by Olly Jarvis
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Harris kicked in the front door. Half-empty cups of coffee and dirty plates were scattered around the lounge. She went upstairs and checked the other rooms. She walked into one of the bedrooms. Makeshift mattresses were packed into every bit of floorspace. On seeing a line of mobile phones plugged in and switched on, she swore.
She walked back downstairs and out into the yard under a cloudy sky. A damp, charred smell from an old bonfire hung in the air. The source was a round incinerator sitting on the wet cobbles. Harris walked over to it, almost losing her footing as her heels caught between the stones. She leaned in and rummaged through the cold remains of some documents. Nothing legible had survived.
She looked up as a car approached, bumping its way up the lane, throwing up a spray as it squelched through the puddles. The blacked-out windows blocked any view of its occupants. Harris brushed off some dead embers that had landed on her jacket.
The black saloon pulled into the courtyard and stopped. The electric window at the rear passenger seat opened. Combover was sitting in the back. The lines on his forehead were deeper than before. ‘Well?’ he asked.
‘Not a trace, they’ve all gone, sir.’
Combover clenched his eyes shut, then opened them. ‘How the hell did this happen?’
‘We were monitoring the phones’ cell-site signals, which they deliberately left behind, so we assumed they were still here.’
‘Assumed?’ Combover shouted, opening the door and shifting his rotund frame out of the vehicle. ‘So where are they now?’ His polished shoes looked out of place in the muddy courtyard.
Harris shifted nervously. ‘We don’t know, sir.’
‘What?’ He hitched up the legs of his pinstripe and tiptoed clumsily through a few puddles towards the farmhouse. ‘I thought we had eyes on the place?’
‘They dodged them somehow,’ she replied. ‘Their counter-surveillance is the best I’ve ever seen.’
‘God knows how we’re going to explain this to the Americans,’ he said, glancing back over at the car as the other rear door opened. A man climbed out the other side. He had a noticeable scar on one side of his neck and deep concern etched on his face. ‘Seems like he’s always one step ahead,’ he said. Harris recognised a Washington accent. ‘There has to be a leak.’
Combover bristled at the suggestion. ‘Not from our end, I can assure you.’
The American cast an eye over the small-holding. ‘How long have we got?’
Harris looked to Combover for clearance. He nodded. ‘Meet Mike Grant, Security Services. Agent Harris.’
She acknowledged him. ‘If the intercepts are to be believed, three days.’
Grant looked to the heavens and let out a sigh. ‘Three fucking days and not a clue.’
Combover glared at Harris. ‘Anything more on what he’s got planned?’
Harris looked at him gravely. ‘No, sir.’
He took a packet of cigarettes out of his jacket and sparked up. The others waited for him take a drag and exhale. ‘Shepherd?
‘Flatline,’ replied Harris.
Grant took a few paces across the cobbles towards the house. ‘We’ve got to crack Genesis.’
‘I agree,’ said Harris, her voice sounding enthused by the suggestion. ‘Blake is our best chance.’
Grant stopped and scanned the surrounding fields. ‘I thought she was AWOL?’
‘She is,’ said Harris giving him her full attention. ‘She was scared, she didn’t know what was going on.’
‘Then for Christ’s sake find her,’ Combover shouted between puffs. ‘Tell her what you have to.’ His head went still. ‘What’s that noise?’
It was coming from the barn.
Grant drew his firearm and moved silently across the courtyard to the doorway. He poked his head inside then dropped his arm and signalled to the others to join him.
A lone pig was grunting and shuffling its nose around in some straw as if searching for something. Three dead piglets were hanging above the pen on hooks.
Chapter Sixty
The van chugged northwards along the minor roads that skirted the east coast. Constant stops to put water in the over-heating radiator added considerably to the journey time, but they had at last made it to Northumbria.
Jay and Lizzie spent much of the drive on one of the bunks shouting out dates which Ella managed to match with some or other clash of cultures. It soon became clear that there were some dates that seemed to have no major event. They began to question their earlier hypothesis.
‘I can’t find anything for 1888,’ said Lizzie, becoming more frustrated. ‘Or 1769.’
