Death of an Adept

The driver threw open the back door and barked an order to hurry up. Adam's assailants were already stuffing his sagging body unceremoniously onto the floor of the back seat, scrambling in behind. Abandoning Ximena, the third man ran to yank the front passenger door open, vaulting in even as the back door closed and the driver mashed the accelerator, barely managing to close his own door as the taxi roared away in a cloud of diesel smoke.

Stunned by the suddenness of it, and the blow to her head, Ximena could only insist to herself numbly that this could not possibly be happening, as the first of several would-be rescuers came running up and helped her stagger shakily to her feet. She answered the ensuing flurry of questions as best she could, but her mind seemed all at once benumbed. Only when Humphrey came rushing to join them did her focus return, and she choked back the sob rising up in her throat as she seized his arm.

"Humphrey, call Noel McLeod, before you do anything else," she said in a surprisingly calm voice. "Adam's been kidnapped."

McLeod was sitting at his computer console, working on a routine press release, when his telephone rang. Expecting word that Adam had arrived for their promised meeting, he was surprised to hear Humphrey's voice instead. Surprise yielded to shock when Adam's butler informed him of what had just occurred.

"I'm afraid I can't tell you much more, sir," Humphrey insisted, in response to McLeod's blurted demand for details. "I was waiting around the corner with the car, so I only caught a glimpse of the taxi racing by, just after I heard Dr. Lockhart scream. We've two beat officers here now, and they've called in for support, but Dr. Lockhart instructed me get in touch with you directly."

"Is she all right?"

"She took a nasty fall, and I believe she has a few bruises and abrasions, but she insists that it can wait until she's given her statement. One of the officers is with her now."

"I'll be there as soon as is humanly possible," McLeod assured him, grabbing a pen and pulling a notepad closer. "What's your location?"

Humphrey gave him the address.

"I've got it," McLeod muttered, jotting it down and then copying it a second time onto the bottom half of the paper. "Whatever you do, don't let Dr. Lockhart out of your sight until I can get there. And tell her to try not to worry. We'll find him - no matter what it takes."

A bellow out the door of his office summoned Donald Cochrane on the run. As McLeod tore his note in two and handed half to his aide, he minced no words in acquainting Cochrane with the bare bones of the situation.

"Adam Sinclair's been kidnapped," he said bluntly, as he pulled on his coat. "That's where it happened. They'll call in bigger guns than me to handle this, as soon as the word gets out, but I want to be the one to handle the preliminary investigation. Tell anyone else who wants to know that I'm on my way to the scene."

"Do you want me to drive you, sir?"

"No, I need you to anchor for me at this end. I'll take Gilston. For starters, I want you to notify Adam's mother. She isn't at Strathmourne; she's staying with a Lady Julian Brodie, here in the city. You'll find the address and number in my files, under fi for Brodie."

"Will do," Cochrane agreed, scribbling a notation. "Anything else?"

"Aye, get onto press relations and alert them to what's happened. This won't make the evening papers, but the TV folk will be all over us as soon as word gets out. Tell McDade I'll ring him with an official statement as soon as I know more. Then just stand by."

Knowing he could trust Cochrane to follow through, with no questions asked, McLeod grabbed up his hat and overcoat, collected P. C. Gilston from the outer office, and within minutes was striking out eastwards across the city in a raucous blare of sirens and emergency lights. Three uniformed officers were in attendance when they arrived, two of them protecting the crime scene. The third was taking a statement from one of the men who had tried to come to Ximena's rescue.

"DCI McLeod," the inspector said, displaying his warrant card to the first officer he approached. "Where's Dr. Lock-hart?"

"Over in the squad car, sir."

McLeod was already headed in that direction, for he had spotted Humphrey leaning down to talk to someone sitting inside the car. At the inspector's approach, Humphrey turned, a look of profound relief on his face.

"She says she's all right, sir, but I really think she ought to be checked over," he told McLeod. "She took a couple of nasty whacks to the head."

Ximena was huddled miserably under a tartan rug that McLeod recognized as belonging in the Bentley, which was now double-parked behind the squad car. Her face was very pale, and a bruise was beginning to show on her right cheek.

"Noel, oh thank God!" she exclaimed, sitting up with a start as he opened the back door of the car. "Tell me you know who did this - or rather, tell me you don't know."