Bound by Dreams Page 12

“How will I know her?”

  “She’ll be wearing a red sweater.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Trust me, she will be. And now I hate goodbyes.” He leaned down, skimming her cheek, his eyes very dark. “Go back inside. I’ve started a fire in the library for you.” He said something in Gaelic. “Read my books. Drink my whiskey. Enjoy the welcome of my house and all within it,” he said in a husky voice.

  “You’re being far too nice. It makes me uneasy.”

  He laughed. The quick, warm sound suited the comfort and beauty of the old house, adding another layer of welcome.

  Down the lane a car motor started.

  “Ah, that will be Aggie. She always did have the eyes of a hawk. That hasn’t changed.”

  Kiera glanced in the nearby mirror and ran a hand through her hair. “I’d better do some damage control before I see anyone.”

  Cool air moved over her face. She felt something prick the small hairs along her neck. “Calan?”

  There was no answer. When she turned around the hall was empty. Calan was gone.

  THE LITTLE RED Mini Cooper that pulled into the front driveway five minutes later was well used and covered with mud. A tall woman emerged. The setting sun glowed on her long silver hair, bright purple glasses and the large fabric bag caught over her arm.

  Just as Calan had assured Kiera, she was wearing a red sweater. She knocked twice, then pushed the door open without waiting.

  “Ms. Morissey? I’m Agatha MacKay, but please call me Aggie. Everyone does. I take it Calan has left already?” Without stopping, she crossed the foyer, put down her bag and then took Kiera’s hands in a tight grip. “He asked me to make you feel at home, and so I shall. Let’s start with a cup of tea and a nice splash of whiskey. I know where he keeps everything.” Her bright blue eyes took on a glint of mischief. “The good silver, the best whiskey and all the family ghosts. All the dark secrets, I assure you.”

  She released Kiera’s hands, frowning a little. “You look…familiar. At first I didn’t notice, but here in the sunlight it’s remarkable. Have we met somewhere before?”

  “I’m afraid not.”

  “But I’m certain…” The old woman moved in a small circle, staring at Kiera. “It’s your mouth. Or maybe the color of your eyes.” After a moment, she shrugged. “I suppose it will come to me. My mind isn’t always as sharp as it was.” She took Kiera’s arm, clicking her tongue. “Such a rascal, that boy is. I haven’t seen him for two years, and then he flashes away with no more than three words on his tongue. I’ll rake him over the coals for that when he gets back.”

  Kiera smiled at the thought of Calan being reprimanded by this sprightly woman. Clearly the bond of affection between the two was deep, and had been for years. “You were married to his great-uncle, he said. That was in Scotland?”

  The old woman looked down. Emotion shimmered in her eyes. “The Hebrides. Such a long time ago, it was.” Her fingers tightened on Kiera’s arm. “It feels as if I am a different person now. Duncan’s been dead these twenty years, but I still miss him like part of myself.” She looked a little pale.

  “Are you all right? Maybe you should sit down.”

  The woman shook her head, squaring her shoulders. “Nonsense. Of course I’ll see to the tea, and I’ve brought some lovely apricot scones. I made them yesterday, when Calan called. He always loved them best.” She looked back down the driveway. “I wish he would stay…”

  Kiera waited, feeling the force of the woman’s hesitation. “Stay here, you mean?”

  “Did I say that?” Agatha MacKay cleared her throat. “Forgive me. I must have been thinking of something else,” she murmured.

  HE TOOK the corners fast, just beyond the speed limit, checking his rearview mirror often. He hadn’t told Kiera that they’d been followed from the village near Draycott, but he’d managed to lose the small green van en route.

  He’d sent a text file of the license and driver description to Nicholas, and hoped for an ID soon. It was probably one of the brigadier’s men, but Calan had to be certain.

  As he rounded the curve above the beach, twilight stole over the lonely marshes. He saw the sheep moving home, white patches against the purple light, easy prey for hunters or for wolves.

