The plant extract was a favourite of the best professional assassins, and she had used it successfully on many occasions throughout her career.
Sir Gordon Macrae returned, carrying a tray with a teapot and a few cups and saucers.
As he came into the room, Alessandra could see that he appeared exhausted. He put the tray down on the table behind one of the sofas, and then quickly came around the front and sat down.
"Sorry, I took the stairs from the kitchen too quickly."
"No problem, Sir Gordon. Shall I pour?"
He smiled and nodded. "Would you mind?"
This was perfect for Alessandra. She stood up, walked around the sofa and stood behind him, towering over him.
"The files are on my seat, over there." she said, watching as he turned his attention away from her, and to the documents in her attaché case.
It would only take seconds.
Standing above him, his neck was beautifully exposed. She could see the carotid arteries, inviting her.
Reaching into her pocket, she extracted the syringe.
At that moment, her fingers began to tingle.
Not just a little, but significantly.
It took her completely by surprise. Since her visit to Brother Mathew in the hospital, she had convinced herself, and rejoiced in the belief, that in healing the monk, she had given the Gift back.
That was obviously not the case.
Almost instantly, the tingling sensation became overwhelming. Her fingers fumbled with the syringe, and she lost her grip on it.
It fell from her hand to the floor, behind the sofa.
A million thoughts began to pour through her mind, starting with the clear realisation that the Gift had not left her.
By why now? Why here?
Perhaps there was a reason for it?
Her mind racing, she made the decision to wait for a few moments before despatching him.
From what Sir Gordon had said, they were not expecting anyone.
She was in no hurry.
She had time to explore the situation further.
Bending down, she quickly retrieved the syringe and replaced it into her pocket.
She poured two teas, noting that both cups already had the milk poured.
Walking back around the sofa, she handed him his cup and saucer, and then sat down opposite him.
"As I was driving down, I recalled our conversation from this morning. You mentioned that the sale was a matter of life and death. How so? Before we discuss this matter further, I would like to establish why someone's life is depending upon the sale. Is there anything that the firm of Schwartz and Alderman can do to help prevent someone's death?"
"Don't stand in my way. Allow the sale."
"Whose life are we talking about? Yours?"
The tingling in her fingers was making it difficult to hold her tea cup.
She leant forward and put it on the floor.
"My daughter. Grace. She's dying. She hasn't got long to live, and I'm selling the land so we can take her to America for some revolutionary treatment that may cure her. The NHS have given up on her. This is our last hope..."
--------------------
St. Benedict's Abbey
Fort Augustus
2.30 p.m.
The phone on the Abbott's desk refused to stop ringing, no matter how hard the Abbott tried to ignore it.
It urged him to answer. Implored him to pick it up.
"Hello, is that the Abbott of St. Benedict's?" the male voice enquired.
"Yes, it is I."
"Hello, this is Sir Gordon Macrae, the Laird of the Auchterawe estate."
"Sir Gordon, it's a pleasure to talk with you again! When was the last time we met, ... at the Burn's night at the Castle?"
"I think so. Abbott, please bear with me a moment. I've something rather strange to ask you. I have a young lady here with me now. She urged me to call you, and to ask you to confirm several facts."
"If I can help, I'd be happy to."
"She insists that she has the ability to heal the sick..."
"Alice Brandon?"
"You know her?"
"Very much so. She just cured Brother Matthew. A miracle cure as good as any performed by any of the Apostles."
"Do you trust her?"
"To be honest, I do not know the lady very well. She turned up at the monastery in some distress a few days ago, confused about the Gift of Healing she's been given by God. I explained to her that Brother Matthew was dying. She visited him in hospital and cured him. He's out in the garden, pruning some roses just now...."
"She says she can cure my daughter, Grace."
"If she says she can, I would believe that she could..."
"Thank you. You've been most helpful, Abbott."
The line went dead.
Rather rudely.
--------------------
Auchterawe Castle
3.00 p.m.
It was a simple contract that 'Alice' had drawn up. She had insisted that it was a temporary contract, and that Gavin would provide a more formal one the next day, but given the lack of witnesses to attest to it, it would serve its purpose for now.
