Reign of Evil

CHAPTER 5

Walker was furious at the world. Not only weren’t they going to let him see the place where his fiancée was murdered, but some man, probably a government flunky, had trailed him all the way from London also. By his poor tradecraft, the skinny guy who knew his name must be some low-level worker bee they probably assigned to trail him based on his use of his official passport when he went through customs.

Fuck it. If the man wanted to play a game, then Walker was ready to play. But now he had to wait until the man spoke with the police officer. Walker realized his hands were fists and forced them to relax. After a moment, the man began walking into Stonehenge.

What the fu—

Then he gestured for Walker to follow.

Walker jogged past the policeman and couldn’t help but give him a look as he passed. He soon caught up with the man and slowed. They walked the rest of the way in silence. The man stared at the ground, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket. Walker had a sense of expectation as he approached the monolithic stones. They were at once so real and present as they seemed impossible. Part of him wanted to reach out and touch them, but then this was where Jen died.

Walker paused at the outer stones, but the man continued inside. He stopped, then turned to look at Walker. He pointed at the ground. “They found her here. Her throat was cut; then she was mutilated.”

Eyes riveted to the grass, Walker took a reluctant step forward, as if he were being pulled.

“Seventeen civilians were killed in the same way. Some ceremony by some whacked-out neo-pagans or druids. MI5 is still trying to figure it out.”

There was so much fuzz in Walker’s head he barely heard the other man’s words. Walker suddenly felt the need to touch the spot. Three quick steps, he was down on both knees, his hands against the cold ground. He stayed there for a long while. He pressed his cheek against the ground. He didn’t know what he’d expected to find. He didn’t even know what he’d feel, maybe a piece of her. He had the ability to detect supernatural forces. Maybe if her ghost had been nearby he would have detected her, maybe put himself in position to communicate with her somehow.

But there was nothing here.

The ground was cold.

The place was empty.

He stood. Stonehenge had the feeling of an old battlefield. Like Chickamauga or Gettysburg, whenever he was at a place where a lot of people had died, it felt different. Reverentially empty.

He suddenly felt cold and shivered. “A lot of people died here,” he said.

“This used to be a ceremonial place for the druids, some say all the way back to two to three thousand years before Christ.”

Walker shook his head and blew into his hands. He hadn’t prepared for the cold. Coming from Tucson and San Diego before that, all he had was jeans, a T-shirt, and a light Polo jacket. “Do they have any leads at all?”

The man nodded. “I expect they do. We can ring them up tomorrow morning.” He stepped forward and held out a hand. “Ian Waits. Commander Ian Waits. Retired Special Air Service. Your commander called me and asked that I look after you a bit.”

Walker should have known. Looking at the man now more carefully, he realized he’d been mistaken when he’d thought of him as skinny. That wasn’t the right word. “Lean.” “Wiry.” Those were better. He stood about five foot six or seven. His head was clean shaven, but in the dying light of the day Walker could make out scars on the man’s face and scalp. And his eyes were definitely the eyes of a military officer—someone who’d seen too much and didn’t miss a thing. Like Holmes’s.

He took Ian’s hand. “Jack Walker, but you already knew that.”

Ian nodded. “What happened here was egregious. We’ll sort this out. It might take a few days, but we’ll take care of it.” He turned to leave. “For now, however, let’s get to someplace warmer. We’ll have a pint and discuss our way ahead.”

Ian’s phone suddenly rang. He pulled it from his pocket and brought it to his ear. Walker couldn’t hear the conversation, but by the look on the man’s face it wasn’t anything good. When it was over, Ian stared at the phone, then slowly replaced it.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get your bag out of your car.”

“What? That’s my rental!”

Ian shook his head. “No reason to have two cars. I’ll have the rental company come pick it up. We have somewhere we need to be, anyway. It might have something to do with the murders. If nothing else, it should shed light on what happened.” Ian stepped out of the stone circle with long, quick strides.

Walker struggled to catch up. His head was spinning. “Who are we going to meet?”

“A seer we use from time to time.”

“A what?”

“A seer. A witch if you will.”

Walker put a hand on Ian’s arm to stop him. “Wait a moment. Who do you work for?”

Ian smiled, revealing a gold tooth on the lower left side of his mouth. “Section 9. We do what you do, only we do it here. Who’d you think I was? The welcome wagon?”

The man took off again, leaving Walker to stare at his receding back. Well, of course England would have its own group. Walker broke into a run to catch up.