The Scot and I (38 page)

“After that fiasco,” Alex said, “you knew you had to take the reins of Demos into your own hands. They were, by that time, mostly mercenaries anyway. You made them a better offer, and from that moment on, you had them in your pocket.”

“Where is this leading?” The commander was becoming testy.

“You didn’t disband them. Now, that was a serious mistake. They’d failed in their attempt to kill the queen. After the floods receded, they should have dispersed. But they stayed on. Why?”

“You tell me.”

Alex spread his hands. “I’m guessing, and it’s only a guess, that someone in the know told them that the first attempt had been a hoax, but the queen was returning to Deeside and they could try again.”

Not a muscle moved in the commander’s face, not a twitch to betray what he was thinking. “This is all conjecture on your part,” he said. “Nothing can be proved. Any evidence there might have been burned to a cinder when Professor Scot’s house was torched tonight.” His bushy eyebrows snapped together. “How did you know about the house? How did you know I’d be there?”

“I suppose you could say that Colonel Foster told me. You see, he and I had a long conversation earlier tonight. It was an oversight on my part. My excuse is that I was a fugitive, and I had bigger things to worry about than Ramsey.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Ramsey’s address, you know, where he was staying when he was in Deeside. You can imagine my shock when Foster told me that he was staying with Professor Scot at Mile-End House. Mahri Scot. Professor Scot. That couldn’t be a coincidence.”

The commander had nothing to say to this.

Alex went on. “Your lack of diligence was another serious mistake, and so unlike you. After our meeting in Aboyne, I expected soldiers to come for us. Instead, there were only a couple of yokels. Now, that told me that something big was about to happen, something that required the services of the Royal Guard. Tonight, Colonel Foster told me what it was. The queen isn’t arriving on Saturday morning as the papers reported. That was a blind to fool her enemies. She would arrive by train in the wee hours of this morning and would be whisked away by the Royal Guard to the castle, with no one the wiser. I believe it was your idea, you know, as part of your job to protect the queen. But you and Demos have other plans for the queen, don’t you, Commander?”

The commander’s eyes strayed to the clock.

Alex went on in the same unthreatening monotone, “I didn’t expect to find you at Mile-End. It was Professor Scot I wanted to talk to. We rescued Mahri, and she told us that you’d been there and that you and Ramsey had shot her father to death. I’m afraid it’s over for you, Commander.”

Durward studied Alex’s face. “You’ll never prove anything, and the word of that little bitch will be laughed out of court if she gets that far.”

Alex ignored the provocation. “There’s not much time left. Tell me where you set the bomb, and I won’t kill you.”

A sneer curled Durward’s upper lip. He got to his feet, and his finger curled around the trigger of his revolver. “The bomb? I don’t remember mentioning a bomb.”

“You didn’t. I worked it out. You may remember that you were my chess master when I joined the university chess club. The one thing you dinned into me was to know my opponent and anticipate his moves. So I asked myself, what would I do in Durward’s shoes? Once the queen steps off that train in Ballater, she’ll be surrounded by soldiers. Demos no longer has the element of surprise, and they’re too few in number. If you’re going to assassinate the queen, it must be now or never.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t I? Tell me about Dickens.”

“I had nothing to with that. Ramsey panicked and killed him.”

“And Mungo? Tell me about him.”

“What’s to tell? He, too, had become a liability. But I had nothing to do with his death.”

“Why on earth did you give me his badge?”

“Because . . . because you were friends. I thought you should have it.”

Alex’s head drooped, and once again, he let his arms swing between his spread legs. “Commander, I’m overcome,” he said. “Beneath that tough exterior of yours beats a heart of gold.” He shook his head. “I know better than that. I’d bet that when I was captured, Mungo’s badge would be in my possession, and everyone would think that I had murdered him.”

He looked up and caught Durward looking at the clock again. Chuckling, he said, “I think your clock must be fast. You see—”

A tremendous blast coming from the direction of Ballater shook the windows. Alex had been expecting it, and his hand slipped inside his boot to find the dirk he had once taken from Mahri. In one rapid movement, with the flick of his wrist, he embedded the blade in Durward’s arm and the gun fell to the floor. Alex kicked it out of the way.

Grimacing in pain, the commander hissed through his teeth, “It’s finished. She’s finished, your precious Majesty.”

All the rage that Alex had ruthlessly suppressed now boiled over. He pulled the dirk out of the commander’s arm and pressed the point of his blade against the older man’s throat. “Wrong again,” he said. “Colonel Foster made a phone call. The queen left the train at Aboyne. She is nowhere near that bomb.”

“You’re lying!”

“You’ll soon find out that I’m not, just as everyone will soon find out what a murdering devil you are.”

“I’m a patriot!” the commander shouted.

“Patriot! Colonel Foster is twice the patriot you are! Oh, yes, he’s a clown, but that’s because you were always holding him up to ridicule. You could have made something of him. But that’s not your way, is it? You’re like a male lion that eats its own cubs if they get in his way.”

He drew in a quick breath.

“You were responsible for the deaths of my friends. You deliberately set a bomb to blow them up, yes, and me, too.”

“I should never have recruited you. You were always too clever for your own good!”

“You murdered Mungo and Ariel, didn’t you?” Alex’s voice had risen by several notches.

“Not Mungo! I had nothing to with that.”

“But you murdered Ariel.”

“She knew my identity. She couldn’t keep secrets. You know she couldn’t.”

“And you would have murdered Mahri tonight. Burned her alive, in fact.”

“What else could I do? She would have betrayed us.”

