“I’ll get it.” Trevor moved across the field and picked up the briefcase. “Now let’s get you to an emergency room to look at that wound.” He smiled. “And I wouldn’t mind a little first aid myself. MacDuff did a pretty makeshift job of bandaging.”
“Complaints, complaints.” MacDuff was coming toward them. “You’re lucky we were there to save your ass. You can’t expect everything.” He glanced at the briefcase in Jane’s hand. “What’s that?”
“Personnel records from the compound.”
He went still. “And what are you going to do with them?”
“Turn them over to Venable.”
He shook his head. “Not Jock’s.” He held out his hand. “You can do what you like with the rest. But not Jock’s records.”
She hesitated.
“I’ll take care of him,” MacDuff said quietly. “You know I will. He’s very close to crossing over to being normal. Whatever normal is supposed to be. I won’t have that blasted to hell. You don’t want that either.”
No, she didn’t want that to happen. She snapped open the briefcase and looked through the contents. She slowly held out the briefcase. “Only Jock’s file, MacDuff.”
MacDuff riffled through the file and drew out a folder. “That’s all I care about.” He glanced at the briefcase Trevor was holding. “What’s that?”
“Copies of the translations of Reilly’s Herculaneum documents,” Trevor said.
MacDuff’s eyes narrowed. “Indeed. I’d really like to see those.”
“So would I,” Jane said. “And I’ve earned the right for first look.”
“Why not let me—”
“Back off, MacDuff.”
She thought he was going to continue arguing but he smiled instead. “Consider me backed off.” He handed the personnel briefcase back to her. “But keep me in mind for the second look. And you’d better get out of here with it or it will be impounded as evidence and buried for a decade or so in red tape. Neither one of us wants that. Can you drive?”
She nodded.
“There’s a truck in the garage that Norton was packing up. Get to a hospital and get those wounds tended.”
“I can drive,” Trevor said.
“You lost more blood than I did,” Jane said. “Jock was trying to inflict as little damage as possible with me.” She shook her head ruefully. “Jesus, I can’t believe we’re arguing about who has the worse wound.”
“Whatever. You win. Who’s going to wait here for the police?”
“I’ll do it,” MacDuff said. “Call Venable and have him call the local authorities and pave the way. I don’t want to end up in jail.” He looked at Jane. “Did Mario give you any idea what was in that last Cira scroll?”
“Only that it gave a clue about the gold. He was going to sell the translation to Reilly.” She frowned as she recalled that conversation with Mario. “No, that’s not right. He was going to tell him where to find the translation.” She glanced at Trevor. “We have to go back to the Run.”
“It’s still there?”
“That’s what he said.” She glanced at MacDuff. “So it seems we’ll still be your guests for a while.”
“If I let you come back.”
Trevor stiffened. “I have a lease, MacDuff. Don’t pull that crap.”
“It’s very tempting to just close the gates and go after that translation myself. It’s my home, and possession is nine-tenths of the law.” MacDuff added softly, “Why, you even left the Cira statue there, Trevor. How can I resist?”
“Try,” Jane said dryly. “You’re not old Angus and we’re not about to put up with you playing robber baron.”
MacDuff laughed. “Just a thought. I’m actually glad to have a little on-hand support from both of you. I’m taking Jock back with me, and we may need help if Venable finds out it was him who caused all this carnage.”
“Venable should be grateful,” Jane said.
“But government agencies ask questions, dig deep, and sometimes gratitude is lost by the wayside,” MacDuff said. “Suppose I meet you at the airport and we’ll go together? I’ll phone you as soon as I’m free here. Believe me, it will be much easier getting through my guards at the gate if I’m with you.”
Trevor shrugged. “Suit yourself. But don’t make any calls to your people about searching Mario’s study before we get there.”
“How suspicious you are. I never gave it a thought.” MacDuff turned away. “I’ll wait here and keep a lookout for the police. Before you leave send Jock out to me. I’ve got to brief him on what he should say to the police.”
“I’m not sure he’ll listen to you,” Jane said. “He seems to be operating under his own agenda these days.”
MacDuff’s lips tightened grimly. “I’ll make him listen.”
Jock was standing over Norton’s body when they reached the garage. He looked up guiltily. “I didn’t kill him. He’ll wake up soon.”
Trevor knelt and checked Norton’s pulse. “What happened?”
“He’s trained to protect Reilly. I knew I wouldn’t be able to persuade him to give up.” He shrugged. “So I shut off the blood flow to the carotid artery and put him down.” He turned to Jane and said earnestly, “I’m sorry I had to shoot you. I was very careful.”
“I’m sure you were. You did what you thought best. Anyway, it stopped Reilly.” Jesus, how bizarre to be comforting someone who’d just shot you. “But we have to leave and get to a hospital. MacDuff said to take this truck and he told me to tell you he wants to see you. The authorities are going to be asking questions and he wants you to have the right answers.”
“There aren’t any right answers,” Jock said. “MacDuff wants to protect me, but he’ll only get in trouble himself.”
