Scotland Hard (Book 2 in the Tom & Laura Series) (32 page)

43.
      
An Afternoon and a Half

When Michael Jenkins was a child, he had been a true patriot. In the fantasies that played in his head, he was the man who saved the
British Empire
from imminent defeat with his stout heart and much daring-do. He was that most unusual of people, the kind that know exactly what they want to be from an early age and commit themselves body and soul to the process of achieving it.

What Jenkins had wanted more than anything else, was to become a spy for MM3. Working in the Empire and beyond to confound the enemy, whether they be the Hungarian Empire or the renegade Americans in their
United States
. He possessed one of the key skills for such a role, as he was a Grade 4 Empath. Jenkins trained his body to a peak of fitness and diligently learned all the appropriate languages. He studied politics at university and applied for a commission with MM3 on his twenty first birthday.

What he didn’t know, because it was a secret, was that MM3 recruited its agents at the age of eighteen. It sent them for training to Hobsgate, a secret academy hidden on the coast. Sir Ernest Trelawney had to end the amateur nature of spying. He believed that it needed to be trained for in the same way as the other professions.

Trelawney wanted those whose magical gifts were not quite good enough to make the front lines or research, but whose hearts were true, to find a rewarding career under him. Alone of the Directors of the Military Magic Departments, he had founded a specialist training school and nobody who had not been through its doors would be recruited.

Had Michael been born a year earlier, he would have been able to apply in the same way that James Saunders and many others had entered MM3, but as it was, the gate slammed shut in front of him just as he approached it.

Military Magic is made up of four directorships:

Jenkins found an alternative career in MM1, deploying more talented magicians than himself wherever they were needed. But it was a poor substitute for the life he had wanted. Over the years that followed, he became increasingly bitter and finally found an outlet for his frustrations by becoming a spy for the Hungarian Empire.

He walked into the carriage where the six people he had selected for death were waiting for his return. He smiled encouragingly at Susan Peters, the woman he had bedded and selected because she looked a little like Annelise Schultz. Susan smiled back at him with trusting eyes.

Jenkins stepped aside to let Bruno and his men into the compartment. They were carrying pistols and the six people put their hands into the air as they recognized they had no option but surrender. Annelise made a dramatic entrance after the compartment was secure.

“Go vith my men and you vill be treated honorably,” Annelise Shultz told them with a pleasant smile on her face.

As Susan passed Jenkins, she looked at him with hurt eyes and spoke two simple words.

“Why Michael?”

Jenkins looked back at her and smiled warmly.

“Because they were eager to have me.”

Bruno pulled Susan out of the compartment and his men followed behind with the other MM1 agents. Crossing between carriages meant exposure to the elements and stepping across the gap between them. The rails flew by beneath Susan’s feet and she wondered if the man directing her was going to throw her over the side to certain death. She sighed with relief as he pushed her into the guard’s van.

Bruno forced her towards the back of the carriage where she stifled a scream as she tripped over the dead guard. She was going to turn to say something to Bruno when she felt a line of fire cross her throat. She looked down to see her blood flowing in waves across her hands. Her last thought was how warm her blood felt.

James Saunders was feeling full of himself as he and his men approached the main entrance of the castle. They approached an old man on guard duty at the door.

“James Saunders, MM3 Director of Operations to see Lord McBride on a matter of some urgency,” he said self-importantly.

“Yer dinna say,” the old man responded skeptically. “Would yer be having a calling card to prove that?”

Saunders retrieved his valet from the inside pocket of his greatcoat and took out a gold embossed card, which his name and job title printed on it. It also displayed the seal of Military Magic, embossed and coated with gold leaf.

“Dinna yer move from here. I shall go and inform the Laird and ask him if he’ll see yer,” the old man told them. He set off into the castle at a relaxed pace.

“They don’t think a lot of Military Magic here, Guv’nor,” Mike noted.

“They will welcome us soon enough when they find out why we have come,” Saunders replied confidently.

“Donnan, the Laird has some visitors from MM3 who want to see him urgent,” the old man told a distinguished looking man in a butler’s uniform. Donnan
Campbell
was the head butler of the castle and the man who controlled the household staff. The old man passed him the card. “He’s got two shifty types along with him. The sort that yer wouldna want to meet in an alley on a dark night.”

Donnan took the card and examined it carefully.

“You have left them waiting at the main door?”

“Aye Donnan, that I have.”

“Then go back and make sure they stay there. I shall inform the Laird and we shall take things from there.”

“Aye Donnan. But yer canna trust the English. Yer tell the Laird I said that.”

“I am sure he already knows, Angus. Now away with you, and be polite to them if you can.”

Donnan knocked and entered the Laird’s study. McBride was talking to Blane when he entered and he waited respectfully until the Laird chose to speak to him.

“What is it, Donnan?”

Donnan handed over the card without comment. McBride read it and his eyebrows rose. He gave the card to Blane who looked at it curiously.

“Did he say what he wanted?” Blane asked.

“I understand he has come to talk to the Laird on a matter of some urgency. He has two bodyguards with him, or so I am given to understand.”

