Lammas night

by Katherine Kurtz

  William seemed to digest that information, but he did not volunteer any conmient. Graham knew that he was in deep.

  "Do you remember that night now?" he asked.

  "Yes."

  "Good. In the morning, you'll find that you still remember it. For now, though, you expressed a doubt earlier that you'd be able to sleep. That's understandable, but I think sleep would be a good idea. It's been a very long day. Are you willing to let me arrange things so you'll be able to relax and get some rest when you go upstairs?"

  William nodded slightly. "I don't want to forget, though."

  "I understand, and I agree," Graham said. 'Taking life should never be easy. We have to live with our responsibilities. Still, I think you can let your unconscious work on putting things in their proper perspective while you sleep, so that your nerves don't interfere with the other things you have to do. Would that be all right?"

  "Yes."

  "Fine. Why don't you close your eyes again, and in a little while I'll ask you to come out of trance. Before that, I want you to know that when you go upstairs and lie down on your bed, you're going to find it very easy to fall asleep. In fact, as soon as your head touches the pillow, you'll find yourself slipping into a deep, refreshing sleep. You'll sleep soundly until you're awakened. While you sleep, your mind will do whatever is necessary to sort out the many things that have happened tonight so that you can deal with them effectively. You'll probably find that you've achieved some distance and perspective when you wake up. That can help to sustain you through the difficult times which may lie ahead. Do you understand?"

  "Yes, came the whispered reply.

  "Is that all right?"

  William nodded slightly.

  "Very good. Take another nice deep breath, then, and let it out slowly. On the count of three, I want you to come out of trance, pleasantly drowsy and ready to go to bed but remembering everything. One... two... three."

  William opened his eyes on "three" and looked at Graham, blinked, then grinned in spite of himself as he had to cover a wide, uncontrollable yawn.

  "Remind me never to doubt you again," the prince said, stretching and shaking his head around another, lesser yawn. "That was very odd. Are you sure it wasn't magic?"

  "Afraid not," Graham said with a smile. "It's useful in magic, but it's only a tool." He rose and gestured toward the door as William also stood. "On up to bed with you now. It really has been a long day. I'll look in on you in a few minutes, but I fully expect you to be oblivious. We'll talk more in the next day or two."

  He saw the prince to the door and watched him disappear down the hallway, then went back to gather up the contents of his medical kit. He was nearly finished when the brigadier joined him.

  "How's he doing?" the older man asked.

  "Well enough," Graham replied, snapping shut the lock on the bag. "He didn't think he'd be able to sleep, so we woriced in trance for a few minutes. What an incredible subject."

  "That doesn't suprise me in the least," Ellis said with a gentle smile. "He's turning out to be an incredible man."

  "Yes, you know, you're quite right," Graham murmured, resting both hands on the bag. "If I'd said a thing like that before this evening, I would have suspected my own bias in his behalf, but he really did do an incredible job. And the part with Wells—" He glanced distastefully at the empty swivel chair and fought down a shiver. "I didn't want him to have to do that, on top of everything else."

  "He has a very strong sense of duty," the brigadier said, moving toward the door as Graham shook off the memory and joined him. "By the way, Michael and Denton got back a few minutes ago. They're waiting in your car."

  "I assume everything went all right?"

  "As planned. With the full moon, no one even noticed the fire. However, you may want to jog someone at the Admiralty about Wells being overdue, when you get back to London. That Rolls is altogether too distinctive. We shouldn't want some local to stumble on it in the morning who doesn't know William was staying with me and start a panic about him being the victim."

  "Good Lord, no! That's the last thing we need." He paused just inside the door. "Incidentally, you'd better suggest that William try to arrange a sea burial or cremation as soon as is decently possible—and no inquest. I don't know what family Wells had, but I shouldn't imagine they'd object to a royal duke making the arrangements. Hard to refuse, in any case, and a gracious gesture on William's part."

