"Joseph, you and I will check out the libraries, historical societies, museum holdings, and whatever else we can find, to try and find out more about the castle. Frankly, I'd like to rule it out as a possibility of any connection with the Prisoner. If we find no Templar connection, all well and good. If we do, well, we'll see where it takes us."
"One thing bothers me, Laika," Tony said. "Since the inception of our team, every single thing that would have been otherwise inexplicable—and most of it still is—has been connected to the Prisoner. And what I saw in that cellar, as far as I'm concerned, was pretty damned inexplicable, along with being pretty damned scary. I think he's here. I think that somehow he's behind what's going on, all these sightings of ghosts and demons and aliens.
"So I guess what I want to know is, are we following him, or is he following us?"
The following morning, they drove the van further up the hill and parked it just on the other side of the ridge from the castle. They began digging again, an area ten feet by ten feet square, removing the turf and sifting through the topsoil. Then they ran ribbons across the site, and dug up several of the square foot areas that resulted. They expected to find nothing but stones, and their expectations were fulfilled.
At noon, Joseph and Tony stopped for lunch, but Laika wanted to finish the small piece of earth on which she was working. The two men went over the ridge to watch the waters of the Minch as they ate, leaving Laika alone.
She saw a car pull off the road down below, and a woman started to walk up the hill toward her. There was nothing threatening about her, so Laika didn't call the others. When the woman was fifty feet away, she waved a hand, and Laika waved back. "Hi," the woman said, coming up to Laika. "I'm Molly Fraser." She had a Scots accent, but one less broad than most, and Laika guessed that she had spent some years in England. "I'm with the Edinburgh U. team over at the Mellangaun Stones. Thought I'd come over and give our counterparts from the States a welcome."
"Nice to meet you," Laika said, wiping off her hand before she shook Molly Fraser's offered one. "I'm Frances Brown. We're from Princeton."
"So I've heard," said Molly. "We were a wee bit curious as to why you're doing a dig here at the MacLunie Stones."
"Well, it's pretty much virgin territory. Just sort of a shot in the dark, you know? We probably won't spend much more than a few weeks here."
"And why so far from the stones themselves?"
"Oh, this one's just a sampling, really. Dr. Witherup, one of my colleagues, theorized that this would have been a likely place to have set a watch while the measurements were taken and the stones were being set in place. And the watchmen are more likely than the workers and planners to engage in . . . well, in activities that might empty their pockets."
"Gambling," Molly Fraser said. "It's possible. But I'm puzzled as to why you'd use a Flannery subsurface before you did a magnetometer survey."
Laika felt a twinge of warning. This woman was fishing. Laika didn't know what the hell a "Flannery subsurface" was, although it was probably just the term for the type of excavation they had made, but Fraser couldn't fool her with that magnetometer stuff. Laika had boned up on her old college subject. "Well," she said, "since a magnetometer measures magnetic anomalies that are produced by major disturbance of the soil, we didn't think we'd get anything here. Nobody's dug any pits or ditches on this spot, if indeed they ever did anything. So there wasn't much point."
Laika saw Tony and Joseph coming back over the crest of the ridge, and waved to let them know everything was all right. The woman glanced over her shoulder at the two men, gave her own wave, and then looked back at Laika.
"Just one more question?" Molly Fraser asked. "What possible interest can America's Central Intelligence Agency have in a decidedly minor Scottish prehistoric site?"
Chapter 14
Joseph got only a glimpse of the woman's face from some distance away before she turned her back on him again and said something to Laika. He couldn't hear what it was, but it made quite an impression on his team leader. He didn't think he had ever seen her usual poker face so unguardedly surprised.
There seemed to be something familiar about the tall woman Laika was talking to, but he didn't really know what it was until she turned and smiled at him and he heard her voice. "Hi, Joe."
Jesus God. ". . . Molly?"
"You know each other?" Laika said.
"Come on, Joseph," Molly Fraser said. "I haven't changed that much, have I? I identified you at fifty paces." She turned back to Laika. "That was the giveaway, Dr. Brown, if that's really your name. Although I started to doubt you when you didn't ask what a Flannery subsurface was. I made that up, you see." She turned back to Joseph. "So you're still a Company man, Joseph? Haven't gone in for archeology, have you?"
"No more than you, Molly. I don't suppose you'd believe me if I told you I was Dr. Charles Witherup of Princeton, so I might as well not bother."
"All right," Laika said. "You two want to can the Nick and Nora Charles routine and tell me what's going on here?"
"This is Molly Fraser, of MI5," Joseph said, trying to keep his head from spinning by sticking to hard facts. He felt thoroughly disoriented. How could Molly be here, and the two of them be chattering away like this, completely disregarding the secrets with which they had lived their lives? Simply put, no secrets remained between them.
"Ex-MI5," said Molly. "But I assume," she went on, gesturing to the excavated earth, "from this carefully woven cover and the fabric of lies I've detected, that you are not ex-CIA. And please be careful how you answer. I am the chief law enforcement officer of this district."
"Oh, Christ," muttered Laika.
"Molly and I worked together for several weeks back in 1982," Joseph said, "in a joint anti-Soviet intelligence mission."
