Powerstone (33 page)

‘I know that,’ Irene said quietly.

‘So either you are very
optimistic, or you already know where you’ll sell it.’ Drew looked directly at
her. ‘Despite your recent antics, you do not strike me as the overly-stupid
type, so I think you will have a buyer all lined up.’

Irene said nothing.

‘But you are not going to tell me,
which is probably very wise.’ Standing up, Drew made coffee and placed one cup
on either side of the sceptre. ‘But I would like to know if you intend the
sceptre to remain in this country, or if it will be transported abroad?’

Again Irene kept quiet. She sipped
her coffee and shook her head.

‘OK. As you wish. Now listen. I
think you realise that I like you.’ He waited until Irene nodded before
continuing. ‘I also think that you are a rogue, searching for something,
perhaps an anchor to keep you secure.’

Irene could not stop her smile.
‘I’ve never been called a rogue before.’

‘No? Well, you have now. Am I
correct?’

‘Am I a rogue?’ Irene rolled the
syllables around her tongue. She had thought of herself as a businesswoman,
making her way as best she could, or a high-flier, but this new description was
interesting, and not unpleasing. The name conjured up images of loveable
characters from her childhood, people who danced on the edge of the law, rather
than died-in-the-wool criminals, Johnnie Armstrong as opposed to Al Capone.
‘Perhaps I am.’

‘Well then, now that we have both
admitted the fact, we can move on. I would like to get to know you even
better.’

Irene glanced toward the open
bedroom door, where the sheets remained rumpled from the previous night. ‘You
knew me quite well last night, I thought.’

Drew smiled. ‘Parts of you, but
that’s only physical; the real you is buried much deeper inside. As I said, I
would like to know you better, but this thing is a barrier between us.’

Shrugging, Irene shifted the
position of the sceptre so it no longer bisected the table.

‘Exactly. If we can push it aside
permanently, then the problem will disappear. So it is in my best interests to
help you get rid of it.’

‘But you called me a rogue,’ Irene
said. ‘Does it not concern you that I am a thief? And that I was involved in
the death of six people?’

Drew shook his head. ‘Not really.
Did you kill any of them?’

‘No, of course not.’ Irene shook
her head.

‘And, just as important, did you
arrange for any of their deaths?’

Again Irene shook her head.

‘So then, why should a few stray
deaths concern me? One man was a soldier; he died performing his duty. That was
regrettable but every soldier knows that he might be killed. Death is part of a
soldier’s contract. The others were all bad men and women. Your fellow thieves,
I believe, although I suspect that they were less roguish and more pure bad
than you.’

Irene looked away. She thought of
Patrick in happier times, and of Mary driving with great skill, of Desmond’s
joy when he produced the false documents and of
Bryan
laughing over some foolish practical joke. She had never
got to know Stefan, but he had not done her any harm.

‘I don’t know about that.’

‘I do. Trust me.’ Drew sipped at
his coffee. ‘In a way their deaths give you a decided advantage, because they
were the only people who could identify you.’

‘Except you,’ Irene pointed out.

‘Except me,’ Drew agreed. ‘But I
am no threat to you, so long as you are no threat to me. And I know that you do
not carry a gun.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘I’ve been through your possessions,’
he told her frankly. ‘And I’ve seen you in action with these kids this morning.
You were not particularly impressive, so I doubt you are a black belt in karate
or anything. So, we are back to the first point. If we can get rid of the
sceptre, we can get to know each other better.’

‘What if I don’t want to know
you?’ Irene asked.

‘Then I have spent a few days of
my life in the company of a beautiful woman.’ Drew smiled. ‘So can we agree to
trust each other a little bit more?’

Irene drew a deep breath. She
glanced at the sceptre and thought of all that it represented to her life, then
at Drew sitting opposite. She did not have many options. ‘I would love to trust
you,’ she told him, truthfully. ‘But I am not very good at trust.’

