by Sam Christer
‘Son or no son, you can’t allow him to become a problem, Gregory.’
‘I am aware of that. And your own child?’
‘Touché. I don’t think I have any worries there though. He passed the initiation of course, and he is more than aware that he already owes his life to our cause.’ Pendragon’s face hardens. ‘So why the visit? What is on your mind?’
Dockery creeps to the edge of his seat. ‘I have a suggestion. An unorthodox one. However, one I think you can sanction. If you agree, I’m certain our plans will go ahead tonight without any fear of interruption.’
154
The Apache helicopter swoops across Salisbury Plain at more than a hundred and fifty miles an hour. It banks high into the bright blue sky before looping back over the sun-parched Imber range.
The gunship is fitted with an M230 chain gun, synched to the helmet sights of the pilot and gunner. Even more deadly are its semi-active laser-guided Hellfire II missiles, capable of destroying tanks, buildings and bunkers. It’s a flying arsenal.
But this flight is non-aggressive. An impromptu run-out. The pilot Tommy Milner and his two-man crew sweep the plain to find a group of trespassers reported within the restricted area. A welcome break from the boredom of sitting around.
Milner calls in a result after only a few minutes.
‘Targets spotted. Twelve in total. Spread twelve o’clock, three o’clock, six o’clock and nine o’clock. Do you want exact verbal positioning or will you take refs off our data screen. Over?’
‘We got the data,’ says the base’s air controller. ‘Processing now. Can you describe movements?’
‘Charlie will give you details. I’m just going to hover so we can fix the cameras for you.’
Co-pilot Charlie Golding takes his cue. ‘Two distinct groupings. Four on motorcycles moving outwards towards Imber circular footpath as just described. Eight more in splits of two, on foot, moving inwards.’
Milner hits the zoom on one of the high-powered video surveillance cameras.
A soldierly form, dressed in some type of black uniform, fills the screen. ‘I have one of the trespassers full frame,’ says the pilot. ‘As you can see he is on some form of nonmilitary motorcycle, travelling at slow speed.’
‘Thank you, Apache One. We have the imaging. Standby for further instructions. Over.’
The controller turns to Lieutenant Colonel James Pendragon. ‘What do you want us to do, sir?’
The Master rises from the seat he’d taken near the monitors. ‘Send a ground patrol to clear the range. Lock these fools up until the morning. Then let them go.’
155
Megan has spent most of the day in shock. Adam’s surprise visit scared her. She knows exactly what he was doing. He was showing that he could find her, get to her or Sammy, any time he wanted. Well, it had worked. She’s still shaking long after he’s left.
Adam is still on her mind as Jimmy drives her out to West Lavington to meet a contact of his. A man who sounds almost as frightened as she is.
‘He’s terrified,’ says Jimmy. ‘Wouldn’t agree to speak to you unless it was way out in the country, somewhere he felt safe.’
Megan glances out of the window at an endless green blur. ‘Well, this is certainly way out in the country.’
They pull into the grounds of Dauntsey’s, a five-hundred-year-old red-brick boarding school set in a hundred acres of secluded countryside on the northern edge of Salisbury Plain.
‘His name is Lee Johns,’ explains Jimmy, parking in a line of parents’ vehicles near a stretch of sports fields. ‘He worked security at Stonehenge with Sean Grabb, the guy who turned up dead in Bath.’
‘And what, he just came forward today?’
‘No, I only found him this morning. I’ve been working my way through the security firm’s roster and finally caught him at home.’
A few minutes later an old Honda pulls in and parks up.
‘This is our boy,’ says Jimmy. ‘Best you get the rest of the tale from him.’ He slides out of his seat and heads across the car park.
Megan watches from the passenger seat and weighs Johns up as he approaches. Spotty-faced, mid-twenties, tall and thin but doesn’t walk proud. He’s a stooper. Self-conscious. Doesn’t look the kind that makes friends easily. Probably a loner. Lives by himself, doesn’t eat well and doesn’t have a girlfriend.