  "So long as they're not in on Wells's extracurricular activities, I should think you're right," the brigadier agreed. "If they are, perhaps I can bring additional pressure to bear. Don't worry about a thing. By the way, I dismissed your other two men before Michael and Denton left—sent them off by another road. No point chancing they'd see the Rolls leaving again and wonder later on. Flynn will stay the night just in case I need someone. You know, it's occurred to me that he might prove an ideal replacement for Wells eventually—provided he vets out suitably in other ways, of course, and that William agrees. What do you think?"

  Graham nodded wearily. "I think it's a little premature, but it's possible—if Dame Emma doesn't hex us all for taking him away," he added with a grin. "At least he's one of us. I'll have Denny work up a dossier. Oh, and tell William that as soon as I receive official notification of Wells's death, I intend to send Michael over on loan. Hopefully, Mr. Wells's little Thulist cronies won't be able to prove a thing, but I won't have them taking potshots at William in retaliation, whether figurative or literal." He sighed. "Why do I have this sudden, awful feeling that Sturm is laughing right now?"

  "Odd, I was thinking about him myself," Ellis replied, "but I hadn't pictured him laughing. Rather the reverse, in fact. I was thinking about Cousin Dieter, too."

  "Dieter?"

  As Graham stared at him in surprise, Ellis fished a pipe out of an inside pocket and sucked on it experimentally, one eyebrow raised.

  "Oh, I know we'd agreed to break off relations with him," the old man continued, "but I wonder whether it might not be valuable to send a message, anyway, just to test how far back the ripples extend from tonight's piece of work. The Thulists aren't going to take Wells's death kindly."

  "I don't take Wells's betrayal kindly, either," Graham said coolly. "I think I'll want to consider very carefully before I let on that I know anything about it." He glanced down at his feet, then back at the brigadier. "Am I being too rigid, Wes? Do you think it's possible to be as far into the dark as Dieter is and still retain a spark of light? I keep seeing those photos. ..."

  The brigadier fiddled with his pipe for a few seconds, then sighed and touched Graham's arm reassuringly.

  "Let me put it this way, son. I'm not saying that what he's done is right—God knows. But if I were in your place, I believe I'd try very hard to imagine why he would have sent those photos in the first place, unless it was an expression of total honesty. Sometimes men have to do things they really don't want to do and which seem very wrong to those around them. Sometimes those things do turn out to be wrong—but not always, perhaps. I'm not saying that's necessarily the case with Dieter, but—Well, you're the only one who can decide how you feel about him, aren't you?"

  Graham considered for a moment, then gave the brigadier a bleak smile.

  "I'll think about it, Wesley." He paused just a beat, then went on. "I don't suppose you'd consider coming up to London for a few days until things settle down? I could use your advice."

  "Why not?" Ellis grinned as he chewed on his pipe again. "I'll need to drive William and his valet back to the Palace in the morning, anyway, since you sacrificed his beautiful Rolls-Royce. I can see about that code book for starters, too."

  Chapter 17

  ON THE DRIVE BACK TO LONDON, DENTON AND Michael briefed Graham fully on their staging of Wells's car crash. Satisfied that none of them could be traced to the event, Graham dropped Michael at the Admiralty to ensure that a search began, with instructions to follow up afterward on Wells's Scottish trunk call. A quarter hour later, well b
efore dawn, he and Denton entered the office building near St. James' Park.

  He was reluctant to begin an official investigation of Wells's coconspirators until he had more solid evidence than Wells's accusations—the code book would be a start. For now, Denton could begin pulling what they had readily available on the four, and he could get his own report off to Selwyn. Grimacing at what passed for tea among the night shift, he sent Denton for a fresh pot for both of them and settled down for the rest of the predawn hours to compose a carefully coded account of the meeting and its aftermath. He decided to put off contacting Dieter, though he did mention the possibility in Selwyn's report. He wanted time to think a little more about the implications of Wells's betrayal before involving a man who, if he had not actually gone over to the enemy, was at least consorting with him.

  One of the key points was that Wells had been aware of the occult connections of the attendees at the third reception. Not one man in ten thousand could have linked the eleven names on the third list in that context, especially with the other two lists as blinds. But Wells had—or had help from someone like Dieter. In any case, Wells had been well briefed, whether by Dieter or some other master occultist, and had certainly conveyed his observations to his British controls in his call to Scotland.

