Death of an Adept

"Then don't think of it, darling. Or why not worry about them stalling on the Forth Road Bridge, if you're determined to worry about them?" Philippa said over the top of the needlework she was stitching, ensconced in a wing chair beside the library fire. The "them" under discussion were Ximena and Julia, who had taken the Morgan into Edinburgh for a consultation with a dressmaker. "Your mechanic gave the car a thorough going-over. It was purring like a kitten when they left."

"Adam's learning a new way to worry, now that he's settling into a married frame of mind," Peregrine said with a grin, from a vantage point in one of the window seats that overlooked the approach to the house. "Why do you think Julia and I got a mobile phone, Adam? Fortunately, she's got it with her today. If anything goes wrong, they can summon the cavalry at the touch of a button. Ah, here comes Noel now."

He set a mug of tea aside and rose expectantly as McLeod's black BMW appeared at the head of the snow-bordered drive and made brisk passage toward the house, pulling up in front of the steps. The inspector had telephoned Adam with a brief account of his trip to Wales the night before, but sensitive details were to be rendered in person this afternoon. Prior commitments had prevented Julian and the Houstons from attending the impromptu briefing session called by Adam, but Peregrine was as eager as Adam and Philippa to hear what McLeod had learned.

Humphrey admitted the inspector very shortly. McLeod looked frazzled, and carried a manila envelope under one arm. As Humphrey closed the door behind him, Philippa said, "Hello, Noel. Cup of tea? You look like you could use one."

McLeod quirked a grim smile and inclined his head in acceptance as he came to collapse in a chair beside her.

"Aye, that would be grand. Sorry if I'm a bit later than I'd planned. I got waylaid by a public prosecutor just as I was leaving the office, and he wanted to talk about a case that's pending. I thought I'd never get rid of him."

Philippa set a mug of tea in front of him, adding a splash of milk. "The main thing is that you're here now," she said. "Adam, Peregrine, do you want anything else?"

"Not just now," Adam said, as Peregrine also declined. "So, tell us about Griffith Evans."

The envelope McLeod had brought with him contained a copy of Evans' police file, complete with the fingerprint record. While the others examined the documents enclosed, the inspector embarked on an uncompromising report of his findings. Adam noted Harry Nimmo's part in the operation with particular interest.

"Our Mr. Nimmo's psychometric talents are clearly blossoming," Adam observed thoughtfully. "One almost has to wonder whether something about this case has triggered their development."

"Aye," McLeod agreed. "I was thinking much the same thing myself. Don't get me wrong," he amended. "Harry's a good man - and if he's meant to take on a more active role, I'd be the first to welcome him. At the same time, if the Powers That Be have arranged to send us reinforcements, it makes me wonder if there may be bigger trouble ahead than we realize."

Pulling out his notebook, he showed them the two sets of symbols he had copied down, one made at Callanish and the other in the cellar at Conwy.

"As you can see, most of the same symbols appear in both locations," he pointed out. "And the chamber we found was set up to mimic more traditional stone circles - though with a decidedly nasty edge, given all the evidence of blood sacrifices. I'm not yet prepared to state categorically that Evans and the mastermind at Callanish are one and the same. But whatever else turns out to be true about him, this Evans character appears to have an intimate knowledge of Druidic ceremonies and rituals - perhaps more than anyone could hope to acquire in a single lifetime. Furthermore, I think there's little question that he's using that knowledge to foster contact with one or another of the Patrons of Shadow - 'the dark side of the Force,' as young lolo MacFarlane might put it."

Adam raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that how he described what he felt on New Year's Eve? A 'disturbance in the Force'?"

McLeod blinked. "I suppose he did."

Peregrine sat forward avidly, his hazel gaze darting from one to the other of them. "Noel, did you pick that phrase for a reason?" he asked.

"Or did it kick in from your subconscious?" Philippa joined in. "That isn't a phrase you'd be likely to use, Noel. Could it be that, on some level, you have made the connection between Evans and what happened at Callanish?"

"It's possible," McLeod conceded.

"Well, whether or not the two perpetrators are one and the same," Adam said, "we appear to have a situation that needs nipping in the bud. Noel, how long would you estimate this underground hallow has been in use?"

McLeod grimaced. "Difficult to judge. The atmosphere was so thick in there, you could almost cut it with a knife. I'd say a long, long time - maybe even decades."