Jimmy opens a back door for Johns, returns to the driver’s seat and makes the introductions. ‘Lee, this is my boss, DI Baker. Tell her what you told me and don’t mess about.’
He looks at her like she’s about to eat him.
‘Go on. I won’t bite,’ she says.
‘You’re going to think I’m crazy.’
‘Try me.’
‘I work – worked – a lot with Sean Grabb. He was a good bloke. He sort of took me under his wing when I came up here. Sorted me out like. He got me a job, helped me get my head together and encouraged me to get off the gear I was on. You know about Sean, right?’
Megan nods.
Johns lowers his head. ‘He was a good bloke. A mate.’
Jimmy pushes him. ‘Tell the DI what you said about the cult and Stonehenge.’
He looks up. ‘It’s not a cult. It’s a religion. A proper religion. Goes back before Christ and everything. Sean was really into it. He believed the henge was some kind of sacred thing that was the home for ancient gods. He would go on and on about it, the power it had. He said the people who worshipped there were good people, doctors, lawyers and stuff, even coppers.’ He looks towards Jimmy. ‘No offence, like.’
‘Go on.’
‘Well, I got interested more because Sean was a mate and I wanted to stay tight with him. They took me somewhere weird and held this kind of mass and blessing.’
‘Where?’ asks Megan.
He shakes his head. ‘I don’t know. They put a hood over my head. I couldn’t see. They drove me somewhere. I remember the inside though. It was like a big old church, a cathedral kind of thing.’
‘Warminster?’ suggests Jimmy.
‘Might have been. I don’t know. I’ve not been in any churches anywhere since I were a kid. Anyways, I didn’t get to see it going in or coming out. Sean said it would be some time before I would be told where the meeting place was.’
Megan is anxious not to let him wander too far off track. ‘Lee, do you know about Caitlyn Lock, the American who was kidnapped at Stonehenge?’
‘Only what I saw on the news.’
‘This group and their secret place, do you think they have her there?’
He looks shocked. ‘The American? No, I don’t see them doing anything like that. No way.’
She can tell he’s scared. What interests her is why. ‘Jimmy says you know about something that’s supposed to be happening today?’
He looks uncertain.
‘Tell her, Lee.’ The DS glares at him.
‘All right. Look, it might be nothing. I mean, I’m not that involved with these people, right? I just work security at the henge and went along to the ceremony with Sean.’
‘We’ve heard all that,’ Megan snaps. ‘What is it, Lee?’
He takes a deep breath. ‘There is something big going down at the henge. Extra security has been put on. Dozens and dozens of extra uniforms. I’m on a detail that starts at six and stops anyone getting within a mile of the place.’
‘Aren’t there prayers, masses and ceremonies happening there all the time?’
‘Yeah, there are, but security is usually low level for that sort of stuff. A couple of guards to make sure no one messes with the Sacreds. Tonight is different. The area is completely shut to the public. No bookings from this afternoon until tomorrow.’ He turns to Jimmy. ‘Look at their records. You’ll find it’s for maintenance of the stones, but what happens out there tonight is nothing to do with maintenance. At least not the kind most people would expect.’
156
Luc van Daele is the first to run into an army ground patrol. H
e sees the Saxon armoured personnel carrier kicking up dust and spitting out fumes straight ahead. It’s not a surprise that they’ve turned up. In fact, he expected them much earlier than this.
He gears the dusty trail bike down to an unhurried halt and steps off. The engine dies as he turns away from the vehicle and speaks quickly and quietly into his radio. ‘I’ve got visitors. A personnel carrier with four-up. They’re just coming over for a chat. I’ll keep this channel open as long as possible. Over.’
The big, camouflaged Saxon grinds to a noisy halt and several soldiers spill out. Time to put Lynton’s cover story to the test. Van Daele wriggles free of his rucksack and digs out his false papers. ‘Hi there,’ he shouts with a friendly smile. ‘You guys work on a Sunday as well, eh?’
