Siege of Stone (14 page)

"They've warned them, haven't they?" asked Laika. "The newspaper, the shopkeepers, everybody—they're not supposed to say anything."

"That's right. Not to outsiders. Magna Carta or no, certain offices of our government can still behave like an absolute monarchy when it suits their purposes. So now the people have two things to be frightened of—the ghosts, and the government bullies.

"Listen," Molly went on, "I won't contact this Skye you mentioned, and I won't inform MI5. As far as they're concerned, you can be legitimate archeologists from the States, and I doubt they'll bother you, because they think that you'll find
them
out as fakes."

"Just the way you did to us," said Laika.

"Just like," Molly agreed. "I'd be foolish to discard a valuable resource like you three. So if we can agree to work together—independently but cooperatively—I'll walk away, and you can carry on."

"That sounds acceptable," Laika said.

"Well, I don't see that you have much choice."

M
olly smiled at Laika Harris. She liked the woman. There was a toughness about her, a refusal to back down or show weakness, the same qualities that Molly had had to develop to move up in MI5. They were the qualities that got a woman labeled a hard-nosed bitch among many men, but a hard-nosed bitch couldn't let that bother her.

"So," said Laika. "We've shared what little we know with you, and you've got our fates in your hands. Are you going to reciprocate? What have your people learned so far?"

Molly thought for a moment before replying. She damn well wasn't going to tell them about the possibility of tachyons, but she could at least tell them about the cloth itself, and she did, including the fact that it had been discovered on property belonging to the castle. She also told them about its luminescence and radioactivity, and that a large piece was missing from its one corner. Then she shared with them the information that had been received only that morning.

"One of the technicians who was into history came up with an interesting link. Have you ever heard of the Fairy Flag of the MacKenzies?"

"Yeah," said Tony. "Isn't that an old cloth that this clan used to use as a battle flag? They've got it displayed somewhere."

"Partly right. The casket that holds it is on display at Castle MacKenzie in Sutherland County. There are several legends behind it. One is that it was given to the head of Clan MacKenzie by the queen of the fairies, who was smitten by him. She told him to wave it when he went into battle, and he would be invincible, but it would only work three times. Supposedly it's been waved twice, and the MacKenzies won the battle both times. Now it sits inside a
lead
casket, until it's needed again. But photographs of it are widespread."

"I've seen them," said Tony. "It's just pretty much a rag, isn't it?"

"Yes," Molly said. "It's in rough shape. It appears to have been cut or torn from a larger piece of cloth, and the technician analyzing the radioactivity of the cloth found near here noticed its similarity to the Fairy Flag, and thought that possibly the MacKenzies' flag might have been taken from this larger cloth. Some MI5 people went to Castle MacKenzie this morning with Geiger counters and a paper pattern of the larger cloth."

"The larger cloth glows in the dark," Joseph said. "Is there any account of the Fairy Flag doing the same?"

"No," Molly answered, "but battles are fought in daylight. Maybe no one ever happened to look at it in the darkness."

"And if somebody had, say, centuries ago," Tony said, "maybe it wasn't worth mentioning—a Fairy Flag would be
expected
to glow. After all, it was magic."

"You may be right," Molly said. "We should hear shortly if it matches and if it's radioactive. That would give us a connection, but I'm not sure what we do with it. What's
your
next step?"

"I think we'll move further toward the castle," said Laika. "Creep up on them. There was some activity there yesterday, as though the caretaker was getting ready for someone to stay there for a while. Maybe we can force their hand, find out how they respond to an archeological incursion."

Molly shrugged. "It beats sitting on our thumbs. We're just basically marking time, trying to gather the data from everyone who's been . . . visited by these bogies."

"Bogies?" asked Tony.

"Ghosts. Old Scots word." She stood up, setting her empty tea cup and saucer on an end table. "I'd best be getting back."

"One more question," said Laika. "Are you going to let the owners of the castle know that you found the cloth on their property? And will you return it?"

"The hole's been filled in so that not a trace remains," Molly said. "Nobody found anything there at all."

M
olly drove the ops back to the MacLunie land and headed north, promising to keep in touch and receiving the same promise in return. When they were alone, Laika shook her head regretfully. "All we need. Our covers shattered like glass."

"It could be worse," Tony said. "You look at it one way, we're in better shape than before. Now we've got British intelligence feeding us information."

"What's this woman like, Joseph?"

He hoped Laika couldn't see everything in his face. "A good agent. Thoroughly professional." Except for making love to her colleague. "I trust her."

"You really saved her life?" Tony asked.

"Yes."

"Come on, don't be shy, what'd you do?"

"I got between her and a knife."

"Disarmed the attacker, huh?"

"No. I got stabbed."

Tony chuckled. "Next time, disarm the attacker." Then his smile faded as he remembered the last time Joseph had been attacked with a bladed weapon. He had disarmed the attacker, all tight. He had killed the madwoman in that ruined townhouse in New York City. And now the scar reopened again, and Joseph could see that Tony was sorry for reminding him.

"Okay," Laika said, trying to change the subject, "before we set up the new site, any thoughts or revelations about the cloth?"

"Just that it seems strange that the Fairy Flag was enclosed in lead," Joseph said, getting back on track. "I can't think of lead without thinking of the Prisoner, and the lead-lined caskets and rooms the church kept him in."