  He smiled slightly. Good thing there were neither nearby.

  His smile faded as he came out of the curve.

  The green van was back. He gunned the motor, shot past a low hedgerow, then pulled off the road in a spray of gravel. Out of sight, he cut the motor and waited.

  Fifteen seconds later a dusty van raced past, its driver hunched forward, frowning.

  Calan exploded back out of the twilight, picking up the van from behind, his brights in the man’s rearview mirror. They wound over the barren marshes for almost a mile, barely a yard apart, and then Calan pulled onto a side road that put him out at the top of the hill.

  He was waiting for the van when it appeared. As it slowed, Calan jumped out. Pistol along his leg, he strode to the car.

  “Get out.”

  The man stared at him, his expression rigid with fury.

  Calan leveled his pistol. “Why are you following me?”

  The man said nothing.

  “Do I need to ask you again?”

  The door opened slowly. “You’re making a mistake, mate. We’re…on the same side,” the driver snapped. “Just ask the brigadier to—”

  “Oh, I certainly will. Give me your keys.”

  “You’re going to regret this.” Muttering, the soldier handed over his keys.

  “You’d better start walking. This road over the marsh is deserted at night. Don’t lose your way as sinkholes can be unpleasant. I expect you’ll get to the abbey before midnight if you put some effort into it. Don’t expect to find a lift.”

  Smiling coolly, Calan tossed the keys up into the air. They spun over and over, landing with a faint splash out in the darkness of the marsh. “Be certain you put that into your report to the brigadier.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  THE MOON WAS RISING over the trees.

  Calan parked his car beside a deserted stretch of road. Silent, he slipped through the grass and climbed the high stone fence onto Draycott property. Then he stood in the darkness, listening to the night.

  Warily, he turned into the wind.

  Dozens of small movements around him took on form and meaning. A rabbit crouched two yards from his left foot. A mole sank low in its burrow farther away up the hill.

  The smells grew more intense. He recognized a dozen kinds of roses, along with fresh lavender and crushed mint. Acrid diesel smoke from the distant A-1. He closed his eyes and let the wind bring every scent to him.

  Nothing big moved through this side of the woods. No men crouched with the hint of aftershave and cordite on their clothes. No metal gear clicked softly.

  Quickly, he stepped out of his shoes. The dark force inside him jolted to life, wary and focused. Calan stretched out one arm, watching moonlight touch his wrist. So many small bones in a human hand. Such a marvel of engineering.

  Now he was about to force those tendons and muscles into impossible changes…

  Inside him the Hunter felt the call of the night and growled, aware of what was to come.

  Now.

  The earth was cool and damp beneath his feet as he shook off his clothes and let down the final wall. An explosion of seething life and raw strength hit his body, muscle and bone shifting.

  He took a deep breath, savoring the power he could sense but never quite feel as a man.

  The Change howled through him. The Other ran free….

  IZZY TURNED IN at the weathered gate he knew well.

  The moon was wreathed in clouds, and he caught the drifting scent of roses. There were no lights down the driveway, no signs of movement.

  But some instinct held him where he was.

  Turning off the car engine, he sat back and called Nicholas for an update.

  “It’s Teague. I
’m at the gate. So far nothing’s moving.”

  “I’m still an hour away. Bloody traffic is strung all along the M25 tonight.”

  “Take your time. I’m on it.”

  “Any sign of the brigadier’s people?”

  “No lights. No vehicles.” Izzy pulled out a pair of night-vision glasses and scanned the far line of trees. “Of course they could be hunkered down somewhere in the woods or behind the house. I won’t know until I go in. You expecting anyone tonight?”

  “Only my friend Calan. He knows you’re coming, so keep an eye out. He seems to turn up without any warning. Just so you know.”

  Izzy felt a strange sense of being watched. He looked down the slope, into a pool of dense shadows. Nothing moved.

  But the prickly sense didn’t go away. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Carefully, Izzy opened the car window completely, listening intently.

