Page 27 of The Hallmarked Man

Robin stared at him.

‘What?’ said Strike.

‘You’re never a Freemason?’

‘Course I’m bloody not,’ said Strike, with a snort.

‘Well, I might not know! It’s a secret society, isn’t it?’

‘“A society with secrets”, that’s the line. No, a mate of mine in the military was one. Graham Hardacre. I used to call him Hiram occasionally, for piss-taking purposes. Mind you, he only joined up to get a hot meal.’

‘What?’

‘His wife doesn’t cook. They live off sandwiches. Masonic dinners were a way he could legitimately get hold of some steak.’

‘Couldn’thelearn to cook?’

‘If that’s ever occurred to him, he’ll have dismissed it as the product of a diseased mind. He’s a funny bloke, Hardy, in both the odd and ha-ha senses. Good investigator, though.’

As he said it, Strike remembered that Hardacre had sent him an email several months previously which he, busy with both work and personal matters, had neglected to answer. Their paths had diverged dramatically since Strike had left the army for a London-based life, while Hardacre remained in the Special Investigation Branch of the Royal Military Police. Hardacre had done Strike a couple of favours in the early days of the agency, but it now occurred to Strike that they hadn’t met face to face for five years.

‘Well, it’ll be interesting to hear from Murphy how much truth there was in the Abiff rumours,’ said Strike.

‘Why do men do it?’ asked Robin.

‘What, murder people?’

‘No, why are they so keen on closed societies with rituals and things? Women don’t go in for that kind of thing as much.’

‘Dunno,’ said Strike, but after a few seconds’ thought he added, ‘Think we might like the hierarchical thing more than you do. And we tend to need a reason to meet. Go out and do something or watch something, together. We don’t hang around in each other’s houses a lot, unless there are women involved.’

‘So Freemasonry’s like five-a-side football?’

‘Except that there’s not as much emphasis on funny handshakes in five-a-side football and you don’t often hear players asking each other how old their grandmothers are.’

‘What?’ said Robin, utterly confused.

‘It’s how masons ask each other what lodge they belong to. The lodges are all numbered. “How old’s your grandmother?” “Two thousand and fifty-three.”’

‘Did Hardacre tell you all this?’

‘Some of it. You can look most of it up. From what I gleaned from Hardacre, you’re supposed to help out the needy – with an emphasis on fellow masons – and generally be a model citizen. And you’ve got your duty of admonishment.’

‘What’s that?’

‘No public exposure. Just a quiet brotherly word in the ear.’

‘Would that extend to something criminal?’ asked Robin curiously.

‘“Murder and treason excepted”,’ quoted Strike. ‘There are bits of it that aren’t for public consumption. Hardacre wouldn’t tell me the big stuff.’

Robin checked her watch, then said reluctantly, because she was interested in the conversation,

‘I’d better go, I’m taking over from Midge for a couple of hours. Does seven tonight suit you? I’ll order some pizza or something.’

‘Yeah, great,’ said Strike. ‘See you then.’

Robin headed off, leaving Strike to wonder what an evening spent in her and Murphy’s company was going to be like, because it would be the first time he’d ever been with them, alone, as a couple. Possibly, he thought, he’d be able to find a way to make Murphy look like a prick.