The Devil in Green (27 page)

Blaine took up position near the map and surveyed them all carefully. 'I
hope you're ready for your first mission,' he said in a manner that
suggested he didn't think they were ready at all.

Mallory watched Blaine's face carefully, controlling the flame of his
anger.

'Earlier this evening we received a visitor, a vicar from a parish in
Norfolk,' Blaine continued. 'He'd been travelling to join us here with a
companion, another vicar from an adjoining parish. With the way things
are, it was remarkable they got more than ten miles from home. As it was,
they reached Salisbury Plain. Nearly made it.' He shook his head grimly.

'What happened?' Miller asked.

'Can't get much sense out of the one who turned up here. Shock, I
suppose. Something attacked them on Salisbury Plain, not far from
Stonehenge.' He pointed to the map. 'Here. He ran for his life, and I
don't blame him. The other poor bastard scrambled as well - his name's
Eric Gregory. Our man thinks he saw his friend get away, but he didn't
hang around to find out what happened, understandably.'

'You want us to bring the other one back.' Daniels scanned the vast area
of empty space on the map that signified Salisbury Plain. They were all
thinking the same thing: it wasn't the fact that they'd be looking for a
needle in a haystack, it was the prospect of what might be lying in wait out
there in that liminal zone free of human life.

Back in the barracks, they lay on their bunks staring up into the dark. The
atmosphere was thick with apprehension, but there was also a positive
feeling that at last they were being given the chance to do something good.
Only Mallory lacked any enthusiasm.

'Do you think we're up to it?' Miller asked.

'It doesn't take much to be up to a suicide mission,' Mallory said.

'You're a bundle of laughs, Mallory,' Gardener growled.

The joke had been too close to the truth. They all fell silent then,
dwelling on thoughts too powerful to voice. Sleep did not come easily.

They were woken before dawn by Hipgrave, who would be leading the
expedition. None of them were wholly pleased at that, particularly Mallory
who had already marked the captain as someone operating well beyond his
capabilities, who knew it and whose desperation to be equal to the post
only caused further problems.

The morning was bitterly cold with a sharp wind sweeping down into
the compound from the Plain. Frost glistened on the rooftops of the huts
and turned the cathedral building into silver and gold from the conflicting
illumination of moonlight and torch. They stamped their feet and clapped
their hands while Gardener furtively smoked a roll-up from some
mysterious stash of tobacco that never seemed to diminish.

Eventually, they were led into the quartermaster's store where they were
kitted out with thick hooded black cloaks woven by the brethren themselves, backpacks containing basic supplies (the rest of their needs were
expected to be scavenged for on the way, as they had been taught in their
survival classes) and, most importantly, a sword. These had all been
retrieved from the museum's store and from a vast armoury at the
Museum of the Duke of Edinburgh's Royal Berkshire and Wiltshire
Regiment, which also lay within the compound.

The swords had all seen use in past conflicts, but the craftsmanship was
expert, the balance perfect, the steel flawless. 'Recognise this honour,'
Hipgrave said as he handed them out. 'As knights, these will stay with you
till you die. Your sword will be as vital to you as your right arm. Treat it
that way. Look after it, sleep with it, lavish it with love and it'll look after
you.'

'I prefer my bed partners a little less skinny and a little less sharp,'
Mallory said. 'Though there was this model once . . .'

Hipgrave fixed him with a cold eye. While the others fastened their
scabbards across their backs for easy use while riding, he dragged Mallory
over to one side. 'I'll be watching you,' he said, 'especially now you're
armed. One wrong move . . .'

'And what? You'll stab me in the back in front of all the others?'

Hipgrave couldn't control an unsure flickering of his eyes. Mallory
laughed and joined the rest.

The horses were brought out from the stables at the back of the
museum, all well fed and watered and ready for what could turn out to
be a long journey. Three of them had two-man tents strapped to their
backs.

After they had mounted, Hipgrave held up his hand for silence before
saying a short prayer. He called for strength and courage in the face of the
unknown, and for a safe return. Even Mallory found he couldn't argue
with that.

They'd been locked behind the gates for so long that they would have
felt uneasy even if they didn't have to venture into one of die most
dangerous parts of the country. Blaine waited at the gates as they rode out,
his hands behind his back, his face emotionless. He didn't wish them luck.
Mallory had the feeling he didn't really care if they came back or not.

'Even if you travel everywhere you will not find the limits of the soul, so great
is its nature.
' - Heraclitus

Darkness lay across the city like the breathing of a sleeping child. Their
horses' measured hoofbeats clattered with a lonely beat on the flagstones
as they made their way down the High Street. Away to their left, the
lanterns of the travellers' camp spoke of comfort and friendship, food,
drink and music: life. Mallory peered through gaps in the buildings to the
tents in the hope that he might see someone awake. Miller caught him
looking and flashed a knowing smile.

They watched the dark windows carefully, eyed every shadowy
doorway and alley. The Devil was afoot, and now they were in his
territory.

'It's better like this,' Gardener said. He already had his hood pulled over
his head so all that was visible was the red glow of his roll-up.

'It's freezing, it's night-time and we're heading for the next thing to
hell,' Daniels said gloomily. 'I don't think
better
is the right word.'

'I didn't mean that.' Gardener's smoke mingled with the cloud of his
breath. 'I mean
this.'
He gestured to the wider city. 'No cars. No pollution.
No bloody politicians or McDonalds or multi-bloody-national companies
only interested in cash. Just peace, nature. Like God intended.'

'There's always an enterprising Young Turk around the corner,'
Daniels said. 'What's the matter, Gardener? Weren't you a capitalist in
the old life?'

'I was a binman, you daft bugger. It was my job to clean up for the
capitalists. I saw all the filth you left behind.'

'Oh, you Communist,' Daniels mocked.

'The Bible says enough about those who worship Mammon,' Gardener
countered. 'You don't have to be a Communist to hate greedy bastards.'