Dagger Magic

Drawing a deep breath to ground himself, Peregrine picked up the flag in his two hands. It was slightly stiff from its saltwater immersion; he could smell its mustiness, the salt tang of the sea, as he raised it closer to his face. Everything else around him softened and blurred as he centered his attention on the folds of scarlet and black and white.

The image of the flag itself grew harshly articulate, its color and design impinging on his inner sight with fierce intensity. But when he tried to penetrate beyond that image, the picture itself suddenly exploded.

Chapter Nineteen

HE recoiled with a startled gasp, instantly muffled in the crook of one arm as he threw the flag from his hands. White light splintered behind his eyes like a splash of hot needles, but immediately dissipated. Only belatedly did he feel the bolstering pressure of a hand on his shoulder.

"Easy," came Adam's calm voice. "Did it give you a jolt?"

Coming out from behind his arm, Peregrine nodded and drew a shaky breath as he chanced a cautious look at the heap of crimson, black, and white. His two companions were staring at him in undisguised concern.

"Whew! I won't try that again soon," he mumbled. "The flag's protected somehow. I couldn't See past it. It's linked with something that doesn't want to be Seen."

"Perhaps the submarine it came from," Adam said slowly. "And that bears further thinking. It appears we aren't talking about a mere artifact of war here."

"Bloody hell!" McLeod muttered, exchanging a black look with his chief. "Do you suppose it connects with one of Hitler's Black Lodges?"

"The prospect looms increasingly likely," Adam said grimly. "I couldn't begin to be specific at this point, but U-636 and its crew appear to have been bound up in some nefarious plan - which explains why it should have been brought to our attention."

"You mean, I was somehow directed to find Scanlan's body?" Peregrine asked.

Adam waggled one hand in a yes-and-no gesture. "I don't know that I'd go that far - and I couldn't begin to tell you where your ghost-monk fits in. But there's no getting around the fact that Scanlan was murdered - probably by a man wielding what appears to be an Oriental dagger - and that he did procure a Nazi submarine's flag from somewhere. This all suggests that whoever originally sent out the sub - or their descendants - may well still be functioning - and still deadly."

Peregrine swallowed loudly. "But - Nazi Germany collapsed half a century ago," he said plaintively.

"True enough," Adam agreed. "But the dark forces that fuelled much of its power still flare up occasionally. You surely haven't forgotten what we encountered in the Cairngorms."

"Christ!" McLeod muttered under his breath. "You don't think it's that lot again, do you?"

"I hope not. But I was warned to expect the reappearance of an old enemy." Adam sighed. "I think we'd better see about finding that sub."

"More easily said than done," McLeod retorted. "There's no way we can try that here, especially in light of the whammy Peregrine just got. And I certainly hope you aren't suggesting that we abscond with official evidence."

"Not abscond, no; we'll ask," Adam replied. "But the flag is the only direct link we've got to the sub. And if you can find out where Scanlan was patrolling, when he and his partner went missing, that should narrow down the location before we even start resorting to more drastic measures."

"It's the drastic measures that are worrying me," McLeod grumbled, as Adam carefully gathered up the flag and began folding it. "Even if I could borrow it, how do you propose to get past what zapped Peregrine?"

"I haven't figured that out yet," Adam conceded. "Actually, I doubt it's the flag that's protected; more likely, we're talking about spillover from the sub itself, which is protected. But that can be got around, if I can trace the link back. What I cannot do is make the link without the flag."

Before McLeod could respond, Somerville himself returned, waving a dismissive hand at someone in the outer office as he came in and closed the door behind him. He looked restive and harried, as if whatever business had called him away had not gone as well as he might have hoped.

"Bloody red tape," he muttered under his breath, jerking a chair out from the table and flouncing into it with a sigh. "I hope you gentlemen had better luck than I did."

McLeod glanced obliquely at Adam, who was tucking the flag back into its plastic bag.

"We've come up with a few ideas. But I'll warn you right now, they're nothing you could print in the newspapers without being branded a raving lunatic."

"Not another one of those cases?" Somerville muttered. "Never mind, I don't want to know. Just help me solve this case, and I won't ask any questions that might embarrass us all."

"I hope you mean that," McLeod said, "because in order to test our ideas, Dr. Sinclair and I need to borrow the flag for a day or two."