“Fine. I’ve spent the last few weeks at a dig here in Wales with my brother, Michael. Eve and Joe have been in Africa while Eve did several reconstructions, and I grabbed the chance to take Michael to this castle in Wales. We’ve been playing in the dirt and searching for ancient Roman artifacts. It reminded me a little of that dig we did at Cira’s castle in the Highlands.” She chuckled. “And it’s been almost as unproductive. We should have known your very extraordinary ancestress wouldn’t hide her treasure in such an ordinary place. The Roman troops here in Wales were much more boring, and we’re not expecting treasure. But searching for it has been great fun, and Michael and I both learned something from doing it.”
“That’s good. Even if those little bits of artifacts you probably found aren’t on the scale of our Cira’s treasure, knowledge rules, doesn’t it? So are you both going back to Atlanta soon?”
“Michael will be going back in a few weeks with Eve and Joe. Then I’ll have to go back to London and get ready to do an Italian tour. I spent most of the last six months painting in the Italian lake country. They seem to like my work in Rome.”
“They like you everywhere. I bought one of your landscapes in Portugal. Though I prefer your Scottish paintings.”
She chuckled. “Of course you do. You’re a Highlander.”
“Seth Caleb isn’t a Highlander, and he likes your Scottish landscapes, too.” He paused. “Is he in Wales with you?”
Curious…She was silent a moment before she answered, “No. I haven’t seen Caleb for months.” And this was not like MacDuff. He was a consummate sophisticate who would normally never be so rude as to display this curiosity. Particularly since Jane was sure she hadn’t succeeded in hiding from him how tumultuous those last months with Caleb had been for her. He knew her too well. “Is everything okay, MacDuff?”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” he asked lightly. “I’m home here at MacDuff’s Run. It’s my favorite place in the world, and there’s no place I value more. Just wanted to check in with you. Take care, Jane.”
The next moment, she realized he’d pressed DISCONNECT.
Strange…She slowly lowered her phone. The call had been short and filled with questions. He’d done a good job of seeming casual, but she still felt as if she’d been interrogated.
“Is Lord MacDuff okay?” Michael asked.
“He said he is,” Jane said. “He likes being back at MacDuff’s Run.” But that had been a little unusual, too, that he’d called this early on the same day he’d gotten back to the estate instead of settling in and waiting until later in the day or even tomorrow. “He’s always loved the Run. I can’t blame him, I really like it, too. It’s like stepping back in time into a scene from Rob Roy.”
“But you’re not going there to see him, are you?” Michael asked quickly. “Who needs Rob Roy? You need to stay here. After we come back from London, we’ll just ask Caleb to come visit so that you won’t be bored. That will be much better.”
“What?” She stared at him. “You’re being weird. Where did that come from? I haven’t been bored for a minute since we’ve been here. I think we’re a great team.” She frowned. “I thought you thought so, too. Haven’t you been having a good time? Was I wrong?”
“No.” He was suddenly across the tent and sliding his arms around her waist, hugging her. “It’s been awesome. You’re awesome. I just didn’t want you to have to put up with a kid like me for the last couple of weeks you’re here. Like I said, Caleb is kind of fun.”
There was that word again. She immediately crushed down the previous vision it was bringing to mind. “I’m very happy to be putting up with you.” She cradled his face in her two hands to look down at him. “It’s always too long between visits for me.” She gave him another hug and then kissed the tip of his nose. “Caleb would just get in the way.”
“But you won’t go to Scotland to see Lord MacDuff?”
“No, I will not.” She chuckled. “For your information, I wasn’t invited. Not everyone wants my company, Michael. You’re stuck with me.”
“Good.” But he was smiling mischievously again as he backed away from her. “Caleb would want your company, though. And I bet he’d like to go to the dig with us and see how all those old Romans lived. He thinks stuff like that is cool, and he’d be great at it. I could call him for you.”
“Michael.” She was trying to hold on to her patience. “Believe me, Caleb would not find anything interesting about how those ancient Romans lived. And you might think he’s perfect, but he’s not great at everything.”
