Rogue Angel 50: Celtic Fire (19 page)

Chapter 37

Sunrise began somewhere beyond the horizon.

The old man was asleep in the back of the car. He hadn’t caused any trouble all night. Not that she’d expected him to. She’d grilled him after she’d moved the car, finding a tourist lot away from the town with a view looking out over the sea. It had been a frustrating interrogation. The old man wasn’t much of a talker.

“The castle was built after the English defeated Llewellyn, the last true prince of Wales,” Awena said when she saw him stir. “That’s what they called him you know, Llewellyn the Last. Llewellyn, that’s my name.”

“I’d say that was quite a coincidence,” Roux said. He seemed to have aged a decade. It must have been uncomfortable back there all night.

“No coincidence.”

“I didn’t really think it was. Is that what this is all about? Is this why your father spent all of his life looking for the treasures? Because of some misguided notion that you’re descended from Llewellyn the Last and it’s your birthright?”

“You knew my father?” It was the question she’d wanted to ask him ever since she’d read his name in her dad’s book. “How? What were you? Friends? Enemies?”

“I knew him well enough to know he killed a friend of mine to get that sword you’ve been waving about.”

“He wasn’t a killer,” she said, full of anger and doubt. “Not like that friend of yours. Annja Creed drove him off the road and left him to die.”

She turned in her seat to get a better look at him. His face was impassive. Not so much as a flicker of emotion or surprise.

“You already knew that, didn’t you?”

“She told me about the accident.”

“It wasn’t an accident.”

“I suppose not. He was trying to run her off the road. Why do you think he’d do that? Guilt?”

“If she was so innocent, why not just call the police? Why kill him?”

“She didn’t kill him. He died, that’s different.”

She made a face, shaking her head. “You’re playing word games. She ran him off the road. That’s why she’s hidden her car. And that’s why you are lying.”

The old man shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter to me whether you believe me or not. It’s the truth. I’ll let God be my judge.”

She felt like slapping him. An old man with his hands tied behind his back and she still felt like slapping him. That was
nothing
compared with what she wanted to do with the woman. She would make sure that Annja Creed wouldn’t have the opportunity to pluck her sword out of thin air the next time they met. She’d break both of the woman’s arms first if she had to, but Annja Creed was going to pay for what she’d done to her father. But right now, she wanted the Mantle of King Arthur. That was why they’d snuck into the tower. Well, they might have won yesterday’s battle but it was a new day and there was an entire war waiting for her to win. It was time to face them on their level. She needed to wake up.

The phone rang four times before a sleepy voice on the other end answered. “Hello?”

“It’s Awena Llewellyn,” she said.

Silence.

“Not going to say hello? I’m hurt, Annja. I thought we were friends.”

“What do you want?”

“What do I
want?
Oh, that’s an easy question to answer. I thought you’d be much more imaginative than that. I thought you’d already know what I want, but I’ll help you out because that’s the kind of woman I am. I want the Mantle of King Arthur.”

There was a pause. She was using the time to construct a lie. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Is that the best you can do? Denial? Certainly you know what I am talking about, Annja, unless you fell and hit your head on the way down, that is.” Awena waited, still no response. “I saw you climbing the tower last night. So let’s try again—I want the Mantle of King Arthur.”

Annja said nothing. Well, it was harder to find a convincing lie when you’d been caught red-handed. Had she even realized Roux was missing?

“I think you must be mistaken.”

“Oh, seriously, stop wasting time. Why don’t you go and ask Roux what you should do?”

“Roux?”

“You heard me. Why don’t you go and ask your friend what sort of lie you need to tell to get out of this. I’ll wait while you go and check his room. I should warn you he won’t be there, though, just so you’re prepared. Go on, check.”

Awena held on as the silence stretched out until the phone she’d taken from Roux’s pocket started to ring on the dashboard. She answered it. “Do you believe me now?” she said.

“Where is he?”

“He’s safe,” Awena said.

“Where are you?”

“Questions, questions. You really are an annoying woman. Don’t you get it? I’m in charge here. You don’t get to ask things, you don’t get to dictate things. I’m going to tell you what happens now, not the other way around. I want the mantle, you will meet me at the ferry terminal at one o’clock and bring it with you. That’s the price of the old man’s life. I really think you should pay it. I’m not messing around and I’m not the kind of girl who gives people second chances.”

“I can’t give you what I don’t have,” Annja replied.

“Please don’t lie to me. I like to think we’re beyond that now,” Awena said.

“I’m not lying. It wasn’t there.”

“Hmm, that’s a problem, then, isn’t it? Because if you don’t have it with you when you come to the ferry terminal, you won’t see Roux again. It really is as simple as that. And needless to say, get the police involved and the old man dies. Be there at one.” Awena killed the connection before Creed could object. Likewise, with her own phone. She was in control of the situation. She was giving the orders.

The old man remained passive. He hadn’t tried to call out any special message for his companion, and she hadn’t demanded to speak to him or any other sort of proof of life.

Awena didn’t know if she should be troubled by that or not.

Chapter 38

The call had woken her from deep within a dream. Traces of it clung on into wakefulness, but by the end of the conversation she was wide-eyed and anything remotely dreamy was long since gone.