The commander’s sneer shattered when Alex tossed the dirk aside and slammed his fist into Durward’s mouth. But the commander knew how to defend himself. Before Alex could hit him again, he brought up his knee, catching Alex in the groin, and Alex went staggering back. Durward fell on top of him and straight into an elbow to his jaw. They rolled on the floor, kicking, gouging, grappling with each other in a brutal contest for supremacy. Only one of them would come out of this alive. Neither man heard the sounds of horses’ hooves or feet racing up the path.

The door burst open, and Colonel Foster strode in, followed by several troopers. It took two soldiers to pry them apart.

Durward’s breathing was labored, but he spoke first. “Colonel Foster, I demand that you arrest that man. He tried to kill me.” He clutched the wound in his arm, drawing everyone’s attention to the blood that had seeped through to his coat.

Colonel Foster barked out, “I’m sorry he didn’t succeed!” To Alex, he said, “You were right, and I was wrong. There was a bomb at the station, in the queen’s waiting room. There wasn’t time to find someone who knows how to defuse these little buggers, so we packed it in an old carriage on an isolated part of the track to wait for it to blow itself up. I’m assuming that’s what we heard just now.”

“There could be other bombs,” said Alex.

Foster’s voice acquired a little starch. “Mr. Hepburn, I’m not stupid. The queen will remain in Aboyne until we’ve done a thorough search.”

“Sorry, Colonel.” Alex gave a contrite half smile. “I wasn’t suggesting that you weren’t doing your job.”

“Well, well, the queen is safe and sound. That’s all that matters. There’s a little lady waiting for you outside. I wouldn’t like to keep her waiting. She’s got quite a temper.”

Alex left first. He was hardly through the door when Mahri flung herself into his arms. She allowed herself one quick hug, just to make sure that he was in one piece and lucid, then she let fly with a string of Gaelic curses.

To the troopers who were standing by, Alex said, “Those are Gaelic love words.” The troopers laughed and turned to each other, conversing in fluent Gaelic.

Durward, flanked by two troopers, came out of the house. When they were level with Alex, Durward halted. “This will never go to trial, you know,” he said.

Remembering how Ariel had died, Alex replied indifferently, “I wonder who will get to you first, them or us?”

When the soldiers marched off with their prisoner, Mahri took a closer look at Alex. Before Foster and his troopers had stormed the house, she had been shivering with terror. Now that she saw that Alex was standing on his own two feet, the terror evaporated, leaving her distinctly annoyed.

“You’re bleeding,” she scolded.

“It’s only a bloody nose.” He wiped his nose on his sleeve.

“It could have been so much worse.”

He shrugged and put up with the scolding, because the worried look that he loved had come into her eyes. “So much worse for the commander,” he said. When he stumbled, it began to dawn on him that Durward had given as good as he’d got and that it wouldn’t be long before each punch and gouge would begin to make itself felt.

Mahri slipped her arm around his waist. “Lean on me,” she said, “at least until we get you to a horse.”

She was coddling him, and Alex was thoroughly enjoying the experience. Not slow to take advantage of her softer feelings, he made his limp more obvious and draped an arm around her shoulders.

“You can take that smile off your face, Hepburn,” she said. “What you did tonight was stupid. There was no need for you to go after Durward. You should have sent the troopers.”

He shook his head. “Oh, no. Durward has a silver tongue. He lies almost as well as you do. He would soon have had those troopers eating out of his hand. And,” he went on, interrupting her next scold, “who are you to speak? You went off without a word to anyone and almost got us both roasted to a crisp.”

There was something important he had to tell her, something that would mean all the world to her. What was it?

He tipped up her chin. Tear-bright eyes blinked up at him. “Mahri,” he said seriously, “if it’s any consolation, your father did everything he could to save you. It was Durward who decided that you had become a liability. It was Durward from beginning to end.”

Her face began to recede, and he felt himself swaying. He heard voices. Gavin’s? Dugald’s? Gentle hands helped him mount his horse. The ride to Ballater was made in a haze.

They stopped at the nearest hotel and put him to bed, but he made a fuss when they tried to send Mahri away. He slept fitfully, but whenever he wakened, she was there to give him a drink of water or mop his brow with a cool cloth. He wanted to kiss her, make love to her, but he hardly had the energy to lift his head from the pillow.

The next time he wakened, Mahri was on top of the bed, curled into him. Sunlight streamed through the window, and he could hear the sounds of people inside and outside the hotel going about their daily business.

His mind was crystal clear. “Mahri,” he said, “Mahri.”

Her lashes lifted, and she stared into his eyes.

“The lists?” he said. “They’re not important. There’s nothing in them to earn anyone more than a slap on the wrist. And,” he added truthfully, after giving the matter some thought, “perhaps a large fine. But nobody is going to hang for being on those lists.”

“You want me to hand them over to Colonel Foster?”

“No. I want you to give them to me. I want you to trust me, as I trusted you tonight.”

He had a swollen eye, a bloody nose, and a scrape on both cheeks. She swallowed and sniffed before she answered him. “You want me to trust you because you followed me up a flight of burning stairs and climbed into a lift that might have cooked us like two trussed chickens for Sunday dinner?”

“That’s it in a nutshell.”

“Why did you do it?”

“You know why. Because I love you.”

She kissed him slowly and carefully on the lips. “Later,” she said, “we’ll talk later, after I’m all prettied up.”

He admired beautiful women. What man didn’t? He thought Mahri surpassed beauty, Mahri with her singed hair, sooty nose, and the stench of smoke still clinging to her skin.

Something moved deep inside him, and he smiled in spite of his aching jaw. “Yes,” he said, “we’ll talk later. Now go tidy yourself, woman.”

Twenty-six

The queen was safely ensconced in her castle. Murray wasn’t saying anything except that it was all a ghastly mistake, and that he had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. And the commander wasn’t saying anything at all.