Paranormal Suspense: The Celtic Spy

by RHYS GILES

  The Celtic Spy

  Copyright: Published in the United States by RHYS GILES

  Published 3 August 2015

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval system, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of this material in any way. You must not circulate this book in any format. RHYS GILES does not control or direct users’ actions and is not responsible for the information or content shared, harm and/or actions of the book readers.

  Contents

  The Celtic Spy

  INTRODUCTION

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Epilogue

  Conclusion

  INTRODUCTION

  All seems well at her luxurious Scottish castle getaway for American writer, Jenny James, until Colin MacDonald reveals his secret identity as a spy for the CIA and recruits her help in taking down the host of the weekend, Robert Campbell. As danger increases and lives are at stake, love fuels the weary and brings hope to the hopeless.

  Chapter One

  Colin toed the line and waited for the signal to start. He ran the hill race in the Highland Games before, but this year, he wanted to win. Being a native to the Island of Arran gave him an advantage. He knew a shortcut to reach the flag at the top of the hill. Shortcuts were not against the rules, in fact they were encouraged; however, they were not easy.

  “Gentlemen, on your marks, get set…”

  Colin ground in his back heel for a good start and leaned forward in anticipation. His arms spread at his sides for good balance.

  “It’s gonna take more than determination, little brother.” Ian said.

  “Bring it on, big guy,” Colin challenged.

  “Go!” the announcer shouted.

  Most of the crowd burst up the hill following the path. It was safe and steady. But the locals, the serious competitors, took the path less travelled. It was shorter to the top, but much more strenuous and dangerous.

  Colin fought off Ian with his hands as his older brother tried to push him down the steep, rocky terrain. For the first time he realized why it was called Goatfell Hill – even mountain goats must have trouble with their footing on this treacherous mountain.

  Colin fell behind his brother, but stayed the course. A plateau was coming up soon where he could catch his breath. He knew if he stopped on the side of the stoney mountain, he would never get back the momentum he needed to win.

  “You guys are crazy!” One competitor called out as he eased back down the rocks to safety.

  Colin laughed. No doubt that was true, but when it came to brother versus brother for the local title of champ, crazy was part of the game.

  Colin made it to the top of the first hill and stopped to catch his breath. He saw Ian bent over and coughing. He took advantage of this small window of time when Ian would need to slow down and forced his body to sprint across the meadow.

  Though his legs already felt like gelatin, they carried him to the next challenge – the lake.

  At certain times of the year, the mountain pond was small and shallow. He had walked through it before. But as he approached, he saw the body of water was quite wide and the land around it was muddy.

  Colin felt his legs grow heavy in the arduous muddy ground. At this point he had to decide whether it was faster to trudge through, or run around. He could hear Ian behind him. There was no time to think.

  He continued through the mud and hit the deeper part of the water. He kicked and swam to the other side, never looking back, yet feeling his brother’s presence pushing him forward.

  As the pond shallowed again, Colin walked and dragged his sopping wet, exhausted body up to the next ridge. The flag was in sight now.

  Using his arms to help, he climbed over the big rock leading to Witch’s Steps. He stumbled on a stone step and landed on his knee. He looked down to see the damage and saw Ian run right on by.

  Infuriated with himself for taking time to assess his measly scratch, he hobbled up the steps and grabbed his ticket from the flag boy. He grunted when he saw the number two.

  The ticket was used as proof at the end of the race for reaching the top. It did not determine the winner. There was still the trip down the hill to catch up to Ian.

  Colin saw the main running crowd working their way up the winding path. He saw Ian going straight down the grassy side of the hill.

  Colin knew his legs would not be able to manage the downward run, so he did what he and his brother did as children. He jumped, tucked his head down and held his legs close as he rolled down the hill.

  He could not see a thing, but yelled “Look out below!” to the path race runners knowing he was headed their way.

  He heard people scurrying and telling each other to move. He felt his body slow at the path as it leveled, but kept rolling on down.

  “What’s with that guy? Is that legal?” a contestant muttered.

  “It may be legal, but darn right mad,” another answered.

  Colin knew from experience that he should be nearing Loch Beinn. Sure enough, he felt the wild dip, the natural ramp and he was airborne.

  Colin yelled out and moved into a dive just before he hit the water.

  He splashed with enormous speed and hit the bottom of the lake with his hands. He sprang back to the surface. Feeling stunned and dizzy, he treaded water until his surroundings became clear.

