A Highlander for Christmas (41 page)

“None that I know of.” Jared ran a hand through his hair. He still wasn’t sure what had prompted him to take out the old kilt. Perhaps it was the rich boyhood memories he’d put away since his return from Thailand.

Or maybe he’d simply wanted to watch Maggie’s reaction. “Not unless you count the best night of sleep I’ve had in years.”

Busy sampling a steaming scone, Jared missed the crinkle at Marston’s eyes and his knowing smile. “I’m delighted to hear it. If you would like to eat in the breakfast room, I’ll bring things in directly.”

Jared enjoyed the feel of the heavy wool pleats and the memories of a happiness so thick and heavy he could hold it in his hands.

Spring afternoons tramping by byrnes that bubbled over peat-black earth. Summer dawns in a loch so cold it swept your breath right back into your chest.

Why had he been so quick to bury that past?

“Don’t bother, Marston. I’ll take another scone and have my tea outside. I need to check the electronics on that new gate and run a few tests on the outer security. Then I probably have a dozen messages to sort through.”

“Very well, Commander, though you leave me with precious little to do.”

“Go decorate the Christmas tree. But first I could use a bottle of that superb vintage La Trouvaille Nicholas thinks he can hide in the back of the cellar. Also two glasses to go with it and a basket of strawberries. Dipped in chocolate, if that’s manageable.”

Marston carefully kept any hint of satisfaction from his face. “Shall I be packing for one or for two?”

Jared’s smile was slow and dark. “Definitely two.”

The prospect made Jared run through his security checks even faster than usual. He finished examining the last feet of wire he’d laid the day before, pleased to see that every inch hummed.

Now he had the whole afternoon before him.

He strode toward the conservatory, wondering how much longer he could manage to stay away from Maggie for form’s sake.

Not that he had the slightest hope of keeping secrets from Marston. The butler had the eyes of a sharpshooter and the soul of a born matchmaker.

“Mac?”

Jared turned, his face creasing in a smile. “Izzy? What are you doing here? What could possibly drag you away from that glossy mainframe you’re married to?”

The tall man in carelessly worn blue jeans and a gray sweater could have been a football player or an actor. His lean body held no hint of flab anywhere, and every muscle was perfectly conditioned from the kickboxing that was Izzy’s specialty.

Jared was one of the few people who knew that Ishmael Harris Teague was a crack sniper and a seasoned soldier with electronics skills that made him highly attractive to all branches of the military service.

“Call it curiosity. I wanted to get a firsthand look at this house you’ve had me checking. Very impressive.”

Jared’s brow arched. “The architecture, you mean?”

“No, the ISDN lines.”

Jared laughed. “Just because Draycott Abbey has a few ghosts and some dusty armor doesn’t mean it can’t be cutting edge.”

Izzy’s handsome mahogany features eased into a smile. “I suppose I’d be a ghost myself if you hadn’t saved my tail on that last op outside Rangoon.”

“Just doing my job.”

Izzy slanted a look at Jared’s legs. “I like the skirt.”

“Don’t start.” Jared muttered. “It’s called a
feiladh mor
. A kilt, to philistines like you.”

“Hey, if it walks like a duck and talks like a duck…” Izzy moved nimbly, dodging Jared’s right hook.

Jared shook his head. “Come in and have some tea. It’s probably still hot.”

“Nothing stronger?”

“You don’t know Marston’s tea.” Jared moved into the conservatory, brushing a pile of papers and magazines off the long table. Bracing one hip, he poured a cup of tea from the thermos Marston had prepared. “Speaking of ducks.”

“What?”

“
You
. Somebody had to keep an eye on you over there. You were so wet behind the ears that you left a trail of water, my friend. The bad guys saw you coming miles away.”

Izzy rubbed his neck. “What I didn’t know could have filled a library. But you can’t say I’m a slow learner.”

“Tell that to the men who had to bang your jeep back into shape every week. You’ve got to be the worst driver on four continents.”

Izzy shrugged. “I’m still God’s gift to anything with wings. You ought to see me jockeying a Night Hawk, Mac.” He used the old nickname that had come out of their days together in Thailand. They still spoke with the sort of shorthand that came from long hours spent sweating together in dangerous places.

Izzy spread his powerful, dark hands. “Sweet and silent, Mac, my boy. I’ve still got the magic touch.”

Jared turned away.

He remembered all too clearly seeing those broad, competent hands stretched out on a rough bamboo wall while a swaggering Thai drug lord prepared to drive a spike through each palm.

The bastard hadn’t succeeded. Jared had seen to that by sweeping into the courtyard and hosing down the area with an HK-37.

Izzy remembered too. There was a little crinkle in his eye that told Jared enough time had passed that he could look back at the event with detached black humor, an attitude that had kept them both alive during their two-year stint in the drug wars of the Golden Triangle.

“So what gives, Mac? Who is this lady of mystery?”

“It’s Daniel Kincade’s daughter. Have you come up with anything I can use?”

“Maybe. Kincade had no real estate holdings of note, but I thought you’d be interested to know that he was involved in a start-up French electronics company located outside Marseille. Their specialty is miniaturization of microwave communications.”

Jared considered this new information. “How would that relate to gemstones? I suppose that would include lasers, since most are generated through rubies.”

“Microwave research is the hot new kid on everybody’s
block.
Every
electronic
firm with a staff of more than two has an R & D person working in that area and you don’t want to know how many technoids the western nations have slaving over that particular fire.”