A clean-cut soldier in his late twenties is first to speak. He’s kitted out in standard green and brown field gear. The tactical recognition flash on his arm puts him at captain-level with the Yorkshire, one of the British army’s largest infantry regiments. ‘You’re trespassing here, sir. This is a restricted area. I need you to step away from the motor cycle and come with us.’
‘I think you’re mistaken.’ Van Daele holds out a plastic file filled with paperwork. ‘I’m with the International Entomological and Natural History Society. My colleagues and I have permission from the ATE to carry out a survey on rare myriapods and isopods.’ He can see the soldier doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. ‘Centipedes, lice, pill bugs, stuff like that.’
The captain takes the documentation but doesn’t look at it. ‘I’m sorry, sir. It doesn’t really matter what this says or what you’re doing, I’m under instructions to remove you from here.’
Luc knows better than to argue. ‘Okay. No problem.’ He waves a hand resignedly. ‘I can easily put up with going home early to my wife and children.’ He takes back the papers, shoves them in his rucksack and goes to start the bike.
The young captain steps in his path. ‘I’m afraid you can’t do that. You have to travel in the carrier with us, back to our barracks. One of my men will take care of your vehicle.’
‘Hey, come on now.’ Van Daele pushes the officer’s arm away. ‘I’m happy to ride this off your range, that should be enough for you.’
The captain calls to his men. ‘Welsby, Simmonds, Richards.’
Three squaddies quickly crowd van Daele and move him away from the bike. Two of them are no more than kids. He could crack their heads easily enough. Leave them flat on their backs shouting for Mummy. But not without looking anything but like an insect collector.
157
Megan and Jimmy let Johns go and drive towards Stonehenge. She has mixed feelings about what she just heard.
‘How much do you believe him, Jimmy?’
He drives with one hand on the wheel. ‘Lee is an ex-junkie. Hard for these people to get out of bed without lying. What’s on your mind?’
‘He used the word “Sacreds”. He didn’t call them stones. He called them Sacreds. The same word that Gideon Chase used.’
‘Sounds like he didn’t make it up then, not if Chase used the same word.’
Megan is still chewing things over. ‘He’s not telling us everything. He’s either more involved than he says he is, or less. Either way, he’s holding back for some reason.’
Jimmy puts his foot down as they clear Shrewton and join the last stretch of road to Amesbury. A brown sign for Stonehenge comes up on their right. ‘You want me to pull into the car park?’
‘No, not for a minute. Just drive around the place.’
He slows to a crawl as they pass the monument, then turns right off the A344 and heads past it on the other side down the A303. In the grounds around the henge they see more than two dozen black-suited security guards being organised into groups.
‘Well, it looks like he was telling the truth about some of it,’ says Jimmy.
‘Take another right,’ says Megan. ‘The lane, there. Park up and we’ll walk.’
Jimmy indicates and starts to manoeuvre. As he turns he’s confronted by a ‘Road Closed’ sign weighed down with sandbags in the middle of the lane.
‘I’ll stop further down and turn around,’ he says. ‘Otherwise we’ll have to go all the way to Winterbourne Stoke and back through Shrewton.’
He pulls out and starts a three-point turn. Megan glances across the open countryside. ‘I’m puzzled about something else that Johns said back there.’
‘What’s that?’ he spins the wheel and straightens up.
‘He mentioned that he thought people like doctors and police were members of this religion. When he said it, he looked towards you and said, “No offence”. Why did he do that?’
Jimmy knows what she’s getting at. ‘I told him I knew all about the movement. That my father has always been a member but that I never wanted to be. I said my old man was in the force, the Deputy Chief Constable, and he could check on that easily enough if he wanted. That’s how I got him to open up and tell us about tonight.’
‘Is that true, Jimmy? That your father is a member of the Followers? Is that why I’m being shipped out to Swindon?’
‘It’s just something I said to Johns to get him to talk.’
Megan looks into his eyes and sees he’s masking his emotions. ‘You think he is, don’t you?’