‘That’s settled then.’ Drew took
the coffee cups to the sink and washed them out. ‘If you do your best, I’m sure
it will be enough. So, let’s get rid of this thing and take it from there.’

Sunlight from the window glittered
on the silver-gilt shaft of the sceptre and cast short shadows across the
table. Irene looked closer, examining for the first time the beautiful
figurines that decorated the filial. The Virgin and Child reminded her of the
sceptre’s papal origins, while Gothic canopies sheltered
Scotland
’s Saint Andrew and a sombre
looking Saint James. She shook her head, wondering at the small dolphins that
frolicked in seeming mockery on either side of the saints.

‘It is very beautiful,’ Irene
said.

‘And very dangerous. If it is to
remain inside the
UK
there will not be too much of a
problem,’ Drew returned with fresh coffee. ‘We can bundle it into the boot of
the car and drive to wherever your destination may be. We’ll be home and dry
within 24 hours, unless it’s going to one of the islands?’

Irene shook her head. ‘I want to
deliver it out of the country.’

‘More difficult,’ Drew mused. ‘The
Customs are searching every bag and piece of baggage at every airport and ferry
terminal. There are huge delays now, with planes held up and ferries running
around 10 hours late. You’ve caused a great deal of trouble, Miss Rogue.’

Irene nodded. ‘I realise that.’
She was not proud of the impact she had made.

‘Good. Had you thought how to take
it abroad?’

‘When the yacht idea failed, I was
going to wrap it up and post it.’

Drew shook his head. The Royal
Mail is checking every parcel over a certain size, as are the private courier
firms. So you are delaying the mail too; which is a criminal offence, by the
way.’ He looked stern for a minute. ‘You rogue.’

Irene met his smile. ‘The States,’
she said. ‘I want the sceptre to go to the States.’

‘Ah.’ Drew nodded. ‘I wondered
about that, what with you being an American. Any particular part?’

‘Yes, but I’m not saying.’

‘OK.’ Drew did not press the
point. He lifted the sceptre. ‘Heavy little bugger, isn’t it? Imagine; I’m
holding part of the heritage of
Scotland
in my grubby little paws.’

‘Yes,’ Irene said. ‘And if you
help me, you will be taking that heritage out of
Scotland
. Don’t you feel bad about that?’

Drew shook his head. ‘Not even a
little bit,’ he said. ‘You see, I’ve done my bit for my country. I was in the
Guards. An officer, no less, and there was an incident in
Iraq
. The usual; there was a roadside
bomb and one of my men was injured. He lost a leg. The next minute a mob of
Iraqis gathered around and tried to drag him away. We rescued him and sent out
a snatch squad that pulled in the ringleader, but another of my men went a bit
far and kicked the bastard. He was captured by the TV cameras and hung out to
dry.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Court martialled and sent to the
Glasshouse, and that’s a living hell. I was defending officer, but they ordered
me not to defend too vigorously. All PR you see, the British government bowing
to international public opinion and let the poor squaddies suffer. As always.’

Irene nodded. ‘And did you defend
him?’

‘As best I could. Too well in
fact, so I was told not to expect any promotion. Queen and country eh?’ For the
first time in Irene’s experience, Drew dropped his expression of urbane
civility.

‘I see.’ Irene shifted
uncomfortably in her seat. ‘So what did you do?’

‘Sent in my papers. Resigned. I
was an officer, following the orders of the government, which is fair enough,
but not at the expense of my own men. So if that government loses some of its
treasure, why should I care?’ His smile was as infectious as that of Patrick,
but with more depth. ‘Anyway, I fancy you more than I fancy the Prime
Minister.’

Irene nodded. ‘Well, that’s
reassuring.’ Now that she had a handle on Drew, she could understand him a
whole lot better; he would be easier to manage. ‘So you’re not just helping me
because of my pretty face?’

Drew smiled again. ‘Well, that is
one factor, but there is more,’ he said, ‘but this is neither the time nor
place. Let’s work out how to get this thing to wherever you want it to go.’

