I met Mallory, like we had a lot in common, as if I’d known him for years. I need to talk to him again. Decide what to do.’
‘You’re not going to report this?’
‘What, and have them lock me up like him? No chance. The bottom line is, everybody reckons the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons are the last hope we’ve got for surviving this nightmare. And having seen what happened in Scotland, I haven’t got any faith in the conventional force’s ability to hold the line. I have to do something.’
‘What can you possibly do? Whatever this Pendragon Spirit is, it doesn’t make you some kind of superhero. You go up against the enemy and you’ll be dead in a minute.’ Hal’s voice was filled with tension.
‘I don’t know what I can do, but I do know I’ve got a responsibility to do something.’ Hunter watched Hal’s face fall and added, ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going to go on some suicide mission. I need to find the rest of the Five-’
‘But one of them’s already dead. You know that.’
‘Yeah, but I’ve got a plan.’ Hunter gave a theatrical smile, but when Hal didn’t respond Hunter said, ‘What’s wrong?’
Hal thought for a moment, then said, ‘I’m scared.’
‘Don’t be. I’m going to do my damnedest to find a way out of this. And now I feel as if I’ve got some kind of chance. There’s a reason I am what I am. If it was all hopeless, there wouldn’t be Brothers and Sisters of Dragons, would there?’
Before Hal could answer, Samantha burst in. ‘I heard you were back.’ Her smile said more than her words.
There was an awkward moment between the two of them. Hal pretended to shuffle through some papers on his desk until Hunter said, ‘So… do you fancy a quick one?’
Hunter saw Hal flinch at the inappropriateness of the comment, while the warmth drained quickly from Samantha’s face. ‘You really are a disgusting pig. I just came to welcome you back and now that I’ve done it, I’m going.’
Even after Samantha had departed, her frostiness still hung in the air. Hal said with exasperation, ‘Why do you do that?’
‘Do what?’
‘You know, Hunter. Act like a moron.’
‘It’s my nature.’ Hunter was not oblivious to the offence he had caused; in fact, he had chosen his words carefully, playing a part that would not raise any suspicion. It also had the effect of keeping Samantha at arm’s length; Hunter knew very clearly what was to come, and suspected the eventual outcome, and it seemed uncommonly cruel to let Samantha think he might be coming back to her. No fairy-tale romance for him.
‘Things are going to change very quickly and I need you to watch my back,’ Hunter said.
‘Change, how? I don’t like change.’
‘I know. Every file in its place. But if we don’t shake things up quickly there’s not going to be any files left to file.’
‘All right,’ Hal said hesitantly. ‘What do you want me to do?’
‘I might have to go AWOL for a while-’
‘You’re mad! They’ll have you shot!’
‘Only if they catch me. I want you to keep your ear to the ground. If they start getting a lead on me while I’m away, do whatever you can to muddy the tracks. I know it’s dangerous-’
‘Of course I’ll do it. You shouldn’t have to ask. But where are you going?’
‘I don’t know yet. I don’t know if I stand a chance of finding what I’m looking for — better men than me have failed. I might be going on a fool’s errand. But I have to try. It feels like… duty.’
Hal dipped into a drawer and pulled out the file of notes Samantha had passed on to him.
‘What’s that?’ Hunter asked.
‘Everything we know about the Brothers and Sisters of Dragons. Might be some use. You’d better thank Samantha for it the next time you see her. She did the dangerous work.’
Hunter felt a critical mass building. Soon events would be running away from him and he would have to use everything in his power to keep up. He worried about compromising Hal’s position — the Government would not flinch from taking harsh action if it saw disloyalty or treason. But he was convinced that Hal had the strength of character to see it through, even though he knew his friend didn’t recognise that strength in himself.
Hunter and Hal shuffled around each other awkwardly before Hunter clapped his friend on the shoulder. The gesture didn’t begin to match their strength of feeling, but they knew each other well enough to comprehend all that was unspoken.
‘Look after yourself,’ Hunter said. And then he slipped out of the door, and with a wink he was gone.
Mallory came to consciousness in the room set aside as an intensive care unit. He was numb from the drugs and strung out from the pain of his wounds and the operation, but still the haunting death image played with his mind. Fire in the dark. It might have been the drugs, or his nearness to death, but now he knew what it was: a gunshot to the head. Suicide. But if he’d killed himself, how could he still be there?
With an effort, he thought through this cloying barrier to the surprising realisation that his plan had worked. Deep inside him, the Pendragon Spirit was doing its work, knitting flesh, repairing organs.
When he had forced the guards to shoot him, Mallory hadn’t known if his injuries would be beyond his healing ability. He had long been aware that minor cuts and bruises faded fast, that he fought off colds and viruses easily, that exhaustion came much later than it would to anyone else. But could major organ damage be repaired, and could it happen quickly enough for him to see his plan through?
As he sat up, pulling off wires to the monitors and removing a drip, he was forced to acknowledge how bad he felt. But he still had more strength than he should have in the circumstances. Though the next few hours would probably be agony — with the prospect of causing himself even more serious harm — he felt he probably had enough strength to see it through.
His vision washed back and forth drunkenly. Shakily, he lowered his legs to the floor, convinced they’d buckle under him. After a few seconds’ rest he managed to stand up, but then some stitches pulled on his abdomen and warm blood seeped into the bandages bound tightly around his middle.
Yet the more he moved, the more strength flowed into his limbs, as if the act of fighting made the Pendragon Spirit come alive. With an effort of will, Mallory forced his pain into the background and proceeded slowly to the door.
The corridor was empty, but Mallory knew it wouldn’t be long before he encountered some resistance. His footsteps echoed softly along the starkly lit passage, but as he rounded a bend he noticed something curious: the lights had grown dimmer. With a shiver, he realised that the temperature had also dropped several degrees and that he could now see his breath.
He advanced uneasily, for there was no obvious explanation for the changes. Peering around the next corner, Mallory saw a lone guard standing outside a door white with hoarfrost. It was from here that the cold was emanating and in the vicinity of the door there was a deep, suffocating gloom. The guard wore arctic fatigues, thick gloves and boots, a parka with the hood up and a scarf wrapped across his mouth. From the measured rise and fall of his chest, Mallory could tell he was either asleep or close to it.
Mallory weighed his options. It was a long way back to attempt to find another route out, but the chances of any path being free of resistance was slim. Yet he knew he still wasn’t up to any hand-to-hand fighting, even if he could get close enough to commence it.
Before he could make his decision, he was grabbed from behind and pulled back up the corridor, a hand clamped across his mouth to prevent him from making any noise. Then Hunter stood before him, one finger pressed to his lips.
Mallory couldn’t understand why Hunter hadn’t raised the alarm, but he didn’t have the strength to resist. Hunter pulled him through an open door and into a darkened, empty cell.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Hunter said in an attempt at mockery, though he was clearly impressed. ‘You’re dead on your feet and you’re about to take on the British Army.’
‘Come closer. I’ll show you what dead means.’
‘Big talk. But now that we’ve got the macho posturing out of the way, we need to discuss something of importance.’
