Legacy of the Highlands

by Harriet Schultz

  “Aye, he did mention it. Are we talking about the same man who you sent along to my shop the other day? The rich one with stores all over Florida?

  “Aye, that’s the one. I forgot that you met him. What did you think of him?”

  Mackinnon’s bushy, white eyebrows rose and fell with a life of their own as he considered her question. “The man seemed decent enough. There’s something about him though — I can’t put my finger on it — but it’s a feeling that all’s not quite as it seems. After my many years in trade I have a canny sense about people and there was something off about this one.”

  “Da says he doesn’t trust any man who’d offer a job to a girl right after meeting her. Why he might even plan to sell me into white slavery! Imagine that. When I brought Steve home, he asked a lot of questions about young Jamie running off to America and then leaving sudden like for John O’Groats. He was even curious about you and why your James is in jail. I thought it was just chat and his way of getting to know the family better, but it was all very strange. I was daft to believe Steve would take me to America. After tonight it looks like I’ll forever be stuck here in Scotland.” She took a sip of the hot tea Mackinnon had poured for her. “Do you have any biscuits? I could use a sweet.”

  As he rummaged in the kitchen for the box of cookies, Mackinnon took a quick nip from the bottle he kept on the kitchen counter. He was startled by her mention of both his Jamies — son and grandson. There was no reason for Mairi’s American to be interested in them unless…no, it couldn’t be.

  “Tell me what’s troubling you lass. You may be young, but you’re a keen judge of character. You thought this man was all right and now you don’t. Did he try some funny business with you?”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. Maybe it’s my fault. I stopped in at his hotel tonight for a pint. We hadn’t arranged a meeting or anything, but I’d bought a new dress and...”

  “Ah, so you’re sweet on the man. He’s a bit old for you, isn’t he, and he has a wife and bairns back in the States. Mairi, you wouldn’t be so foolish as to take up with a married man, would you lass?”

  “Ach no, Uncle Jamie. I wanted to see him is all...to have a chat about the nanny position, you know?” But the pink blush that crawled up her neck to her cheeks was a dead giveaway of her true intentions and it didn’t go unnoticed.

  “So what happened? Did ye find him?”

  “Oh, I did, yes. I caught sight of him on his way to the hotel’s restaurant. He was with two Americans — business associates of his he said — and he introduced me, but then he rushed me out of the hotel like he was ashamed to be seen with me. I couldn’t join them, he said, because they had to talk about some deal they were working on. So after he tossed me out like rubbish, I came here.” She reached for another biscuit and brushed the crumbs from the first off her lap.

  “Associates of his you say? I can’t imagine that stores in Florida do enough business in Scotland to cause three of them to be over here at the same time,” he said, as he rubbed his chin. “I’m surprised there’s even one, truth be told.”

  “They’re working on some other venture, not the shops. It was coincidence that they met up, Steve said, as they happened to be in Scotland on holiday. They seemed nice enough, especially the woman. She’s beautiful and her husband is a handsome devil.”

  “Were you told their names?”

  “Yes. Let me think for a minute. I remember that hers was Barbara and his…” she chewed her lower lip as she thought. “Oh, I’ve got it! Barbara and Rick Sloane. That’s it. She’s tall and slim with auburn hair and she wore the most beautiful emerald and diamond wedding ring. Must have cost a king’s ransom. I noticed it because I couldn’t help gawking at her handsome husband and she put her arm in his to let me know he was taken. Her eyes are a beautiful light green which is why she’s partial to emeralds, I suppose,” she said innocently.

  “And this devilishly handsome man. What did he look like?”

  “You seem awfully curious about a pair of strangers Uncle Jamie.” She raised her eyebrows and waited for an explanation.

  “Just making conversation, lass, that’s all. And like your Da, I don’t quite trust your American so I’m interested in his friends.”