Dozing in and out of sleep for most of the journey, Broady had missed much of the discussion. He rolled onto his side and put an elbow on the bed to prop up his head. He popped another pill and took a swig of water from the bottle. ‘What’s the earliest date he’s got on there?’
‘9500 BC,’ said Jay. ‘Then nothing for thousands of years.’
Broady scrunched up his face. ‘But we would’ve been hunter gatherers back then, right?’
Ella agreed. ‘Definitely no big invasions.’
Broady pulled his elbow away and let his head fall back onto the bed. ‘Beats me.’
Ella turned off onto a country lane. It was getting dark. ‘There’s a campsite at West Kyloe.’ Rain was drilling down on the windscreen, making it hard to see out, but she knew the road well. ‘We’ll have to wait for the morning tide before we can get across to the island.’ She turned right and drove through the gate, stopping at the farm buildings on her left. She handed a twenty pound note to Lizzie. ‘You remember?’
Lizzie smiled. She pulled her jacket over her head and got out, running into the stone hut around the side. Once she was back in the van, Ella drove down the path onto the field and parked up in her usual spot by the dry-stone wall. ‘See if there’s something we can use to hook up.’
Lizzie rummaged through the junk under the bunks, pulling out a hose and a foot pump. At the back, she found an old cable with a socket at both ends.
Jay took one end and dashed out of the back and into the storm, connecting it to another cable sticking out of the power box by the wall. ‘Check this out,’ said Lizzie, pulling out a rusty electric camp stove with two rings.
Before long they were boiling a pan of water, with four Pot Noodles in readiness on the shelf.
Ella’s brain was aching from running the dates over and over in her mind. ‘All these invasions,’ she said gloomily. ‘Was Greg telling the truth?’ She swivelled around in her seat to face the others. ‘Is all this about killing?’
The mood changed.
Lizzie turned off the ring and carefully poured the water into the plastic pots.
‘Most things end up that way,’ said Broady.
‘No,’ said Jay, in a voice full of defiance. ‘It’s got to be more than that.’
‘I hope so,’ said Ella. ‘I really hope so.’
No one disagreed.
Lizzie opened a drawer, took out some spoons and dropped them in the containers.
Broady stirred his pot and slurped in some noodles. ‘I’ve got to say,’ he announced, immediately lifting the melancholy. ‘You British know how to live it up.’
The others broke into laughter.
Ella was the last to wake, her face tickled by a ray of sun that had found its way through a gap in the fraying curtains hanging from a piece of drooping elastic over the side window. She opened her eyes. No nightmares, she realised, then wondered why she slept better when she was under pressure.
Jay opened up the back and helped Broady down the step and across the field towards the shower block. Ella pulled back the curtain so she could see them staggering over the boggy ground, towels slung over their shoulders. She could hear Lizzie yawning in the bunk underneath hers. Ella couldn’t believe how much her life had changed in the short time since she’d last been here. Despite the craziness and the danger, she felt strangely at peace.<
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She slid open her window and watched Broady stop and take in his surroundings. The wind had dropped right off and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. He turned and waved back at Ella in an unspoken appreciation of the rolling green hills dotted with sheep and cows. The morning chorus of bleating and mooing echoed around the site.
Ella smiled and fell back onto her bunk, breathing in the beautiful jumble of smells that wafted in.
Broady held up his top while Ella dressed his wound. She used some plasters to keep the gauze in place. The injury appeared to be healing well. The night’s rest had given them all renewed strength.
Jay unplugged the cable and left it under the bunk. Ella got in the driver’s seat and had to pull down the visor to keep the sun out of her eyes. The van did a couple of wheel spins to gain traction before they were able to set off back across the field.
‘So, what are we looking for?’ Broady asked from his bunk during the drive down to the causeway.
‘I wish I knew,’ Ella replied, without taking her eyes off the road. ‘A common denominator?’
They weaved their way down the country lanes towards the coast, past the patchwork of fields with young crops springing up in readiness for the new cycle. The unmistakeable smell of sea air filled their nostrils as the van reached the beginning of the causeway. A couple of cars were already queueing to get across, waiting for the final sheets of seawater to drain off the road.