“That’s up to him,” Trevor said. “MacDuff can take care of himself. That’s what he’s been trying to tell you.” He turned and got in the cab of the truck. “Personally, up to the point where you shot Jane, I was damn grateful you were around. Get in the truck, Jane.”
“In a minute.” She hesitated, gazing at Jock. “It doesn’t matter about my wound. You did the right thing. You couldn’t take a chance of not getting Reilly. He was too dangerous to too many people.”
“I know. At first it was only about MacDuff, and then it was about me too. And then I got to thinking about you and all the other people Reilly was hurting. It was like tossing a pebble in a lake and seeing the ripples go out farther and farther. It was strange. . . .” Then Jock smiled at her, that radiant smile that had first drawn her to him. “Thank you for not being angry with me. I’ll never hurt you if I can help it.”
“That’s comforting.” She gently touched his cheek before taking a step back. “And what would be even more comforting is if you could turn off those land mines in the driveway and the road out here.”
He laughed. “I’ve already done it. I went to the security room after MacDuff left me.” He pressed the wall button and the garage door opened. His smile faded as he gazed outside. “The only thing you’ll have to worry about is the storm. The blizzard they predicted seems to be here at last.”
He was right. The wind was whipping the snow into a blinding veil.
“If you’re going, it had better be now.” Jock was still looking out at the storm.
Jane was already in the cab and starting the truck. She stopped and said impulsively, “Come with us, Jock.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I just don’t want to leave you here. It seems as if we’ve all been telling you what to do since I met you. We could talk about what you want to do.”
He shook his head.
“You’re sure?”
He smiled as he started out of the garage. “MacDuff wants me to come to him. Don’t I always do what MacDuff says?” He disappeared into the swirling snow.
“Dammit.” Jane finished backing out of the garage. “What if he gets scared and those police think he’s going to hurt—”
“Stop borrowing trouble,�
� Trevor said. “MacDuff will take care of him. And Jock is far more threat to anyone else than they are to him.”
She’d reached the road and couldn’t speak for a moment while she concentrated on staying on the road until she reached the relative shelter of the trees. “But he’s changed. He doesn’t want to kill. He never really wanted that. But he has to have help and guidance.”
“And MacDuff will give it to him. You heard him. He always does what the laird says.”
She suddenly remembered something. “He didn’t call him the laird. He called him MacDuff. He never calls him that.”
“You’re looking for trouble. It doesn’t matter what he calls MacDuff as long as he does what he tells him to do. And he’s always obedient to him.”
I promised the laird I wouldn’t go near you. . . . But if I go ahead and you follow me I won’t really be near you.
“Not all the time,” she whispered. “Not always, Trevor.”
What a bloody mess you’ve made of everything, Trevor.” Brenner walked into the treatment room where Trevor and Jane were sitting after being dismissed by the physician. “With an emphasis on bloody.”
“Thanks for your sympathy,” Trevor said dryly as he shrugged back into his shirt. “But since you were out of the action entirely you have no right to criticize.”
“I’m sympathetic.” He turned to Jane. “I feel very sorry that Jane had to put up with your incompetence. Are you okay?”
“Fine. Hardly a scratch.”
“Good.” He turned back to Trevor. “And I was hardly out of the action. Who do you think shepherded those police units to the compound?”
“Jock.”
“Be for real. What do you think the odds are that any small-town police department would send their men out in a snowstorm on an anonymous tip? I heard them debating over my police-band radio when I was driving toward Reilly’s place and took it upon myself to persuade them that glory and promotions waited for them at the compound.”
“And how did you do that?”
“Well, I did borrow Venable’s name and told them that the raid was planned by the CIA and it was to be a joint effort.”
“And they bought it?” Jane asked.
“I’m an amazingly persuasive fellow.” He smiled. “Though my Australian accent gave me a little trouble. They don’t trust foreigners in these parts. But it only goes to show you how good I am. So what’s next?”
“Next I call Eve and Joe and let them know what’s going on,” Jane said. “Then after we leave the hospital we head for the airport and get the first flight out. We have to go back to MacDuff’s Run.”
Brenner glanced at the window. “It’s snowing like hell. I wouldn’t be in too much of a hurry to go to the airport.” He held up his hand as she opened her lips to protest. “I know. You want out of here. Okay, I’ll see about a charter. But no sane pilot is going to take off until it’s safe.” He took out his phone and started dialing.
“Safe,” Jane murmured. “Did we stop them? Are we all safe, Trevor? I’m afraid to believe it.”
“I don’t know. There are still too many loose cannons to worry about.” Trevor took her hand in comfort and support. “We’ll have to wait until we hear from MacDuff.”
MacDuff didn’t call for twenty-four hours and his tone was curt when he did. “I’m through here. Venable smoothed the way, but they didn’t let me leave until he arrived six hours ago. He wants to see you but I stalled him. I said you’d call and give him a statement within forty-eight hours. He didn’t like it. But he agreed.”
“The suicide bombers?”
“No action taken by them. Without Reilly the job was evidently like a snake without a head. There were a few notes in the personnel folder that might lead the CIA to identify those particular suicide bombers. We did find reference to the targets, and they were put on alert.”
“Thank God.”
