So Fraser-Hale couldn’t see him, didn’t know how close he was. Perhaps had heard him moving across the field. Hadn’t seen him in the lightning.
Which made him seem less of a threat, less of a fine-tuned, hawk-eyed, all-sensing Stone Age stalker, half man, half Will o’ the Wisp woodland sprite.
‘So let’s have you on your feet, shall we? See who you are.’
Maiden said carefully, ‘Who do you think I am?’
Barely a pause. ‘Someone the woman told I suppose. Made a mistake there, but we broke down in the wrong place, you see. Engines are man-made. Imprecise. I can’t be doing with things I haven’t made myself.’
‘What woman’s that … Adrian?’
‘Oh … blond hair. American. Someone’s sister.’
Green Man Psychological Profile: when they lost their identity, became ‘the man’, ‘the woman’, it meant they’d been consigned to the mental file marked Sacrificial.
‘You mean the place you broke down, it would have been wrong to kill her there? Nowhere near a ley, or a sacred site?’
‘Who are you?’
Maiden kept his voice steady. ‘I’m your shadow, Adrian. I was with you in the New Forest. Under the pines near Avebury. And last night. At Collen Hall.’
‘Who are you?’ Plain curiosity.
‘It doesn’t matter. You wouldn’t know me.’
‘No,’ Adrian said. ‘It certainly doesn’t matter to me. For the moment.’
‘But we know you. Quite a few of us.’ Tip the scales a little; make him feel exposed, analysed, possibly surrounded. We’ve been watching you for quite a while.’
‘With what purpose? To learn?’
Bloody hell, the arrogance.
Think.
Remembering, while he was with the Met, being sent on a siege-negotiators’ course. Not the full course, a weekend primer, play-acting. Learning to relate to the hyped-up nutter at the upstairs window holding a blade to his former girlfriend’s throat, the fugitive on the eleventh-floor balcony with the baby. Keep them talking. Become a friend, the only friend they’ve got.
The course had been short on advice for dealing with a passionately motivated assassin perfectly at home among Neolithic stones with a storm on the way: his ideal killing situation, but you didn’t know quite who he was planning to kill or quite when or quite how, only how he’d killed the others, no specific MO — apart from being governed by earth-forces which might not exist outside the labyrinth of his mind.
Maiden rolled onto his side. Over to the right, there was a tiny, twin glow. The candles on the wedding altar, over four hundred yards away. Were the people all still there? Had they moved away, leaving the candles?
And don’t, whatever you do, put yourself between the circle and the Knights.
‘Adrian,’ he said. ‘The thing is, you’ve quite impressed us. We don’t think there’s ever been anyone precisely like you.’
‘Then you must be pretty stupid, if you think that. There was a time when everyone was like me.’
‘Hunting?’
‘Hunting to live. Living to hunt. Feeding the organism, feeding the Earth. The great energy cycle. It’s the big secret.’ Adrian laughed, a full-bodied ha ha ha sort of laugh. ‘Killing makes the world go round.’
‘Terrific.’
‘What did you say?’
For once, Cindy was wrong. The storm might be a psychological trigger, but he wasn’t expecting the storm to do his killing for him. Too random. The Green Man liked to be in full control. The Whispering Knights was a perfect, strategic observation post, a little island. Was he waiting for someone here? Would someone be sent, like the birdwatcher? Had Maiden fallen into that role?
It wasn’t enough.
Pull him out of the abstract. Tie him down. A name.
‘I gather Roger Falconer’s been using your ideas.’
‘Ideas?’
‘Well, you know what I mean.’
‘We were going to write a book together.’
‘That’s what he told you, is it? You and Roger, both names on the front?’
‘Not sure. Not sure he deserves it.’
‘Worried he might rip you off?’
A pause.
‘Rip? I may rip his throat out. I may give him to the Knoll. Have to leave the Knoll something when I go. Could be Roger. What do you think?’
Talking to Maiden as someone who, having studied the Green Man, was expected to grasp the point.
‘Where are you going, Adrian?’
Pause. ‘Who did you say you were?’
‘You wouldn’t know me. My name’s … Robert.’
‘You’re right. I don’t know anyone called Robert. What do you do?’
‘I’m a painter. Like Turner.’
‘I don’t know much about art.’
‘But you know what you like. And you like the picture of Stonehenge. In the storm. That’s a Turner.’
‘No!’
‘Yes …’ Watch it. ‘No. Sorry. Must be thinking of another one.’
‘Don’t be stupid, I know which one you mean. The lightning, called into the circle. And the sheep waiting to die for the Earth. And the shepherd. One of the world’s greatest works of art. A message. From the Earth. I mean, it doesn’t matter who daubed the paint on; it’s a spiritual work, a coded message to mankind. They’re all willing sacrifices. I mean, for heaven’s sake, a shepherd knows when there’s a storm coming. A shepherd on Salisbury Plain — and I was born near there — he knows to avoid the stones, because, when it happens there, it’s going to be a big one. I mean, not now, perhaps, because Stonehenge is pretty useless now, with all the tourists, but then … when was that painted?’
‘About 1820?’
‘Gave himself up, that shepherd. And a few sheep. I’m glad you spotted that, Robert. You’re starting to understand.’
‘And what’s the message, Adrian? What’s the coded message?’
‘You’ll see. You’ll know.’
‘That’s why we’re here. Right?’
No reply.
‘You said Stonehenge was pretty useless now … that’s why you’ve come here, right?’
Laughter. ‘These stupid railings. What do they think they’re keeping out?’
‘Or keeping in?’
‘Very good, Robert. Very perceptive. Are you standing up, Robert? I want to see you. So do the Knights.’
Maiden lay still. Thought he heard shouts from the circle. They were still there? What was she doing?
Adrian laughed. ‘Why don’t you come closer, Robert? Come and watch. It’s like an army. It’s regrouping. Gathering its forces. Conserving its energy, and it’s coming. It’s coming. It’s very close.’
The storm?
‘And what’s going to happen when it comes?’
‘I like you, Robert,’ Adrian said. ‘But you ask too many questions.’
Something came then. The first fork lightning, a jagged, white crack in the sky and it was close, speared the trees on the horizon and-
‘Told you!’ Adrian cried, splashed with ice-milk light, arms raised in euphoria, amid the Knights and the whump of thunder. ‘Told you, told you, told you! The next one that’s the sign — the next one will be it.’
No talking this one down.
‘All right, Adrian.’ He stood up. ‘I’m coming over.’
‘See?’ Grayle screamed, and she wasn’t the only woman there who did when all the stones lit up. ‘I thought you knew all about this stuff! Stone circles attracting lightning and all, on account of the streams crossing. You stay here, you’re gonna get blasted.’
‘Oh, let’s go,’ Janny sobbed. ‘It’s all ruined now, anyway. It was a stupid idea.’
‘No!’ Matthew shouted. ‘Grayle, I can’t believe you’re doing this. This is the most wonderful thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s a blessing. Tell her, Charlie!’
‘Well,’ Charlie said, ‘they do say an electric storm’s an Act of God, but whether …’
‘It’s a blessing! It’s absolutely tremendous.’
‘It’s ruined!’ Janny shrieked.