Dagger Magic

"What makes you think Adam Sinclair might have anything to contribute to this case?" he wondered out loud. "For that matter, is there any particular reason why we shouldn't just wait to read the medical examiner's report when it comes out?"

"I've saved the best for last," Somerville said. "What do you suppose they found on Scanlan, when they were looking him over for identification?"

"From the sound of your voice," said McLeod, "I shouldn't be able to guess if I lived to be a hundred. A winning ticket for the Irish Lottery?"

Somerville gave a gallows chuckle. "Not even close, Brother McLeod. It was a flag - and not just any flag. This was a World War Two Kriegsmarine flag, apparently off a German U-boat. It has U-636 stencilled along the canvas of the hoist."

"He had a Nazi flag on him?" McLeod asked, astonished.

"Yep. The thing was wadded up inside the breast of his survival suit - waterlogged, as you might well expect, since the suit had been breached, but otherwise intact. The experts haven't had a chance to examine it yet, but it looks damned authentic to me. And if it is authentic," he finished, with dour relish, "this Scanlan bloke was messing about with a ghost ship."

"How's that?"

"Official naval records list U-636 as having been depth-charged by Royal Navy frigates in April of 1945, some ninety miles northeast of Donegal."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Sure am. I checked the stats myself."

McLeod was prepared to take Somerville at his word. A war games enthusiast, the Strathclyde inspector had made a special study of Nazi regalia.

"I'll grant you, this is an odd one," he replied. "But ghost ship or not, no ghost stabbed Scanlan in the back. Have you considered the possibility of a tie-in with the IRA or some other terrorist group?"

"Aye, we have - and from a purely pragmatic point of view, I'd go so far as to say that may be our best line of further inquiry. Depending upon the state of preservation, a German U-boat could be a source of weaponry for terrorist activities. If Scanlan and his partner did inadvertently stumble across something like that, the organization involved would certainly have taken steps to make sure they didn't live to tell about it…."

As he paused, McLeod said, "You don't sound entirely convinced."

"I'm not," Somerville admitted. "I'd be more sure of myself if Scanlan had been shot. Knives aren't the IRA's favorite toys; they like to play with guns and explosives. And even as knife-killings go, this one is queerly atypical. I'll be interested to hear what the pathologists have to say."

"Me, too," McLeod said. "And you're quite right that Adam Sinclair may very well be the man to help us out on this one. I'll have a word with him and let him know what's in the wind - "

He was interrupted by a beep on the telephone line, warning him that his time was up.

"Don't bother putting any more coins in the box," Somerville said. "That's all I've got for now. I'll get back to you as soon as the post-mortem is scheduled. It'll probably be tomorrow or the next day."

"Right you are," McLeod said. "Thanks, Jack."

The connection was broken on his last words. McLeod's expression was thoughtful as he returned the receiver to its cradle. Somerville's latest investigative headache promised to become contagious - and something about the possible Nazi connection sent cold shivers up McLeod's spine. Ruefully aware that he himself was already partially committed, the inspector stumped back to the car and directed Cochrane to proceed on to Jordanburn.

Adam had arranged for Claire Crawford to be installed in a private room. Leaving the nursing staff to make their new patient comfortable in her hospital surroundings, he withdrew to the nurses' station and settled down to write up his orders for the night, including appropriate sedation for Claire. Under cover of this commonplace activity, he also set about the more subtle task of erecting a psychic barrier around the room, to prevent her errant spirit-self from straying abroad. When he was finished, he bade Claire good night and retired to his office. He had been at his desk for barely ten minutes when a knock at the door announced the arrival of McLeod.

"I got through to Somerville just after you went away in the ambulance," he announced, coming in to flop into the chair opposite Adam. "From the sound of things, Peregrine and Julia may have uncovered a hornets' nest."

In as few words as possible, he related all that Somerville had told him regarding the case that was building up around the dead man the Lovats had found on the beach. Adam refrained from comment until McLeod had wound down.