  As a result, Wells's Thulist superiors in Germany almost certainly knew that the Duke of Clarence had hosted a meeting of many of his country's most powerful and influential occult practitioners on the night of July eighteenth. Also, Wells had undoubtedly presumed a far greater involvement on William's part than had actually been the case—and Wells's death on the very night of the meeting would certainly tend to confirm the most extravagant of Thulist speculations about the King's youngest brother.

  Graham knew he had been implicated before tonight as well. He wondered what had tipped Wells off about the Plymouth trip. A needle mark perhaps? The headache the next morning?

  If Graham were suspect because of Plymouth, then so were almost all the rest of the Oakwood group by association. Richard and Geoffrey, son and nephew of Graham, flew the plane. The brigadier, related to Graham and both young pilots, was official host for the suspicious Laurelgrove meeting. If Wells had also connected William's unexpected overnight visit to Oakwood, only two days after returning from Plymouth, with his sudden announcement the next day of plans to hold the three receptions, then Alix and the rest of the Selwyn family could also be linked to the occult conspiracy Wells undoubtedly had seen brewing at the highest levels of British society.

  That uncomfortable line of reasoning eventually brought Graham full circle to the four associates Wells had named, three of whom were capable of raising very embarrassing and dangerous questions. The fourth was a smaller fish but was protected by his association with the first three. Men of such rank and social station could no more be rounded up and tossed into solitary confinement to shut them up than Wells himself could have been. Unless Graham was willing to risk a link with Wells's death, his hands were essentially tied uhtil he had more tangible proof of their treason.

  Partial respite came shortly before noon when Michael rang to confirm that the number in Scotland belonged to the son of a titled lord. Young Lord Hanfort also happened to be on Wells's list of four. Graham had not yet received confirmation of the name from Wells's code book, but at least for this one, he decided not to wait. Within half an hour, he had concocted a plausible cover story about an anonymous informant and was briefing Ashcroft and one of his younger field agents. Ashcroft looked almost predatory as he and his partner left Graham's office.

  By the time the brigadier rang, just on two o'clock, the Hanfort investigation was well under way, and Denton was making excellent headway on the three unofficial dossiers. As Graham picked up Ellis's call, Ashcroft was showing him records that suggested Hanfort's prior membership in several questionable organizations—and a background very similar to Wells, though Graham did not mention that to Ashcroft.

  "Good afternoon, Wesley. How are you?" he said, signaling Ashcroft not to leave. "I can only spare you a few minutes."

  "Ah." The single syllable conveyed immediate comprehension of the probable situation—that Graham was not alone and that appearances needed to be maintained. A witness would also help to establish Graham's innocence of prior knowledge of the news he was about to receive.

  "Well, I'll try to make this brief, then, but I thought you'd want to know that the Duke of Clarence's aide was killed in a car crash last night. The duke wasn't with him, but he's rather upset about it, as one might imagine."

  Graham let himself show surprised concern, shaking his head resignedly as he toyed with a pencil.

  "I'm sorry to hear that. Wells, wasn't it? How did it happen?"

  "Apparently, he missed a turn at some road works and went into a ditch," the brigadier said. "The car burned. H.R.H. had been staying out at Laurelgrove with me for a few days and sent Wells to pick up something or other from the Admiralty. When he didn't show, they rang me. We found the wreckage early this morning—a terrible thing, poor chap. Anyway, I drove H.R.H. and his valet back to the Palace a few hours ago."

  "I see. How is he taking it?"

  "Oh, well enough, now that the initial shock is past," the brigadier replied. "I'm in his sitting room now, helping with the funeral arrangements. Wells always fancied a burial at sea, you know."

  Graham, relatively certain that Wells had fancied no such thing, had to bite at his lip to keep from smiling.

  "No, I didn't know, but I'm not surprised. He Was a naval officer, after all. When is the funeral?"

