The Scot and I (10 page)

Mahri’s mind was reeling.

“Did ye hear me? I think we may be in the clear.”

She put down her knife and fork. “When did this happen? When was the man killed?”

“Not long after the guests were rounded up for questioning.”

“It’s impossible. We know it can’t be true. They were following us. They couldn’t have murdered anyone.”

Dugald’s big hand covered hers, and he squeezed hard. “Get a grip on yerself, lass. Pick up your knife and fork and eat your dinner. Dinna draw attention to yerself.” When she obeyed him, he went on, “They could have murdered the man before they came after us.”

“You don’t believe that!”

“I don’t know the man, only what you’ve told me about him. And charming rogues have been known to turn out to be murderers.”

“Well, I know him.” Though her voice was low, it quivered with indignation. “He would never stab anyone in the back. Who says he did?”

Dugald took a long draught of his ale before he answered her. “No one knows, or if they do, they’re not saying.”

“Ronald Ramsey,” she said, snorting derisively.

“We don’t know that.”

“Well, it wasn’t Hepburn who stabbed that man. I’d stake my life on it.”

There was a protracted silence. Finally, Dugald sighed. “So that’s the way of it, is it.” It was a statement, not a question.

Mahri huffed. “It’s not what you think. Dugald, he would not have come to Ramsey’s notice if it hadn’t been for me. I don’t know why Ramsey would kill that policeman, but if he thinks I’ll stand aside and let Hepburn take the blame for it, he’s very much mistaken.”

“Lass, you’re jumping to conclusions. No one has accused Ramsey of killing the policeman.”

Mahri’s chin jutted. “I’m saying it.”

Dugald’s bushy brows rose. “Even if were true, what can you do?”

“I’ll go to the castle and tell them some story or other that will convince them to let Hepburn go. I’ll tell them we had a lovers’ tryst, and he was with me when the other man was killed.” She shook her head. “I’ll think of something.”

“It’s not as easy as you think.” His eyes flicked to the policeman he’d spoken to earlier. “From what I heard, Hepburn has made a powerful enemy at the castle, someone in command who has been waiting for his chance to discredit him.”

She added glumly, “And Ramsey has powerful friends in the area. Oh, Dugald, what are we going to do?”

“We’re going to eat our dinner, then we’ll talk.”

Mahri looked down at her plate. The succulent meat pie did not begin to tempt her, but to please Dugald, she speared a morsel and popped it into her mouth.

Seven

There were dungeons in the original castle but none in the brand-new edifice that Prince Albert had built for his queen only thirty years before. Alex came to himself in a cellar that had been converted to a cell. There was a barred window high in the wall. The light was fading, and he wondered how long he had been drifting in and out of consciousness.

“Alex?”

The hoarse voice came from a cot on the other side of the cell, Gavin’s voice, weak and wavering. The sound of it had Alex dragging himself off the floor and stumbling toward the noise. There was only one cot in the cell.

He could barely make out his brother’s face. “What happened to you, Gavin?”

Gavin let out a shaky laugh. “I didn’t know your job was so dangerous,” he said. “There was I at our hunting lodge, waiting for you to turn up, when some red-faced villain tried to arrest me for murder. I resisted, and he took a shot at me.”

“He shot you?”

“Don’t worry. He didn’t hit me, but he ruined my coat and trousers. The bullet, luckily for me, went right through my pocket. An inch to two to the right, and he would have unmanned me.”

Relief flooded through Alex, not because Gavin was still the same playful gallant but because no one who was seriously injured could have strung so many sentences together.

“The thing is,” Gavin went on, “your colonel didn’t like the answers I gave when they brought me in for questioning. I tried to tell him about the woman we were pursuing, and he wouldn’t listen. He accused me of trying to kill the queen.” His voice changed color, gentled, and he said, “You know that Dickens was stabbed in the back?”

“I know,” Alex replied.

“I’m sorry. I know how much you liked and trusted him.” He shifted his position and groaned. “Nothing to worry about,” he said. “The colonel had his soldiers beat me, rather badly. I think they may have cracked one of my ribs.”

“Let me take a look.”

Gavin sucked in a breath when Alex gingerly pressed a hand to his side. “You’re bleeding,” Alex said.

“The bullet may have nicked me in passing, but no harm done. One of the orderlies tended to the wound, a very nice fellow by the name of Wilson. I don’t think Foster is very popular in the castle.”

Alex’s tone was savage. “What you need is a doctor!”

Gavin chuckled. “I’m a prisoner, Alex, not a guest. I was lucky to have an orderly take a look at me. I’m fine, really.”

Alex could hardly control his anger or his frustration. One way or another, they were going to get out of here, even if he had to carry his brother on his back. Then he’d take care of the colonel.

Gavin said, “What are you thinking?”

Alex shook his head. “None of it makes sense. Dickens wasn’t attached to Special Branch or the Secret Service. He was in charge of security at the castle. He was a policeman. Why would anyone want to kill him?”

“I have no idea.”

“How did it happen? Do you know?”

“All they’ve told me is that Dickens was in his office when he was stabbed.”

“But we weren’t anywhere near there.”

Alex tried to visualize how the drama had played out. They’d gone to the stable for horses so that they could go after the woman who had shot Ramsey. They hadn’t heard a scuffle or anyone call out. He turned the problem over in his mind. Finally, he said, “Who was the last person to see Dickens alive?”

“I have no idea.” Gavin shrugged. “I took that fellow who was shot to get medical attention, left him with the doctor, and made straight for the terrace to meet you. I don’t know what happened after that.”

Alex tried to put himself in Dickens’s shoes. What had he seen or heard that made someone want to kill him? Where was Ramsey at the crucial time? Was someone else involved? A member of Demos? Was the girl a distraction?