  He heard nothing but the wind. Somewhere the brief cry of a bird.

  “Nicholas, where is the—”

  A hand moved, covering his cell phone, flipping it closed and ending the call.

  When Izzy tried to move, the fingers closed hard around his arm.

  Not many men were able to get the jump on Izzy Teague; this man had just done it without breaking a sweat.

  Was this Nicholas’s Scottish friend, the one who was supposed to be keeping an eye on the abbey?

  “You’re Teague?”

  “Who wants to know?”

  “The man with the keys.”

  At least he knew the code phrase Nicholas had given him.

  “Okay, man with the keys. I’m Teague. Now do you mind giving me back my cell phone?”

  The small silver unit slid over the car window.

  The man’s clothes were streaked with dirt, Izzy noticed. His voice sounded Scottish.

  You’re fast, Izzy thought. Clever, too. But I need to know more than that before we start working together. “Very smooth. Just the same, I could have been the pizza delivery guy.”

  Calan MacKay walked around the car and slid into the passenger seat. “Nicholas Draycott doesn’t like pizza.” He spoke quietly, staring into the darkness. “The brigadier has three men in place around the moat. Directional microphones and Taser M18s. The brigadier has decided to flex his muscles and take charge, despite the arrangement with Nicholas. He’ll call it a training exercise.”

  Izzy breathed a curse. “Where’s the great man?”

  “Making calls inside his Range Rover, which is parked behind the stables.”

  “The sooner we get him out of our hair, the sooner we can get to work on the upgrades Nicholas needs.” Izzy grabbed a bag and stepped quietly out of the car. “Which is the quietest route to the stables?” he murmured.

  The Scotsman loomed up beside him, silent and capable. “This one. We’ll approach the brigadier’s car from the south, away from the moat. Less than five minutes to get there.”

  “I like it.” Izzy shouldered his bag and then programmed his cell phone to silent mode. “After you, MacKay.”

  BRIGADIER MARTINGALE WAS on his fourth call and his second cup of tea when his car motor died.

  He glared at the sudden darkness around him. “Find out what’s wrong, Rollins.”

  “Yes, sir.” His driver jumped out of the big Range Rover and vanished around the hood.

  Four minutes later the officer still hadn’t returned.

  Martingale cut off his call, peering through the glass. “Rollins?”

  Fingers tapped on the window.

  “Call off your men, Brigadier. Any information you need will be provided, but not until all your team is assembled here—with their hands in the air.”

  The brigadier’s eyes narrowed as he recognized Calan. “You? I’m surprised you could take time away from your lady friend. After all, she seemed so enthusiastic. I hope your visit was productive,” he added acidly.

  “Business before pleasure, Brigadier. I’m standing in until Nicholas Draycott arrives. Anything you need, you can ask me about.”

  The brigadier glared into the darkness. “Who’s that behind you?”

  “Someone Nicholas sent to help.”

  “I need names for my records,” came the curt answer. “Full background information, as well.”

  “Those will be provided.”

  “I don’t like working with civilians,” the brigadier said icily. “Where is my driver?”

  “He won’t be coming back for a while.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s tied up behind that rock,” Calan said. “With your distributor cap and wiring removed, you won’t be going anywhere, either. So if you’d be good enough to call in the rest of your men, we can get to work. Tasers will not be required.”

  “How did you—” Martingale’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t trust you, MacKay. Something’s off here. I’m going to find out what it is.”

  TEN MINUTES LATER, seven men ranged in a stiff line across the abbey’s front driveway. Each soldier stood at attention, every face stony with anger.

  They still couldn’t believe someone had gotten past them unseen and unheard, Calan thought. That was their problem, not his.

  He motioned to the brigadier. “Let’s get started.”

  “This is my attaché, Staff Sergeant Wynston. He’ll be keeping records on our assessment.”

  Calan nodded impatiently and moved toward the abbey’s big front doors. “Why don’t we start with the exterior installations on the roof?”