“Well, maybe not everything.” His lips were still twitching as he turned away. “Just a thought. I’ll see you at breakfast.” He ran out of the tent.
She shook her head ruefully as she reached for her toothbrush. Lord, she was going to miss him when he went back home to Atlanta. Yes, living with Michael was filled with all sorts of challenges, but he was also loving and brimming with curiosity and humor, and she was crazy about him.
But he was very persistent, and that persistence had fastened on Caleb this morning. She’d thought she’d squashed it before she got the call from MacDuff, but that only seemed to have revived it. Because he definitely hadn’t wanted her to go to MacDuff’s Run. Oh, well, not to worry. Once he was with Eve and Joe, maybe he’d forget everything but them.
No, he wouldn’t. Sure, that was what an ordinary kid might be expected to do. But Michael didn’t forget anything; he just filed it away and brought it forward when he found a use for it. As he’d done when he’d brought the conversation back to Caleb to try to keep her from going to MacDuff’s Run.
It was odd that it had seemed to be so important to him…
* * *
MacDuff’s Run
Scotland
“She’s fine,” MacDuff said curtly as he turned to Scotland Yard inspector Rob Tovarth, who was standing at the gallery entrance. “And I could tell she knows nothing about this particular bit of nastiness.” He gestured at the bloody wall. “I shouldn’t have even let you talk me into calling her. Jane is too honest not to blurt something out if she’d had even a hint about the Fiona being missing. It’s crazy to assume she’d have anything to do with the theft of my painting or the killing of that guard.”
“You’ll forgive me if I call your attention to the fact that she has very much to do with it, my lord,” Inspector Tovarth said mildly. “You said that Jane MacGuire is the image of Fiona MacDuff, the woman in the painting.” He nodded at the photograph pinned in the middle of the cross painted on the wall. “And her photo is hanging there instead of your painting. I’d argue that there had to be a reason why any killer would do that. It was only sensible to bring her into it.” He shook his head. “But may I remind you I also asked you to bring her here to be interrogated?”
“She’s in Wales with her younger brother. There’s no reason to involve her,” MacDuff said as he strode over to the wall where Fiona’s portrait had previously hung. “The bastard was fond of blood, wasn’t he?” he muttered as he gazed at the photograph. “Shock value?”
“Probably. But he definitely wanted you to make a connection between Jane MacGuire and the painting. What is she to you? A relation?”
“Friend. I’ve known Jane for years. She was only seventeen when I first set eyes on her.” His lips twisted. “Though I admit I’ve tried to claim her as a relative since that first meeting. I’d lived with that painting all my life, and after one look at Jane I knew that she was our kin. I even offered to send detectives to investigate and establish a claim for her.” He grimaced. “But Jane would have no part of it. She’d been adopted by people she loved when she was only ten and she said that she had no need of any other family.” He shrugged. “I was a bit insulted at the time. Not many people would turn down a connection to the MacDuffs.”
“Aye, very odd.” Tovarth nodded. “But people have a habit of changing as time goes on. There’s always the chance she might have later decided she wanted the portrait.”
“And killed my guard to get it?” MacDuff said impatiently as he whirled to face him. The inspector was a tall, well-groomed man in his thirties and had seemed to be both meticulously polite and efficient since he’d arrived here. But at the moment, even his politeness was annoying MacDuff. “Don’t be a fool. I would have given her that portrait if she’d asked. I owe her a hell of a lot more than that. I tell you she had nothing to do with this. I only agreed to make that call because I was afraid something might have happened to her. That photograph was obviously meant to send a message.”
“You might be right,” Tovarth said. “That blood on the photo does look to be a threat. But it’s my business to be suspicious of everyone until they’re eliminated.”
“As far as I’m concerned, Jane is eliminated. She was never a suspect.” MacDuff gave him a cool look. “Now drop it, Tovarth.”