“I’ll be at the airport within two hours if I can get there through this damn blizzard. It’s got to stop sometime.”
“No hurry. The flights are grounded anyway.”
“The hell there’s no hurry. I’m going to be there when the airport opens.”
“I’m? Not we?” Her hand tightened on the phone. “Jock’s not coming?”
“Not now.”
“Venable? He has Jock in custody?”
“No, though he wants him damn bad. Jock took off before the police showed up last night.”
“Took off? Where?”
“Into the woods. I tracked him for six hours but then I lost him.”
“He could die out there.”
“He won’t die. That bastard Reilly taught him to operate in fair or foul weather. We just have to find him. And right now Venable has half the local police force looking for him. I’ll come back here when I’m not stumbling over everyone.” He hung up.
Jane hung up the phone. “Jock’s on the run.”
“So I heard,” Trevor said. “Is MacDuff worried?”
“He won’t admit it if he is.” She frowned. “I’m worried. I don’t care how good he is at living off the land. Maybe he doesn’t want to live. He tried to commit suicide before. MacDuff’s safe from Reilly now, and that gives Jock one less reason to live.”
“Perhaps he’s far enough along that self-preservation has kicked in.”
“Maybe.” She looked out the huge glass windows at the planes parked at the gates. “We’ll have to wait and see.”
“You can’t do anything for Jock now. Focus on what you can do.”
“Finding Mario’s translation.” He was right. If MacDuff had abandoned the search because he didn’t want to find Jock and reveal his presence to the other searchers, then she was even less likely to be able to help Jock right now. She glanced down on the chair beside her at Reilly’s briefcase containing the copies of his Herculaneum documents. “And afterward I’ll go through these and see if I can find out anything that Reilly knew about Herculaneum. He mentioned that one of these documents made him look at Cira in an entirely new way. . . .”
MacDuff was right. The guards at the gate of MacDuff’s Run challenged them at once, and only when MacDuff got out of the car and they recognized him did they let the car go in to the courtyard.
MacDuff waved at Trevor to go on without him and turned back to talk to Campbell, the guard.
“We’re in,” Trevor said. “I was wondering if we were going to have a problem with MacDuff honoring that commitment.”
“He was just playing with us. He’s not stupid. This place and his family name mean too much to him to risk being accused of not keeping to a contract.”
“You seem very sure.” He parked the car in front of the castle. “But then, you’ve gotten to know him pretty well through Jock.”
She did feel as if she knew MacDuff. He was tough and hard and he’d never been either easy or tolerant with her. Hell, who wanted tolerance? Tolerance was degrading and made her want to punch someone in the nose. She’d always wanted to be accepted on level ground with all her merits and faults. “He’s hardly an enigma.” She got out of the car. “Like the rest of us, he does what he has to do to get what he wants.” She wrinkled her nose. “He just happens to want a bloody castle.”
Trevor changed the subject as he followed her into the castle. “Do you know where you’re going to look for the translation? Did Mario give you any hint?”
“Not much.” She started up the stairs. “I don’t know. Maybe. I’ll have to think about it.”
“I’ll be up to help you as soon as I finish checking with Venable on their progress in finding Jock. He brought in some trackers from Special Forces. They’ll probably be able to locate him.”
“You think so? Who is it that compared him to Rambo? I’m not so sure.”
“And you don’t want them to find him.”
She stopped on the stairs to look down at him. “Do you?”
He shook his head. “But even though MacDuff destroyed Reilly’s records about him, there could
still be a backlash. Jock showed how dangerous he could be. It might be a good idea for him to get hospital care.”
“The hell it would. Do you want him to try to commit suicide again?”
“Maybe he’s healed enough to not—” He shrugged. “Okay, it would be a chance.” He headed down the hall. “But I don’t want him dying in a snowstorm either.”
It was what she had been worrying about too. “I believe he’ll be all right.” Jesus, she hoped he would be. “He’s tough. And maybe Reilly’s training will save his life. God knows, he deserves some payback from that bastard.” She started up the stairs again. “If Venable’s men don’t corner him and make him react instead of think.”
Trevor had already gone into the library and didn’t answer.
She opened the door of Mario’s study and stood there looking at the familiar room. The desk piled high with papers. The statue of Cira by the window. The chair in the corner where she’d spent so many hours. Everything was the same and yet everything was different. Nothing was as she’d perceived it to be.
Snap out of it.
She straightened her shoulders, threw the briefcase containing Reilly’s Herculaneum papers on a chair by the door, and strode toward the desk. Finding Cira’s letter was first on the agenda. She started to go carefully through the papers on Mario’s desk. Ten minutes later she gave up and went to his bedroom.
Nothing there either.
Dammit, he hadn’t had that much time to hide that translation. Maybe he’d destroyed it. . . .
No, it had meant too much to him. Even if he hadn’t considered the translation a bargaining coin, there had been a part of Mario that had been proud of his work, and he’d been thoroughly engrossed in the Cira legend. He’d even insisted that Trevor give up—
She stiffened. “Christ.” She left Mario’s bedroom and went back into the studio and over to the Cira statue by the window.
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