Maxim Gunn and the Serpent Force by Nicholas Boving

Author:Nicholas Boving
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: series books, maxim gunn, stonehenge, chichen itsa, serpent force, ley lines, ring of brogar, fantasy fiction, young adult fiction, series fiction
Publisher: Nicholas Boving

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The town clocks had just struck eleven when Gunn let himself quietly out through a back door, and negotiated a pile of stinking garbage cans. The dinner had been as bad as he had feared, and he promised himself to look in the Guide Michelin for something a lot better if he had to stay in the area for any time.

He ghosted across the unkempt back garden, vaulted a fence, and in his dark clothes, melted into the night, heading for a winding footpath he’d noticed during the day which led to the top of the plateau. There were two perfectly serviceable dirt roads, which he avoided, as Proteus had not struck him as the athletic type, and would no doubt use a car.

Across his shoulder was slung a canvas holdall, which contained a flask of coffee and a ham roll, obtained from the hotel kitchen after a bit of bribery, and a camera fitted with an infrared night lens. The date on the wall map was due to start in an hour, but he had no means of knowing which part of it was important to the overall plan, if any. But it had to be during the hours of darkness, as no doubt Proteus would avoid daylight if he was up to no good.

As he scrambled up the steep path, Gunn wondered yet again, what the purpose of the sites could be. There was a link, of course, established by Jardine and his ley lines; but what was the true link? So far he had Stonehenge, the Parthenon with its temple to Diana, Karnak in Egypt, Chichen Itza, and now Alise Sainte Reine - the Alesia of the Celts. One thing he was sure of was that Proteus wasn’t simply touring for the sake of it. He had to be doing something at each place; something that would fit in and have a purpose on the final morning of midsummer.

After twenty minutes stiff climbing Gunn reached the top. He came out of the screen of trees and bush and found himself on the grassy upland, lowered himself to the ground, and began a long, thorough sweep of the area through the telephoto lens of the camera.

It was almost magical, and he wished he could be seeing it under different circumstances. To the north, and immediately behind him were the lights of the two small towns: Les Laumes, with its pearl string of blue-white lights at the railway yard, and Alise Sainte Reine, the Holy Queen; warm, friendly and welcoming. He smiled wryly as he imagined the reactions of the people of both places if they knew what was going on, and why he was there on that brilliant moonlit night.

As he watched, a long, glow-worm of light wound through Les Laumes, and over the cool air came the mournful sound of the train’s siren as it sped from Paris. But apart from that, the night was more peaceful than it had a right to be. Wind rustled

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