"And we got the bad guy, too, didn't we?"
"Yes, we did." Joseph sighed. "So now what?"
"Now you three tell me all about why you're here. The only alternative is terminating me and tossing me into the Minch, and I'd advise against that, since the other team at the Mellangaun Stones knows I've come to see you."
"You mean the MI5 team?" Laika asked.
Now it was Molly's turn to look surprised. "No, the Edinburgh University team, as I told you."
"You lied," Laika said. "It all fits together now. The people around here aren't saying a word about the manifestations they've been seeing, and the newspaper isn't reporting them because they've all been cautioned by agents of the government, none other than MI5, probably under function number four, protective security."
"You're very good," Molly said with a grudging smile. "Almost as good as I am."
"Well, you've got a few years on me."
"Ladies," Tony said, calming the waters. "It seems that since everyone's cover has been blown, I may as well introduce myself to the charming Inspector Fraser. I hardly think she's going to buy the fact that I'm a grad student from Princeton. My name's Tony Luciano, and I'm very pleased to meet you." He extended a hand, and Molly shook it.
"You're right," she said with a warm smile. "I wouldn't have bought that grad student thing for a minute. You deserve at least a full professorship."
"And my name's Laika Harris," said Laika, shaking Molly's hand hesitantly. "I'm the team leader, and I think we need to have a long talk before you inform anyone of our presence here."
"Agreed. Your cottage is near here, I believe."
Laika nodded. "We can go in our van if you like."
"I prefer that we go in my car. I'll bring you back here when we're done. Or wherever else you may want to go."
As they walked down the hill to the road, Joseph realized why Molly wanted to go in her own car. It would cause them more of a hassle if they decided to make her disappear.
He could not imagine ever wanting to make Molly Fraser vanish, unless he could vanish with her. They had been lovers as well as partners back in 1982, when their mission together had been to expose a pair of Soviet moles. The tricky bit
was that the moles were working in tandem, one of them within MI5, and the other within the network that the CIA had put together inside England, of which the British government was officially supposed to remain unaware.
It was a delicate situation, to say the least, and when it was completed, Molly and Joseph had decided that they could never see each other again. Joseph had always thought that their decision, the only rational one, had been far more painful for him than for her. He had wondered many times over the years if she had felt the loss as deeply, but had simply behaved more professionally than he. After all, the English, and he supposed that included the Scottish, were more stiff-upper-lip than Americans, who were more likely to wear their hearts on their sleeves. And Jews, of which he was one, were very talented when it came to suffering. God knows, he thought, they had enough experience.
Though rational humanism had always courted him, it was only after the episode with Molly that he had fully embraced it. It seemed to ease the pain, and eventually became his way of life. And he had been content, until the current madness of these shadow operations for Skye had begun and made him doubt not only his atheism, but also his sanity.
And now here again was Molly Fraser, to remind him of those days when emotion had played a much larger role. He was sitting in the front seat with her, and he had to look hard to see any sign of the years in her face. There were a few strands of gray in the mass of dark brown hair, and maybe some lines in the corners of her eyes and her mouth that hadn't been there before, but she still looked wonderful to him. She had kept in shape, something that he had been lax about, although she probably couldn't notice his slight belly under his loose-fitting jacket.
Christ, he thought, here his cover and that of his colleagues had just been broken by a policeman with MI5 connections, their mission stood in jeopardy, and they had been theoretically captured by an operative of a foreign, if allied, government, and all he was thinking about was how good his gut looked. It was time to bring back the practical Joseph Stein, and figure a way out of this mess.
"Now," said Molly Fraser, when the four of them were sitting in the living room of the cottage, and Tony had put water on for tea, "suppose you tell me exactly what your mission is, and the reason behind it. If you don't, I promise you that I will report your presence to MI5. If you do and it's not destructive to our government or its security, well, Agent Stein and I have peacefully coexisted despite our two organizations once before. Possibly it could happen again."
A promise like that was as good as they could expect, so Laika put the three of them firmly into Molly's hands. She told her about their mission, basically repeating what Skye had told them at the onset, how orders had come down from the top echelons of government that a small, deep-cover team be established to thoroughly debunk any reports of supposed paranormal activity or powers. The purpose of such debunking was to bring a much-needed rationality back to the American people, both the New Agers on the left, and those on the right who clung to miracles and angels.
Langley had received reports that there had been multiple sightings of purportedly paranormal phenomena on the Gairloch peninsula, and their superior had sent them to investigate, using the Princeton team cover. However, Laika did not mention their previous missions, or anything about the Prisoner or the Knights Templar or the Roman Catholic Church.
"If you want to check our story," she concluded, "contact Richard Skye in Counter-Intelligence Operations at Langley. I recommend, though, that he should be the only person you contact. You'll receive denials from anyone else."
Christ, Joseph thought, she'd probably receive a denial from Skye, too. Then where would they be? A loud whistle told them the water was ready for tea, and Tony went into the kitchen.
"Question," Molly said. "Why were you digging where you were—up higher from the stones?"