“I don’t like the timing of this, Blane,” Lord McBride informed his secretary. “Perhaps they know what we are planning and have sent this man to stop us.”

Blane shook his head.

“I doubt that, sir. Had they been aware of your plans they would have sent something much more impressive against us than one man and two bodyguards.”

McBride looked agitated.

“Then why is he here?”

“I would suspect it is over the Spellbinder, Laird. She is important to them and it is possible that someone recognized her at the hotel or perhaps at one of the railway stations. That would be an important enough matter for them to send their Director of Operations.”

“We can’t risk him reporting back to MM3,” Lord McBride said decisively. He noticed that Donnan was still in the room and stopped himself from saying any more in front of his butler. Blane noted his hesitation.

“Donnan, we will handle this matter from now on,” Blane said smoothly. “Can you ask MacTavish to come to the Laird’s study?”

“Very well, sir…, my lord,” Donnan said bowing to both men. He backed out of the room and found a houseboy to run and fetch Alan MacTavish for the Laird.

Once the butler was out of the room, Blane could talk freely.

“MacTavish and his men can take care of Saunders and his bodyguards. Saunders is an important man though, Laird. People will notice when he goes missing.”

“Only if there is anybody left alive to notice,” Lord McBride replied.

“You mean to go through with it, Laird; to destroy
London
?”

“At the State Opening of Parliament, assuming that Giles does not let me down. It will be a fitting memorial to Andrew and all the other Scotsmen who have died at Englishmen’s hands.”

“Andrew died because he was working with Dantium for you, Laird. Not at the hands of the English,” Blane pointed out.

“It is all the same thing. Had the English not been the way they are, I would never have set Andrew on his task. It is they who must shoulder the blame.”

Blane looked appalled at his Laird’s logic, but only for a second.

“What about the Scottish Lords and Members of Parliament who will be at the ceremony? Surely it would be better to wait until Parliament is in recess and they are all home with their families?”

McBride pursed his lips and then spoke with quiet certainty.

“It is the one time when all the English scum will be in one place. There are always sacrifices in war. Most of the citizens of
London
are innocent of the crimes of their nation, but we must kill them too.”

“Aye, Laird,” Blane agreed in resignation, but there was a lack of conviction in his voice.

Saunders was tired of waiting and nearly ready to explode with anger. He had been kept waiting for nearly an hour. The old man sat and studiously ignored them.

He stood up and was about to suggest to the old man that he go and find out what was going on, when a kilted man approached from inside the castle. He had the look of a gamekeeper or gardener, the skin of his face was wrinkled and tanned like old leather.

“Good day to you, gentlemen,” the man said, offering Saunders his hand. “My name is Alan MacTavish and I have come to take you to the Laird.”

Saunders shook MacTavish’s hand and introduced himself and his two men.

“I was beginning to think that Lord McBride had forgotten about us,” Saunders confessed as MacTavish led them into the castle.

“Nay, the Laird would never forget about a man as important as yourself. I gather you are a senior officer in MM3. Whatever would bring a man like you all the way from
London
out to Glen Russell?”

“It is a matter of some delicacy and involves some rather irritating young people,” Saunders replied.

“Aye, the Laird said it might be something like that,” MacTavish said with evident satisfaction. He brought them to a halt in front of a small wooden door. Even Saunders would have to duck to pass through it. “Would you be going through this wee passageway? You’ll have to go single file, but it will save us a long walk through the castle.”

Saunders had been a little concerned at MacTavish’s reply. Surely, Lord McBride could not be aware of the team following the Spellbinder? As he stooped over to walk through the narrow stone passageway with Mick and Joe following close behind him, it occurred to him that MacTavish must have thought he was talking about Young and Carter.

As he emerged from the passageway, he suddenly realized just how dangerous that would make his visit from Lord McBride’s point of view. A large wooden club robbed him of his senses before he could warn his men.

Saunders woke in a dark room. He head was spinning and he had trouble hearing. He could feel clotted blood matting his hair. His arms were tied behind his back and there was a rough cloth gag in his mouth.

Saunders turned his head and nearly vomited into the gag with the dizziness that movement brought. He saw Mick and Joe tied up as he was and sitting on wooden chairs. That was the moment he became aware that he too, was sitting down.

“Aye you are back among the living then?” an educated Scottish voice asked. “Alas for you, it will not be for much longer.”

“I thought I would come and see you myself before you are dispatched. I am Lord McBride, if you didna know. I don’t know how you found out that I have the Spellbinder, but it makes little difference. That you know means you and your men will have to die.”

Saunders tried to tell Lord McBride that he worked for the Brotherhood and had come to help. The sounds he managed to get through the gag were incomprehensible.

“It is no good telling me how important you are,” Lord McBride said. “Nor any point in telling me that I can’t get away with it. Two days from now your headquarters will be destroyed, as will
London
. I plan to blow them both to little pieces in the biggest explosion ever created by man.”

Saunders eyes opened wide with incredulity.
Lord McBride must be a madman. No such explosive could exist and even if it did, why would a British Lord want to destroy
London
? He must be crazy; there could be no other explanation
.