Death of an Adept

Returning the salute, Adam made his way over to join them. The two had whisky glasses on the table in front of them, with an untasted third glass set before the one remaining chair.

"I'm glad to see that you two haven't been shy about making yourselves at home,'' Adam remarked. "Is that extra measure of the MacAllan spoken for yet?''

"We've been keeping an eye on it for you," Peregrine said.

"Aye," McLeod agreed with a twinkle. "But it won't go to waste, if you'd prefer an alternative."

"Not at all!" Adam said. "Nothing else would do justice to the company."

He folded himself gracefully into the vacant seat and appropriated the glass in question, lifting it briefly in salute before tasting. As he rolled the whisky's peaty savor to the back of his tongue and swallowed, his gaze lighted upon the colorful assemblage of parcels piled on the floor beside Peregrine's chair. Protruding from the top of one large carrier bag marked Jenners Department Store was a child's costume kit that included a horned helmet, a circular shield, and a large plastic battle-axe.

Amusement tugged at the corners of Adam's expressive mouth as he set down his glass.

"Who's the aspiring Viking in your life?" he asked.

The young artist grinned. "Alexandra Houston," he replied, naming the younger daughter of a clergyman colleague of theirs. "Christopher's been reading her stories from Norse mythology. She's decided she wants to become a shield maiden when she grows up. Or failing that, an opera singer."

Adam chuckled. "There's a noble ambition for you. I'm sorry I won't be here to share in the fun on Christmas morning."

"So am I," Peregrine said, "but I expect your regrets will evaporate pretty quickly, once you get to the States."

"Once he gets past his medical symposium in Houston," McLeod corrected gruffly.

"You make it sound as if I'm going there to fight a dragon, not deliver a paper," Adam said.

"Even if you were," said Peregrine, "it would take more than a titan among all dragons to keep you away from that fair lady of yours. What time is your flight tomorrow?''

"Seven a.m. Once at Heathrow, I've got nearly four hours to kill before the Houston flight - but this time of year, anything less leaves too slender a margin for comfort. And I don't relish the holiday rush."

This observation was attended by a grimace. Flying visits to the States had become an increasingly frequent occurrence for Adam over the past eighteen months, and more than once his travel arrangements had been disrupted by missed connections.

The lure that kept drawing him back to the opposite side of the Atlantic was Dr. Ximena Lockhart, an American surgeon turned trauma specialist, whom he had met two years before whilst undergoing treatment in the otherwise unromantic confines of the emergency room at Edinburgh Royal Infirmary. The mutual interest kindled by that initial encounter had subsequently blossomed into a bright flame.

That flame had remained constant despite the separation forced upon them when Ximena learned that her father had fallen victim to a terminal illness. Though she had gone home to San Francisco to care for him, the strains of time and distance had failed to dampen the ardor of the relationship still growing between her and Adam. In this instance, an invitation to address a gathering of American medical colleagues was providing Adam with a professional excuse for being absent from his Edinburgh practice in order to spend the Christmas holidays with Ximena.

"In some respects, it's going to be an awkward visit," he admitted to Peregrine and McLeod. "I'll finally get to meet Ximena's family, but her father isn't doing well at all."

"What is the latest word on his condition?" Peregrine asked quietly.

"No better than it's ever likely to be, I'm afraid," Adam replied. "Given the original prognosis, it's nothing short of miraculous that he's lasted this long."

"Aye, and one has to wonder whether that's really a mercy," McLeod murmured. "That form of cancer is pretty painful, isn't it?"

"I'm afraid it is," Adam replied. "And he's already lasted six months beyond what his doctors ever expected. Ximena can't even talk about it. I can only imagine that he must have some very powerful, private reasons for wanting to cling to life. I'll be in a better position to form an opinion once we've met face to face."

"I'm frankly surprised that Ximena hasn't introduced the two of you before now," Peregrine said.

Adam shrugged. "I expect it's a reflection of the helplessness she feels as a physician - not being able to help her father when she thinks he needs her most. If I meet him, she has to deal with that helplessness."

"Is that why you've always met elsewhere?" McLeod asked.

Adam nodded. "This is the first time she's consented to let me fly all the way out to the West Coast. I'm given to understand," he added lightly, "that it would be bad form on her part to let me make all the travel concessions - hence, our metropolitan tour of the East Coast."