In no more than five lines, the contract basically acknowledged the full transfer of ownership of the lands bordering Loch Ness to the Community that existed there currently. The contract would become legally binding as soon as two independent doctors confirmed that his daughter Grace had been healed of the life-threatening illness that was otherwise going to kill her within weeks.
Alessandra had not yet seen or laid hands upon the girl, but she knew with all certainly that she would heal her.
Perhaps everything so far was leading to this moment.
This was going to be the reason that she had come to Loch Ness in search of, as suggested by Young Angus.
When they had both placed their signatures to the document, to ensure Sir Gordon Macrae would fully respect it, Alice Brandon strengthened its binding nature with a threat of her own.
"If you take me to her now, I'll heal her. She'll be well. However, at any point in the future, should you try to outsmart the community and try to re-establish ownership of the land, or find legal means to nullify the contract, I promise you that her illness will return. Swiftly. And she will die within days."
Sir Gordon Macrae stared at her. His body was shaking with excitement, and all he wanted to do now was to go to his daughter and take the woman with him.
Was she a witch?
A healer?
An Apostle?
It didn't matter. He understood the threat, and should this white witch before him actually find a way to heal his daughter, he would have no intention of ever challenging it.
From Alessandra's perspective, she knew that everything would depend upon Macrae's fear of the illness returning.
She would talk to Gavin about a more formal contract, and they would get one, but it would not mention the healing.
Such things were beyond legal jurisdiction.
"I agree, I agree. Shall we go to her now?" Sir Macrae requested excitedly, now looking full of life, the exhaustion seeming to have disappeared.
Alessandra followed the old man out of the room, along several corridors and into a large, bright bedroom.
A double bed occupied the room, and lying sleeping on the bed was a young woman.
When Alessandra left the room ten minutes later, the woman was sitting up, smiling and laughing.
Her father was crying.
--------------------
A few minutes later, Alessandra was driving down the estate road, on the way back to the Loch Ness Hilton with the good news.
As she drove, she pondered the absurdity of what had just happened.
Instead of death, Alessandra had given life.
And the effect on saving the community at Loch Ness would be exactly the same.
Their future was now secure.
Forever.
Chapter 32
Loch Ne
ss
Wednesday
10.30 p.m.
Gavin watched as all the residents of the Loch Ness Hilton gathered around the unlit bonfire they had constructed on the foreshore. As requested, they had all brought with them bottles of alcohol or beverages, something with which to celebrate, if they felt so inclined, once Gavin gave them some good news.
No one, except Alessandra, knew what the announcement was to be about.
Even Lisa, Robert and Sally, who had helped to gather the wood and prepare the fire for lighting, were not aware.
It was a beautiful evening.
The sky was clear. The sunset had been amazing, its beautiful red hues giving delight to any shepherds who may have been watching from the hills.
The air was beautifully warm, equalling any night you might expect to experience in Greece, let alone Scotland.
As the last of the community arrived, Gavin lifted his right hand into the air, waving the contract from the Laird of Auchterawe.
"Hello Everyone! Thanks for coming down so late, to what we hope will be an impromptu, exciting Summer's Party. Spontaneity is never a bad thing, and especially not when we have some really good news to celebrate..."
Alessandra watched on from the other side of the bonfire, maintaining some positive distance from where all the attention was being directed. Taking credit for anything in the real world was something she had never allowed herself to do. Not only was there a fine line between showing off and being proud of one's achievements, but for all of her adult life she had always sought to avoid people's attention, not be the centre of it. Only in the virtual world, where Salvador was King, would she ever bask in the limelight her reputation afforded her.
Nevertheless, as she listened and heard Gavin explain that he was holding a new contract that gave the land to them, in perpetuity, and that it was "Alice that deserves all the credit - she organised it and got the Laird to agree to it and sign it!-", she did allow herself a moment to blush and smile back at everyone who glanced towards her.
The pièce de résistance, however, was when at Gavin's invitation, two figures stepped down from out of the shadows of some nearby trees and walked over: Sir Gordon Macrae and his daughter, Grace.
As promised between Gavin and the Laird, no mention was made of the healing.
She had explained to Gavin what had happened, quite matter-of-factly, but when he had started to make enquiries about the Gift, she had insisted that now was not the time, and they would find the time to discuss it all later.
The Laird had come forward and said a few words, affirming the security of the community, and had then invited his daughter to light the bonfire.
