About three thousand feet, he worked out. He would be able to see to the horizon over sixty miles away - assuming there was anything to see. Mitchell wouldn’t have wanted any other vessels close enough to observe when he fired the earth energy weapon. The question was, could they glide for long enough to reach anything that might be out there?
The glidewing kept climbing. A thousand feet, and rising. Chase felt Nina’s heartbeat thudding against his chest. Rapid, scared . . . but gradually slowing.
Not because she was calming down. Because she was starting to freeze in the bitter wind.
‘Stay with me!’ he shouted. Her hand squeezed his side. But exposure would take its toll soon enough - and even he couldn’t withstand it for ever. It had been years since he had trained for such conditions.
Minutes passed, the altimeter still rising, the jets howling. Not much fuel left. Chase wiped his eyes, realising his tears had frozen on his face. He could barely feel his own touch, nerves numbed.
Three thousand.
A red light flashed on the wrist unit. A fuel warning. One minute left, or thirty seconds, or ten? He didn’t know. But the powered part of the flight was almost over, only a long glide down into the blackness remaining . . .
Lights!
Off in the distance, a little constellation of blue and yellow. In the overcast utter darkness it was almost impossible to judge how far away it was, but Chase doubted it was anything less than twenty miles. Could the glidewing carry them that far?
No choice but to find out the hard way. He banked, lining up with the ship.
The engines stuttered, then cut out. The only noise now came from the wind.
He felt Nina’s hold on him loosening. ‘Nina, stay awake!’ he yelled. ‘There’s a ship, we can make it!’ He didn’t know if that was true, but if he’d unwittingly lied, she wouldn’t have a chance to call him on it.
The altimeter was counting down now. He leaned back as much as he could, trying to maintain height, but without the engines descent was inevitable.
Two thousand feet. The lights still distant, but getting closer, the constellation taking on tantalising form. Smaller than the Aurora, maybe nearer than Chase had thought. A trawler?
Closer. Fifteen hundred feet. Nina was now held as much by the rope as by her own efforts, grip weakening, heart slowing. He had no feeling in his face, barely any in his outstretched hands. A thousand feet. The spaces between the lights began to fill with solid colours, the ship fading in from the blackness as if in a movie. Five hundred. Closer. Four hundred, three . . .
Nina went limp. He fought to hold his position as her arms and legs dangled in the slipstream, slowing them. Two hundred, one, dropping fast—
The ship rushed at him, a mast springing out of the darkness directly ahead. Chase twisted, losing lift. Something on the deck, a pile of nets and glistening silver within. He aimed for it, last chance before overshooting and plunging into the waters beyond—
They slammed into the nets. The wings cracked and broke off, but Chase had already wrapped his arms round Nina to protect her as they slithered through a huge pile of fish, scattering freshly caught cod everywhere. The other side of the net was being winched up off the deck; they skidded up it before rolling back into the flapping shoal.
‘Bloody hell!’ Chase gasped. His sense of touch might have been numbed, but his sense of smell was working all too well. ‘Stinks!’ The net stopped. He looked round to see a group of shocked fishermen staring at him.
Nina moved feebly in his grip. ‘Nina! Are you okay? Nina!’
‘Eddie . . .’ she whispered drowsily, moving again - this time to rest her head against his chest with an expression almost of contentment, eyes closed. It didn’t last long, though. Her nose twitched, and she frowned. ‘What’s that smell?’
Chase laughed in relief, hugging her. He looked back at the trawlermen as they clambered on to the net. ‘Ay up, lads!’ he said. ‘You going anywhere near England?’
36
England
‘... So it’s my great honour to be here with the discoverer of King Arthur’s tomb, a woman who has rewritten the history books more than once . . . Dr Nina Wilde.’
‘Thank you, Prime Minister,’ said Nina, blushing at the applause as she limped to take his place at the microphone. Her wound had been treated and she had been assured of a full recovery in time, but it was less than a week since it had been inflicted, and the leg was still stiff and painful.