  “No. First I want to finish my assessment of ground-level security. I’ve noted that this part of the abbey has substandard wiring. I hope Draycott has managed to move this place into the twenty-first century,” he snapped.

  Calan’s smile was cold. “I think you’ll be satisfied with Lord Draycott’s enhancements. If you will stand right here…”

  As the brigadier stepped onto a brick square next to a bank of white roses, Calan’s cell phone LED screen sounded a loud klaxon. A command code flashed off and on in red.

  “You just triggered a pressure-sensitive window plate. There are similar plates installed outside every window and at all access points.”

  Martingale tested the windowsill and newly upgraded locks, then stalked toward the big plate-glass window in the dining room. “I trust that Lord Draycott can document all tests run on windows and door security? I’ll also need an updated set of plans for the abbey.”

  “You will have all of that directly.”

  Martingale made a gesture to his aide. “Make a note of that, Wynston. I want those documents before we leave here.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The officer looked across the abbey’s shadowed grounds. “Where is this man Teague you’re working with?”

  “He’s taking care of some things inside. Why don’t we have a look at the roof next?”

  The brigadier began shooting questions at Calan even before they reached the stairs. “Is there an antisniper post? What lines of sight have you considered for attack probability?”

  Behind him, the efficient aide made notes in a PDA.

  Calan pushed open the heavy, reinforced door to the roof. “No direction has been ruled out. There is marshland to the south and accessible coastline not far to the east. Nearest airport is Hastings. Your people will be in place monitoring all flights there, I assume.”

  The officer nodded curtly.

  “We’ll set up a post right here.” Calan gestured over the wide expanse of the roof, which had an unobstructed view of the front and back lawns. “The team will have three-hundred-sixty-degree perspective and minimal obstructions from architectural features to block preemptive fire. Lord Draycott has an antisniper infrared tracking system housed in that small building to the left of the conservatory. It can detect weapon type and location instantly.”

  It was the best spot for countersurveillance. Calan knew that his friend had spent long weeks assessing every part of the grounds to be certain of that location.

  The o
fficer glanced at his aide, as if making sure he was getting every word of the conversation. “Impressive. But at first light, an operator would be in shadow. Second problem—the angle of that large parapet.” The brigadier shone a powerful flashlight over the roof, picking out chimneys and carvings. “With the sun in his eyes and the shadow thrown by that parapet, even a trained sniper could miss a small plane, coming fast, until it was too late.”

  His voice was cool, certain in its arrogance.

  Calan pretended to assess the view and then check the distant trees due east of the abbey, where the sun would emerge. Then he smiled calmly. “Quite so, Brigadier. Which is exactly why my surveillance report to Lord Draycott has stipulated two operatives, positioned back to back. I suppose you haven’t read it yet.”

  The officer blinked. “I prefer field assessments to reports,” he snapped.

  Calan raised an eyebrow. “I prefer both. I’ve checked the coordinates carefully. Using two people working in tandem will give maximum exposure and near-zero chance of vision obstruction. Anything less would be negligent.”

  The brigadier crossed his arms, staring coldly at Calan. “I know your record, MacKay. I know about your electronics firm and the mapping software you’ve designed. But what I don’t understand is why Lord Draycott insisted on calling in a civilian. Why someone with no military training? That’s damned odd to me.”

  “You’ll have to ask Lord Draycott that question. Is that your only problem, Brigadier.”

  The officer made a flat sound, then swung around abruptly. At the edge of the parapet, he leaned out over the weathered granite, shining his light over the abbey’s manicured lawns and heirloom roses. He continued to study the grounds for several minutes. “Where is the man I had following you?” he finally asked.

  “The one driving a green van? He lost his keys. He’ll be walking back to the abbey.”

  The brigadier’s mouth flattened.

  “Is there anything else you need to see here, sir? I believe we’ve covered the key entrance points and optimum locations on the roof.” Calan hid his impatience, thinking about the fiber-optic wires yet to be run at the back of the property and all along the perimeter.