Death of an Adept

Adam repressed a chuckle. Even in their childhood, Janet had been an inveterate romantic and matchmaker. Over the years since her own marriage, her determination to see him happily wed had never flagged. It was only fitting that she be among the first to learn that her efforts had finally borne fruit, if only by pressuring Adam to keep considering what she regarded as suitable women.

"Well, she appears to have guessed what's going on, unless you told her," he said to his mother with a grin, as he handed the note to Ximena. "But Philippa's right, darling. This is a tailor-made opportunity to make our announcement. We can leave it for a few weeks, though, if you prefer."

Ximena chewed on a sandwich while she read over Janet Fraser's note, smiling as she shook her head. "No, no, we ought to go," she said. "I like the Frasers. Besides, Janet's been very patient with you all these years. She deserves to hear our news from your own lips."

The luggage arrived very shortly. Once Adam had seen it deposited in the bedroom, Ximena declared herself sufficiently fed, and retired. After seeing her settled, Adam returned to the sitting room, where Philippa was lingering over her tea. He closed the door behind him before reclaiming his seat on the settee.

"Before I turn in too," he said to his mother, "is there anything I should be told?"

Philippa levelled her dark gaze at him. "I wish I could say no, but that wouldn't be true. Something did crop up while you were away. And since you've asked, I suppose now's as good a time as any to fill you in."

She refilled his teacup before commencing her account of the incident at Callanish. Adam listened attentively and with growing interest, all travel weariness temporarily banished.

"Initially, Noel expected there'd be a relatively simple explanation," Philippa concluded by way of summation. "You know - college students playing at being Druids, that sort of thing. Even after he and Peregrine went out to the site for a look around, and then consulted with Julian, the three of them were of the opinion that it could keep until you got back.

"Since then, however, two men Noel now believes to have been participants in the bull-slaying have been found dead under circumstances that appear more and more suspicious. It's probably a good thing you decided to come back when you did."

"I'll want to see Peregrine's sketches," Adam said.

"Yes, I thought you would." His mother reached behind her chair to produce a large brown envelope. "There isn't a great deal we can do in the next few days, with you exhausted and the holidays demanding time of everyone else involved. But it wouldn't hurt to give the information to your unconscious, to work on in the background."

Adam took the envelope and removed the stack of sketches, nodding as he shuffled through them superficially.

"I won't argue that," he agreed. "In the meantime, my compliments to the rest of the team for their efforts so far. They appear to have performed admirably in my absence. We'll hope something turns up on this Taliere person. It's occurred to me that Taliere might be a craft name of some sort. Whoever he is, I suspect he may prove the key to understanding this entire operation. If I'm right about that, the sooner we locate him, the better."

Philippa smiled. "If you're right about that, we'll owe a significant debt of gratitude to the inestimable Harry Nimmo."

"We'll owe him more than mere thanks," Adam said with a fleeting smile. "Someone with psychometric talent would be a valuable asset to our resources. I met him briefly during the Cairngorm operation, but Noel hadn't yet taken him on as a student at that time. I'll have a word and see if he can arrange a proper introduction."

"But not tonight," Philippa said archly. "If you're going to see the new year in, you'd better get yourself some sleep."

Smiling, Adam returned the sketches to their envelope, handed it to his mother, and rose.

"I'm on my way without need of a second reminder," he said, bending to press a kiss to her forehead. "Wake me at about half past seven, will you?"

The Frasers' party was scheduled to begin at eight. By a little after nine, when Humphrey drove the Sinclairs through the gates, the affair was already in full swing. The house was ablaze with lights, and both sides of the long driveway were flanked with parked cars, including a dark green Alvis drop-head coupe tucked in just before the crescent that led to the house's entrance. Ximena gave it an admiring glance as Humphrey nosed the Range Rover in behind a Mercedes limousine just disgorging its passengers.

"Very nice!" she commented.

"Which, the Merc or the Alvis?" Adam said over his shoulder, from beside Humphrey.

"The Alvis, of course!" she replied. "I'll take a classic car any day. It reminds me that I'll want to get my Morgan out of mothballs."