Jimmy looks away. He’s riddled with doubts. His father has been his lifelong hero, the reason he joined the force, the one man in the world who has always been there for him. He can’t accept he’s mixed up in something as awful as all this. Won’t accept it. Not yet. Not until there’s overwhelming proof.
158
Caitlyn starts to dry retch. There’s nothing she can do about it. She sits on the edge of her bunk, then drops to her knees. The intense heaving comes in painful spasms.
Gideon looks on feeling helpless. He puts an arm around her, gives her a drink, holds the clay cup to her lips. But he can see that he’s of no real comfort. Her condition is deteriorating fast.
She sits with her back against the wall and places her hands on her tummy. ‘My stomach feels like I’ve filled it with battery acid.’
‘That’s pretty much what it is. Gastric acid, secreted by the lining of your gut. Can you remember when you were taken? When you last ate anything?’
‘I don’t know. I’ve completely lost sense of time, of day and night.’ She thinks. Grasps at the last few days. ‘Wait. It was Saturday, the early hours of the morning. The day before the solstice. The nineteenth.’
‘Today is the twenty-seventh. Sunday, the twenty-seventh.’
‘Oh God.’
‘They’ve done this to purify you. The ritual demands that at least seven days pass without food passing your lips.’
His eyes are on the bars and the two Lookers stood outside. ‘Caitlyn, they’re going to come for you soon. When they do, they are going to start the ritual and part of it will involve taking you outside. I’m going to be with you. Security will be tight. Even tighter than it is now. But this is the only chance we will have.’
‘Chance?’ Her spirits lift a little. ‘What chance? What are you going to do?’
His eyes hold hers. ‘Everything I can.’
159
High in the clouds, the hovering Apache is the first to realise what is happening. The three motorbikes are making a run for it. Dust kicks up from the terrain and the trail bikes are suddenly screaming across the plain in opposite directions.
‘Trespassers dispersing. Are you catching this, control?’ Milner widens the camera focus to show as much of the ground below as possible.
‘Copy. We’ve got it, Apache. Ground patrols are ready to engage.’
Milner spots the big fat Saxon lumbering across the range, then the trails of two small, faster Land Rover Snatch 2’s crossing from the west.
‘Don’t often see bikers out here,’ remarks Golding off-mike. ‘Especially ones behaving like those guys.’
‘Never mind, good to give the old bird a spin, better
than sitting around.’
Golding is as relaxed as the pilot. ‘No point having big equipment if you don’t use it, I guess.’
They both laugh as they watch the onboard monitor and the run the bikes are giving the army vehicles for their money.
‘Could be an op,’ says Golding. ‘Maybe 76th Foot or the 19th are playing the part of the trespassers?’
‘Might even be outsiders,’ says Milner. ‘You sometimes get the SAS or Marines coming down here for a workout before going out to the Middle East.’
One of the bikes pulls a sharp turn, leaves a Land Rover for dead and then blazes off in an entirely new direction.
‘They’re going to lose these guys.’ Milner points to the monitor. ‘Look what they’re doing. They’ve spread themselves so wide, so quickly. The patrols aren’t going to catch them.’
‘Someone’s going to get it tonight.’ Golding clicks on his radio. ‘We’ve got one trespasser heading south into the cover of trees near Heytesbury. Do you want us to reposition or stay as we are, covering the others?’
‘Keep your position, Apache One.’
Five minutes later it’s all over. The bikes have outmanoeuvred the ground patrols and disappeared. Only four more of the trespassers, all of whom were on foot, have been captured. Apache One wheels around and heads back to base.
160
STONEHENGE IS CLOSED.
From what Megan and Jimmy can make out, similar CLOSED signs have been posted on all approaches to the historic site. The public car park is shut and all non-public roads have been closed.
The two police officers walk along the tiny grass verge of the A344 and past the ugly stretch of fenced-off tarmac where coaches and cars normally pull in. They cross the road and peer through another stretch of fencing towards the most complete part of the henge.
‘What’s going on, Jimmy?’ She is staring at the dozens of uniformed security staff. They are all over the site.
‘No idea.’
