God's Country

Part Five

'There are matters in the Bible, said to be done by the express commandment of God himself, that are shocking to humanity and to every idea we have of moral justice.'

Thomas Paine

Colin Hughes was not really a spy. He thought of himself as a researcher, and sometimes a forensic accountant, but occasionally his clients required a more hands-on approach, and he was perfectly willing to operate out in the field, if he needed to, if the size of the fee made the sheer inconvenience worthwhile. Not that he really needed to ever employ any meaningful espionage techniques to investigate Meadvale. The village was a minor tourist attraction with its massive Cathedral, the epicentre of the burgeoning Church of Christian Reform, a statue dedicated to the village's most famous resident, a lecherous Oscar-winning actor of ancient repute, and the most unspoiled village green left in the whole county of Surrey according to the Surrey tourist information website. So he had simply spent the day walking around in the open, his camera slung around his neck, taking a guided tour of the Cathedral, which cost him a very reasonable two pounds, having a cold pint and a rather good rare steak in the little pub on the green, and generally having a good look around the place without ever once arousing any noticeable suspicion from anyone. He was only after some background information at that stage, of course. He did not expect to find out anything new about David Harrington or Paul Craig in the pub or the village cafe. But he wanted to see Meadvale for himself and to try to understand what was going on there.

He knew us much as anyone could find out about Reformism online. Not just the results of the sort of simple search a teenage girl might attempt just using Google, but detailed financial records, planning applications, membership lists and even a reasonable explanation of their rather strange doctrine, outlined in a lengthy speech given by the leading Pastor, Michael Winstanley, to a Baptist convention in Florida the previous September. But he still found it hard to believe what he was seeing as he ambled around the village. He had several innocent conversations, one with the landlord of the pub and one with a waitress in the cafe when he stopped for an afternoon coffee. It was all just perfectly normal to them, it seemed, and the Reformists were described by both as good people. No one in Meadvale would say a word against them, not to a tourist at any rate, and there was not one single aspect of village life that had not been enhanced by a donation from their friends. Not that Hughes had anything against religion, even in its most extreme forms. He had a Muslim friend who helped him with corporate investigations, a real whizz with a balance sheet, and Imran was a good man who loved his cricket, read every single crime thriller on the bookshelves and admitted to an unrequited love affair with Katie Perry if pressed, but his wife and daughter wore a burqa if they ever left the house and it was best not to discuss Israel, Russia or the Americans in his presence. Each to their own, Colin believed, and he did not judge.

But then things got rather more interesting purely by chance. Hughes had taken a walk past the Cathedral and then along the river, on a path that led behind Harrington's Broomwaters and Craig's Lake House, the closest he could get to the two huge properties without actually trespassing. He did not expect to see much, but it was all good background information once more which made it a good excuse for a nosy stroll, and it was a pretty little walk on a sunny afternoon too, so he indulged himself, snapping shots of a moorhen to give himself a reason to point his lens at the back of the two large mansions one hundred yards beyond the smooth slow-flowing water. And as he deftly adjusted the focus, he got a very clear picture of the honourable Charles Buckingham MP, or rather the former MP, happily drinking pimms with David Harrington, Paul Craig and Pastor Michael Winstanley on the large sun terrace behind Broomwaters.

Hughes recognised the face straight away without needing to check it out. He was paid to recognise faces, and although he could not claim to know all six hundred and fifty members of parliament, Buckingham had been a new face promoted in David Cameron's last reshuffle before losing the recent election to Brian Strickland, the leader of the Labour party elected after the farcical reign of Jeremy Corbyn, and his rainbow coalition of the few remaining Liberal Democrats and Scottish Nationalists. Colin Hughes stalked the poor moorhen for several minutes, taking dozens of pictures he would soon delete, before he had to move on fearful of attracting unwanted attention. His investigations, or at least the identities of those paying so well for them, needed to remain secret, but what was a British politician of some repute, even if he was not currently elected, doing in Meadvale? It was a question his clients would surely like an answer to.