The Rose Conspiracy (10 page)

After hanging up the phone, all Blackstone could do was shake his head in disbelief. He was being sandbagged. He didn't mind the typical dash to trial…the frantic search for exculpatory evidence…mounting a defense against the government's unlimited resources and manpower. In fact, J.D. Blackstone usually exulted in that kind of race.

What he didn't like was having to run it in a gunnysack.

But there was another thought he had. And it wasn't about the notepad.

Ever since putting Tully Tullinger on the tail of the tan Taurus that had been following him, he had stopped checking his rearview mirror. But that morning, on the way to the office, he happened to catch a glimpse of the Taurus a few car lengths behind him again.

He dialed Tully, who picked up on the fourth ring. Blackstone wanted a status report.

“I was intending to put this in a written report,” Tully said.

“Forget that,” Blackstone said. “Give me a verbal. Who's the tail?”

“Guy named Howard Mercer,” Tully replied. “He works for G & B Investigations, headquartered in New York. They are a national private-investigation firm. Mercer is the PI who heads up the DC branch. I know him a little. So I found out where he eats breakfast every morning and ‘accidentally' on purpose sat next to him at the counter. Did some small talk. Asked him if he had any interesting cases lately—that sort of thing. He clammed up, paid his bill, and scooted out of there so fast you'd think I'd just asked him to pick up my tab.”

“You didn't leave it there, did you?”

“Come on, J.D. you know me better than that. Course not. But just don't ask me how I came upon the information I came upon, if you know what I mean.”

“So?”

“He made a series of international phone calls after every other tail of you, like clockwork, always to the same number.”

“Where?”

“A number in the greater London area.”

“Whose number?”

“Last name of Dee…does it ring a bell?”

“Yeah—like the hunchback up in the bell tower.”

“I sort of figured you already had a handle on this,” Tully said. “See, you take all the fun out. So you want me to keep tracking him?”

“No. I'll take it from here,” Blackstone said.

After hanging up, Blackstone located the number Vinnie had given him for Lord Dee. Then he called it. It was early evening over in London.

As before, Dee's personal secretary, Colin Reading, answered.

“I need to speak to Lord Dee,” Blackstone insisted. “Right away.”

“I'm sorry,” Reading replied stiffly, “Lord Dee is rather engaged at the moment. Is there anything I can help you with?”

“You can tell Lord Dee that I know all about Howard Mercer and G & B Investigations, who he hired to shadow me. You tell him that. And then remind him that if he wants me to help Vinnie Archmont he is going to have to deal with me directly. No personal secretaries. No backstairs staff. I want Lord Dee personally.”

Less than an hour later, Blackstone's cell phone rang as he was preparing to head home for the night.

“Lord Dee has an opening,” Reading announced coldly. “Day after tomorrow.”

“Shall I call him, or vice-versa?” Blackstone asked.

“Oh, no—Lord Dee won't be on the telephone. He wants to meet you in person. Fly into Heathrow. Lord Dee's personal driver will pick you up. I'll give you my private e-mail address, and you can e-mail me your itinerary. We'll make all the other arrangements for you for a night's stay at Lord Dee's estate in Wessex.”

Blackstone made a quick call to his travel agent to line up the flight. Then Julia poked her head in his office.

“You never told me what Dr. Coglin found out about the notepad,” she said.

“No, I didn't,” he said with a scowl. “And it looks like I won't.”

Julia gave him a puzzled look.

“The Court granted a government motion barring me from divulging Dr. Coglin's findings to anybody.”

“That's pretty over the top.”

“I'm still stewing over that one. I also found out who hired the guy who's been shadowing me.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. His Strangeness, Lord Dee of Mysticville,” Blackstone griped.

“You're kidding. The guy who's footing the legal bill.”

“I am flying out tomorrow night to England, for a meeting the following day with Dee. He's putting me up at one of his castles. Then we talk. Which is good, because I've got a burning question for him.”

“Like?”

“Simple question,” Blackstone said with a wry smile. “Like…how are you with metaphysical riddles, m'Lord?”

CHAPTER 15

J
.D. Blackstone was standing in the swarm of international humanity at Heathrow Airport's baggage claim area. Elbowing in around him were hundreds of Europeans, Pakistanis, a South Korean tour group, and pockets of business travelers, backpackers, and students on vacation. After craning his neck, he finally spotted a man in a black suit, tie, and cap holding a sign with his name on it. He grabbed his overnight bag and briefcase and headed over.

“Teddy Darrow,” the driver announced with a smile and took Blackstone's bags. Then he added, “I'm the chauffeur for Lord Dee. But I'm picking you up today.”

“I hope that doesn't mean that your boss is stuck having to use a bicycle,” Blackstone remarked.

