Death of an Adept

Adam had already made good on his intentions to upgrade the estate's security system, installing new window locks and deadbolts at the gate lodge, lights activated by motion-sensors outside, and a secure telephone line that connected directly with the main house. The old cat-flap was replaced by a more sophisticated device requiring an electronic chip in the collar of the flap's one authorized user, and was temporarily closed off altogether.

As a further measure, until the present threat should be resolved, Adam had recruited the two stalwart sons of one of his tenant farmers to assist John, his trusty stableman, in patrolling the grounds at night, adding to the increased police drive-bys that now were making a point to watch for anything amiss at the somewhat isolated gate lodge. During the darkest hours of the night, when Peregrine and Julia were asleep, someone was always on duty downstairs in the Lovats' kitchen or sitting room, armed with a shotgun and mobile phone.

On less obvious levels, Adam and Philippa had spent an entire evening strengthening the esoteric defenses protecting the house and its immediate environs, doing their best to ensure that they and their associates could rely on finding a safe working haven within the confines of Strathmourne itself.

Once off the estate, however, security considerations became more problematical. No stranger to taking risks on his own account, Adam was more worried about Ximena's personal safety than he liked to admit, especially after the attack on the Lovats. Sometimes working double shifts, in the run-up to the wedding, and often obliged to return home late at night, Ximena presented all too tempting a target to the operatives who had tried and failed to snatch the Lovats - and those operatives undoubtedly answered to Francis Raeburn.

But Ximena's personal and professional commitments were every bit as weighty as Adam's own, making it impracticable for either of them to remain at home, even if Adam had been willing to let himself be intimidated by fear of what might happen. Not to venture forth in pursuit of the Hunt would render him just as impotent as if Raeburn had already won. Accordingly, Adam was obliged to search out a workable compromise that allowed Ximena's life, at least, to go on with some semblance of normalcy.

After some initial objections, Ximena agreed to let Humphrey act as her personal escort and chauffeur, whenever her schedule conflicted with Adam's own or required late-night travel. For backup, McLeod volunteered the services of his aide, Donald Cochrane, as a substitute driver. Those members of the Hunting Lodge who had dealt with Raeburn in the past could only hope that these measures would prove sufficient to offset whatever shadowy scheme their adversary might be formulating.

Some inkling of the scope of Raeburn's ambition began to take shape only a few days later. When Adam returned to his office after a particularly difficult session with a long-time patient, McLeod was pacing outside the door.

"I take it this is not a social call," Adam said, unlocking his office, when McLeod only growled a perfunctory greeting.

As the door closed behind them, the inspector handed Adam a newspaper cutting paper-clipped to a fax flimsy. The cutting was from the previous day's Glasgow Herald, and the headline read: murder inquiry after body found.

"We think it's Taliere," McLeod said, as Adam lifted the article to glance at the faxed photograph underneath, clearly that of a corpse. "Donald spotted the article this morning, and followed up with a couple of phone calls. Strathclyde Police are listing him as a John Doe, but I'd bet my pension that this is our man. Compare that photo with the mug shot Evans sent us from Wales, and Peregrine's sketch on the next page."

Adam did so, then flipped back to the news clipping, skimming down its contents as he walked around to sit behind his desk.

"Strathclyde Police are carrying out a murder investigation after the body of an elderly man was found in a wooded area of Strathclyde Park near Motherwell yesterday," he read aloud. "A police spokesman declined to give details, but confirmed that the so-far unidentified victim had suffered horrific injuries….

"What kind of horrific injuries?" Adam asked, glancing up at McLeod.

The inspector gave a grimace, sinking down in the chair opposite.

"His throat had been cut - and not where the body was dumped. No blood anywhere in the vicinity. You want to know what else?''

"Probably not - but go on."