Reign of Evil

The inside of the van was silent for a few moments. “You have a lot more, don’t you?” Holmes asked.

“Oh yeah.”

“So tell me again why we need to know this.”

“It’s simple. If Merlyn, or Myrddin, is a Tuatha, and he had a close relationship with King Arthur in the past, where do you think he’d most like to be?”

“By Arthur’s side, especially if there’s to be the dawn of an Arthurian hegemony.”

Laws snapped his fingers. “And we helped him get here. My guess is that the Golden Dawn sold, traded, or gave the Tuatha to the Bohemian Grove, probably shortly after their failed attempt on the King’s life. The people of the Bohemian Grove have been protecting their investment with golems since then, knowing how valuable the Tuatha’s life force is. Even if the Tuatha had wanted to return to its home, it couldn’t have, not with the protective measures in place, such as the tattoos and magic.”

Walker nodded. “Then came SEAL Team 666. Do you think it was that well planned? Was Jen invited to Stonehenge on the Winter Solstice to set this chain of events in motion?”

Yank whispered, “Feels like Mexico City all over again.”

Laws put a hand on Walker’s shoulder. “We’ll never know, Walker. I doubt their information is that good, but we can’t rule it out. Remember, our information and existence is special-access code word.”

Sassy Moore moaned as she sat up. “So what you’re saying is that we’re all a bunch of chumps? And look at me. When the Red Grove couldn’t get him from us, the Tuatha killed its host so I’d be forced to take it inside me, in order for me to personally escort it to the mound.” She closed her eyes and held her head. “I felt the surge of power when it touched the mound. Like a charging system. It went from weak to full charge in a second. I didn’t stand a chance.”

Preeti interrupted, “I heard what she said. Listen, there’s one last thing. Cadbury Castle was the home of King Arthur and is largely believed to be Camelot. If King Arthur is going to rule England, then—”

“It’s going to be from Camelot.” Holmes glanced at the others inside the van. “Any news on Ian?”

“We’re monitoring reports of gunfire and explosions in the area. Locals are calling the police, but their calls are going ignored.”

“Are they just not answering?” Walker asked.

“Yep. Ringing off the hook.”

Laws turned thoughtful. “So the calls could have been hijacked, the police might not be in their office, or they might be intentionally not answering.”

“Could be any one of those. We have no way of knowing.”

“The roadblocks have also been removed,” Preeti added.

“Maybe that means they needed the men to fight against Ian and his Marines.” Holmes chewed on his lip for a moment. “Keep monitoring local traffic referencing Glastonbury Tor and surrounds.” Holmes paused, then added, “You might want to send a warning through Ian’s contacts with MI5 and the Home Office. If this thing gets out of hand, the Queen might need to be evacuated.”

Silence hugged the line for a few moments. “It’s come to that?”

“Yeah,” Holmes said. “I’m afraid so.”

“Okay. Roger. And, boys?”

They all answered, “Yes?”

“Be careful, please.”

No one said a word. They didn’t have to. Preeti’s voice warmed them. Not only was it hers, but it was also that of their mothers, dead or alive, their wives and lovers, dead or alive, and every other woman who’d ever showed concern for them.

Be careful, please.

CHAPTER 46

SOUTH OF GLASTONBURY TOR, ENGLAND. 0905 HOURS.

Ian ordered Magerts and his men to hold at the bottom of the stairs. The other man had argued to let him be part of the attack, but Ian wouldn’t have it. This was something he had to do alone and was his cross to bear. One thing he vowed was not to kill any more of his men. He was well aware that the lip-sewn woman had them under her control and would use them against him. But that didn’t matter. He would not participate in her farce. If he could get to her first, then maybe he had a chance; otherwise, he’d wade through an avalanche of bullets until they brought him down.

He drew the blackened-iron sword of Guy of Warwick with one hand and pulled a Fairbarn-Sykes commando knife with the other. Then he marched to the bottom of the stairs. She hadn’t moved. Neither had his two men beside her. One’s name was Jim. He didn’t know the other’s, but Jim was saving his money for a trip to Australia, where he knew some blokes who would teach him to surf and introduce him to a platoon of sheilas. If everything worked out, he wouldn’t be coming back. At least that had been his plan.

Ian felt his amulet warm as she tried to work arcane magic on him. He met her gaze and he saw something there that gave him hope. Frustration. He’d seen it enough in his life. His ex-wife had owned the look. He’d been known to kindle it in the last few years of their horrid ten-year marriage. Now to see it in this vessel for a rogue Tuatha spirit gave him hope.