Reign of Evil

He punched the throttle, lifted the collective, and pushed the stick forward. He roared across the tarmac, his ears suddenly filled with commands to stand down and return to base, but he ignored them like he did most things English.

“Patrick?”

“On your six.”

He reveled in the power of the new Sikorsky H-92s. The military variant of the S-92 and an upgrade over the S-70, the Superhawk boasted more than 3,000 shaft horsepower. Nominally assigned to the Irish Coast Guard, as was his cover status, they were meant for search and rescue. Of course the Ministry of Defence had ordered two extras for the Finn McCools to use. The delivery last year of these aircraft eliminated the need to keep the older ones aloft with spit, bailing wire, and prayers to all denominational deities. Patrick loved the feel of the craft.

The pair of green and white Superhawks flew at an elevation of thirty meters over the windswept empty grounds of Flambard’s Themepark. The Skyraker thrill ride towered over them for a moment; then they were moving on. Patrick switched off his Identification Friend or Foe transponder and had Keith do the same.

They soon passed Helston and turned northeast past Treswithian in order to stay away from the radar present at Nancekuk. When they hit the coast they kept going, then made a slow turn to the northeast. They crossed back over land at Bideford and reduced their elevation to twenty meters. At Tiverton they were forced to head south to avoid yet another radar.

Then they were at Chard.

Then Crewkerne.

Then Yeovil.

Cadbury Castle lay five kilometers to the north and they were on it in a matter of seconds. Rising 140 meters, the hill was surrounded on all sides. A road ran up one corner. Opposite this was a stair-stepping of land leading to the valley floor. It was a beautiful place, but that’s not what made both helicopters pull up.

Patrick wasn’t exactly sure what he was seeing. It looked as if a line of men had their backs against a drop-off and were defending against grayish hound-like creatures while red-robed figures stood in a line behind the beasts.

“What the hell? Is this some Lord of the Rings shite?” Keith asked. “Which side are we on?”

Patrick thought that was a good question. Then he saw one of the men in line waving for them and pointing to a flat of land just below them on the stair steps. The LZ was only large enough for a single chopper, but another stair several steps down was large enough for another. He ordered Keith to take the lower one and he took the upper. He was wary of his blades. Although they were five meters away from the edge of the hill, a person would have to be careful when descending to them.

CHAPTER 50

CADBURY CASTLE, ENGLAND. A FEW MINUTES EARLIER.

Laws scrambled up the second to the last step before the plateau of Cadbury Hill. Holmes was to his left with Yank. Walker and YaYa were to his right with Hoover. The witch was behind them carrying her thousand-year-old Viking wand and was madder than a wet cat inside a hornet’s nest.

Magerts and Ian and their men were posted at the road. They were to arrive on command, based on the lay of the land on top of the plateau. There could be nothing. Or there could be a whole mess of beegees just waiting for them to arrive.

When the men were in line, Laws pulled a peeper cable from his pocket and slid it over the edge of the hill. Nothing but grass. He moved it around but couldn’t see anything. Whether it was the lay of the ground or that nothing was there, he couldn’t see anything, which could be good news or bad.