“Certainly, sir,” the inspector said as he met MacDuff’s eyes. Then he abruptly shook his head. “Or perhaps not, my lord. I realize you’re very upset, and you’re a man who is accustomed to running everything and everyone around him.” He smiled. “Perfectly natural. You’re a very important man, or the Yard would never have sent me here even though you requested we become involved. Earl of MacDuff’s Run, former war hero, influential mover and shaker in the halls of Parliament. You deserve to have your opinions listened to with respect. I will gladly do so.” He paused. “As long as our investigation doesn’t bring up any information regarding Jane MacGuire that the Yard might find disturbing. Then I will not drop it. I feel obligated to do my best to give you all you need from us.”
MacDuff frowned. “I’ve just told you what I need you to do. Jane’s not to be—” He broke off, and suddenly a warm smile lit his face. “You’re right. I’m being an overbearing ass. You’re only doing your job. That guard was with me for years and I’m angry that he was butchered. Plus that painting meant a lot to me. So does my friend Jane. Shall we start over?”
“Starting over would be a waste of time, my lord.” Tovarth gestured at the forensics team, who were streaming into the gallery. “You’ve already helped enormously by identifying the photo and calling Jane. As I said, I respect your opinion. I just wanted to point out that you might consider I’m paid to have opinions of my own.” He went on quickly, “However, if we’re to assume Ms. MacGuire might be a possible target, we should act accordingly. Does she have adequate protection? Perhaps I could assign a man to—”
“I’ll take care of it,” MacDuff said. He took a step closer to look at the photo. It was a casual close-up of Jane, a warm smile on her face, the wind blowing her red hair. Vibrantly alive and every bit as beautiful as Fiona in the painting she’d replaced. She was wearing a white shirt, and there was a lake in the background. How often had MacDuff seen her like that during the time when they’d been hunting for Cira’s treasure? Perhaps it had even been taken there at Cira’s Loch Gaelkar. It might narrow the field to find the sons of bitches who had done this if he could trace the location. He turned back to Tovarth. “You just concentrate on finding who killed my guard Jack Binarth. He had a wife and family. You’re Scotland Yard; use all those DNA databases and Interpol connections you have at your disposal to get me a name.”
“I have every intention of doing that, sir.” Tovarth hesitated, his gaze following MacDuff’s to the photo. “But I’d prefer to also arrange protection for the lady. There’s a certain savagery connected to the way the killer used that blood. You’re sure that you have someone competent enough to handle it?”
“I said I did,” MacDuff said curtly. He drew a deep breath. Keep calm. You asked them for help, now use them. Tovarth was now impressing him as being sharp, determined, and only wanting to do his job. And he was right: The killer had made sure of situating Jane’s photo so it appeared to be almost drowning in blood. He had received a chill himself when he’d first seen it on his arrival this morning. “No problem, Tovarth.” He was reaching for his phone as he spoke. “I have a man in mind who is most certainly capable of handling any threat to Jane MacGuire.”
“Indeed? May I ask his name and qualifications?”
Firm, but polite, MacDuff thought. Tovarth wasn’t going to give up his input on the case if he could help it. “His name is Seth Caleb. He’s an old friend of Jane’s.” He smiled crookedly. “But I really wouldn’t delve into his qualifications if I were you. He doesn’t encourage curiosity.”
“Seth Caleb?” Tovarth stiffened as he repeated the name, his eyes suddenly intent. “The Hunter? You’re bringing him here?”
“You’ve heard of him?” MacDuff could see that he had. It shouldn’t have surprised him. He was aware Caleb was probably known by most of the leading police and intelligence agencies in the world. And despite his passion for privacy, Caleb was a figure who caught the imagination and held it. The excitement in Tovarth’s expression told its own story. “I take it Scotland Yard would consider him acceptable to watch over Jane?”
“I’ve heard of him. There are rumors that he sometimes works with MI6.” He made a face. “Or that MI6 sometimes works with him. He has the reputation of liking to be in total control.” He added, “And I don’t know if my superiors would consider him to be acceptable or not. His reputation is…questionable. We do know he has had amazing success hunting down and disposing of murderers, felons, and terrorists who have caused us a good deal of trouble over the years. But some MI6 in authority regard Caleb as more of a renegade ninja type. I think it best that I stay and meet him, if you don’t mind.”
