‘That’s about it.’
‘What a bloody awful mess. Damn Jack.’
Thacker raised his glass. ‘I’ll drink to that.’
Henbury touched his pint mug to the side of Thacker’s tumbler. ‘What do you think? Is this going to work?’
‘That,’ said Thacker, ‘is in the lap of other gods, who are hopefully more merciful than the one we have out there on the rampage.’
They drank in silence, then Henbury’s radio crackled into life.
He picked it up, listened to the message, then put it down, looking thoughtful. ‘The observer has reported seeing a strange stilt-man, about three miles away. Jack?’
‘Why don’t we get those helicopters in the air? I’d like to see if we can take him down before he gets into the village.’
‘Rather.’ Henbury called to Adams, loitering by the bar. ‘Get those whirly things up. Jack’s been spotted, five thousand yards west-south-west on the approach road. Tell them to hit him simultaneously. Don’t spare the ammunition; this could be the best chance we have.’
Adams trotted out, and Henbury regarded Thacker. ‘You ought to let someone take a look at your head. You’re bleeding on my map.’
‘Sorry.’ Thacker tried to wipe the drops of red away, and only succeeded in smearing it across Home Farm and Foundry Brook.
Henbury gathered his crutches and eased himself out of his seat. ‘You coming to watch?’
Thacker nodded, and paused only to pick up a beer-soaked bar towel. He held it to his head as he stood next to Henbury in the porch.
Starter motors whined, then engines roared. Rotor blades started taking fat bites out of the air, and the sound blended into one almighty roar. The first helicopter rose, leant forward, and started to climb. One after another, eight in all, they took off, circled, then formed up in a line facing west.
Adams emerged out of the shivering haze of dust. ‘Funny to think. Those strange machines stand between us and the end of England.’
The helicopters moved off, low, just clearing the tree line.
‘Right,’ said Henbury. ‘let’s try and co-ordinate this attack.’
They had barely sat down around the map when the rocket salvo started. They leaned forward, bending their ears to the squawk of the radio. It took little more than two minutes for the helicopters to fire all their missiles. Thacker imagined how it would look: great dirty fireballs hurling themselves into the summer sky, earth and stone thrown high into the air, men and women cowering around the stick-thin legs of Jack Henbury as they pleaded with him to save them. Dickson, perhaps, too. Proud Dickson, guardian of national security now praying to his new god to destroy the attackers that used to be under his command.
Jack, of course, caring nothing for the worthless lives that teemed around his feet, bleating like sheep who had fallen in with wolves. There were always more humans to fall on their faces in front of him, billions more.
But now the men in their flying machines resisted him like that soldier had done earlier when he had tried to shoot him. This new enemy used bigger weapons, and it was difficult to control their paths, to change the warp and weft of space/time. It could be done, though, as long as he let his followers take their own chances.
The captain in charge of the flight reported back to Henbury: ‘No effect. Repeat. No effect.’
‘Disengage now, Captain. Get away as far and fast as you can. Spotter, what can you see?’
‘One helicopter is in trouble, sir. The others seem to be breaking off. On the ground, there’s some movement. Five, maybe six people.’
‘What of Jack?’
‘The stilt-man has stopped. Now he’s turning away. Heading north.’
‘Blast him, where’s he off to?’ Henbury looked at the map, then at the tiny legend at its very edge. ‘Banbury, six miles. How big is Banbury now?’
Thacker threw the bar towel to the floor, where it smacked wetly on to the stone flags. ‘A damn sight bigger than it was eighty years ago. Henbury, I want you to get everyone together and follow him. Shoot at him all the way. Slow him down. Buy some time.’
‘And what are you going to do?’
‘I’m going back to the Hall. I’m going to turn that machine off, one way or another. Adams, I want you to come with me.’
‘Me? Why?’
‘I want someone who’s not afraid of Ankhani. And someone who can drive.’
Adams looked at Henbury, who nodded slowly.
‘Right then.’ He saluted stiffly. ‘Good luck, sir.’
‘You too, Adams. Look after the major.’ Henbury turned his attention to the radio, and Thacker stumbled out into the daylight.
The air was thick with the smell of spent explosives and burnt flesh. Adams must have smelled it in the trenches a hundred times before, but it was new to Thacker. It made his gorge rise, and he struggled to control it.
His head was still bleeding. Henbury had been right when he’d suggested a medic. There was always too little time to do a proper job on anything.
‘Adams. In the back of that lorry you’ll find two crates of grenades. Get them in the back of the Land Rover while I make a call.’ He took out his mobile and sat on one of the rustic benches in front of the pub.
The man on duty at the MoD knew his name, and Thacker surmised he had gone up in the world somewhat since the morning, when Dickson had threatened him with Court Martial.
He found himself talking to the Minister of State himself.
‘Sir, I wanted to know if a decision had been made regarding a nuclear strike.’
Thacker eased himself into the passenger seat, and found Adams trying to familiarise himself with the controls of the Land Rover.
‘Don’t worry. This heap is nearly as old as I am. All the gears have synchromesh, so just depress the clutch, wrestle it into first, and stamp on the accelerator.’
Adams didn’t make a move. ‘That phone call you made. Will it hurt Master Robert?’
‘I won’t lie to you, Adams,’ said Thacker. ‘I’m trying my very utmost to persuade someone to drop a bloody big bomb on Jack before it’s too late.’
‘How big?’
‘It’ll leave a crater half a mile wide and incinerate most of Banbury if it gets in the way.’
‘You can do that?’
‘And even then I don’t know if it’ll stop him. But I think we’re going to have to try.’ He pushed away the line of blood drawing down his face. ‘It might help if we can get the machine out of commission. He could be using it as some sort of power source. Close it down, weaken him to a point where conventional weapons would work. To answer your question, Robert Henbury and every one else sniping at Jack’s heels will vanish in a puff of light.’
Adams put his hand on the gear stick and ground it into position. The Land Rover lurched, executed a tight U-turn and headed back down the road towards the hall.
After a while, he spoke. ‘I lived my life for that man. There’s nothing odd about it, so don’t snigger. I’d die for him. Nearly have done, several times. I can’t let him die now, after everything we’ve gone through. The war. The house. Now this. Tell me honestly: where am I better off serving him? Here with you, or with him?’
‘Slow down for the craters,’ said Thacker. The tarmac was deeply pitted where the missiles had fallen. There were bodies, too, and parts of bodies. The ruined remains of what had been once a helicopter lay upside down in a field of young wheat. He let Adams navigate the obstacles before replying.
‘I don’t know for sure. I’m guessing, your coming with me.’
‘That’ll do for now, I suppose.’
‘I’ve seen men crack before, men who’d look down their noses at you, Adams, because you’re a rough spoken, ill-educated gardener. I think you’re a bloody marvel. You’ve been thrown in at the deep end; didn’t ask for any of this, did you?’