21. Savior

21

SAVIOR

“ A pologies for interrupting Christmas with this,” I began when Sullivan, Gus, and I gathered in my office in the castle with Fallon, Con, and Tag. “When Sullivan contacted her parents today, she learned Clive Edwards was at their home.” He looked over at me. “Do you want to recount the conversation, or shall I?”

“I can do it.” She took a deep breath. “While much more than this was said, Clive threatened my job unless I agreed to meet with him.”

“How did the conversation end?” Fallon asked.

“I may have led him to believe I was in the States.”

Both women smiled.

“Con, have you been able to find anything connecting him and Weber?” I asked.

“Not directly. However, your instincts about his finances were spot on. The man has been living well beyond his means. It also appears he has heavy gambling debts.”

“Mobile records?”

“Several calls made to numbers indicative of burner phones. None more than once.”

“What about that night?” Sullivan asked. No one needed her to say which she spoke of.

“There was one at seventeen hundred hours,” Con responded.

“I’m unsure what steps to take,” said Fallon.

“Anything done now will tip him off and likely Weber too,” said Tag.

“Speaking of Weber.”

When Con hesitated, I knew it was something I wasn’t going to like. “Go on,” I snapped.

“He has diplomatic protection.”

“ What? From whom?”

“Syria. And, yes, I have verified that he holds dual citizenship,” Con added.

“A Russian ally.”

“China’s as well,” Fallon added.

“As I said the other day,” Con began. “Whoever he has working for him has been able to bury most everything about the man. My best estimation is that one parent was from the UK and the other Syrian.”

“What does this mean in terms of prosecution?” I asked.

“Unlikely.”

Then, he had to die. It was as simple as that. I’d address the possibility with Typhon tomorrow.

“Clearly, the only option is assassination,” Tag muttered from where he stood near the window.

My eyes met his. “I wouldn’t have said it,” I muttered.

While I expected him to give me some kind of grief, he didn’t. “I know,” was his only comeback.

“What of Clive Edwards?” Fallon asked. “It’ll be easy enough to put him off until after the holiday break, particularly since I’m also in the States.” She winked at Sullivan.

“His desperation will cause him to screw up,” said Con.

“I could confront him.”

All eyes turned to Sullivan.

“Absolutely not,” I said in too loud a voice.

She raised her chin in my direction. Clearly, that wasn’t the right thing to say, given the look on her face. I couldn’t think of any way to backpedal, however.

“I’d like to suggest we split into smaller groups, each with a specific mandate. Sullivan and I will work together,” said Fallon. “There’s something major at play here that we’re not seeing, and spinning our wheels is getting us nowhere.”

“I have a contact in Syria,” offered Tag. I was stunned but wouldn’t ask who or why.

“I’ll continue working on the encrypted communications,” said Con. “There’s got to be at least a few I can crack open.”

“Is there a library?” Fallon asked.

“Of course. I’ll lead the way,” I offered, hoping to be able to speak to Sullivan alone.

“A moment, sir?” Mrs. Drummond asked.

“Err, certainly,” I responded when Sullivan scowled at me. “The library is just ahead on the right.” I watched them walk away, silently willing her to look over her shoulder at me. She didn’t.

“What is it?” I asked, snapping at the last person who deserved it. “Apologies, Mairi. What can I assist with?”

“I was wondering how you’d like to handle Christmas dinner.”

“I have no preference.”

She leaned closer. “What I mean to say is, what about Ambrose?”

“Bloody hell,” I said under my breath. “I’d forgotten he was here.”

“Would there be an issue with him joining you?”

Beyond annoyance? Probably not. Sullivan’s presence on the estate was hardly a secret at this point. “Please issue the invitation. There’s always the chance he’ll decline.”

“Unlikely, and yes, sir.”

It was on the tip of my tongue to ask about her earlier behavior at Thistle Gate, except what would I say? Not to mention, Sullivan was quite miffed at me presently.

When I approached the library, I found her sitting on her own, studying her computer. “May I interrupt?”

“Yes.” She barely glanced in my direction, even when I took the seat next to her.

“I overstepped and I apologize.” I ran my finger down her arm.

Her gaze met mine. “Why did you?”

“Protecting you has become a reflex. I know that’s a horrible excuse, but…”

“Go on.”

I scooted closer. “If anything should happen to you, I don’t know how I’d bear it.” My words were hardly above a whisper, but I was close enough for her to hear me.

“He’s my uncle. It should be my decision.”

“I agree and will offer my apologies a second time.”

“Accepted.”

“Am I forgiven?”

“Yes,” she said, looking up when Fallon entered the room.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

When Sullivan told her she wasn’t, I took that as my cue to leave. “We’ll speak later?” I asked.

“Of course.”

“Well, I made a bloody mess of that,” I said, rejoining Con and Gus.

“I’d say,” Gus muttered.

“By the way, your mum stopped me on the way to the library to inquire about Brose joining us for dinner.”

“I hope you said no,” said Con before looking up at me. “You didn’t, did you?”

“It’s Christmas.”

Con nodded. “Please do not seat him next to me.”

“I doubt there will be a seating chart. So, did Tag leave?”

“He said he’d be back later,” Gus responded.

“I can’t help but wonder who he knows in Syria.”

“Nightingale,” said Con.

“Come again?”

“Leila Nassar. Like we suspect with Weber, she holds dual citizenship and was recruited some time ago by SIS. She’s currently undercover in Damascus.”

“I’ve not heard of her.”

Con and Gus looked at each other and laughed.

“What?”

“It isn’t as though you pay attention to that sort of thing.”

“That sort of thing?”

“You’re more of an assignment guy. It’s what makes you so good. You’re focused,” Con continued.

“I hardly need you to blow smoke up my arse.”