  He heard Ian laughing and yelling. “You are one crazy S.O.B, Colin!”

  Colin shook his head and saw Ian circling around the lake. Colin kicked his feet and stroked his arms at full speed. He ran out of the lake and straight to the finish line.

  He broke the tape marking the end of the race.

  “We have a winner!” The announcer yelled.

  Colin made two fists and reached his arms toward the sky. He did it. He won the Goatfell Hill Race on Arran Island, but the sweetest prize of all was beating his brother, former champ, Ian MacDonald.

  Ian shook Colin’s hand. “I’ve never seen anything like it. Pure balls, man. I can’t believe you walked away from that roll and dive.”

  Colin laughed. “Just barely walked away.”

  Ian slapped Colin on the shoulder. “Dadaidh would have been proud. Mamaidh might have had a heart attack, but she’d’ve been proud too.”

  “Thenk ye brother.”

  The MacDonald brothers didn’t speak Scottish Gaelic very often. When they did, it was for sentiment – to honor their parents and their heritage.

  Out of a family of eight, they were the only two left in their immediate family. A house fire took the lives of their folks and their younger siblings when Ian and Colin were away at university.

  They both dropped out of school to tend and keep the family ranch of highland cattle on the Island of Arran, just off the western coast of the main island of Scotland and England.

  After the awards ceremony, Colin received a text. He looked at his phone and silently read, “Corrie Pub ASAP,” from someone unknown.

  He nodded at his brother. “See ya.”

  “What? Your secret freelance work again? Now? What about the celebration?”

  Colin smiled and waved. “Gotta go.”

  Chapter Two

  Jenny James sipped her glass of wine in first class and hoped no one would sit next to her. It wasn’t that she didn’t like people, it was
just going to be a long plane ride from Chicago to Glasgow, Scotland, and she looked forward to having a nice chunk of time to write without distraction.

  As the coach passengers began to board the plane, Jenny looked down at her phone as if she were checking texts or emails, trying to have a reason not to make eye contact with anyone.

  A young woman who looked to be in her twenties, donning pink hair, piercings all over her face and a clearly visible tattoo on her left breast, stopped in the aisle at Jenny’s row and stared.

  “Oh my god! It’s you! You’re that author who writes steamy westerns! I just saw you on the Late Show with Jimmy Fallon last week!”

  Jenny politely smiled and nodded. “Yes, thank you.” She never knew what to say when people gawked at her like a zoo animal.

  “Are you writing now?”

  “I was thinking about it,” Jenny answered.

  “Oh wow! I read part of one of your books. It got me so hot, my boyfriend bought me your whole Wilder West series.”

  She laughed. “Guess he wanted more of that if you know what I mean.” The girl elbowed Jenny in the arm.

  Jenny rolled her eyes and nodded. “Yes,… congratulations.” What else was there to say?

  The flight attendant spoke loudly. “Keep moving, please. People are waiting to take their seats.”

  The woman with pink hair put her hand up to her mouth and giggled. “Oh, I guess she means me.”

  She started walking forward, but kept talking. “Hey, Jenny James, if you need any feedback on the juicy parts, I’m in row 25!”

  Jenny put her hand over her face to hide her embarrassment. As much as she loved to write, she was extremely uncomfortable with the public appearances, especially those unplanned.

  Once the plane was in the air, Jenny was able to relax.

  She was relieved to see that no one was in the seat next her. When given permission by the flight attendant, she took out her laptop and began to write her next novel that had been swimming in her head for days.

  By the time they landed in Glasgow, Scotland, eleven hours later, she completed the first half of her latest Wilder West adventure with her favorite alpha male character, Denver Gage.

  Jenny sighed as she was instructed to put her laptop away for the descent. If only she could meet a man like Denver – gorgeous, courageous and strong.

  Though she knew he was a fictional character created by her own mind, she still hoped he could actually be found out there somewhere.

  Jenny turned her mind to her purpose in travelling to Scotland. She was invited to attend a small gathering of like-minded people for a week of discussion and inspiration at Castle Culzean.

  When she received the invitation from Robert Campbell, she figured he just wanted more money. God knows, she’d given him millions.

  She wasn’t even sure how much because she told her finance manager to give all of her proceeds from one of her books to his foundation. She believed in his cause.

  She wanted to help. Jenny never asked how much was given, but she knew the book had reached one-million sales, and she usually received about five dollars per book in royalties.

  Robert Campbell was an idealist, and a dreamer, much like she was. He was passionate about living a simple life, using sustainable sources of energy, and respecting nature.

