Megan agrees along with the rest but suffers a pang of motherly guilt at the prospect of leaving Sammy with her parents again.
They’re in the process of packing the rucksacks in the van when Goran quickly raises an arm. They freeze. From way off in the distance blink the headlights of an approaching vehicle. They take cover behind derelict buildings and the car zips past on the road heading out of the village.
‘White builder’s van,’ says Goran, getting to his feet. ‘It had a name like Smith and Son on the side. The back light over the number plate was out, so I don’t have a registration.’ He looks to Jimmy and Megan. ‘Did either of you recognise it? Did it mean anything to you?’
‘Yes,’ says Megan. ‘It meant a lot to us.’
144
The Henge Master sits alone in the darkness of the eastern chamber. He is waiting. Passing time. As he did yesterday morning. And the morning before.
It has always been the chore of Masters to plot the sunrise and sunset over the Sanctuary and Stonehenge. It is the Followers’ own geocentric model. Like the Greek philosophers, like Aristotle and Ptolemy, they follow a belief that a fixed point of the earth is the centre of the universe.
All things revolve around them. Only the Followers are wiser. It is not the orbit of planetary motions alone that they focus on. It is also their effect that is important. The resultant swirl of spiritual forces. The realignment of souls and energy. The gravitational drift of eternal power and essence.
The knowledge of the Followers predates all others. Theirs is the science that gave birth to astronomy, astrology, geography, meteorology and all others. The wisdom of the ancients.
Through the eastern star shaft, the Master sees the first trace of sunrise. Not dawn. This is different. More precise. The exact time the upper edge of the great orb appears above the horizon. The moment that the balance of power shifts. The split second the rule of night is over.
The first gasping breath of a newborn day.
Eyes fixed on the rising red and orange disc in the morning sky, the Master wonders for a moment about his new recruit. Phoenix. His son. His own flesh and blood. Today will be a telling one for him. For both of them. Blood is said to be thicker than water. Sunset will put that theory to the test. When the ball of fire dips in the west and the last of its trailing edge sinks below the horizon. The answer will be known.
Then history will be written.
145
Caitlyn wakes screaming.
The cell is compost black, wall torches long since burned out. Gideon heaves himself from the straw bunk beside her.
‘Eric! Eric, help me!’
He follows the nightmare voice, feels his way in the utter blackness. The red glow of torches held by Lookers spills through the iron doors of the cell and he catches a glimpse of her. Knees tucked high against her chest, eyes glazed with terror.
‘What’s happening in there?’ calls a Looker.
‘Help! Someone, help me!’
Gideon tries to calm her. ‘It’s okay. You’re all right.’
‘Help!’ The screams are louder.
He sits on the edge of the wooden bunk and tries to steady her. ‘Caitlyn, you’re dreaming. Wake up.’
Two Lookers step quickly into the cell, torches grotesquely illuminating their faces.
‘It’s okay,’ says Gideon, half-turning to them. ‘Light the wall torches and she’ll calm down. She’s just frightened.’
He puts his arms around her and holds her. ‘Don’t worry. No one is going to hurt you.’ The words stick in his throat. Liar.
Light gradually crawls across the walls as the lit torches burn. Caitlyn wakes from the horror of her dreams to face the stone-hard reality of her fate. She holds Gideon for protection. Her voice is rough and raw. ‘I need some water.’
The two Lookers wait for Phoenix to give his consent.
‘Get her some, please.’
The taller of the two, the man previously introduced as Volans, moves to the back of the cell and fills a pot beaker with water from one of the stone troughs. He hands it to her and she drinks.
Gideon looks again at the two robed men. There is something different about them. The way they are holding themselves, the way they stand. He looks into their faces. Reads their concern, their intensity of focus. Then he notices their robes.
They are armed. Both are carrying guns.
146
Megan wants to chase after him. Wants to get up behind Smithsen’s van and put him in a ditch. Find out what the hell he’s doing on MOD land at four in the morning.
Goran unclips the radio from his belt. ‘Command to Echo Leader. We’ve eyeballed a white van heading east out of Imber. Name on the side is Smithsen — Sierra Mike India Tango Hotel Sierra Echo November. Recon and report until otherwise instructed. Over.’
There is a hiss and then a crackly reply, ‘Copy that, Command. Over.’
Megan looks irritated. ‘Who was that?’
Goran looks smug. ‘I have surveillance units pegged to all corners of the compass,’ he says. ‘They’ll be effective for a while yet, until the roads fill up. After that, it’s going to become more difficult. Echo Team is on the van and will report back.’
‘I wish you’d told me you had those kind of resources. How can I help if I don’t know what you’re running with?’
The American grins widely. ‘Sorry, lady. I’m afraid you only get to learn about my resources on a need-to-know basis.’ He can see she’s about to give him a mouthful. ‘We don’t have time to argue. We’ve got to get out of here before it’s fully light.’
Megan glares at him. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know exactly where that vehicle came from?’ She looks into the twilight, in the direction of the MOD danger zone and the route Smithsen took.
As he is about to reply, Goran’s radio spurts to life again. ‘Echo to Team Leader. We’ve got a problem. I think the target just made us.’
147
Caitlyn’s unsure of the man she’s sharing a cell with. He introduced himself yesterday as Gideon but she was too sick to do anything but just stare warily at him. Why is he in here with her? What does he want? He’s dressed like all the others but behaves differently. Not as mean. She looks across to him.
He acts friendly. Like he’s on her side. But he is one of them. She knows he is. The other guards listen to him. He told them to light the torches on the wall and they did it. They did as he said. No hesitation. He has influence over them. So why is he in the cell?
She feels weak and nauseous as she creaks her way out of her bunk and tries to take a step or two. He sees the tension on her face. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Why do you care?’ She glares at him like a frightened animal.
‘I’m not here to hurt you.’
Her heart jumps. A sudden rush of hope. ‘Have my parents paid the ransom? Am I going home?’ She forgets her caution and goes over to his bunk. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? It’s why I’m in here instead of that goddamned hole in the wall. It’s why you’re being nice to me. You’re preparing me for my release. Acclimatising me.’
Gideon stands and steadies her. ‘No, Caitlyn. That’s not it.’ He glances towards the iron bars. ‘For all I know, your parents haven’t even been asked for a ransom. The people who abducted you are not after any money. I’m sorry.’
She doesn’t understand. If they don’t want her money, then what do they want? The fear returns to her face. ‘So what’s going on, then?’ She gestures to the room. ‘Why this?’