"I think we need to wait, though," said Laika, "until we learn if there's a connection between the flag and this cloth. If the flag proves to be radioactive and the same kind of weave and material as the cloth—"

"Hey," Tony said quietly. "I just had a really weird thought, and I know you're going to think I'm full of crap, but you know that deal about waving the flag and the clan would get help in battle? Well, what if that's what happened here, but on a bigger scale?"

"You want to expand this thesis a little?" Joseph said. "I'm still in the dark."

"What if the old guy who found this cloth waved it? You know, just opened it up and spread it out? And what if it worked the same way as the Fairy Flag?"

Joseph's frown of disbelief grew deeper. "You mean, what if he beckoned the fairies? You're saying that all these ghostly manifestations, including the one you saw yourself, are
fairies
?"

"Shit, I don't know
what
I'm saying. It's just an idea, okay? I mean, maybe they were never fairies to begin with, but something else."

"Pixies," suggested Joseph. "Or elves?"

"Look, after everything we've seen, you're gonna draw the line at a radioactive cloth producing simple images? Joseph, that's kid stuff compared to some of the things we've actually
experienced
."

"I wouldn't rule anything out, Joseph," Laika said. "But until we hear any more from Molly, I suggest the most productive use of our time is to get closer to that castle and whoever's in it, especially since the cloth was found on their land." She started walking toward the van. "Dig we must."

Tony drove the van up over the crest of the hill, past their second site, and down toward the Minch and Castle Dirk, parking only a few yards from the stone wall that surrounded the castle. It was a spot where they would be sure to be seen from both the castle and the caretaker's cottage. Then they got out and began laying out a site grid with stakes and ribbon, and removing the turf.

"I'm getting sick of this," said Joseph. "Why can't we do surveillance in a town where we can sit in a sidewalk café and peek over a newspaper? I never yet got calluses peeking over a newspaper."

"Yeah, but you don't see any fairies at sidewalk cafés," said Tony, hoisting a shovelful of dirt. Joseph considered a comeback, but found it politically incorrect and remained silent.

Around five o'clock, just as they were talking about calling it a day, Tony called out, "Incoming." Two vans and a car were coming down the long dirt drive from the road to the castle. It was growing dark, and at a distance of 200 yards, the ops were only able to see that there were several people in each vehicle. They felt sure, however, that they had easily been seen from the dirt road.

"Keep working," Laika said. "Maybe we'll be lucky and get some company." The vans and the car followed the road as it passed through the rubble of the outer curtain, and then wound through the opening of the inner gatehouse and vanished from sight. "Let's just play it cool, boys."

"Duh-deeeeeeee-
dah
!" Tony sang, snapping his fingers rhythmically afterward.

"A loose rendition of
West Side Story
?" asked Joseph.

"Yeah. I'd dance, but I'm too tired from this damn digging."

"W
ho in bloody hell were they?" asked Angus Gunn.

"That's what we'll find out," Colin Mackay said.

Angus shook his head. "Naebody good, I'll wager. You think police?"

"No, not police, Angus. Probably just some damned treasure hunters. See a castle and they think there's gold buried all over."

"Would you like
me
to talk to them?" said the man they knew as Mulcifer. "I'm sure I could put a stop to whatever it is they're doing. Permanently."

Colin ignored him. The man was teasing, playing his little games. He'd made such suggestions whenever they ran into a spot of difficulty, which hadn't been very often. The trip from the United States to Scotland had been surprisingly trouble free, all except getting through customs with Mulcifer, and that had been the creature's own fault.

His false passport had been perfect, in the name of Philip Braxton, an American traveling on business, planning to stay in the United Kingdom for two months, the time divided between northern England and Scotland. The contact with the customs officer was the first Mulcifer had had with anyone outside of Colin's organization since joining them, and Colin suspected that Mulcifer had been waiting for such an opportunity.

Colin had been several spaces behind Mulcifer in the customs line, and tensed slightly when the officer had asked "Mr. Braxton" to please open his luggage. There should have been nothing to worry about. The fake samples of "Mr. Braxton's" product line were as they should be, and the clothes were neatly packed. Then something strange happened.

The customs officer took out a very conservative regimental striped necktie, and looked quizzically at Mulcifer, who then simply nodded. The officer removed the tie he was wearing, and then tied Mulcifer's about his neck, closed the suitcase, and beckoned him through, as if nothing had happened.

Colin joined Mulcifer as they left customs, and asked what the exchange was all about. The man shrugged. "He simply liked my tie better than his own. In fact, he liked it so much that tonight when he goes home he'll hang himself with it." He flashed a smile like a light blinking on and off, and kept walking.

There was no way that such a minor incident at Glasgow Airport could be traced to them, Colin decided, and tried to stop thinking about how quickly and easily Mulcifer could take a life. But when the thought would not depart, he started to think how that talent might best be used for their great cause.

He had returned to Scotland with a monster at his side, but that monster, if properly controlled, could bring him what he wanted for his country, total freedom from the English yoke. Why, then, did he feel, as he entered what had been his father's castle and was now his own, that he was doomed to failure, that this was a mistake, a great and tragic one?