Artifact (27 page)

The storm that had been teasing us with cold winds finally broke that night. I sat alone in the car as the rain beat down on the windows.

One of the items in Lane’s new bag had been a warmer coat for me, much more appropriate for the Scottish weather than anything I had brought for the summertime trip. I was still chilled, but at least my teeth weren’t chattering.

Since Lane and I were wanted by the police, Rupert was the only one who could safely reveal himself at the inn. Even more importantly, someone in that inn thought they had killed Rupert, so they should have some sort of reaction when they saw him alive.

Lane didn’t trust Rupert at all, so he wanted to be there, too. I didn’t trust Rupert’s health, so I agreed Lane should be there to help Rupert with the murderer.

We couldn’t tell this to Rupert, of course, so Lane made up an excuse to go off with his friend in Aberdeen to get some more help, when in truth he would be applying his disguise and appearing back at the inn as a traveler at the same time Rupert went to the inn.

I was waiting in the car a short distance away. It had been close to an hour. What was taking so long?

We decided the best time to go would be around dinner, so everyone would be gathered together. But that time was long past now. Where
were
they?

I was almost fed up enough to walk over to the inn myself, taking whatever consequences came with that decision, when I heard a noise. It wasn’t the storm. It was a branch breaking under a foot. I jerked my head around, unsure of which direction the noise had come from. It was impossible to see anything through the storm.

The passenger-side door yanked open. Before I could move, a man lunged into the car and pulled the door shut.

The unfamiliar, dark features came close to my face as he grabbed me and wrapped his hands around my arms. The grip was tight. I shifted my lower body and lifted up my left foot to bring it down on that of the attacker. Before I struck, I realized I knew the touch of those long fingers.

“Where is he?” a familiar voice asked frantically. “And why wasn’t your door locked? There’s a murderer on the loose, you know.”

I looked into his face and didn’t recognize Lane except for his touch and the sound of his undisguised voice. It was especially dark that night with the rain falling steadily, but I could see the outline of his features, and it didn’t seem possible that this was the shape of his face. Even the scent of his breath was different.

“What do you mean
where is he
?” I asked, in shock.

“Your ex,” Lane said.

“Rupert’s at the inn. Why aren’t you?”

“No, he’s not. That’s where I’ve been. He never came inside.”

“That can’t be.”

Lane swore.

“Where did you leave him?” he asked. “And when?”

“Almost an hour ago, right here. I saw him walking toward the inn.”

“But not going inside?”

“I closed the car door before he got all the way there. The rain was coming down sideways.”

Lane ran his fingers through his wet—now brown and frightfully curly—hair, and I got a better look at his face. It was rounder, less angular, than the face I knew. And his eyebrows…they were bushier. In place of his usual glasses he wore circular wire-rimmed spectacles. He noticed me staring.

“Later,” he said.

I looked away from his face so I could focus on the matter at hand. My gaze wandered to his midsection, which was somehow different as well.

“I don’t know how anyone could have gotten him,” I said.

“That’s what worries me. I think he couldn’t face them. He ran.”

A fist banged on the window next to Lane. He covered my mouth with his hand before I could make a sound.

The knock came again.

Lane motioned for me to stay quiet, then rolled down the window of the car.

“All right?” said a Scottish voice coming from Lane’s mouth. “Right fierce storm.”

“Ye’ve no need to pretend to me,” Angus said.

“Surely I don’t know what ye—”

“Ach,” Angus said. “There’s no time for that, man! I mean ye no harm. Somethin’ is amiss.” He pulled open the door behind Lane.

“Wot are ye—” Scottish Lane asked.

“Ach,” Angus said again, slipping into the back seat “The others cannae see. No one
looks
, do they? It’s in the eyes.”

I wondered if it was the first time Lane had ever been found out. And by an eccentric old man, no less.

“Evenin’, Miss Jones,” Angus said, leaning over the seat to see me. A flash of lightning lit up the sky, illuminating his grave face.

“What’s wrong, Angus?” I asked. A clap of thunder sounded, and the rain beat down against the car more furiously.

“Is nae right.”

“What are you talking about?” I asked. I almost had to yell to be heard over the torrent.

“Didnae yer gentleman notice when he was in the pub?”

“I wasn’t sure if it was only my imagination,” Lane said. “I was most concerned about watching out for your ex through the front door.”

“Wait, Angus,
did
Rupert go inside?” I asked.

“Rupert?” Angus repeated, pausing from adjusting his rain-soaked coat collar. “The young man who went ‘n crashed his car?”

“The crash injured him,” I said. “But didn’t kill him.”

“Aye,” Angus said slowly, comprehension dawning on him. “No, I havnae seen the boy.”

“You’re talking about how tense the mood was?” Lane said. “I felt it, too. Malcolm and Derwin didn’t seem to pay attention to anyone else, huddled over some charts to figure out how to remove their stone.”