The small stage on which they stood had been set up at the foot of Glastonbury Tor. Behind it, a cordon marked the entrance to the tomb, a full-scale archaeological survey now under way. She looked out across the crowd, which was larger than she had expected; as well as the inevitable press corps and the entourage of police, security and bureaucrats accompanying Britain’s Prime Minister, there was also a throng of ordinary people, wanting to witness one of those rare moments when myth was revealed as fact.
But for all the faces looking up at her, Nina’s attention was fixed only on one. Chase stood near the stage. Despite all the cuts and stitches on his face, he still managed a grin as he clapped. With him were Elizabeth, Holly and his grandmother, and Mac. She smiled back, then lifted her head to the crowd.
‘Thank you,’ she repeated, waiting for the applause to die down. ‘I’m honoured to be here. But the first thing I should say is that I didn’t discover the tomb alone - I had lots of help from other people. And unfortunately, too many of them are no longer with us. Great treasures from the past can inspire awe and wonder, but they can also inspire greed and violence, which cost some of my friends their lives. Before I go on, I’d like to take a moment to remember them.’
She looked down, hands clasped in front of her. The noise of the crowd fell almost to nothing, birdsong from the surrounding countryside briefly the only sound. Then she raised her head again, seeing Chase giving her a sad but appreciative smile. She returned it, then continued.
‘Thank you. The Prime Minister just said I’ve rewritten the history books - and I know that for some people that can be a very frightening thing, when everything they thought they knew gets turned on its head. And I’ve been guilty of that myself; I’ve had my own preconceived beliefs. But I’ve also learned that, sometimes, having your beliefs challenged is the only way that new discoveries can be made, that knowledge can be advanced. And because of that challenge, I’m here with you today as what was once just legend now becomes something greater: truth. A truth that has yet to be fully explored, but the path starts here - at the resting place of Arthur, king of the Britons.’
More applause, even cheering. But Nina was once more looking only at Chase, and his expression of pride.
‘So why weren’t you up on stage, Uncle Eddie?’ Holly asked.
‘Ah, you know me,’ Chase said modestly. ‘Camera-shy.’
‘Not from me, you’re not.’ She held up the phone Chase had bought her and took a picture of him and Nina. ‘I want a good picture of my hero.’
‘I don’t think it’s possible to take one,’ said Elizabeth, but with humour in her voice. ‘Eddie, I’d say thank you, but I don’t think it would be enough. You saved . . .’ She tailed off, overcome by emotion.
Chase put his arm round her. ‘It’s okay, Liz . . . E-lizabeth.’ They both smiled. ‘I mean, come on. You’re family. What else would I do?’
‘Maybe you should go and see Dad, tell him that.’
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves!’
Chase’s grandmother bustled up to them. ‘Come here, my little lambchop. I’m so proud of you!’ She reached up and pinched his cheeks.
‘Ow. Ow, Nan!’ Chase protested. ‘You’ll pop a stitch!’
‘Oh, don’t be silly.’ She kissed him, then turned to Nina. ‘And I’m so happy you’ve finally set a date!’ She kissed Nina as well. ‘Welcome to the family!’
‘Don’t forget to send Peter Alderley his invitation,’ said Mac mischievously.
‘Alderley can f . . .’ Chase began, befor
e looking at his grandmother and niece.
‘Find one in his mailbox soon?’ Nina suggested.
Mac chuckled, then stepped closer, lowering his voice. ‘By the way,’ he said, glancing across at the Prime Minister as he spoke to a TV news crew nearby, ‘there are some people in London - and Washington - who are rather keen to find out what happened to Excalibur.’
‘Lost at sea,’ Nina and Chase quickly replied in unison. ‘Went down with the ship,’ Nina added.
‘Glug glug,’ Chase said, making a spiralling downwards motion with a finger.
‘Hrmm.’ Mac regarded them both intently for a moment, then his face creased into a wry smile. ‘Terrible shame. Still, probably for the best. So what are you going to do now?’
‘We’re going back to the States,’ Nina told him. ‘I have to make a full report to the IHA and the UN. And we need to see Hector Amoros’s family.’
Mac nodded sympathetically. ‘I wish you all the best, then. Are you heading back to Heathrow? I could give you a lift.’
‘That’s okay,’ said Nina. ‘We’ve got a rental car.’
Chase grinned. ‘And we’re going to take the scenic route.’
