‘On what?’
‘On me. On the fellowship. He probably wrote in detail about it. Our differences of opinion, especially as far as the rituals are concerned.’
Gideon responds without hesitation. ‘He did. I know better than anyone that my father wasn’t always right. For years we barely spoke. Now he is gone.’ Gideon pauses reflectively, then looks straight into the Master’s eyes. ‘My wish is only to experience a long and healthy life. To show my loyalty to the Sacreds and if you help me do this, then of course my unquestioning loyalty to you.’
The Master embraces him. It is the best answer he could have hoped for. Gideon returns the gesture, though he would rather drive a knife through the man’s heart.
The Master pulls back and holds him proudly by the arms. ‘Now it is time for me to illuminate you, to reveal to you secrets that will leave you breathless.’
130
Megan sits in her car in the supermarket car park and waits.
She can’t go home and she can’t go to work. All she can do is dwell on the awful, fleeting image of Adam in the Mercedes with Utley. It was as bad as catching him in bed with another woman. Yet one more rotten, stinking example of his cheating, lying and betrayal.
She thinks of Sammy and wonders how he can have had the gall to come home to them and play the perfect father and husband while keeping all his secrets. Secrets of belonging to other women, other men, anyone except her and their daughter. Now the sadness turns to anger. Her skin flushes and prickles with the rising rage.
It’s late afternoon when an old Jag stops alongside her Focus. The window slides down and the driver breaks Megan’s festering mood by shouting, ‘Get in.’
The waiting is over.
DCI Jude Tompkins listens patiently as Megan tells her about being followed by Utley and her husband Adam. She calls for a vehicle check and confirms the Mercedes is registered to Matthew Stephen Utley of Tidworth. ‘I could check on your husband’s movements over the last couple of hours but not without people asking me why I want to know.’
‘Don’t bother,’ says Megan. ‘I know it was him.’ She chews at a blooded nail. ‘I feel so stupid. I thought he came back because he wanted to be with me and Sammy.’
‘You’ll have time to beat yourself up about that later,’ says her boss. ‘Right now we have to work out what to do about your daughter. Who we can turn to without raising suspicions.’
‘Mum has Sammy,’ says Megan. ‘I called her and said Adam has been aggressive with me. She won’t let him in the house or near Sam. My dad is at home too, so everything will be okay.’
‘Good. I did some checking this morning. Double-checking, if you like, to make sure we weren’t jumping to the wrong conclusions.’
‘And?’
Tompkins slides a mugshot out of her handbag. ‘Sean Elliott Grabb.’
‘Suspect with his prints on the VW Campervan.’ Megan takes the picture. ‘Worked security at Stonehenge.’
‘Right. He’s dead. Turned up in Bath. Fished out of the Avon.’
‘Murdered?’
‘Too early to tell,’ says Tompkins. ‘Grabb and Stonehenge. That’s yet another connection to the Timberland, Lock and Chase cases. There are far too many coincidences for my liking.’
‘So what do we do, ma’am? Where do we take this?’
‘That’s what I’m worried about.’ Tompkins gives her a studied look. ‘The Chief and Deputy want you out of Devizes, right? They’re packing you off to Swindon. So I don’t think we can trust either of them.’
‘What about Jimmy Dockery? Any sign of him?’
‘He’s done a Lord Lucan. Completely vanished.’ She scratches the back of her head. ‘I’m thinking of taking all this out of force, going to Barney Gibson, the Met Commander.’
Megan is surprised. ‘He’s going to think you’re mad.’
Tompkins smiles. ‘I know. That’s why you are going to tell him, not me.’
131
The Henge Master guides Gideon through the mazy inner sanctums of the Sanctuary. He raises his hands towards the chiselled walls and ceilings. ‘The ancients quarried far and near for this stone. It was hand-picked and dressed by initiated builders. The precision was incredible. Each piece sanctified by the Sacreds. Two million individual blocks interlocked. The entire structure erected without mortar.’
Gideon rubs a hand along the smooth walls as they walk. The twisting corridors become narrower and the ceiling height falls as they descend into the heart of the temple. ‘Why has this place never been discovered?’
The Master smiles. ‘Because there is no reason to look for it. No one knows of its existence and all archaeological digs are focused around Stonehenge. Occasionally there are finds — a wooden henge in line with the Sacreds, a crematorium, the bones of dead soldiers, ancient axes and tools. This is enough to satisfy academic appetitites.’
‘But there is more?’
‘Much more,’ says the Master. ‘Not only the Sanctuary but other sacred places that are all aligned and linked, blessed and protected. And not just here. Across the world.’
Gideon is dazzled by the extent of the unknown. He has a thousand questions.
‘Come,’ urges the Master walking again. ‘In all, it took more than a hundred thousand people over two centuries to complete the Sanctuary and Stonehenge.’ The Master leads him through a spiralling labyrinth of tunnels. ‘They quarried without machines, used rough wooden sleds and their hands to haul titanic weights hundreds of miles, sometimes across deep stretches of water. They built scaffolding from felled trees, ropes and pulleys from grasses, tree bark and vines. They dug a fully functional and entirely original sewerage system. It still works perfectly. Channelled through the plain to the Sanctuary to fall into deep chalk pits fed by underground streams.’ He stretches upwards and touches an open hole in the sandstone blocks. ‘Ancient air ducts ensure a steady flow of oxygen. These vertical tunnels are also star shafts. They point to specific stars, certain constellations. The Sanctuary is a precessional clock that also allows us to keep our charts and calendars, just as our forefathers did.’
The Master leads them through a narrow arch into a passageway running directly below the Great Room. ‘While the Sanctuary’s initial purpose was to be a temple for the Sacreds, it was also a Neolithic teaching hospital, a form of university cum town hall where science, health and administration were practised.’
‘Their society was that advanced?’ asks Gideon.
‘Every era has its outstanding leaders, even the Neolithic one.’ The Master walks on through the passageway and produces a large iron key hung on brown string around his neck. ‘Let me illustrate the point.’ He unlocks a narrow oak door and they slide through into the pitch black.
The air is even cooler and their footsteps echo even louder. The Master lights a wall torch and several large, floor-level candles. As their eyes adjust, they see a large and perfectly circular chamber dominated by a dark block in the middle. The vast walls are hewn from blood-red granite, reminiscent of Egyptian tombs. On the walls to the left and the right as far as Gideon can see are dozens and dozens of open coffins all angled so the skulls of the dead have a perfect view of the large Pantheon-like single star shaft in the centre of the room.
‘A crypt,’ observes Gideon. ‘Who were these people and why the special treatment?’
‘These are the ancients. Our predecessors. The brilliant men who designed and built the Sanctuary, Stonehenge and all the henges, barrows, burial mounds and avenues linked to them.’ The Master moves slowly around the room lighting more torches and candles. ‘But this is more than a sacred resting place, Gideon.’