When the line went dead the first thing she did was grab the other phone, but that one was just as dead. The second thing she did was call Garin, but his phone just rang and rang, going to voice mail every time. For a moment she thought he was in trouble, too. She was out of her room and across the corridor hammering on Garin’s door before his final voice mail kicked in.

A very unhappy-looking Garin poked his head around the door. “All right, all right...where’s the fire?”

“Roux has been kidnapped!”

“What do you mean kidnapped?”

It took a while for her to explain everything to him; the words came out in the wrong order, a confused jumble of information, but eventually she managed to tell him everything she knew.

“Well, I guess you were right, then. We should have made sure he was in his room last night,” he said. “So much for the romantic brokenhearted version of this story. Five minutes won’t make a difference. Go, get a shower and get out of your pj’s, because as good as you look in them they’re not really rescue attire. Besides, I’m not exactly dressed,” Garin said, his modesty hidden behind the door.

She realized she was still in her night wear. She nodded. “Five minutes.”

Once she was standing under the hot needles of water she didn’t want to step out of it until the water had washed her guilt away. She should have checked in on Roux. She should have called him or sent him a text at the absolute least. Five minutes wasn’t anywhere near long enough for that. She’d let the man down. They were a team. You don’t leave one of your number unaccounted. Not ever. By the time she had dressed and returned to Garin’s room he’d already ordered breakfast from room service and was working at his laptop.

He looked up. “I’ve got a tracker running on Roux’s phone,” he said. “He’s on the move and best guess is toward Holyhead. Be aware there’s no guarantee that it’s Roux. Llewellyn’s daughter could just as easily have put the phone in someone else’s car and be sending us on a wild-goose chase.”

“That’s assuming she knows you can track it.”

“Even a third grader knows this kind of stuff, Annja. It’s not magic.”

The only relief was that she was heading toward the rendezvous point at the ferry terminal, which suggested Roux was with her.

“Then we’d better get a move on.” In every thriller she’d ever read they’d made a point of saying how it was always better to reach a drop point well ahead of the other person, to get a good knowledge of the points of access and exit and control the scene. Awena was already a good hour ahead of them and time was wasting.

“Eat first. You didn’t eat last night. I can’t remember seeing you eat since we got here. So we’re going nowhere until I know you’ve got some food inside you. No telling when we might get another chance.” Garin lifted the cloth from a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, sausage and fried tomato.

She wanted to argue with him, but this entire thing had always been about being two steps behind the Llewellyns, and without the mantle she and Garin had nothing to trade for Roux’s life.

“So, you’ve met this Llewellyn woman. What’s she like? Apart from dangerously unhinged, that is,” Garin asked.

“You mean is she capable of doing something stupid? Without a doubt. And given the fact we don’t have what she wants, well, stupid seems pretty likely.”

“Meaning we’ve got a couple of hours to come up with some kind of plan to get Roux back.”

“Nothing like a deadline to get the blood flowing and the brain working. So, any ideas?”

“Beyond polishing off this plate of eggs and bacon? Nope.”

“She saw us climbing the tower last night so she knows there are two of us.”

“But she’s hardly likely to recognize me. She only saw me in the dark, and from a distance. That might play in our favor.”

“It’s not a lot.”

“Ah, you say that, but I can work miracles with a bit of gaffer tape and a smile.”

“That sounds like you’re planning on kidnaping her yourself, MacGyver.”

“Well, you did say she was pretty, didn’t you?”

Annja shook her head. “Do women actually fall for your charm?”

“All the time, especially attractive ones. Now, serious question—is she capable of murder?”

Annja didn’t even have to think about it. There was only one answer, and it wasn’t the one he wanted to hear. “Yes. She would have killed me if I hadn’t been able to defend myself against her flaming sword.”

“And Roux can’t draw Joan’s sword from the otherwhere.” Garin looked at the screen of his laptop, deep in thought. “Okay, well, that sharpens our objectives to a single point...we can’t let her get away,” he said. “We need to get that sword from her. Whatever the cost, we’ve got no choice but to pay the price.”

“Even if it kills Roux, you mean.”

“The old bastard’s not going to die,” he said. “He’s too wily and stubborn for that. And he’s been in worse scrapes than this down the years. Don’t write him off. We need to focus on what we can control, not what we can’t. Let Roux take care of himself. He’s been doing it all his life.” It was a good, rousing speech, but Annja wasn’t sure she believed a word of it.

She wasn’t even sure Garin believed it himself.

Chapter 39

Awena bought limp wax-paper-wrapped sandwiches and lukewarm coffee from a mobile catering van parked on the side of the road. Following that she found a secluded spot farther away for them to eat without risking unwanted attention. She’d considered keeping the old man trussed up and feeding him one bite at a time, but if anyone had seen her they’d remember the sight. She had no real option but to cut him free and let him get out of the car to relieve himself.

“Before you get any clever ideas, I’m younger than you and faster. And I’ve got the sword. You can run, but you can’t run far enough. And look around you—there’s no one to see if I cut you down. So let’s be grown-up about this. I get the mantle and no one gets hurt. That’s our endgame here. That’s the resolution that makes everyone happy. So don’t go ruining it by trying to run away.”