  He held conferences all around America inspiring people to let go of their consumer way of thinking and get back to real living.

  He hosted seminars for regular, working people, teaching them how to live off the land and get in touch with the hunter or gatherer within.

  Jenny attended one of his seminars two years ago. Since she began writing about pioneers and cowboys in the late nineteenth century of the American west, she respected those adventurers who had nothing but hopes and dreams yet claimed their land through the Homestead Act and developed it.

  When Campbell shared his plan with her about creating a foundation that would give Americans money through grants to do just what the original American settlers did, she wanted to be part of helping people achieve their dream.

  If they were willing to work hard and live simple, she wanted to provide the means for them to do it. Campbell called his plan The Homestead Grant. Jenny felt honored to be a part of it.

  After arriving at the Glasgow airport, Jenny walked toward the man holding the sign reading “Jenny James” in the baggage claim area.

  “Hi. I’m Jenny James.”

  “Welcome to Scotland, Ms. James.”

  Jenny couldn’t help but smile at the driver’s Scottish accent. Though she had been on book tours all around the United States, this was her first time abroad. Suddenly her vacation felt real.

  “How long will it take to get to Castle Culzean?” Jenny asked as she slid into the back seat of a luxurious BMW limousine.

  “About an hour, ma’am,” he said.

  Though Jenny appreciated the comfortable ride, she did find it strange that a man so dedicated to living simply and without luxuries would send a car like this. Nevertheless, she would enjoy it.

  Jenny gazed out the window during the hour ride. They travelled south from the airport. The coast and sea were out the window on her right, and on her left was lush, green farms dotted with cottages that were quite spread out.

  It was just as she imagined Scotland would be, only even more beautiful. She couldn’t wait to see what kind of adventure she was in for in this fine country.

  Chapter Three

  Colin entered the pub in the coastal town of Corrie. He changed out of his wet Scottish garb and into casual dress. He ordered a pint and sat at the counter.

  An American man, trying to blend in with his tweed touring cap, but still standing out like a sore thumb with his fancy overcoat, sat in the stool next to Colin. “Took you long enough.”

  Colin smirked. “I’m here now. What do you need, Lucas?”

  The American faced forward and talked quietly. “The CIA has received intel that a man named Robert Campbell is planning on taking down American utility services in major cities across the states.”

  Colin drank his pint in one breath and tapped his glass on the counter. The bartender slid another pint across the counter to him.

  “And?...” Colin said.

  “We need you to confirm this intel and find out details of how and when he plans to do it.”

  “Any idea where Campbell is now?”

  “Yes. He is hosting a small group of people at Castle Culzean near Ayre, just across the firth from here. We believe these people are his inner circle.

  You are going to go there posing as a representative of Aquaponics. He is expecting Dennis Paddington from Dallas. Paddington sent an email to Campbell explaining that he had a family emergency and you are an expert in the field and are attending the weekend in his stead.”

  “What exactly is Aquaponics?” Colin asked.

  “Aquaponics is a form of food production combining a fish farm and vegetable garden. The vegetables are grown in containers so this system can be used places where good soil is not naturally found. Paddington claims it can be the answer to end world hunger.”

  Lucas slid a very full file folder to Colin. “Read this. Become an expert, quickly. You leave for Castle Culzean in two hours.”

  “Why does Campbell care about aquaponics?”

  “Campbell claims to have all the answers when it comes to independent, sustainable living. We suspect he is aligning himself with inventors and investors who will set him up to be the savior when Americans panic at having no utility companies able to handle their need for electricity.”

  Colin nodded and took the file. He downed one more pint.

  Lucas handed Colin what looked like a business card with Colin’s name followed by “Aquaponics Specialist” as his title.

  “This is a microchip. Place it on the screen of Campbell’s computer. It will download everything on his hard drive and cloud.”

  Colin took the business card and placed it in his wallet.


  Lucas handed Colin a briefcase and opened it. He looked around to make sure no one was looking. He discretely lifted the false bottom and revealed a flat device.

  “Place the card in this driver,” Lucas pointed to a very thin slot on the side of the device. “It will automatically send us everything.”

  Colin nodded. “Got it.”

  “This gathering is only for a few days. We don’t know how much his inner-circle knows or if they are in on his plan. Campbell appears to be harmless, but don’t be fooled.

  He is a ruthless, conniving and power-hungry man who will do anything to get what he wants. Be careful.”