They stood at the edge of a small lake deep in the English countryside, sunshine giving the rolling green landscape a hazy glow, peaceful and romantic. There was nobody else in sight, no cars or houses, just trees and fields and birds drifting through the warm air.
‘It’s beautiful,’ said Nina. She moved closer to the bank, looking down to see her reflection in the rippling water. A little fish rose almost to the surface to peer up at her, then darted into the safety of the depths with a flick of its tail.
‘It’s nice,’ Chase agreed, ‘but not as good as Yorkshire. God’s own county - I’ll have to take you up there.’
‘Maybe next time.’ She regarded the view for a moment longer, then turned and picked up an object wrapped in a towel.
‘Sure you want to do this?’ Chase asked.
‘Not entirely. Something of this historical importance should be in a museum. But . . .’ She shook her head. ‘We can’t let anyone like Jack get hold of it again. And besides, according to legend Excalibur ended up in a lake, waiting to be found again when the time was right. It feels appropriate.’
She unwrapped the towel, revealing Excalibur gleaming within. The blade glowed almost imperceptibly when she took the hilt, no invisible lines of earth energy nearby. After regarding the reflections in the metal for a moment, Nina carefully handed the sword to Chase. ‘Me?’ he asked. ‘Oh, I get it - if you’re King Arthur, then I’m the loyal knight who casts away the sword, right?’
‘No,’ Nina said with a smile. ‘You can throw a lot further than me, that’s all!’
Chase laughed, then weighed the sword in his hands before drawing back one arm to throw it. ‘Sure?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay.’ With a grunt, he hurled the shining weapon out across the lake. It spun end over end, sunlight flashing from the blade, and arced down to land with a splash some distance from the shore, dropping out of sight into the deep waters beneath. ‘Huh. You know, I almost expected someone’s hand to pop out of the water and grab it.’
‘Some moistened tart, maybe?’ Nina asked him, grinning.
‘Yeah, that’s enough Monty Python,’ Chase said, taking her hand and starting the walk back to their car. ‘So, we’d better start thinking about the wedding, I suppose. I know - how about getting married in Vegas by Elvis?’
She laughed. ‘Keep thinking.’
Epilogue
Washington, DC
The white-haired man handed the folder to the man seated behind the desk and stepped back respectfully. ‘That’s everything we’ve got so far, sir.’
‘The ship?’
‘Based on the GPS track of its last known position, it’s approximately eight thousand feet down in the Norwegian Basin, just inside the Arctic Circle. Reachable, given time, but there’s no way to tell how much would be recoverable.’
‘What about the sword?’
‘According to Dr Wilde and Chase, it went down with the ship. Whether that’s true or not is another matter, but considering her public profile right now, rendering them for interrogation might be a problem.’
‘Damn it. Mitchell should have had the superconductor analysed and duplicated before testing the weapon. He rushed it, and we lost everything!’
‘With respect, sir,’ the white-haired man said, ‘he was acting under your orders. He wanted to take advantage of the stand-off with the Russians, and you personally authorised him to sink the Enterprise as a false flag—’
‘I know what I authorised!’ A fist banged on the desk. ‘We would have eliminated the Russians as a competitor for polar resources for a decade, but now all that’s gone because of some - some archaeologist and her Limey boyfriend!’ He flicked through the pages inside the folder, stopping at a pair of photographs: Nina and Chase. He threw the folder down on his desk with a slap. ‘All right, Mr Callum. You can go.’
‘Yes, Mr President.’ The white-haired man nodded, then marched crisply from the Oval Office.
President Victor Dalton turned to look out across the White House’s rose garden beyond the high armoured windows. Jack Mitchell had known that failure would see him castigated as a rogue agent misusing DARPA’s black budget for his own ends. Like a true patriot, he had accepted the risk and taken that responsibility in order to protect the man whose orders he was actually obeying. There would be no link to the White House . . . but that didn’t change the fact that the operation had failed. The earth energy weapon had been destroyed, and Dalton’s long-term plans had been derailed.
He scowled at the photographs of Nina and Chase. ‘I won’t forget this,’ he promised them.
Andy McDermott, The Secret of Excalibur
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