“I’m an old man, Awena. I’ve got no intention of running anywhere again in my life.”

“Good.” She felt a twinge of guilt at the sight of his wrists. They were red and raw after being tied for so long, but give him his dues, the old man hadn’t complained once. She looked at him. He seemed to have accepted his fate, whatever it might turn out to be. But that felt too easy. He could just be putting it on, wanting to lull her into a false sense of security while he bided his time, hoping the right moment would arrive. Well, there was going to be no moment. She was in control, and she was smarter than him.

He ate slowly. She couldn’t blame him; as last meals went it wasn’t exactly the height of fine dining. She watched him.

“What will you do when you have Arthur’s mantle?”

“What will I do? Well, the very first thing I will do with it is use it to get revenge,” she said.

“On Annja? She is an innocent in all of this.”

“Innocent?” Awena said, incredulous. “How can she possibly be innocent? By what definition of the word? She
killed
my father. She would have killed me, too.”

“Not Annja. You don’t know her like I do. She isn’t a killer. That’s not who she is. It’s not who you are, either, Awena. Believe me, if Annja Creed had intended to kill you, you’d be dead.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel...what? Like she saved me? Spared me? So I should feel
grateful?
Do you have any idea how powerful this sword is? Do you have any idea what it is capable of?”

“I know that it is perfectly capable of killing old men who have never done anyone any harm.”

“I don’t want to kill you, Roux. I just want what’s mine by rights. I want the mantle. Then you can go.”

“I wasn’t talking about me. I was talking about an old priest who only ever wanted to help people.”

“I told you before that I don’t want to hear your lies. My father didn’t kill anyone,” she insisted. “He wasn’t that kind of man. He would carry spiders out into the field rather than crush them. He
never
hurt anyone in his life.”

But even before the words had left her lips she knew that she was lying to him. Worse still, she was lying to herself. Once upon a fairy-tale time he hadn’t been capable of hurting a fly, but not so long ago, when she was too old to believe in fairy tales, she’d seen him lash out at Geraint, his own son, with the sword and knew he had been capable of much more harm. He hadn’t been able to control himself. So if Roux said that he had killed someone it wasn’t as out of the question as she wanted to believe.

“I saw his body,” the old man said. He didn’t push, didn’t raise his voice, nor did he lower it to manipulate her into believing him. He simply told her his version of events. His truth. “There was an unmistakable burn on the corpse. You know about the burning, don’t you? You know what happens when an heir of the Last wields that sword. So tell me, who else could have done it?”

“It must have been an accident,” she said. “Like when your precious Annja ran him off the road. That was an accident, wasn’t it?” she sneered. “Or maybe it was self-defense? Have you thought about that?”

“It’s possible, of course, but explain to me why he hid the body under a bridge. As you said, why not call an ambulance, why not try and do everything possible to help him, even if he knew that the man was already dead?”

She wanted to lash out and hit him, just to shut him up.

She couldn’t stand to hear what he was saying because it was true and she knew it. Until she’d held the sword herself she couldn’t have imagined herself capable of hurting someone, deliberately hurting someone, but that had changed the moment she wielded the blade against Annja Creed. And that hadn’t been self-defense. She’d planned it. Awena had enticed her to the house with every intention of killing her. And now she had a bigger plan, a plan that would right an even bigger wrong.

So if the blade somehow brought out the killer in her blood, why was it unreasonable to think it had done the same for her father? The answer, of course, was that it wasn’t unreasonable at all.

“Eat up. We’re going.” She produced another plastic tie to restrain him again, and as Roux raised his wrists for them to be bound she saw again the amount of damage that the first restraint had caused to his wrists. They were a bloody mess and only likely to get worse left untreated. She thought about slipping the tie around his ankles instead. That might stop him running away, but it wasn’t likely to stop him getting up to any dirty tricks—and with his hands free it was inevitable he’d make a grab for the sword.

“This’ll hurt,” she said, but she didn’t cinch them as tightly as before. They wouldn’t slip off without him using the blood to work them loose, though, and that would hurt plenty. “Try anything and I’ll pull them so tight they cut through to the bone. Understand?”

He stared back at her, holding her gaze unblinking, then nodded slowly.

Once.

It was enough.

She slid behind the wheel and started the engine. The drive to the ferry terminal in Holyhead wouldn’t take more than half an hour. She wanted to be there as soon as she possibly could, though. Every extra minute there could make all the difference. She’d get to see the lie of the land, for a start. There would be places perfect for ambush and other places made for hiding in. But she was interested in the most public of places. Areas where they’d be at low risk of someone doing something heroic, especially Annja Creed. Places where she wouldn’t be able to pluck a sword from thin air without being captured on security camera and raising a lot of questions she wouldn’t want to answer.

Once Awena had the mantle she wanted to be able to get out of there as quickly as possible. She didn’t care what happened to Roux; she didn’t need to hurt him. Her plan, when it came right down to it, was to slip away unnoticed once she had the mantle in her hands.

And with something capable of turning her invisible to the naked eye, surely that wouldn’t be too much of a challenge....