  “Ah, well then. To answer your question, I thought the man was a film star or at least a model. He’s that good looking and his clothes fit like they were made for him. His body was as fine as his face, I don’t mind saying.” Mairi blushed again as she realized she might have revealed a bit too much to someone who still saw her as a child so she hurried on. “Let’s see...he’s tall, a wee bit taller than his wife and has lovely black hair and dark eyes that seemed to be laughing. I can’t blame his wife for hanging on to him. I would do the same.”

  “They sound like a fine pair and I’m sure they would have enjoyed your company,” he said and patted her hand paternally. “Do you think you’re well enough to go home? I’m old and tired and it’s soon to bed for me, but I’ll see you safe home first.”

  Instead of returning to his house after he dropped Mairi off, Mackinnon drove to his shop. He unlocked a battered, black file cabinet in the store’s cramped back office and removed a photo of Alexandra Cameron and Diego Navarro strolling arm in arm on a Boston street. He placed the picture on his desk and stared at it. Mairi’s description fit these two perfectly. Could it be? And if it was them, why were they in Scotland, especially in the company of the Florida businessman who was so interested in Mairi and asking about young Jamie? Perhaps the American’s curiosity about his shop and the Mackinnon family was not so innocent after all.

  Chapter 30

  Serge’s jaw throbbed as he clenched, then unclenched, his teeth as if he were chewing gum. External signs of inner turmoil were rare in a man trained to compartmentalize his emotions, but he knew his cover was cracking like ice in late winter. “Damn the girl,” he muttered as he listened to Mairi Graham give Mackinnon a detailed description of Alex and Diego during her late night chat with the old man.

  What angered him most was that there was no one but himself to blame for the fuck up. He should never have been seen in public with Alex and Diego like some amateur. It was his fault that they’d been ID’d by Mackinnon. He’d allowed his dick to overrule his head despite knowing that indulging in a fine piece of ass like Mairi’s often led to trouble. That was Diego’s style, not his, and he didn’t like what that momentary lapse had cost him.

  He rolled his shoulders and forced himself to focus as he listened to the recording for the third time. It confirmed that they’d lost their greatest advantage — surprise — and along with it the enemy’s cocky carelessness. A quick check of the readout from the tracking device on Mackinnon’s car did nothing to ease his mind. In addition to showing the route the man took to drive Mairi home, it also indicated a late night stop at his store. The two phone calls made by Mackinnon on his office’s bugged phone increased Serge’s uneasiness.

  Mackinnon clearly doubted “Steve Spencer’s” identity and may have already ID’d Alex and Diego. The old man’s hunch that Barbara and Rick Sloane were really Diego Navarro and Alex Cameron meant they were in deep shit and what had he just done? Sent them for a run…unprotected. Schmuck! He tore out of the hotel and prayed that they were still on the riverside jogging path he’d suggested.

  Early that morning Mackinnon placed a hand-lettered sign in the shop’s front window: “Opening at Noon Today.” It was his custom to unlock the door at ten, but it was his store and he could open for business whenever he damn well pleased. Instead, after only a few hours of fitful sleep, he sat in his parked car just down the road from the posh hotel Mairi had told him was home to her American friends. He was chilled and hungry for his morning porridge and tea, but he had to see if his gut was right about these people.

  His patience was rewarded an hour after his vigil began when an attractive young couple emerged from the hotel in running clothes. Nervous anticipation made his hands tremble as he picked up a pair
of binoculars from the passenger seat and lifted them to his eyes. The woman’s auburn hair was a bit longer than in the photo he had, but he was sure she was Alexandra Cameron. And there was no mistaking the black haired, handsome devil with her as Will Cameron’s South American friend, Diego Navarro. He remembered the warning he’d received about Navarro from their contact in America — the man is rich, powerful and hot-tempered and therefore a serious threat.

  What surprised Mackinnon even more than their presence in Inverness was the passionate kiss the two shared before they began to run. Perhaps they’d done the lass a favor by getting rid of her husband if that’s the way it was between her and the dead man’s best friend. But what did he expect? It was a well-known fact that American women were fast and loose with their bodies, but it disappointed him that this woman, a Scottish lass descended from the valiant Gillies Mor MacBain, behaved like a common whore as well.