  'Tomorrow morning at eleven at St. Paul's Cathedral, with sea burial out of Chatham in the afternoon. The boy's parents wanted to delay—the shock and all, you know—but His Royal Highness's schedule wouldn't permit if he's to attend. I don't suppose you could show up? You know how he hates these kinds of things."

  "Of course. Please tell him to expect me," Graham replied, jotting the time and location on his desk calendar and making a mental note to inquire further about the parents later.

  "Right. I'm certain he'll appreciate it. Incidentally, was there anyone you can think of who should be notified? Any of the boy's friends?"

  Graham considered for a moment, pencil poised above the calendar. This could be a lead-in about the code book.

  "Not off hand, Wesley. I didn't really know him that well. When I've occasionally had to arrange such things, I've always looked for an address book or diary and used that as the basis for notifications."

  "Oh, well, we've got that, then," Ellis said easily. "It appears to be quite complete. We'll just work from that."

  Graham nodded, containing a grim smile. With the code book in hand and the names confirmed, he could now start on the other three men in earnest.

  "That's what I would do," he said. "Let me know if there's any way I can help, but you seem to have things under control, as always."

  "Yes, well, it's always so tragic when such a young man dies," Ellis returned with a note of genuine sorrow in his voice. "I'll certainly tell His Royal Highness you offered. Listen, I do have several other calls to make this afternoon—sad, sad business, this—so I'd best ring off. If you're free this evening, why don't you join me for a bite of supper at my club, say, around eight? In fact, I thought I might invite H.R.H. to join us—take his mind off things."

  Graham nodded, seizing the opportunity to offer Michael's services.

  "That sounds like a fme idea, Wesley. I believe I will. Incidentally, until he can select another aide, do you think he'd like the use of one of my men? I could send Michael over later this afternoon. He's still on light duty, anyway."

  "I'm sure he'd appreciate it," Ellis replied. "We can make it four for dinner, then."

  After Ellis rang off, Graham sighed and scribbled Wells's name beside the time he had written on his calendar, circled it, and tossed down his pencil.

  "Well, that's a nasty blow for His Royal Highness," he said to Ashcroft. "His aide was killed in a car crash
last night."

  "Clarence's?"

  Graham nodded.

  "Sorry to hear it," Ashcroft said. "I'd gathered something of the sort. I take it the duke is all right?"

  "Oh, yes. Just a little shaken. Fortunately, he wasn't in the car. When Michael checks in or calls, tell him I need to see him, please."

  "Of course."

  "Also, I'll be gone all day tomorrow. The funeral is at St. Paul's, with sea burial out of Chatham. Are you on for the weekend, or is Basilby?"

  "I am. I'll cover for you."

  "Thank you. Now, where were we on young Lord Hanfort? Some club when he was up at university, wasn't it?"

  Ashcroft returned to the file he had been reviewing with Graham, scooting his chair a little nearer.

  "That's right. Ostensibly, it was a Teutonic study group, but we think they may have done some recruiting for the Nazi party as well. Interestingly enough, one of those other chaps you asked about was also once a member."

  "Was he, now?" Graham said. As Ashcroft showed him another sheet, he scanned its contents with interest and nodded.

  "I think that gives us sufficient cause to make this official, then. Let's go ahead and open files on all three of them, shall we? If my informant's suspicions about Hanfort are correct, he may well be right about other things as well."

  That evening, Graham dined with the brigadier, William, and Michael and told them of the progress so far. They made an early night of it, for all of them were still exhausted from the night before. After the brigadier passed on the code book, they went briefly over the logistical arrangements for the next day. Graham was uneasy to learn that one of the pallbearers enlisted by Wells's father was adjutant to one of their Thulist suspects, a fairly prominent member of Parliament.

  "I didn't know that when he gave me the list," William muttered, shifting restlessly in his chair. "Can't we find some reason to replace him?"

  But they could do nothing too overt, lest they create suspicion where none yet existed. Graham did find an excuse to pull Michael aside before they parted and warn him to be especially wary. After that, he spent several more hours re-checking security for the next morning, even assigning one of his own agents to shoot high-speed photographs of all the mourners from a side gallery. He hoped there would be no need for anything more, but he had the man armed just in case.