Laika glanced at Joseph, then looked back at Molly. "We thought it possible that the source of the manifestations might be the castle." Molly raised her eyebrows, and Laika went on. "Look, our goal is to debunk. That means we can't believe in any supernatural mechanisms here. Whatever these forms are that people are seeing, they're not ghosts." She smiled. "Okay, maybe they're aliens. That, at least, would have some scientific validity. But we don't believe that, either. Despite all the tabloid blather, no evidence of extraterrestrial life has been presented, and believe me, the Company would know. There isn't much they don't know."
"So what are they, then?" asked Molly. "And why the castle?"
Joseph had to admire how Laika could create spin on a moment's notice. Of course, she did have time to flesh out the story in her head as they drove to the cottage. "Our theory," she went on, as Tony returned with the cups and saucers on a tray and passed them around, "is that whatever is creating these images has to be a machine of some sort, probably wireless computer imaging. We assume that the builders and operators of such a device require a certain amount of space and a large amount of privacy. Castle Dirk is about the only place on the peninsula that meets those criteria."
"So," Molly said, "we have a desolate Scottish castle filled with mad scientists out to terrorize the populace with their ghost machine, is that it?"
"I admit it sounds a little farfetched—"
"It sounds positively outlandish," said Molly, "like one of those stories Joseph used to relish."
"No," Joseph said. "I never cared for the stories where the ghosts were illusions created by some mad scientist. I like my ghosts real—in fiction, anyway."
"I stand corrected," Molly said. "Your theory still sounds absurd."
"If MI5 can come up with something more rational," Laika replied, "I'd be happy to hear it."
Molly pursed her lips. "No. They haven't yet."
"And would you tell us if they had?" asked Laika. "Possibly not. I'm certainly under no obligation to."
"And we are?" Joseph said.
"You're American agents found operating on foreign soil. In case you didn't know it, Joseph, spies are supposed to be clandestine."
"Well, spies usually don't run into other spies who happen to recognize them after seventeen years."
"You're the only person who ever actually saved my life," Molly replied. "One tends to remember that."
"Like the lion remembered Androcles?" said Joseph. "We could use a favor. Are you required to report our presence? Because if you are, it's very possible our government will hang us out to dry."
"What's the phrase?" Molly said. "'Twist slowly, slowly in the wind?' As for your question, no, I'm not officially required to report your presence, or to do a damned thing for MI5. I told you the truth. I'm a police inspector now, and I'm 'cooperating' with MI5. You were correct, Agent Harris, they are at the Mellangaun dig, doing the same thing as you—trying to find the reasons behind these sightings." She took a deep breath. "Frankly, I think the three of you would be more use to us as unofficial colleagues than as exposed foreign agents. We all want the same thing. And I, especially, want my district back to normal. These things have caused quite a reign of terror. And," she added in an undertone, "MI5 hasn't made things cheerier for my flock."
"They've warned them, haven't they?" asked Laika. "The newspaper, the shopkeepers, everybody—they're not supposed to say anything."
"That's right. Not to outsiders. Magna Carta or no, certain offices of our government can still behave like an absolute monarchy when it suits their purposes. So now the people have two things to be frightened of—the ghosts, and the government bullies.
"Listen," Molly went on, "I won't contact this Skye you mentioned, and I won't inform MI5. As far as they're concerned, you can be legitimate archeologists from the States, and I doubt they'll bother you, because they think that you'll find them out as fakes."
"Just the way you did to us," said Laika.
"Just like," Molly agreed. "I'd be foolish to discard a valuable resource like you three. So if we can agree to work together—independently but cooperatively—I'll walk away, and you can carry on."
/> "That sounds acceptable," Laika said.
"Well, I don't see that you have much choice."
Molly smiled at Laika Harris. She liked the woman. There was a toughness about her, a refusal to back down or show weakness, the same qualities that Molly had had to develop to move up in MI5. They were the qualities that got a woman labeled a hard-nosed bitch among many men, but a hard-nosed bitch couldn't let that bother her.
"So," said Laika. "We've shared what little we know with you, and you've got our fates in your hands. Are you going to reciprocate? What have your people learned so far?"
Molly thought for a moment before replying. She damn well wasn't going to tell them about the possibility of tachyons, but she could at least tell them about the cloth itself, and she did, including the fact that it had been discovered on property belonging to the castle. She also told them about its luminescence and radioactivity, and that a large piece was missing from its one corner. Then she shared with them the information that had been received only that morning.
"One of the technicians who was into history came up with an interesting link. Have you ever heard of the Fairy Flag of the MacKenzies?"
"Yeah," said Tony. "Isn't that an old cloth that this clan used to use as a battle flag? They've got it displayed somewhere."
"Partly right. The casket that holds it is on display at Castle MacKenzie in Sutherland County. There are several legends behind it. One is that it was given to the head of Clan MacKenzie by the queen of the fairies, who was smitten by him. She told him to wave it when he went into battle, and he would be invincible, but it would only work three times. Supposedly it's been waved twice, and the MacKenzies won the battle both times. Now it sits inside a lead casket, until it's needed again. But photographs of it are widespread."
"I've seen them," said Tony. "It's just pretty much a rag, isn't it?"
Siege of Stone Page 9
