His vehicle rumbles through the main gates of Battlesbury Barracks and halts behind the parade ground. As he makes his way to his office, each soldier he passes stands to attention and salutes their commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Sir James Pendragon. Routine and ritual is as important in his public life as it is in his secret one.
Settled behind his desk, he instructs his staff officer to send his guest through. The man he’s travelled here to meet. Wiltshire’s Deputy Chief Constable, Gregory Dockery, is in plain clothes — a grey wool suit with white cotton shirt and grey tie. In his sacred robes he would be known only as Grus.
‘How are you?’ Pendragon shakes his hand and gestures to a pair of brown leather Chesterfields.
‘I will be glad when tomorrow has come.’
‘As will we all.’ Pendragon smiles as he sits. ‘How are you managing your interested parties, the FBI, Interpol, Home Office? Tell me.’
‘Vice President Lock is back in the US. He rings the Chief five times a day. His wife is drunk or drugged all the time that she’s not on TV crying or pleading. The Home Office people are bored. They seem resigned to dealing with the fallout when the girl’s body turns up. As for Interpol, well, you know how useless Interpol is. Might as well ask the post office to find her.’
‘So all is good?’
‘Not quite.’ Dockery grows fidgety. ‘I think we may have a potential problem with the lone American wolf.’
Pendragon nods. ‘Major Joshua Goran, former Special Ops Command. I wondered how long it would be before he started causing trouble.’
‘Goran has a couple of my men on his payroll. They’re only feeding him what we want, but I got word that dogs in his pack are sniffing around Imber.’
‘Makes sense. Draco said he saw people out there this morning. They tailed him and Musca for a little while but pulled out when they realised they’d been seen.’
‘Any harm done?’
‘I don’t think so.’ Pendragon muses for a moment on the incident. ‘Most of our resources are stretched in preparation for tonight and tomorrow morning. But I will increase surveillance at the Sanctuary. I’ll make sure Goran is not a problem.’
‘Good.’ Dockery creaks forward on the leather, places his hands on his knees. ‘I also have some difficulties within the force, but I’m hoping they’re being dealt with.’
‘You mean Aquila’s woman?’
‘Yes. She’s off the case. Hunt was confused of course, but bought the reason for the transfer in the end. She starts a new cold case unit in Swindon tomorrow and we’ve destroyed any physical or electronic evidence she had put together. I also had Aquila pay her a visit this morning. I’m told it had the desired effect.’
‘Let’s hope so. And your son, what about him and the woman?’
Dockery flinches. ‘He remains a worry. Seems he has a lot of faith in the DI.’
‘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.’