Legacy of the Highlands (34 page)

Graham’s mouth opened, but no words came
out.

“It was this second Cameron son who visited
my shop today. He was with the dead man’s widow.” Good Christ, his
head hurt. He reached for the flask that Michael had taken from
him, but the younger man slapped his hand and tossed the container
away with enough force to knock over a display of postcards.

“What exactly did this man say? I want to
know every word!”

Mackinnon watched Graham warily. Maybe if he
didn’t speak of it, it wouldn’t be so. But he knew deep in his soul
that it was. Michael and the others had to be warned.

“He knows.”

“He knows what? Damn it to Christ, what does
he know?”

“He knows his brother was murdered and he has
a good idea who did it. He said…he said,” the man had trouble
getting the sinister words out. “He said he wants to watch those
responsible for his kin’s death drawn and quartered the way he saw
it done to William Wallace in that blasted Braveheart film. You
should have seen the way he looked at me, eyes black as coal,
shooting fire like some kind of demon.” Mackinnon shivered as his
voice trailed off.

“Come on, man. Perhaps he has suspicions, but
he can’t be certain unless you were daft enough to...to,” he
sputtered. “You didn’t, did you?” Michael grabbed the sweating man
by the front of his shirt and pulled him to his feet until they
were nose-to-nose. “Did you?” he snarled, shaking Mackinnon hard
enough to make his jowls jiggle, an action that helped the older
man to completely sober up.

“You’ll take your hands off me, Michael
Graham, and you’ll do so now,” he said indignantly. “You may be
running this operation, laddie, but I am still your elder.”

“I was wrong to lay hands on you, but I must
have answers. Start with this man’s name.”

“He said he’s Diego Navarro, the very same
rich and powerful friend of the dead lad who we’d been warned
about. The one I told you about last night and the one I saw
kissing the widow Cameron this morning outside the hotel. He’s from
South America, he said...Argentina to be precise.”

“And are you so easily fooled that you
believe a South American named Navarro is John Cameron’s son? Is it
just that he said so? Perhaps he was spinning a tale to see how
you’d react. Did you think of that, James?”

“If he was lying, the lad should go to
Hollywood. He offered no proof, but neither did I ask for any. I
was too befuddled to think.”

“It could be that the widow Cameron is more
clever than we thought and brought this man here to scare us. Look
at the facts. The investigation by the police in America has come
to naught so it’s natural that the family wants someone to pay for
the lad’s murder. We understand that need for vengeance. It’s what
drove us to do what we did to Cameron’s son.

“Aye,” agreed Mackinnon. “If that gobshite
hadn’t spilled his guts to the blasted English about the scheme to
set off bombs in London, my son would be home with his family
instead of in some stinking prison and my grandson wouldn’t be a
murderer on the run.”

“At least you know young Jamie’s out of
harm’s way.”

“He’s at the next safe house as I told you.
After Mairi’s visit, I was afraid they might somehow be on to him
too, which reminds me…in all of the excitement I almost forgot the
original reason for our meeting today and the news I had for you. I
tell you Michael, my head’s too old for this sort of thing.”

“Nae, James. You’ve had a shock.” Graham
realized he’d have to go easy with the old man to get the rest of
the story.

“Aye, that I have. Two, actually. If you
brought lunch, I think I could eat a bit. Let’s sit in my office.
And grab that bag from the counter. Our visitor obviously cares
nothing for money. He paid for his purchases and then left them
behind. I think the receipt with his credit card information is in
there. Perhaps it will help.”

Serge nodded and tried not to feel smug that
Mackinnon’s own words provided ironclad proof that the youngest
James Mackinnon — grandson of the shopkeeper and son of the
imprisoned bomber — murdered Will Cameron. Any jury would buy it if
illegal wiretaps were allowed into evidence. He had it on tape,
straight from the old man’s mouth.

This indisputable evidence might help Alex
overcome her qualms about the three of them acting as judge, jury
and executioner. They had to convince her that their course of
action was justified. Like Diego, Serge knew that even if the
police tracked down the killer, a smart lawyer might get an
acquittal on some technicality.

