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something closer to control
than care, Lucifer laid the limp body on the altar. He pinched out the thick
tallow candles and stepped back from the great slab of marble. He genuflected
in the aisle between the short rows of crudely made pews then he rose from his
knee, crossed himself and retired.
     
    Chapter 5
    Wednesday March 2nd
     
    Torture
    Police have refused to confirm
that the body of a man found earlier this morning on the outskirts of
Liverpool, is that of the missing psychologist, Dr Marcus Bryant.
    They have
also refused to comment on the cause of death or the nature of Dr Bryant’s
injuries. Although witnesses at the scene have reported signs of apparent
torture.
     
    Steve Brennus picked his way up the wooded hillside of
Alderley Edge. He knew the Edge well and had been surprised that his mysterious
caller had chosen this particular location for their meeting. The path levelled
out and Steve paused beside a sandstone outcrop at the foot of which was a
shallow stone basin filled with water. Above the basin an inscription had been
carved into the rock, now weatherworn and barely visible but Steve knew what it
said…
    Drink of this
    and take thy fill
    For the water falls
    by the wizard’s will
    Above the words one could just
make out the image of a wizard’s face. Steve smiled as he continued along the
woodland path. He had always loved the legend of Alderly Edge…
    A hundred enchanted knights lying
beneath the hollow hill, sleeping in wizard-induced slumber. And beside each
knight a milk-white steed. A hundred knights, ready to ride out and defeat evil
in the hour of Britain’s greatest need.
    Steve had spent endless days as a
child exploring the rocks and caves of the Edge searching for the secret gates
beyond which the knights were said to lie. He and Christine had brought Sally
here. They had raced down the forest tracks, stopping at every rock face to rap
on it with their ‘staffs’ to see if the golden gates of magic would appear.
They never did of course but the magic was not diminished.
    A spasm of regret gripped Steve’s
chest at the thought of his wife and daughter. Waking without them had been the
most miserable experience but he did not know how to fix what he had done, and
he would not go back until he did. With an effort he pushed them from the
forefront of his mind and brought his attention back to the reason why he was
here.
    ‘Stormy Point, five o-clock,’ the
man called Psimon had said.
    Stormy Point was a famous
prominence on the Edge where a jumble of sandstone boulders forged an opening
in the forested slopes to reveal the wide expanse of the Cheshire plain.
    Another half mile saw Steve
drawing close to the agreed meeting place. Following his military training he
left the path and circled round through the undergrowth to come at the Point
from the opposite direction. If this guy was actually there he wanted to get a
good look at him before he made his presence known. Moving slowly now he
scrambled up a bank and, using a stunted holly bush for cover, he peered out
through a cleft in the rocks.
    A young man sat on the rocks some
fifty yards away staring out across the plain, a mobile phone held to his ear.
Dressed in jeans, light walking boots and a brown corduroy jacket, he looked
too normal to be Steve’s mystery caller, too pleasant. Cautiously Steve shifted
his position to see if there was anyone else there…
    Nope, no one.
    He glanced down at his watch…
    Five o-clock dead.
    Steve looked back up and felt his
balls tighten with the cold chill of discovery. The young man was staring
directly at him, a strange smile on his ‘pleasant’ face. Steve cursed himself
as he realised he had just broken one of the primary rules of engagement… never
underestimate the enemy.
    Forsaking any vestige of stealth
Steve came out from his hiding place and made his way across the open space.
    The young man put away his mobile
phone and stood to meet him.
    ‘Psimon?’ said Steve as he