Guy Smith - The Lurkers

'We found Peters up there.' Calvert pointed up the hillside. 'Sergeant Lewis and myself came with the forest rangers tonight but I don't think any of us quite expected a haul like this.'

'Suppose you fill me in on everything.' Peter shook his head slowly. 'I'm afraid I'm getting a bit confused.'

I'd've thought it was obvious.' A tall raw-boned man wearing a torn ex-army combat jacket over a polo-necked sweater stepped forward. These guys here are the leaders of what was probably the most dangerous and highly organised gang of deer-poachers ever to operate in Britain.'

'Deer-poachers/' Peter stared wide-eyed at the heap of crossbows and high-powered battery lamps loaded on to one of the snowmobiles glinting evilly in the light cast by the blazing cottage. 'But I thought ..."

'Sure we know what you thought, and so did we up until a couple of nights ago when we got a tip-off.' Calvert laughed, a humourless hollow sound. 'You thought you were the victim of an anti-English campaign by some fanatical yobbos, and so you were to some extent. And you also thought that a couple of our local moochers, Peters and Bostock, wanted you out of the way so they could poach rabbits on Hodre in peace. And you were right! But these deer-poachers were the ones who killed your cat and rabbit and slashed your tyres. They needed to get you out of the way when the big herds moved up to winter on Hodre because that was going to be their big coup, thousands of pounds for a few night's work. They're more desperate than most of the armed gangs who raid banks in the cities, and their overall rewards are just as rich. In an out-of-the-way place like this, working systematically, they could clean up most of the herd. They tried to scare you off first but when that didn't work they were going to make sure you didn't live to tell the tale, just as they weren't taking any chances on Peters and Bostock getting away. For the poachers this blizzard couldn't have been better timed; they could take their time, use snowshoes, and all they needed was a few nights when nobody could get to them. Fortunately the Forestry Commission shipped a few snowmobiles out here when they realised what was going on.'

Peter wasn't listening anymore; his brain was suddenly reeling as he stared at one of the captured poachers, a big fellow with remnants of a torn camouflage sheet still clinging to his frame. The eyes still blazed venom even in defeat, the long silver hair and flowing beard seemed to have turned white. Tonight Tim Ruskin had aged a decade!

'Him!' Peter grunted. 'He's—he's—'

'Yes, quite a surprise. With all the land he owns he must be a millionaire but he's sacrificed everything for a few extra grand. Not content with making a fat profit out of sheep he finally couldn't leave the deer alone. I guess he won't be walking these fields for a long time to come. Now, I reckon, Mr Fogg, we can just squeeze you in one of the snowmobiles and give you a lift down to a more civilised place. I'll bet you've seen enough of Hodre to last you a lifetime!'

Peter turned from his cramped place in the low vehicle as its caterpillars began to grip the snowdrifts for one last look at a place that had been home for a short time, and was now being cremated in a blazing inferno. The roof had caved in, the nearside wall was bowing and any moment it would collapse outwards, showering hot stone and burning debris into the drifts. Snow was already melting and running in rivulets down the garden path.

He grinned wryly as he remembered his book. One chapter that wasn't finished, another that was hardly begun.

In a lot of ways he was going to have to start all over again.

With a thunderous roar the cottage disintegrated and huge tongues of flame shot skywards. Hodre was going out in one last terrifying flamboyant gesture. And way up the slope the twisted trees surrounding the old druid circle were momentarily illuminated, blackened skeletons leering down on a funeral pyre, seeming to gloat as though an age-old vengeance was fulfilled.

For them, perhaps, it was not all over.