It wasn’t hard to guess that it was more pure curiosity than professional efficiency that was driving the request, MacDuff thought. Some of the details that Tovarth had heard about Caleb must have been damn intriguing to arouse that response. He shrugged. “I don’t care as long as you stay in the background. Though I don’t believe you’ll have a choice. We’ll both disappear for Caleb as soon as he sees that photo.”
“I’ll be discreet.” Tovarth paused, his glance sliding away from MacDuff’s. But after a short pause, he suddenly asked, “Is there any truth in what they say about him? There are a few ridiculous stories circulating at MI6 that he has some kind of weird psychic control over the blood flow of anyone near him. That he can even induce fatal heart attacks if he chooses. Foolish, right?”
MacDuff just looked at him.
Tovarth added quickly, “I know that most countries and law-enforcement agencies are exploring their own psychic investigative programs, but I’m afraid I’m too pragmatic to accept it. Still, it’s interesting. Particularly since there’s another rumor I’ve heard that Seth Caleb can do some other rather bizarre mental hijinks with changing perception. Some of the MI6 agents actually seem to be very wary of him.” He paused. “Have you heard about that?”
Anything MacDuff answered would only whet the inquisitiveness that was nagging the inspector. “One always hears a good many stories about Caleb. You can be sure quite a few of them are true. Why don’t you ask him?” Then as MacDuff began to dial Caleb, he had second thoughts. His own coming meeting with Seth Caleb might be explosive enough without bringing another element into the mix to annoy him. “No, don’t ask him. That would definitely be a mistake. He might be in the mood to demonstrate. And I’ve changed my mind, it’s best you don’t even stick around to meet him.”
* * *
11:45 A.M.
“Where is it?” Seth Caleb slammed the door of his Range Rover and started across the courtyard toward the stone front steps, where MacDuff was waiting. “Why didn’t you call me before this?”
“You knew three hours after I did. I was in Madrid and had to fly home in the middle of the night when the police notified me,” MacDuff said grimly. “Have a little courtesy. I didn’t have to call you at all. I was very tempted not to.” He turned on his heel and entered the house. “And where do you think it would be?” He gestured down the hall. “The gallery. The photo on display isn’t the same as the copy I emailed you. You won’t find it quite as gory. The
inspector insisted on having forensics take the original to headquarters to test it. So I had them make me a copy.”
But Caleb was already striding down the hall, intense, totally focused. “You knew you had to call me. You knew what I’d do if you didn’t.”
He was almost giving off sparks, MacDuff thought. But when didn’t he appear to be on the verge of an explosion? MacDuff had always found him amusing, interesting, and ultra-complicated when he wasn’t near that volatile flashpoint that could be triggered in a heartbeat. After he reached that point, he was still interesting but no longer amusing and completely deadly. Today MacDuff had no intention of containing that volatility even if he could. “Yes, I didn’t need you barging into my home and disturbing my staff when you heard about it. They’re already upset about Jack Binarth’s death. He was a good man.” He watched Caleb as he entered the gallery and halted in front of the bloody cross. “And he didn’t have to die. The medics said he’d already been knocked unconscious before his attacker cut his throat. It was either a warning…or the killer just wanted the blood for his damn exhibit.” He leaned against the doorjamb and crossed his arms, his gaze on Caleb. He was staring at the photograph, and MacDuff could see by the taut line of Caleb’s shoulders and back that he was getting very close to that explosion. Push him a little bit more. “Which do you think? You’re an expert in that area. I thought I’d get your opinion.”
“Are you enjoying this, MacDuff?” Caleb’s voice was silky smooth. “I wouldn’t advise you to go down that road. Unless you’re accusing me of doing this?” He suddenly swung to face him. His dark eyes were glittering, his lips tight. “And I thought you knew me better than that. I’d expect to hear that stupid bloodlust bullshit from someone less intelligent, but you’ve known me long enough to realize that’s not who I am. Why are you trying to make me angry?”
The Persuasion Page 2