Broady and Jay stood up in the galley to get a better view of Holy Island. ‘I’ve never been anywhere,’ confessed Jay, as the cars began the drive across, flanked by the North Sea on either side. ‘Never been abroad.’
Lizzie turned around from the passenger seat and caught his rueful expression.
‘Not even out of Cambridge since we moved there,’ he said.
‘Jay, you’ve got a lifetime to change that,’ Lizzie replied.
Broady put a hand on Jay’s shoulder, steadying himself against the movement of the van. ‘Sure have.’
Once they were across, they left the ambulance in a space amongst the dunes and headed off on foot along the path towards the castle, keeping the pace slow for Broady. The squawking of sea gulls seemed to announce their arrival on the island.
Ella felt the familiar soaring of her spirit as the castle came into view. On seeing the battlements rising precariously out of the rock, they stopped.
‘It’s like something out of King Arthur,’ said Broady.
‘It’s actually sixteenth century,’ said Ella. ‘They used stones from the Priory to build it. I remember seeing it for the first time.’
‘Me too,’ said Lizzie, catching her mother’s eye. ‘Good times.’
Ella nodded, then stared wistfully off to her right over the small inlet. ‘That’s the Old Priory,’ she said pointing to the roofless stone buildings, silhouetted against the sky. ‘Built in the twelfth century, but there’s been a monastery there since AD 635.’
‘Hard to imagine,’ said Broady in a voice full of wonder.
Ella watched a flock of gulls circle above the ruins, then land on one of the great arches that were still intact.
As they reached the castle, she saw Rob who was beginning his first tour of the day. A group of four in bright-coloured cagoules were hanging on his every word. ‘The Anglo-Saxon Chronicle records that in 793,’ he announced, pointing across the harbour at the Priory. ‘The raiding of heathen men miserably devastated God’s church at Lindisfarne Island by looting and slaughter.’
‘At least he’s quoting from the E Manuscript,’ said Ella under her breath. ‘But he’s missed the best bit.’
Rob noticed her, then, flustered, forgot his lines.
Ella gave him a self-satisfied grin, to which Rob responded by trying to shepherd his audience away.
‘Here, terrible portents came about over the land of Northumbria,’ Ella shouted raising her arms in an exaggerated gesture.
Lizzie and the others found it hilarious. The tour group stopped to listen.
‘And miserably frightened the people: these were immense flashes of lightning.’ She lowered her voice into a ghostly monotone. ‘And fiery dragons were seen flying in the air.’
Everyone applauded.
Ella took a bow. She couldn’t believe how different she felt to the last time she was on the island. She gave Lizzie a spontaneous hug.
The morning passed quickly. They wandered around the island and the ruins of the Priory, before heading to the Inn for lunch.
Ella translated the menu for Broady who settled on bangers and mash. Seduced by the roaring fire and the cosiness of the low-beamed ceiling, for brief moments they forgot why they had come, but every conversation always came back to Genesis.
Ella took a final mouthful then pushed her plate aside. ‘I can’t stop thinking about the link between what happened here and the Battle of Hastings.’
Lizzie’s head tilted. ‘Maybe it’s just the fact they were both invasions?’
‘No, it must be more,’ Ella replied. ‘There were so many other battles between those dates.’ She glanced out of the window at the ruined Priory. ‘Something else happened here when the Vikings invaded, something I’m missing.’
They paid and made their way back to the van.
Broady spent the afternoon sleeping while the others examined Genesis, linking more dots with invasion events. By the time Broady woke up, it was evening.
Ella felt a fondness for him as she watched him stir then pull back the curtain to reveal a clear night sky, full of stars.
Broady pulled himself up off the bunk. ‘Time for a bit of star-gazing,’ he said. ‘Can someone bring my baby?’
Ella smiled and took the telescope case from under the bunk, following Broady out into the still night.
Broady sat on the back step giving her directions on how to set it on the tripod.
Forgetting their place in time, they took turns to peek through the lens, marvelling at the constellations. Then they sat next to each other on the step drinking the tea Lizzie had brewed up.