She’d given him Dugald’s cloak to keep him warm. She’d stopped that stinking cart to check on him on that bumpy ride to Inver. Whatever else she was, she was no coldhearted killer.

But she was a member of Demos, if he could trust his vision.

Gavin said, “Did you catch up with the woman we were tracking?”

“Mmm? Oh, yes, and I was wondering whether she was telling the truth. She said that Ramsey had a revolver, but I didn’t see it.”

“You’re thinking Ramsey may have murdered Dickens?”

“It’s possible.”

“Then why not shoot Dickens—oh, I see. The shot would be heard, and everyone would come running. But Ramsey was a victim, too, wasn’t he? And why would he kill Dickens?”

“If I knew the answer to that question, I’d be a seer.”

Gavin chuckled. “What if the girl lied?”

Alex’s answer was clipped. “Well, we know that she didn’t kill Dickens. We were hot on her trail, remember?”

“Ouch,” said Gavin. “You like this woman, I can tell. What are you doing?”

Alex had abruptly risen and was exploring the four corners of the cell. “I’m looking for a way out.”

“What about your section chief? Why isn’t he here to take our statements?”

“He had to go to Whitehall on the queen’s business,” Alex replied, “but I’m sure when he returns, he’ll soon sort Colonel Foster out.”

“Maybe we should wait for him to arrive and be good little boys?”

“Foster doesn’t play nice, Gavin. I’m not sure that you can take another beating. And if Durward is delayed, who knows what Foster will do to get us to confess? If he sets his soldiers on us again, I swear I’ll kill him. Durward won’t be able to help us, then.”

Gavin had no reply to this.

After a few minutes, Alex came back to Gavin and sat at the foot of the pallet with his back to the wall. “They have to feed us, bring us water. That’s when we will make our bid for freedom.”

“Fine. Whatever you say.”

This carefree response startled a laugh out of Alex. “I’m baffled,” he said. “You were nicked by a bullet and took a sadistic beating, yet you sound quite chipper. How do you do it?”

“Ah, well,” responded Gavin, “you could say I’m putting my muse to the test.”

“What?”

“The gift I got from Granny. I can put thoughts into people’s minds. So I thought, why not put them into my own mind? And it worked. The pain became manageable. I can move more easily. The trouble is, I haven’t had enough practice and become distracted.”

“If that’s the case, why didn’t you stop the soldiers from beating you?”

“I’m a seer, not a magician, and my gift doesn’t work with everyone.”

“What about me? Can you put thoughts into my mind?”

“No, more’s the pity.”

Alex was pleased to hear it. He didn’t want anyone meddling with his mind. Hardly had the thought occurred to him than he remembered his vague uneasiness as he approached the castle: he was riding into danger and Gavin was there.

“Of course,” Gavin went on, “I may improve with practice.”

“Just remember, two can play at that game.”

Each heard the smile in the other’s voice. After a moment’s thought, Gavin said, “So what do we do now?”

“We rest.”

“Fine. Then you can tell me what you’ve been keeping to yourself.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Come on, Alex. I’m not a simpleton. Durward just happens to be in Whitehall on the queen’s business? Durward and the queen are inseparable. So I’ll ask you again: What’s really going on? Where is Durward? Where is the queen? And where is the woman we were after?”

Alex debated for a moment as though he’d come to a fork in the road and he was deciding which way to go. At length, he said, “I never wanted to involve you in this, for your own protection, but it’s gone way beyond that. But you’re right. You
are
involved whether I like it or not.” He shifted slightly to ease the pain in his back.

“You may remember that some years ago a group called Demos caused quite a stir. They detonated a few bombs in Edinburgh and London to draw attention to their aims.”

“Yes, I remember. They wanted Scotland to become a republic, didn’t they?”

“They did. But they weren’t vicious with it, not to begin with. They bombed empty buildings, that sort of thing. No one got hurt and no one took them seriously until . . .”

“Until . . .” Gavin gently prompted.

“Until one of my handpicked agents infiltrated the group. As it turns out, she wasn’t my agent but was working for Demos. She set things up so that three of my agents were ambushed, blown up, in fact. I was supposed to be with them, but I was searching another part of the building.” He shook his head. “Suffice it to say that we began to take Demos seriously after that. In fact, we hounded them out of existence. We thought that was the end of it.”

There was a short silence, then Gavin said, “What happened to your handpicked agent?”

“She died in mysterious circumstances.”

“I see,” Gavin said softly.

Alex shifted again. “In the last year or so, Demos has returned with a vengeance.”

“Were they responsible for those bombs going off in London last year?”

“The Irish took the credit for that so we may never know. What we do know is that Demos decided to do something spectacular to make us all sit up. They decided to assassinate the queen.”

“And you know this because—?”

“One of Demos’s agents turned coat and informed us anonymously by letter. This time, we took the threat seriously. We didn’t want loose tongues to scare Demos off, so we set things up with a decoy queen.”

“A decoy? You mean that wasn’t the queen at the reception?”

“No, it was someone who acted the part of the queen. We set a trap hoping to ensnare an assassin.” Alex went on at some length, answering the many questions that occurred to Gavin. Finally, Gavin shook his head.

“What?” asked Alex.

“What I can’t understand is why you became involved. I thought you were happy breaking codes in Whitehall.” On the next breath, Gavin answered his own question. “It’s a personal vendetta, then? They murdered your agents, and you want them to pay for it?”

“Wouldn’t you if you were in my shoes?”

“I’m amazed,” said Gavin, sounding irritated in spite of his words. “You’re still playing the part of the elder brother, even in the Secret Service. You can’t blame yourself for everything that goes wrong. I’m sure your agents understood the risks they were running.”