  Serge realized it wasn’t going to be easy to spot Alex and Diego. Their height usually made them stand out in any crowd, but among Scots — many of whom counted Vikings among their forebears — a 5-foot-10-inch woman and a 6-foot-4-inch man weren’t so unusual. He’d covered about two miles along the riverside path before he saw them slowly jogging toward him on their way back to the hotel.

  They looked so damn happy that he momentarily regretted that once they listened to Mackinnon’s taped conversations that look would vanish. Then he hardened the place where his heart resided — his job was to protect their bodies; their emotions were their business.

  Diego smiled and waved when he spotted Serge. “Decided to give your fat ass some exercise?” he teased. Serge ignored the taunt and hugged his friend so he could whisper instructions in Diego’s ear.

  “Keep smiling and put your arm around Alex. Behave as if nothing’s wrong, but get back to the hotel. Now! Don’t ask questions. Just do it.” Serge broke the embrace, pounded Diego on the back, and laughed as if they’d just shared a hilarious joke.

  Minutes later, in the secure sanctuary of Serge’s suite, Diego’s back stiffened as he listened to Mairi accurately describe him and Alex to Mackinnon.

  “The old fool’s definitely on to us. It’s time for me to pay him a visit and confirm his suspicions. That’s what we pretty much decided anyway,” Diego said as Alex sprawled in a chair and guzzled water. She tried not to look worried, but her churning insides indicated otherwise.

  “What do you think?” she asked Serge, certain that he’d never allow Diego and Mackinnon in the same room despite their earlier conversation about doing precisely that.

  “Before I answer your question, Alex, there’s more,” Serge said. “The GPS shows that Mackinnon went from Mairi’s house to his store instead of going home. He made some calls from there and right now he’s sitting in his car outside this hotel. I’m sure he saw the two of you leave for your run and come back with me.” He gripped Diego’s arm to stop him from walking to the window to check. “No! You know you’re an easy target when you stand in a window! He could have you in the crosshairs of a high-powered rifle! Dammit, Diego, I trained you to think defensively. You better tell your memory to retrieve that training and use it.” His lecture was delivered in a way that cut off any debate. “I’ve allowed the two of you a lot of freedom and that’s about to end. No arguments,” he finished as Diego opened his mouth.

  “I was just going to ask,” Diego said the words with deliberation, “who Mackinnon called last night and what was said.”

  Serge hit “play” and they heard the unfamiliar dialing sounds of Mackinnon’s ancient rotary phone before a half-asleep, male voice answered.

  “Jamie, lad. Sorry to wake you...Yes, it’s Grandda. Pay careful attention, boyo. You must leave Geordie’s farm and you must do it now. Cameron’s people are in Scotland and they may know where you are. No, you may not go back to sleep until morning. Do it now and don’t argue!” he roared. “Go to the next safe house. Don’t even take time to pack a bag. Tell no one — no one at all — where you’re going. And lad, keep your mobile phone close. I’ll ring you later to see you’ve arrived safe. God be with you.”

  Mackinnon didn’t wait for his grandson to reply before he ended the call. He knew the young man would follow instructions. He’d killed Cameron’s son and the lad knew he could end up in jail just like his Da…or worse.

  “Shit, shit, shit!” Diego said. His face flushed with anger and he ran both hands through his hair as he strode from one end of the room to the other.

  “Now what?” Alex asked in a small voice. She moved to the edge of her chair and began to twist the towel she’d used minutes earlier to mop the post-run sweat from her face.

  “Before we consider our next move, you need to listen to one more conversation,” said Serge.

  “Crap. There’s more?” Diego said, but Serge had already switched the machine on.

  Alex wrapped her arms around herself as the sound of Mackinnon’s voice filled the room. Just the thought of the man made her skin crawl and she shuddered in anticipation of hearing his heavy Scottish burr again. But the next voice on the tape wasn’t Mackinnon’s. It was another half-asleep male who identified himself when he answered the phone as Michael Graham.

  “Is that Mairi’s father?” Diego was as stunned to hear this name as Serge had been earlier.