‘This is the life,’ said Broady in a mock English accent, gazing up.
Ella watched him sipping at his mug. ‘I suppose it’s like this every night in Arizona?’
‘It’s strange,’ he said, looking back up. ‘The sky dominates everything back home.’ He sighed. ‘So clear.’ He looked at Ella. ‘That’s what Matthew must’ve seen every night growing up. There wasn’t much else for him out in the desert.’
‘Yeah, I suppose so.’ Ella hadn’t thought of it like that.
‘Look!’ said Broady, pointing into the distance. ‘A comet.’
Lizzie and Jay came to the back of the van. ‘How can you tell?’ asked Lizzie, gazing at the distant shape.
‘You can see the tail.’
‘Comets,’ whispered Ella. She put down her cup. Her mind was racing. ‘Of course.’ She stood up and stared at the others. She brushed a hand over the top of her head, then shouted, ‘comets…’ She held out her arms. ‘It’s bloody comets.’ She began to pace up and down.
The others stared at her.
‘Fiery dragons in the sky – it’s in the E Manuscript. That’s what the monks saw in the sky when the Vikings invaded. That’s how they saw comets back in 793.’
Lizzie’s face dropped. ‘Of course, and Halley’s Comet in 1066. William the Conqueror said it was an omen.’
Ella gave a vigorous nod. ‘The Normans saw it as predicting victory at the Battle of Hastings.’ She rushed into the van and rifled through a bag of books under one of the bunks, took one and came back outside. She flicked through then put her finger on a page. ‘There, it’s in the Bayeux Tapestry.’
‘A tapestry?’ said Broady squinting in the darkness at the image.
‘It’s embroidery,’ said Lizzie. ‘A seventy-metre-long depiction of the Norman Conquest.’
The others crowded in, transfixed by the picture of men in medieval dress, pointing up at the tailed comet, alongside the words: ISTI MIRANT STELLA.
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‘Is that Latin?’ asked Broady, touching the writing.
‘Yes,’ Ella replied. ‘It means: these men wonder at the star.’
Jay pulled away. ‘And the other dates?’
Lizzie was already on it. ‘1222,’ she almost shouted. ‘Genghis Khan saw Halley’s Comet, it inspired him to go west and conquer half the world.’ She stopped, shivering at the thought. ‘Killing millions.’
Ella felt overwhelmed. ‘451,’ she said. ‘Attila’s first great defeat at the Catalaunian Plains by the Romans and the appearance of Halley’s Comet.’
‘Of course,’ said Lizzie. ‘And isn’t there something in Tacitus about Nero’s fear of comets?’ asked Lizzie
‘That rings a bell.’ Ella strained to recall. ‘There’s a volume under the bunk.’
Lizzie used Jay’s torch to search for the book.
‘You’re not going to believe this,’ said Jay. ‘I’ve just googled the Jewish War; Halley’s Comet appeared over Jerusalem in the spring of AD 66. Writers from the time saw it as a portent of victory.’ He stared at them, then back at the screen. ‘They fought for thirteen years. It’s like people become inspired to fight.’
‘Here it is,’ said Lizzie, poring over a book. ‘Tacitus was writing about AD 60, that’s another dot.’ She shone the light on the page. ‘A comet blazed into view – in the opinion of the crowd, an apparition boding change to monarchies.’
Ella looked at the others, then repeated, ‘…boding change of monarchies.’
Lizzie read on, ‘Hence, as though Nero were already dethroned, men began to inquire on whom the next choice would fall.’ Lizzie moved her finger. ‘It goes on to say Nero listened to his astrologers and killed off his challengers on their advice.’ She gazed up at Ella.
‘It’s as if the Romans understood the power of comets,’ said Jay.
‘Maybe they did,’ said Lizzie. ‘They defeated Boudica in AD 60.’
‘Boudica?’ asked Broady.
‘She was the Queen of the Iceni,’ said Ella. ‘She led the final revolt against the Romans who invaded Britain in AD 43. Burnt Colchester, St Albans and London to the ground.’