Hal stared at the page for a moment, then looked into Samantha’s face, so close to his own. ‘I don’t know about “angelic messenger” or “blue skin”, but that certainly sounds like a visitor from the Otherworld.’
‘But why would someone from the Otherworld visit Nicolas Poussin in Rome and force him to paint The Shepherds of Arcadia? ’
‘Because,’ Hal said, ‘they wanted to preserve a clue that could be discovered hundreds of years later. Maybe they knew Poussin was going to be a great artist and that all his works would be well known down the years.’
‘But why all those centuries back?’
Hal thought about that for a moment. ‘Perhaps the strange visitor didn’t set off all that time ago.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘All the legends say that time is odd in T’ir n’a n’Og. It doesn’t move in straight lines. Maybe there’s no such thing as time there at all.’
‘You’re making my head hurt.’
‘Maybe the gods can access any point in time they want from the Otherworld. And maybe they picked Poussin because…’ He paused, reordered his thoughts. ‘OK, how about this? What if Thomas Anson had a similar meeting with, say, a blue-skinned man who encouraged him to commission The Shepherds of Arcadia in reverse for the Shepherds’ Monument at Shugborough?’
‘We don’t know that.’
Hal shrugged and pressed on. ‘And what if these gods were influencing our world all the time, but they passed into legend as angels?’ he said excitedly. ‘Or demons. Didn’t William Blake supposedly see some hideous figure before he painted Ghost of a Flea? ’
‘I have no idea,’ Samantha said with some amusement.
‘Yes, yes, you’re right, I’m off on a tangent. But don’t you see? We’re getting somewhere. Poussin painted The Shepherds of Arcadia because of divine intervention. It’s important enough that the Tuatha De Danann or some other Higher Power wanted it preserved. It’s got something to do with T’ir n’a n’Og. A tomb… a death… a secret in death…? If it was painted over here, it was a clue we were meant to find.’ His train of thoughts was rushing wildly on.
‘“We” as in you and me?’
‘We humans. We…’ He paused. ‘Maybe it was left for the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons.’ His heart started to pound. Was it some supernatural connection meant for him alone?
‘Couldn’t they have left the message in a more obvious way?’ Samantha asked. ‘If it was meant for the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons, why would it be in a Poussin painting and a monument at Shugborough, not whatever it is the Dragon Brothers do on their day off?’
‘Because…’ Another shiver. ‘Perhaps they knew that one of the Brothers of Dragons would come across this.’
‘But they haven’t, have they? We have. I mean, I know one of them found the original stone, but he didn’t crack the clues.’
Hal disappeared in a mist of intense concentration before he said, ‘They buried it deeply because it’s such an important — perhaps powerful — thing that’s been hidden that they couldn’t risk anyone else finding it.’
‘So it is something that could help us in the war.’
‘Yes,’ said Hal, dazed. ‘I really think it is.’
The War Room was dominated by a large electronic map of the UK. Vast swathes of the North Country were coloured red, ending at a line bisecting the country from west to east and centring on Birmingham. Along one wall, three female operatives were in constant radio contact with numerous field agents supplying intelligence back from as close to the front line as they could get. The General, who had not slept for nearly forty-eight hours, regularly checked the updates, but spent most of the time inspecting maps and making calculations.
‘You’re in a bad mood.’
The General looked up to find Reid standing next to him. ‘How do you slip in and out like that? It’s bloody unnerving.’
Reid smiled without humour. ‘I have to say, things aren’t looking good.’
‘And you ask why I’m in a bad mood?’
‘The question was really just a way into finding out how the meeting went with the PM.’ Surreptitiously, Reid began to shuffle through the maps on the table until the General dragged them away from him and pulled Reid away to one side where they couldn’t be overheard.
‘I think he’s bloody losing it,’ the General growled quietly.
‘Oh?’
‘Look at the map. We’ve got five days before the enemy reaches us, maybe less. They’ve stopped annihilating the general population and are marching straight for us here. Their army now stands at somewhere around two million. They don’t eat, sleep, rest. The only way to stop them is to blow them into tiny little pieces, and even then they’re not dead. What’s left twitches and crawls under its own steam. I’ve seen the footage. It’s sickening.’
‘Ah. So the PM didn’t go for your nuclear option.’
‘No, he didn’t.’
‘A series of nukes secretly buried in their path, to be detonated when the army is over them. Might take out, what, even a million of them? And irradiate half of England. I wonder why the PM wasn’t interested?’
The General glared; Reid would not have been so disrespectful a few weeks earlier. His bleeper went off, and when he checked the message he flung the device across the room in a fury.
‘Temper, temper,’ Reid cooed.
‘How can you be such a cold fish? Everything’s falling apart here because nobody has the backbone to make the tough decisions. Barring Kirkham coming up with something, the hidden nukes are the only chance we have. Yes, there would be some collateral damage, and I wouldn’t fancy taking a holiday in the Midlands for a while, but we have no other option.’
Reid turned towards the map, tracing an imaginary blast zone in the air in his line of vision. ‘What did the PM say?’
‘He vacillated. “Yes, it may be our only option.” But this, maybe that… “Let me think about it.” Blah, blah, bloody blah. Somebody’s put another plan to him.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘He dropped a few clues. Is it you?’ the General asked bluntly.
‘Not me.’
‘I bet it’s that bitch Manning. I have no idea what it could possibly be. We have no other weapons-’
‘Well…’ Reid interjected with a sly smile. ‘Things are always darkest before the dawn, General. Remember that.’
‘You can be a slimy little shit, Reid, but if you’ve got something going on that you can pull out of the hat, I’ll kiss you.’
‘Steady on, old chap.’ Reid tapped his nose. ‘We’re working on something.’
‘Well, work quicker. We’ve hardly got any time left.’ The General cracked his knuckles. ‘There’s something no one’s grasping. This power we’re all supposed to be so afraid of isn’t anywhere to be seen.’
Reid nodded; old news.
‘Why isn’t the Void here yet? Missed the train? Where is it going to turn up? At what point? Its army is winning the fight. Its generals are marching on the field. But still no sign of the real enemy. You’ve not sighted anything?’
‘We’ve got agents all over the damn place looking for the first sign of arrival. Nothing so far. Maybe it won’t turn up until long after we’re all gone.’
‘We need to find it the minute it gets here, stop it instantly in its tracks.’
‘You think that’s possible?’
It was the General’s turn to smile slyly. ‘If it’s as powerful as it’s supposed to be, why does it need an army to prepare the way? Perhaps because it’s not so powerful after all. So, if we take out the army, it might not appear. Or maybe we can take it out the moment it arrives. Get your intelligence working on that, Reid.’
Reid considered the General’s words thoughtfully. ‘Good point. Why isn’t it here? Yes, thank you, General. I think I’ll do that.’
The General looked around furtively, then whispered, ‘I don’t know if the PM is the right person to be leading our defence. We need strong decisions, not weak-kneed umming and ahhing.’