Jared tapped at a bag of potting soil. “So it’s big enough for someone to get killed over?”

“Godzilla looks like a one-celled organism next to this kind of stuff.”

“And Daniel Kincade might have been involved with some new technology that required gem material.” Jared pushed to his feet, frowning “If so, didn’t anyone know?”

Izzy shrugged. “These guys aren’t your usual computer nerds The stuff they’re juggling is certifiable national security. Some folks are saying that microwave technology will be the only technology in the next twenty years, and I happen to believe them.”

Jared gave a silent whistle. “That means Daniel Kincade’s work might have gotten him killed.”

Izzy laughed darkly. “The way I see it, if he was working on cutting-edge stuff, the question wouldn’t be if someone killed him but which one of a dozen nations arranged to pull the trigger. That’s how cutthroat this stuff has become.”

Again Jared felt a kick of surprise. Izzy was no tenderfoot. He was skilled in every branch of electronic technology and an expert at programming. This information took his investigation in an entirely new direction. “Do you still have people guarding Maggie Kincade’s cousins?”

“Both are in place. Handpicked. Armed, and highly deadly.”

Jared chuckled at the image. Woe be to any nasty who took on one of Izzy’s people At least he could stop worrying about Maggie’s cousins for the time being. “Maybe you can find out what that French company was working on when Kincade disappeared.”

“I’ll have a look.”

Jared stared out at the abbey lawns, gold and brilliant green in the early afternoon sun. “What else did you turn up on Kincade?”

“Damned little you don’t know already. For a famous man, he kept a low profile. Comfortable house, quiet family, passable credit. But when I was tracking his career I started picking up things.”

Jared stopped pacing. “What kind of things?”

“On the surface, it was all perfectly normal. Every year he took routine visits for jewelry buys, but major gem and hardstone sources aren’t on your normal vacation itinerary. Emeralds from Colombia. Rubies from
Myanmar.
Lapis and nephrite from Afghanistan. Those are the most volatile governments around, Mac. Yet Kincade came and went at will. It seems he knew half the people in those governments on a personal basis.”

Jared felt something cold press at his neck. “Are you suggesting Kincade was a spy?”

“Not exactly. Hell, I don’t know what I’m suggesting. I’m just presenting patterns, offering possibilities. It’s what you asked me to do, remember?”

“So I did.” Jared rubbed his neck. Was it possible that Maggie’s father had used his business as a cover for transporting official secrets? “There’s another possibility,” he said slowly. “He could have been working for his own government.”

Izzy shrugged. “Hard to say. They don’t exactly post a little red flag beside the names of their operatives.”

“Keep looking, Izzy. If he was on official business, that would change everything.”

“Governments don’t usually turn on their own operatives.”

“No, they don’t.” Jared put his hand on a leaded glass window while possibilities whirled through his head. “Did you check with our usual government sources?”

“I tried. They swallowed their tongues on this one.”

“It’s nice to know that some things are beyond you, Izzy. Restores my faith in humanity.” Jared’s smile faded quickly. “Keep at it. And step up surveillance on that Dutch jeweler Maggie went to visit If he goes running, I want backup and immediate notification. In all your
spare
time, take a closer look at that French microwave company. The sooner we know what Daniel Kincade was working on before he disappeared, the sooner we’ll know who is trying to track Maggie.”

“Roger that.” Izzy headed to the door, then turned. “By the way, give my regards to the lady.”

“What lady?”

Izzy gave a slow smile. “The one who’s got your glasses fogged up. Makes me glad to know even a hard case like you can get KO’d.” His eyes narrowed as he glanced over Jared’s shoulder. “Speaking of ladies, you’d better brace for impact. Looks like one over there bearing down full throttle. I don’t think I’ll be staying around for the fallout.”

“What do you mean, Izzy? Who—”

“Are
you
the one?” She was twentyish with a storm of carrot-red hair. Dressed in rubber gardening boots and a faded green suede jacket, she was stunning and clearly furious.

“Am I the one what?”

Her fists settled on her hips. “The man my cousin Maggie is having an
affair
with?”

“Affair?” Jared repeated.

“That’s right. Unless you want to call it something worse.”

Jared stared. The woman was about five feet, four inches tall. Her worn denim pants were streaked with potting soil on both knees, as if she had just come from gardening Her hands, at least what he could see of them, were mottled with dirt.

Abruptly, her identity clicked in. This was the cousin with the landscape design firm. But how had she known that he and Maggie were involved? And how had she gotten past Marston? He held out his hand. “You must be Faith, Maggie’s cousin. I’m—”

Her hands dug into her hips. “Don’t try to charm me, Commander MacNeill. I know exactly who you are. I also know my cousin. Maggie’s terribly vulnerable with this exhibition coming up, and it wouldn’t take much for a clever, unprincipled man to worm past all her defenses. So, are you that man?”

Clearly, Faith Kincade had no problem speaking her mind, but Jared wasn’t about to discuss his love life with a complete stranger, even if she was Maggie’s relative. “I’m not sure where you got the impression that your cousin and I were involved.”

He was still holding out his hand.

She stared at his fingers as if they were dead fish. “Where doesn’t matter. And I notice you didn’t answer my question.”

“Maggie
and I are not having an affair.” Jared wasn’t sure what he would call it, but it wasn’t an affair. He wasn’t sure any single word would do justice to the feelings he had for Maggie. “And if we were,” he continued smoothly, “I certainly wouldn’t tell you. Any news would be hers to break.”