“Their obsession,” Angus said, shaking his head. “When a man is dead, and the two of them is still there calmly talkin’ on and on about gettin’ at their Pictish stones in the ground. Is nae right. Is nae right at all.”

I stared at Angus.

“What did you say?” I asked.

“Wot did I say?” Angus asked, startled, looking over at Lane.

“You said the two of them,” I said, answering my own question. “
Their
obsession, not
his
obsession.”

“Aye,” said Angus.

“Jaya,” Lane said, “we don’t have time to stand around debating theories with Angus right now. It’s more important that we find your ex.” He turned to Angus. “He was with us tonight, but he’s missing. And I don’t think he ran off. I think I know where he went.”

“I’m not wasting time theorizing,” I said. “We were right about the motive, but not the
person
. Derwin is just as obsessed. He’s the one who was spying on people who weren’t where they were supposed to be on the dig. The blinding lights we saw. It was his binoculars. He’s been watching us. And remember he was so concerned about sealing off the cave? That wasn’t so he could prevent someone else finding a treasure he wanted for himself. He was worried the dig wouldn’t be stable if someone was digging in the cave underneath it. Derwin killed Knox and tried to kill Rupert to protect the dig.”

“Wot are ye sittin’ here fer?” Angus said. “Yer friend is in danger. Stay here, Miss Jones. We’ll be back.”

I was too startled to disobey. The sound of the rain filled my ears as they opened the door and jumped out, slamming it behind them. This time I remembered to lock the door.

Sitting alone as the torrential downpour surrounded me, I felt the car sway beneath me. Lightning flashed again, leaving me exposed to whoever might be watching.

In less time than I would have thought possible, they were back. I unlocked the door and they piled in.

“Derwin is gone,” Lane said.

“But you said he was there when you were in the pub,” I said.

“He was,” Lane said. “But he’s not in the pub now, and he’s not in his room.”

“Where’s he gone?” I asked

“To check on his obsession,” Angus said. “On this of all nights, it might not be safe. He’ll need to be sure.”

“And your ex has gone to get the treasure,” Lane said. “If Derwin finds him…button your coat, Jones. We’re going out there.”

Angus was spry, and also well prepared. He had his own flashlight in his jacket pocket, which he no doubt used when he and Fergus walked the long path home on stormy nights. In spite of the harsh rain, he kept even pace with Lane, with me a few steps behind them in my inappropriate shoes for the slippery path, as they hurried to the site of the dig—and the tree with the treasure buried beneath. The frequent lightning helped our search for the path—if not our nerves—and we found our way.

I was out of breath and soaking wet by the time we came upon the site. Not a soul was in view. But a small tarp had been sloppily erected, and the tree had been massacred. Lane swore. Angus followed suit. Loose earth had been dug up from around the roots of the tree in an attempt to gain access beneath them. The digging was haphazard, but had not gone far. A trowel lay at the edge of the tarp a few feet from the tree. Lane went over to it.

“Dunnae touch it!” Angus shouted. “Cannae ye see there’s blood?”

Lane stopped before he picked up the bloody trowel. Under the edge of the tarp, the rain hadn’t been able to wash away a liquid thicker than water visible on the base of the tool. It wasn’t the pointy edge, though. Thank God it wasn’t the pointy edge.

“There’s naebody,” Angus said. “Wot’s been done?”

“I think Rupert tried to dig up a treasure,” I said, looking frantically around while I spoke. “Right here under this tree, and Derwin found him and tried to stop him.”

Lane looked down over the side of the cliff near the steep walkway.

“He didn’t kill him here with the trowel,” Lane said.

“The tide,” Angus said. “He’s goin’ to set him out in the tide.”

Lane and I stared at Angus.

“He’s supposed to be dead in the sea already,” Angus said sagely.

“Oh God, he’s right,” I said. “His car went over a cliff and they thought he was dead because they never found the body but his car was on the rocks. If Derwin means to kill him for real, then he’ll want to make it look like the way Rupert was thought to have died.”

“We won’t be able to sneak up on him,” Lane said. “Even in the storm, they’ll see us coming.”

“Not if ye follow me,” Angus said, a wicked smile on his face.

Of course. He knew about the hidden path where Lane had seen the
bean nighe
.

Angus led us south a few yards to a path we hadn’t noticed before. It was indeed the hidden path that Rupert had previously used to evade us. It was easy to miss, and difficult to traverse, especially in the rain. I didn’t want to go barefoot, but it wasn’t going to be easy to climb down in my heels. Lane took my hand.

“Stay with me,” he said.

Instead of following the path all the way down along the rocks to the edge of the sea, Angus led us down to where the rocks met the cliff’s edge. As I stepped forward, my foot gave way, slipping on the rock. Lane’s hand still held mine. He pulled me back and set me on my feet.

