looked at me expectantly. 'You did this, or you are going to do it?' I asked.
'I did this.'
'And¦?'
'They do not answer.'
I slumped back on my bunk. I was not sure exactly what I was hoping for from a man who talked to the rain.
'But,' he said, 'they tell me I should go back to Bergen, they tell me soon Norsemen will not be welcome here. But I do not listen and I play the show anyway and now I am in jail. You see.'
There was a bang on bars of the cell. I looked and saw the police inspector accompanied by the two men in suits from Avebury and from the train last week, one of whom had his wrist in a plaster, neither of whom looked happy.
'That's the one keeps raving about magic,' said the Inspector, 'and that's the one was seen with Selkie Pfinnenwicken.'
'We'll take that one,' said one of the men pointing at me.
'Don't you want the Norwegian?' said the Inspector.
'No.'