‘I’ve told you.
America
,’ Irene repeated, ‘and I’m not
saying more than that.’

Drew looked at her. ‘There’s no
need. We can do
America
.’

They both looked around when
somebody knocked loudly at the door.

Edinburgh
and
East Lothian
, July

‘Oh Lord,’ Irene stared at Drew.
‘Who’s that?’

‘No idea,’ Drew shook his head.
Lifting the sceptre, he thrust it behind the television. ‘Probably the man to
read the electric meter.’ His grin was reassuring as he opened the door.

‘Andrew. Just thought I would pop
by to see how things were.’ James Drummond walked in as if he owned the flat.
He removed his cap as he spoke to Irene. ‘Good morning, my dear, I did not
realise my son had company.’ He held out his hand. ‘How do you do?’

Glancing toward the television,
Irene rose and shook hands. She felt sick. ‘Very well, thank you, sir.’

‘Sir?’ Drummond raised his
eyebrows as he studied Irene, taking in everything. ‘I haven’t been called that
for a while.’ Indicating that Irene should sit, he nodded to Drew. ‘She’s far
too good for you, Andrew. Put the kettle on for an old man, won’t you?’

They sat around the table, with
father and son drinking Earl Grey tea and Irene boosting her nerves with Kenyan
coffee.

‘Are you not going to introduce
us?’ Drummond asked, and Drew grinned.

‘Irene, this is my father, Dad,
this is Irene Armstrong from
America
.’

‘
South Carolina
?’ Drummond asked, and nodded when Irene corrected him.

‘Not far off, one state north.’
She smiled, immediately liking this genial old man.

‘My apologies. So what brings you
to
Scotland
?’ Drummond held her eyes. ‘And
don’t tell me that you came solely to see this reprobate.’

‘She’s on holiday,’ Drew replied for
her. ‘But she was caught up in that nonsense in the High Street.’

‘Ah yes,’ Drummond nodded. ‘Nasty
business, yon. You weren’t hurt, were you?’

‘Only shaken up a bit,’ Irene
could see the end of the sceptre protruding from behind the television and shifted
slightly to block Drummond’s view.

‘Not the best introduction to
Scotland
,’ Drummond said. ‘Well, I won’t
keep you two apart for long. I just wanted to ask Andrew if he has considered
my offer.’

Drew shook his head. ‘No, Dad,
regretfully, I must decline.’

Finishing his tea, Drummond rose
quickly from the chair. ‘As you wish. But if you reconsider…’

‘You’ll be the first to know.’
Drew assured him. He escorted his father to the door, watched him descend the
stairs and blew a sigh of relief.

‘That could have been nasty,’
Irene said.

‘It could have been much worse
than you realise,’ Drew told her. ‘The sooner we have your sceptre away the
better.’

* * *

‘How are things?’ Drummond swung
his driver, eying the fairway to check for any unexpected folds of ground.

‘Going steadily.’ Meigle sounded
more confident than he looked. ‘We have narrowed the possible buyers down to
two; an Indian financial wizard and an American tycoon. I have people checking
them out even as we speak.’ He enjoyed bringing Drummond to unfamiliar courses
just to see him fret. Drummond was a man who hated to be defeated in anything,
even a game of golf. Maybe that was the secret of his constant success.

Drummond thrust the tee into the
ground and placed the ball on top. He looked to his left, where Firth of Forth
provided a beautiful backdrop to the course. ‘I hate playing on
East Lothian
links. There’s always that damned
wind.’

‘That’s why I took you here,’ Meigle
told him. ‘Think of it as a challenge.’ He watched as Drummond swung. There was
a neat click and the ball travelled dead straight for two hundred yards, before
kicking onto the rough. ‘Nasty little eddy there. I should have warned you.’ He
swung in turn; aiming to the left so the wind carried his ball directly to the
edge of the green.