Cloud Dust: RD-1 (R-D #1)(52)

Past that and below the castle remains lay Edinburgh, which was clouded in a light mist. Fog lay over the water in the distance. I could see a clock tower rising at the side of a tall, stone building below the castle and in between, a dark church spire surrounded by other buildings—many built centuries earlier. The castle walls still standing were built of pale and dark-gray stones intermingled with browns and near-blacks. I wished I could have seen it whole.

Rafe placed himself between me and the edge of the blasted wall. "I don't plan to jump, honey," I mumbled.

"I wouldn't let you," he replied. "Let's go. It's wet and you're cold. Besides, there are other things to do and people to see."

A meeting of guards and employees had been arranged to discuss the rebuilding efforts, memorial services and the theft of the crown jewels. I was there to study the people attending.

Auggie—that one. The young woman in the gray trench on the third row, I sent to him. I'd quickly scanned the crowd after they'd taken their seats. August nodded to me before pulling our guide toward the door for a private discussion. She had no idea what was in store for her.

*

Ilya

"I sneaked her into a private wedding party held at the castle a week before the bombing," she wept. "I thought she cared about me. She visited with me several times in the last four months."

"I believe she led you on," Colonel Hunter said. We sat in a private office near the castle gate while the young woman, identified as Alynne Nicholls, was questioned.

I'd insisted that Corinne wait outside with Dr. Shaw and James—in case the woman didn't cooperate. "This woman was also connected to the thefts in London, when the Tower was breached," Colonel Hunter continued.

"I'm so sorry," fresh tears fell. "I had no idea she wanted to destroy the castle. I love my job here."

That job had already evaporated. "Where is she now? Have you had contact with her?" I demanded.

"No. She broke up with me."

I wanted to curse. I didn't. Mary Evans wasn't above using anything at her disposal to get what she wanted, including emotional attachments with others.

"What information did you get from her—anything personal? Did she say where she was from?"

"She said Amsterdam, but she traveled a lot for her work."

"And what was that?"

"She said she was a magazine photographer. She had a nice camera and equipment."

"I'll bet she did," Alynne's supervisor exploded. "She took f*cking photos of the castle so she could bomb the hell out of it. And you let her, without notifying me or anyone else."

"She gave me this," Alynne pulled a business card from her purse. "I carry it with me all the time."

"Did you ever call this number?" Colonel Hunter examined the business card. It had a name and contact information on it—Denna Philpot with TravelGlobe Magazine.

"Yes, but I always had to leave a message."

"Good. We'll take this. Is there anything else you can tell me about her?"

"She likes Mexican food."

"Favorite restaurants?" I asked.

"The one on Cockburn street—I can't remember the name. She always paid cash. I never saw her use a credit card."

"We'll talk to the staff there, then." I was done with her. She'd be arrested, but I had no idea what would happen to her. It wouldn't hurt to have her watched, however.

"I'll have the President's office communicate with local authorities," Colonel Hunter nodded to Alynne's supervisor. "This woman is likely in danger, just because she spoke with us."

"I'll be waiting for that call," he said. We walked out. I wanted to pull Corinne close—I felt we were being watched but could find no overt evidence of it.

Ilya, I don't feel safe. I heard her message clearly as I walked toward her.

"Get us out of here," I barked at Colonel Hunter while grasping Corinne's hand. The office building blew up behind us as we raced through the door.

*

Corinne

The fifth explosion at the castle was all over the news, but there were only two casualties—Alynne and her supervisor. Our presence in the same building was carefully edited from any newsfeeds, via instructions from London.

Somehow, the bomb had been strategically planted in the lining of Alynne's purse to take care of her if she were caught and questioned. The information we had was quickly transferred to London and then to the U.S., while the source of the bomb was identified. Alynne, who was mostly innocent, would take the blame for everything. That news was already splashed across televisions worldwide.

Copies of the business card was passed to other departments for further study while we piled into Rafe's latest safe house. It only had two bedrooms, so that could pose a problem.

Yes, I was shaky. I hated that, but we'd had too close a call. Neither person in that office knew of the bomb, leaving me mostly blind to its presence. Rafe felt uneasy eventually, just as I did, so he acted quickly, shoving us out the door and onto the stone courtyard, where we were knocked flat from the blast behind us.

"Cabbage, your nose is bloody and there are bruises everywhere," Rafe pointed out when we walked wearily into the safe house.

"You didn't come out of it unscathed," I pointed out. "Nobody did."