Angus looked back at us. I could see him more clearly now. The storm was letting up. We continued on.

We were still heading downward, though our movements were more up and down as we silently scrambled across the rock formation. Angus held up his hand once we had reached a flat spot directly above the entrances to the cave. Lane and I stopped in our tracks.

The rain stopped. The only sound was the crashing sea.

Angus motioned for us to move forward, and we stopped even with him, near the edge of the small landing above the cave.

We had come down so far that we were almost at sea level. The rocks below us were being swallowed by the lapping tide, and I slowly made my way toward the edge. They came into view right below us.

I saw Rupert first. He was lying on a rock, being splashed by the sea water. A red gash was visible on the side of his head.

He wasn’t moving.

I rushed forward without thinking, but Angus pulled me back. Yet I had gone forward enough to catch a glimpse of Derwin standing on a rock next to Rupert. The sea was crashing loudly enough that he hadn’t heard us.

“Lane,” I hissed. “You’re the hero. Don’t you have a gun or something we can use to stop him?”

“I don’t use guns. They get you into more trouble than they’re worth.”

“Thanks a lot, MacGyver.”

I wrenched my arm out of Angus’s grasp and crawled to the very end the ledge. My hair whipped around me as I looked over the edge. Derwin was close. Only a few feet below me. He stood on a rock much higher than the one Rupert was on. I swung my legs around so they were hanging over the side. Derwin still hadn’t seen me, and the roaring waves muffled our movements. He was standing in the doorway of the second opening to the cave, looking between Rupert and the opening, so that no one on his level could sneak up on him.

“Don’t do it, Jones,” Lane’s voice whispered into my ear.

Neither of them would ever let me act if I hesitated and gave them time to stop me. I needed to do it now.

I jumped.

I landed right behind Derwin, bending my knees to cushion the jump. It actually worked. There was no hiding my presence any more, but I had a couple seconds of confusion in which to act. I hadn’t counted on the fact that my legs were momentarily unsteady from the big leap. As I tried to steady myself, I saw something I hadn’t noticed before. Derwin was holding a sharp metal hook in his hand.

I wasn’t the only one who had seen the weapon. Lane jumped down on the other side of Derwin, pulling Derwin’s attention away from me. It was a gallant effort. If the rock he landed on hadn’t been slick from the rain, and if he hadn’t been wearing so much extra weight in the padding of his disguise, he might have been even more effective by landing upright. As Derwin turned to face Lane’s fallen form, his arm flew up and I saw the metal gleam. I had only a second to act.

My first kick hit Derwin’s thigh, and he cried out in pain. With my adrenaline so high I hadn’t been aware of how hard I had kicked him.

When I drew my leg back, my foot pulled loose of my shoe. The heel was stuck in Derwin’s leg.

He bent over in pain. Balancing on the ball of my now-bare foot, I swung my other foot around and clipped him in the cheek, slicing the tip of my remaining heel across the fleshy part of his face like a knife. A red line of blood spread out and ran down his face, and he staggered to the edge of the rock.

Toward me.

“You’ve ruined everything!” he yelled. “Why? Why didn’t you let me stop them? You said you understood. You understood that what I was doing wasn’t easy. But it was right.”

His voice made me shiver. He lunged at me with the hook. The motion of his attack brought back the jiu-jitsu class drills of my youth. I jumped away, and from the unexpected angle I was able to pull his weight onto my shoulder from behind. Because of the center of gravity, the move is one of the few things easier for a short person than a tall one. Barely feeling his weight, my body lifted his. His tall form rolled over my shoulder and flipped onto the hard rock below.

As he hit the ground, the sharp hook fell from his grasp and landed a few feet away. Derwin was conscious but stunned. He groped around in a daze. As he grasped for the hook, he slid on the slick surface and slipped off the edge of the rock.

I thought I heard him yell, but the sound was swallowed up by a wave. Lane was standing now, and rushed forward toward the spot where Derwin had gone over the edge. I ran over to where Rupert had lain.

He wasn’t there.

It was this rock, wasn’t it?

I stepped forward, dreading seeing Rupert underwater on another rock that was now swallowed up by the tide.

Two figures came into view. Angus had heaved Rupert onto a different rock on higher ground. They were both soaking wet with sea water.

Rupert moaned.

“He needs to be taken to hospital,” Angus said.

“Derwin needs to go, too,” Lane said, out of breath, coming up behind me.

“Did I—”

“No,” Lane said. “He fell onto a sharp rock below. But he’s alive.”

Lane looked at me earnestly. I had the strangest foreboding.

“Can you two manage—?” he began.

“Go, man!” Angus said, more quickly than I could get a word in. “We’ll met ye at the hospital, looking like yerself. Ye might bring an extra pair of shoes for Miss Jones. I dunnae think she’ll be wantin’ these.”