  Serge nodded and put a finger to his lips. “Shhh. Listen.”

  “Michael, we’ve a problem,” began Mackinnon.

  “Aye?”

  “Yes. You know the American that your Mairi’s sweet on?

  “I do. Has he done something to her, then? I’ll kill him if he forced himself on the lass!”

  “No, it’s naught to do with the lass so you’ve no need yet to reach for that pistol you keep beneath your bed. She’s been a great help in fact. She told me about some associates of the American who have joined him here.”

  “And what of it? This is why you woke me in the middle of the night?” Michael responded angrily.

  “It’s who those people are that should worry you — young Cameron’s widow and one of the dead lad’s friends.”

  “You’re daft, man. That can’t be. Where would my Mairi have come across those two anyway?”

  “She went to the hotel hoping to see her American and she spotted him and his friends going into the restaurant. But when this Steve Spencer introduced them to your Mairi, he gave them different names. Her description sounded so much like the Cameron woman and Navarro that I went to the shop to look at the photos sent by our man in Boston. It seems a match, but I plan to have a look at the two of them in the morning with me own eyes to be sure.”

  “Bugger and blast! If it’s them, this is bad.”

  “Aye, ‘tis. I’ve already ordered young Jamie to leave Geordie’s for the next safe house.”

  “You’ve done well, James. If your hunch is right, we’re in for stormy seas. I’ll come by the shop at noon. Get some sleep.”

  Alex’s head was spinning. This plan to snare Mackinnon had suddenly sprouted more tentacles than an octopus. She’d stopped believing that they could pull it off, even if she went along with the idea to dangle an armed and dangerous Diego as bait.

  “Did you get the impression that Graham was the one giving the orders?” Diego asked Serge.

  “I did. Graham steered the conversation and it was he who ended the call. Mackinnon is probably the number two and Graham the mastermind, but when Mairi brought me home so her parents could check me out, her father did a good job convincing me that he’s a simple family man who worked hard to support his brood. He seemed bored when I turned the discussion to Scottish politics.”

  “If he’s in charge, that means he’s more of a threat to us than Mackinnon, right?” Alex asked.

  “Definitely.” Serge rubbed a day’s growth of stubble on his chin. “Graham apparently gives the orders and Mackinnon sees that they’re carried out.”

  “It seems strange that Will’s father never mentioned anyone named Michael Graham when he
told me that he’d betrayed these people and turned in Mackinnon’s son. I wonder if John even knows him,” Alex commented.

  “I don’t give a shit about Graham or Mackinnon or who John Cameron knows or doesn’t know!” Diego said as his lips thinned and his eyes blazed with anger. “What do we do about this grandson? Can we assume from one conversation that he’s the murderer? Fucking hell, we have to be sure.”

  Serge watched Diego pace for a few minutes before responding. “We can’t go off half-cocked or we could blow the whole operation. I know you’re running out of patience, but can we agree that I’m the professional here?” Serge waited until Diego nodded before continuing. “Everything we know points to the grandson as Will’s assassin so we’ve got to find out where they’ve stashed him. I’ll listen to all of the tapes again and re-examine Mackinnon’s movements to see if I interpret them differently with this new information. Your being in Scotland has to have shaken them. And if they’re as scared right now as I think they are, there’s likely to be more activity and that may draw out the rest of them. Give me twenty-four hours to come up with at least two ways to resolve this and then we’ll make a decision. Sound good?”

  “I guess we have no choice,” Diego conceded grudgingly.

  “I want you and Alex to spend a couple of nights in some remote Highland village so I can focus on our options without distractions.”

  “Excellent idea,” Diego agreed a bit too eagerly for Serge’s peace of mind.

  “This is serious. They know who you are and what both of you look like which makes you easy marks.” Serge looked directly at Diego. “Do you hear me? I know you Navarro. Don’t do anything that will piss me off.”

  “Who, me? Piss you off? When have I ever done that?” Diego taunted. “All right, all right. It won’t be a hardship to spend a few days in the country, will it Alex?”