He chuckled again. “And what if I said I’d contacted Typhon about sniper training?”

“Fair point. So, what you’re saying is, when it comes to investigative work, I’m no help?”

My two friends made eye contact again.

“Give me something to do.”

“Tag might need your help when he returns.”

I wasn’t welcome with Sullivan and Fallon and wasn’t needed here. Rather than continue to interrupt Con and Gus, who appeared quite focused, I got up and left the room.

When I saw Brose crossing the bridge, heading in the direction of Thistle Gate, I rushed out and called his name.

“Ah, Ash, I was hoping for a word,” he said when I caught up with him.

“What about?”

“There appears to be a great deal going on around here. Thistle Gate, in particular.”

“Interestingly, I wasn’t aware of the cottage’s name until recently.”

“My father was quite enamored with the place. For good reason, I’d say.”

“What would that be?” I asked.

“Surely, you know.”

I stopped walking. “Know what, Brose?”

“About your grandfather and the housekeeper. What was her name?”

“Agnes MacDonald?”

He pointed at me. “That’s it. Angus and Agnes. The least well-kept secret in the west of Scotland.”

“I had no idea,” I murmured, replaying Mrs. Drummond’s odd behavior this morning. Wait. Mrs. Drummond . “Good Lord,” I said under my breath. Could it be?

Brose chuckled. “You’ve finally pieced it together, eh?”

“I need a drink. Join me?” I said when we reached the gate that led to the cottage’s entrance—the one I hadn’t noticed had thistles woven into the design. Con and Gus were certainly right about my lack of investigative skills. It was a wonder I could locate my own nose.

“I’m anxious to see what you’ve done with the place.”

Once inside, his eyes opened wide. “I never took you for someone who celebrates the holiday.”

“I’ve a reason to this year.” I poured two glasses of brandy and handed him one. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” he repeated. “The young lady inspired all this?”

“Yes.”

“You remind me of your father when he met Alexandria. Same lovesick expression.”

“Yeah? What about you, Brose? You’ve never brought a woman around. Why is that?”

“I did once, many years ago.”

“It’s a day for stories I’ve never been told. Who was she?”

My uncle’s expression darkened to the point where I regretted asking.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

He took a hefty pull from his glass and held it out for more. “No one would’ve told you, would they have?”

“I’m not following,” I said, giving him a little extra.

“How do you think your parents met?”

I was stunned. “ No. Through you?”

“Your mother was the only woman I ever loved. Not that she ever knew.”

“Did you say you brought her to Ashcroft?”

“Aye. We were friends at university, and I invited her for the weekend. I suppose I was showing off a bit.”

“Did my father know how you felt about her?”

He shook his head. “No one did. Until now.”

“God, Brose. I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry.”

“That was a long time ago. Over thirty years. Admittedly, my heart broke in pieces back then. I eventually got over it.”

I thought back to him spending time here while my dad was still alive. I didn’t recall it being often.

“I went a bit off the rails, as they say. Drank too much. Blew through the measly stipend your father allowed.”

I bristled, not wanting to hear this part.

“Anyway. The Lord took your mother far too young. Your father too.”

“Gus reminded me that my grandfather was the only one to live much beyond his fifties. And you, of course.”

My eyes opened wide, and Brose nodded.

“Wait. Are you suggesting he was also Gus’ grandfather? My God, of course he was.” I shook my head. “I had no idea. Truly.”

“That’s the way he wanted it. I always felt bad for Mairi. And Agnes, of course. Living their life in secret. We had quite a row about it, in fact.”

“You and grandfather?” I recalled telling Sullivan earlier I’d never called him that.

“He was livid with me. Rightly so, I suppose.”

I poured more brandy for each of us and rested against the sofa. I’d avoided my uncle for most of my life, mainly because my father rarely had a kind word to say about him. Now, I felt terrible for it.

“I owe you an apology.”

He shook his head. “You do not. I deserved their ire.”

“Your brother stole your girlfriend, and your father had a child out of wedlock that he wouldn’t acknowledge. I’d say whatever your behavior was, was justified.”

“I tried to blackmail him.”

I’d just taken a drink and nearly spit it out. “Grandfather?”

Brose nodded. “That was the reason he was so angry with me. Tossed me out, in fact.”

“I’m sorry, Brose.”

“Again, it was my fault. We never spoke again.” I looked away when he teared up. How many times could I repeat how sorry I was to hear about a life I’d never given much thought to until now?

“There’s something I want to show you.” I dug in my pocket for the watch. “What do you know about this?”

I handed it to him, and when he opened it and read the inscription, he looked as though he might lose the contents of his stomach. “Where did you get this?”

I was astonished he’d raised his voice. “It was a gift from Sullivan. The, err, woman you’ve seen about. She said she saw it in an antique dealer’s advertisement.”

“I’ll be damned,” he said under his breath.

“Apparently, you’ve seen it before. Mrs. Drummond, err, Mairi had a similar reaction.”

Brose’s gaze remained fixated on the watch. “I took it.”

“Come again?”

A tear ran down his cheek. “You heard me.”

“And sold it?”

“Nah, it wasn’t worth anything, except sentimentally. That’s why I did it.”

I wanted to ask how it wound up in the hands of an antique dealer, but that wasn’t important now.

“I’ve treated you terribly, Ambrose, and I’m truly sorry for that.”

He finished what was in his glass. “I appreciate the sentiment, Ash, but I’m not worthy of it.” He stood. “I’ll take my leave now. Thank you for the drink.”

“Must you go? You’ll join us for dinner later, yes?”

He shook his head. “I think not.” When he walked out, I wanted to run after him. I still had so many questions, but that was hardly fair to him. I’d avoided conversing with the man most of my life, and now, I only wanted to in order to get information out of him.