Their justice would be simple and direct: an
eye for an eye. Mackinnon’s careless talk had sealed his grandson’s
fate. All Serge needed to discover was the location of the safe
house that Mackinnon had mentioned. He turned his attention back to
the voices coming through his headset.

“When I rang you last night Michael, you’ll remember
I told you that your Mairi came by the house because she felt
slighted by that American bloke she fancies, though he must be
close to your age,” the older man added.

“She’ll not be seeing him again, you can be
sure of that. You said that the lass met some of his friends and
her description made you suspicious enough to look at our photos of
the Cameron woman and Navarro?”

Mackinnon brushed wisps of gray hair off his
forehead and cleared his throat. “Yes, but I had to be sure so this
morning I took it upon myself to sit in my car outside their posh
hotel and who did I see but the man and woman who turned up in my
shop today. And the shameless way those two behaved makes me
believe they’re more than friends if you get my drift.” He waggled
his bushy eyebrows lasciviously.

“You’ve still got the photos of them, aye? I
want a good look at this man who claims to be a Cameron.” Graham
opened the folder and pulled several pictures from the pile. “Our
man in Boston liked to use his camera, I see.”

“I suppose it was his way to prove that he
did the job we paid for,” Mackinnon shrugged. He groaned and
stretched his lower back as he stood next to Graham. “This one is
the widow Cameron, the bonnie Alexandra,” Mackinnon said pointing
to a close up of Alex. “And that handsome devil,” he said, “is
Navarro. Put his next to one of the dead Cameron lad.”

They studied the photos of the purported
brothers. “Both have the same height and body shape, but I don’t
see a great resemblance,” said Mackinnon finally. “Do you believe
they’re related, Michael?”

“Maybe so and maybe no. Brothers don’t always
look alike. What’s important is that this Navarro told you he’s the
dead man’s brother and the widow confirmed it. Navarro obviously
was letting you know that he plans to avenge the lad’s murder
whether they share the same blood or not.”

“And what if it’s true that this man is also
John Cameron’s son? Then what, Michael?”

“It may not matter. We don’t know if
Cameron’s acknowledged this latest son or has feelings for him. We
did away with the son we knew of to punish his father, to rob him
of the person he loved most, not just to end his clan. If he has no
affection for this Navarro, perhaps the debt is settled. On the
other hand, it may be wise to do away with him in case he has a
mind to kill us himself or turn us over to the law. The lad clearly
issued a challenge, after all. And don’t forget that there’s still
a wee chance that the widow is with child and, if so, that
particular Cameron will never see the light of day. Never!”

Mackinnon quaked at hearing the chill in
Graham’s voice. Although he himself had said the same words when
he’d suspected a pregnancy after Alex’s visit to a doctor who
treats female conditions, he knew it had been just blather. He
couldn’t condone hurting a woman or an innocent babe, but he didn’t
know if anyone could stop Michael. The younger man seemed to have
no conscience.

“I’m sure I don’t need to remind you,
Michael, that we gave our word there would be no more violence
unless every one of us agreed. We must talk this over with the
others. Shall I arrange a meeting at the cathedral in Elgin?”

Graham considered the idea. “There’s no time
for that. We must act quickly, before this Navarro and the woman
leave Scotland. A second murder in Boston would be too risky, so if
it’s to be done, it must be here. Set up a conference call for…” he
glanced at his watch, “about eight tonight. Can you arrange that
James?”

“Aye, I’ve done it before. I’ll phone the
others. Will you take the call at home?”

“My house is filled with noise and has too
many big ears within its walls. I’ll come here shortly before
eight.”

“Fine. I’d best go out front and open up
before the constable who walks this street every afternoon comes to
check on me. Mackinnon started around the desk when he spotted the
bag Diego had left behind. “We should have a look inside, Michael.
Who knows, the man’s credit card slip may be of some use. “ When
Mackinnon dumped the books Diego had bought onto the desk, an
envelope slid out. “What’s this? There’s something written on the
outside. I’ll get my spectacles.”

Graham impatiently snatched the envelope from
his friend’s gnarled fingers. “’If you don’t believe me, look
inside,’ it says. Well, let’s have a look, shall we?”