Teddy laughed and assured him that Lord Dee had several other drivers on call. He walked Blackstone outside to a double-parked black-and-silver Bentley. It was a special edition limo with a glass partition. In the backseat Blackstone found that day's editions of the London
Times
and
The Scotsman
and a bottle of sparkling water, a glass, a bucket of ice, and a few slices of lime.

On the ride to Lord Dee's manor estate, a several-hour ride from Heathrow, Blackstone was thinking back on his attempt to connect with Vinnie before his flight. He had called her both at her home and her studio but got no answer. He wanted to let her know he would be meeting with Dee, and whether she had any more background on her “mentor” that she needed to tell him. But Vinnie didn't pick up at either number.

During the ride, Blackstone glanced again over the file of clippings Julia had supplied him on Lord Magister Dee. Clearly, this was a man of eccentricities. He had sponsored several global conferences on Theosophy, a religious philosophy officially founded in the late 1800s, but which claimed to have ties to ancient Eastern mysticism. As a belief system, it stressed the inner spiritual powers of human potential and the brotherhood of man. Dee had delivered the keynote addresses at some of the conferences, and had spoken at several conventions of world religions. But he hadn't published any of his theories. Several of the articles had mentioned his high-ranking status among the Freemasons, but no details were given.

For some reason, none of the research Julia had produced contained a recent photo of Lord Dee. Blackstone regretted that. He often found that the appearance of a person was a key to some of their most important personality quirks. Blackstone would have to assess Lord Dee on a first-impression basis when he met him.

It was late afternoon when the Bentley pulled up at the front gates of Lord Dee's estate. The limo stopped in front of a large, black-iron gate that had the words
Mortland Manor
inscribed in large letters across the top. Teddy made a call on his cell phone, and momentarily, the gates swung open. The sun was lying low and reflected in vibrant colors across a small lake on the side of the road as the car slowly motored through the grounds. The main entrance road wound through thick, gloomy woods, and then up through a rocky incline and finally into a clearing. That is when he saw the manor house off in the distance.

Mortland Manor, the name of Dee's estate home, was more castle than mansion house. It was surrounded by vast, winding gardens and precisely manicured hedges. The structure itself was a huge, tan, stone edifice, with peaked towers on the right and left, and a mammoth three-story house connecting them in the middle. Blackstone counted ten chimneys.

The Bentley pulled into a sweeping circular drive and stopped at the main entrance in front of a massive black oak door with two hoop door knockers the circumference of volleyballs. Before Blackstone could slide out of the limo, a butler and a manservant opened both front doors, and then stepped down to greet their visitor. Then they took his briefcase and bag.

“Good day, Professor Blackstone,” the butler said. “Come this way, everything is prepared for you.”

They led him through a large foyer with black-and-white checkered marble floors, and then into a larger great room with a massive stone fireplace. On each side there were two winding staircases. He was led upstairs to a bedroom just off the top floor landing. Blackstone tossed his bag and briefcase onto the canopy bed.

“May I bring you anything before dinner?” the butler asked.

Blackstone said he was fine.

“Dinner is in an hour,” the butler announced. “In the conservatory on the first floor. Lord Dee requests formal attire for dining. We've taken the liberty of furnishing some evening wear for you. You will find it in your closet.”

When dinner approached, Blackstone donned the black silk evening jacket, bow tie, and striped pants that were in the closet. They fit him perfectly.

He walked down the staircase to the first floor and strolled around on the way to the conservatory. There were several large glass display cases containing collections of various kinds, just outside a huge library with floor-to-ceiling shelves.

He looked into one of the glass cabinets, and found a variety of small stuffed wildlife. In another, he saw a collection of fossils and skeletons of various woodland animals, including what appeared to be a two-headed otter. In yet another, he saw a glass box, with gold gilded corners, that contained a large chunk of crystal.

But his concentration was broken by a voice.

“Good evening, Professor Blackstone,” someone behind him announced in a rich, powerful baritone.

He turned, and found himself face-to-face with Lord Magister Dee.

His appearance was remarkable. A man in his early fifties, thick-shouldered and a little stout, Dee had a full, flowing beard that ended at his throat and long hair, rock-star length, that came down to his shoulders. His hands were tucked in the front pockets of his purple velvet jacket. Dee pulled out a hand to shake Blackstone's, and gave a powerful grip that was just short of crushing.

“Admiring my collections, I see,” Dee remarked, then led the way down the hall that led to the conservatory. “Though in actuality, they are not mine. Not really,” he said as they walked toward the garden room where they would be dining.

As they entered the conservatory where the staff was standing at attention next to the dining table, Lord Dee turned to address Blackstone.

Then Lord Dee pointed back in the direction of the glass museum case in the hallway from which they had just come.

“You should know,” he said solemnly, “that those oddities of nature were collected by someone else…someone whose shoes I am hardly worthy to untie.”

CHAPTER 16