Death of an Adept

But where and when and why the next attack might come remained unanswered questions, as did the question of how to stop Raeburn. Astral scanning had commenced as soon as Raeburn's involvement was confirmed; yet despite Herculean efforts by all the members of the Hunting Lodge, no trace of a pattern had yet emerged that might enable them to predict their adversary's next move. Given Raeburn's skill at cloaking his activities, they had little choice but to wait until he surfaced again - and hope that it would not be too late to thwart his ultimate plan.

Meanwhile, Adam did his best to maintain some semblance of normalcy, if primarily for Ximena's sake, keeping his professional schedule as best he could and savoring the time the two of them were able to share while sorting out last-minute details relating to the wedding, which was now less than two weeks away. But these small romantic concerns, which might otherwise have been a pleasure to contemplate, seemed only to heighten by contrast the ominous darkness hanging over them, and to increase his sense of vulnerability.

Tuesday came amid wintry gales of alternating sun and snow. After teaching rounds in the morning, Adam watched these unpredictable fluctuations in the weather from his office window, conscious, as never before, of his own limitations and the potential danger to those around him. The reason, he came to see, was because he had never before had so much to lose. He was still pondering this sobering revelation over a mug of tea long gone cold when the telephone rang. He picked it up on the first ring.

"There's been a new development," McLeod said, his normally gruff voice sounding flintier than usual. "You might want to come down to my office to hear the details in person."

His tone left Adam in no doubt that the "development" was one of significance. He glanced at his watch.

"I've got a patient in ten minutes," he told his Second, "but I could arrange to join you in about two hours' time. Or is it more urgent than that?"

"That'll do," McLeod said. "See you then."

Adam found it difficult to keep his mind on his work for the next hour. The session with his patient went reasonably well, thanks to a determined effort of concentration on his part, but he was more relieved than usual to bring it to a close. He gave his progress notes to his secretary to be typed up and filed, then headed back to his office to retrieve his overcoat. Knotting a cashmere scarf around his neck, he set out for the stairs leading down to the lobby and the front door.

He was overtaken on the next landing by a younger man in a lab coat over surgical scrubs, with full, dark hair and a smoothly handsome face that Adam had seen once or twice before. As the two of them exchanged vague nods of acknowledgement in passing, a glimpse of the name Mallory on the other man's name tag enabled Adam to place him as one of the newer members of the Department of Anaesthesia. Staff gossip held Mallory to be very much a ladies' man, but less flattering rumors hinted that Mallory's interest in his female co-workers might be motivated more by personal vanity than by any impulse of gallantry.

First to reach the lobby, Mallory made his way over to the desk, where his appearance was greeted with flattering enthusiasm by the pretty young receptionist. Bypassing the two of them on his way to the outer door, Adam couldn't avoid overhearing snatches of flirtatious conversation. Mallory's compliments had a false ring to them that gave Adam a twinge of misgiving on the receptionist's behalf as the door closed behind him, but as he braced himself against the sudden blast of cold outside, a host of more pressing concerns replaced any further thought about the hospital's newest Lothario.

He took a taxi across town to police headquarters rather than driving. McLeod was in the outer office, reviewing details of a house break-in with one of the younger detectives in his division, but as soon as he caught sight of Adam, he cut the conversation short and came over to meet him. Following the inspector into his private office, Adam waited until McLeod had closed the door before asking in a lowered voice, "Now then, what's up?"

The question caught McLeod on his way to the desk, which was shoved against one wall. Gesturing an invitation for Adam to take an adjoining seat, he lowered himself into his office chair and leaned back with his elbows propped on the chair-arms.

"You remember that young Druid from Stornoway I told you about?" he queried softly. "The one I interviewed when Peregrine and Harry and I went up to view the scene at Callanish?"

Adam experienced a qualm of foreboding. "McFarlane? The one who later phoned you up about 'a disturbance in the Force'?"

"That's him," McLeod agreed heavily. "I've never been able to connect that feeling of his to anything we knew was going on at the time, but now it appears there was a connection. It looks very much as if he's been kidnapped."