He ripped the envelope and unfolded several
sheets of paper. “Jesus, Mary and Joseph, the lad was telling the
truth. He is John Cameron’s bastard.” Graham waved two sheets of
paper at Mackinnon. “He left copies of one of those scientific DNA
tests and a letter written by Will Cameron that spells it all out
in plain English. That’s proof enough for me.” After a moment’s
pause, his face reddened and he pounded his fist on the desk. “Damn
it to hell! Navarro shares blood with the dead man and something
tells me he’ll not be satisfied until he spills ours. This changes
things.”

Serge had but two choices: to act quickly or walk
away and let the law deal with the murderer and his accomplices.
There was no doubt that his employer would reject the latter, so he
had to devise a plan — and fast. He kicked off his shoes and
stretched out on the floor. He always did his best thinking while
lying on his back, eyes focused trancelike on whatever was directly
overhead.

Three potential plans began to take shape.
Choice number one would eliminate all of the conspirators and with
them any future threat to those he protected. But a pre-emptive
strike on five individuals would take time and coordination. It
would also require a team of operatives and he didn’t want to bring
anyone else in on this. Besides, a bloodbath wouldn’t go unnoticed
and the last thing they needed was to call attention to
themselves.

Or they could deliver the incriminating tapes
to the police and let the law take care of the entire business. The
locals would enjoy taking credit for Serge’s work, but neither he
nor Diego trusted the legal system to carry out the punishment they
had in mind for Will’s assassin.

Or…a third possibility began to swirl around
the edges of his brain. He couldn’t implement it without Diego’s
okay and he hoped that his unpredictable boss was someplace that
had good mobile phone reception.

The radio was blasting through the car’s open windows
as Diego skillfully guided the Mini Cooper out of Inverness and
onto the A9. A breeze that smelled like summer barreled through the
car, making Alex’s hair dance like a whirling Dervish. After the
tense confrontation with Mackinnon, the two of them were content to
simply enjoy the scenery, the music and each other’s company.

After they’d crossed the graceful span of the
Kennock Bridge, Alex lowered the radio’s volume, slid her
sunglasses atop her head and smiled broadly at Diego. “Life is
never dull with you, is it Navarro?” Her innards still bubbled with
an adrenalin-fueled high, but for once it was from excitement
instead of anxiety.

“Oh, God, I hope not. There’s enough time to
be bored after I’m dead,” he replied as he returned the smile. “The
old man was scared shitless, wasn’t he?”

“Yeah, he was. His jowls were shaking like a
turkey neck. I thought he’d have a heart attack when you told him
Will was your brother.” They were both giddy and laughed before
lapsing into silence as the reality of what they’d done, and why,
hit them.

“Serge is going to be pissed,” Diego said as
they sped past the exit for Tullich Muir and continued north.

“Damn right he will be. We did the one thing
he ordered us not to. Are you going to tell him?”

“I won’t have to. He already knows.”

“He knows? How?” Then she remembered the high
tech bugs planted all over the man’s shop and nodded slowly as the
answer became obvious. “Oh, yeah. He knows and we’re in deep
doo-doo.”

“Piles and piles of it,” Diego laughed and
then his smile abruptly disappeared. “I had to see that the man
responsible for Will’s death was only a man, not some mythic figure
that I had to fear.”

“Do you believe he had the nerve to cross
himself and offer me his sympathy? I wanted to strangle him.”

Diego grasped her hand and squeezed. “I swear
you’ll never have to see that man’s face again. We’ve set things in
motion and Serge will figure out how to do the rest. He loves a
challenge and won’t mind what I did once he calms down.”

“But aren’t you afraid that they’ll come
after you now that they know you’re also John Cameron’s son? These
people are murderers. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to
you,” she added in a whisper, her voice cracking with emotion.

Diego took the next turnoff and pulled the
car to the side of the road beside a field dotted with grazing
sheep. He drew her into his arms and they clung to each other.
“Please don’t worry, Alex. No one’s going to hurt either of us.
Shhhh,” he soothed as he stroked her hair.