Reign of Evil

“Enough!” Ian shouted. He shook his head and sighed as if the weight of the world were on his shoulders and he could carry it, just in a different position. Addressing the room, Ian said, “Allow me to introduce Sir Robert MacDonald from Sheffield. He’s here to shut us down.”

Walker jerked his attention back to this MacDonald character. “He can’t do that.”

“Let me assure you, I can bloody well do that and more. I am doing that. Your kind was once needed, I agree. But times have changed. We’re in the modern era. There’s no reason for a unit like yours in this time of instant information and computers.” He spread his hands. “And if something were to happen, CCTV would pick it up.”

Walker thought about the disturbance they’d tracked. He almost brought it up, but something told him to keep it quiet.

“Plus, we hate to see such an egregious loss of life. What is it, Ian? You’ve lost three people in three months?” Sir Robert shook his head in a mockery of utter sadness. “Too many lives lost. Just too many. I think you’re way past your prime.”

Trev and Preeti came in from behind. Sir Robert and his men, who made room for them, then resumed their place.

“Is this everyone?” Sir Robert asked.

“All that’s left.” Ian’s voice was even, his demeanor implacable.

“Pathetic. No one’s going to blink an eye with me shutting you down, Ian. To believe that a unit composed of a psychopath, a cripple, a pet American, and a witch servant all led by an old drunk was responsible for the supernatural protection of England is hysterical.”

Trev made a move toward Sir Robert, but one of the bodyguards stepped in front of him at the same time as Preeti grabbed his arm with both of hers, letting her crutches fall to the ground.

Everyone stared at them a moment, then back to Sir Robert.

“You have twenty-four hours to pack up your things and put them in official storage. I have orders for you three.” He held out his hand and the other bodyguard handed him three slender envelopes. Sir Robert then handed them to each of the remaining members of Section 9. When he was done, he smiled, King of Smug. “You’ll be thanking me for this next year. This is best for England.” He turned and exited the room. His guards went with him.

Walker broke the intervening silence when Sir Robert was well and gone. “You. Cannot. Be. Serious.”

“I’m afraid so, chap.” Ian set his glass down carefully. “Sir Robert has been working to shut us down for the last three years. When he began we had thirty people and had strong representation in parliament, fighting for funding lines.”

Walker still couldn’t believe what was happening. “So what changed?”

“Everything. Nothing. It wasn’t a single event. It was a bunch of small things, really. Reassignments. Reallocations. Promises for future personnel if we shifted some current staff to other defense-related operations. Re-elections. Most of those who’d traditionally watched out for us either retired, passed on, or weren’t re-elected.”

“I hate to ask this,” Walker began, “but I came over here to find out who killed my fiancée. Now we know the Wild Hunt is on the loose. Are we just going to stop?”

Trev stepped forward. “Yeah. Can’t we complete this last mission and show Sir Asshole how valuable we are?”

Ian shook his head. “He doesn’t care. This is a personal vendetta and I’ve never been able to get to the heart of it. Walker, it’s game, set, and match. Sir Robert played us and won. There’s just nothing to be done.”

“That’s not exactly true,” Preeti said. She glanced in Walker’s direction and smiled secretly. He felt a moment’s hope. “There have been some developments.” She looked at her crutches on the floor and then to the chairs around the table. “Can we sit?”

Ian stared at her, then went into motion. “Of course, Preeti.”

Soon everyone was sitting around the table.

Ian had provided glasses for everyone and had poured an inch of scotch in each. “Before we begin”—he took up his glass and held it—“to Jerry.”

Everyone raised theirs as well and they clinked glasses. “To Jerry,” they said.

Once everyone had drunk, Ian composed his face. “We’ll have services the day after tomorrow. No, that’s Christmas. The day after that then, on the twenty-sixth.” He turned to Preeti. “You now have the table, madame.”

She brought them up to speed about what she and Walker had discussed and done earlier. Then she said, “With the help of my brother, who telecommutes from the Home Office and is so good with computers I might as well be a child by comparison, we were able to track down some additional disturbances. Trev, will you run and get the map on my desk?”

Trev got up and hurried out. He was back in less than thirty seconds with a map he placed in the center of the table. Seven markers were in place at Woking, Chipping Sodbury, Bromley, Shapwick, Marlborough, Penrith, and Notgrove.

“I tracked disturbances from each of these events to nearby mounds.”

“Wait a moment.” Ian had raised a hand. “Events?”