As she strode towards the wood, lit her torch and then used it to set fire to the bonfire, no one could possibly have imagined that only seven-and-a-half hours ago, she was weak and dying, with no hope of seeing out the rest of the summer.
Now the world lay at her feet.
Within seconds the flames had engulfed the assorted collection of wood which they had managed to assemble from the Loch shore, and the festivities had begun.
Even though Alessandra now looked very different from the professional, American Lawyer from New York that had visited the castle earlier that day, she did not want to attract any attention from the Laird, so after catching Gavin's attention, she indicated that she was going for a walk along the beach.
She walked for about ten minutes along the shore, then found a large rock with her name on it, and sat down. She was soon lost in her thoughts, staring out over the loch and reflecting upon the ripples within her own life.
"I didn't know whether to bring red or white..." Gavin's voice interrupted her thoughts.
"So you brought both?" she asked, turning to him and laughing when she found that he was holding two bottles, with a glass on top of each.
She pointed at the red, and he poured them both a glass.
"Cheers!" she said, then leaned across and kissed him gently on the lips before taking her fist sip.
"Bottom's up!" Gavin replied, imitating an English accent, rather dreadfully.
"Perhaps later," she suggested, then returned her attention to the waters of the loch.
"Are you okay?" Gavin asked, sitting down beside her on her stone.
"Yes." She lied. Then wrapped an arm around the inside of his and leant her head on his shoulder.
For a few moments neither of them said anything.
"Is it true that you can sometimes see the Northern Lights from Loch Ness?" she asked.
"Yes. I already have, several times. It's just a matter of luck and getting the right conditions. It isn't something you can predict. Either you're lucky or you're not."
"Like seeing the monster?"
"Exactly."
"And the likelihood of seeing both on the same evening?"
"Nil."
"So, what do you call that then?" she said, pointing out across the water.
For a few precious seconds, she watched as his eyes darted over and across the waters, in search of whatever she was seeing. Then she laughed.
"Just kidding."
When he turned to her, about to give her some form of reprimand, she was waiting.
Her lips found his, and she was forgiven.
--------------------
"I should be angry with you." he announced, when the long, slow, kiss and cuddle came to an end.
"Why?"
"You lied to me?"
"When?"
"You told me you were from Chicago. And you didn't mention anything about being a lawyer from New York whose sole intention in being here was to present the Laird with a legal notice on behalf of your client!"
"You're an idiot, Gavin." She laughed.
"An idiot?"
"Yes. I made that all up, just so that I could get him to agree to meet with me."
"Why?"
"Because you persuaded me, he would refuse to meet with me otherwise..."
"So you concocted a whole cock-and-bull story just so you could get to meet him? So, what were you planning to do when you did?"
"Exactly what I did do. Heal his daughter in return for the land."
"And how did you know about his daughter? I didn't..."
Alessandra turned to him and cupped his face in the palms of her hands.
"Too many questions. Please, leave me a little mystery. Suffice it to say that once I found out about the problem with the eviction, I wanted to help out. The details aren't important."
As she kissed him to shut him up, Alessandra knew that their relationship was already coming to an end.
They were reaching the point of intimacy when attraction spawned caring questions, which were silenced with lies, which then spawned more questions, which in turn spawned more lies.
From now on, the hole she would be digging for herself would be getting deeper and deeper.
She stood up and offered him her hand.
"Come with me. Back to the caravan. We don't have much time. I'm leaving tomorrow to do some more sightseeing and I have an early start."
Gavin hesitated. Alessandra could sense that he was perhaps about to ask why she was leaving again so soon, but he obviously thought better of it.
"How early?"
"That depends upon how much you let me sleep this evening. If at all..."
Standing up, he wrapped her in his arms and together they walked back slowly along the shore, and back to her caravan.
As they stepped inside, Alessandra showed Gavin the sign she had bought from one of the many tourist traps in Fort Augustus earlier that afternoon.
He laughed and waited for her while she hung it on the outside of the door.
She'd made her intentions very clear, and he for one, approved.
The sign read: "Do Not Disturb!"
--------------------
Scotland
Edinburgh Airport
Thursday 1 p.m.
Copernicus smiled at the Border Control officer at Edinburgh Airport a
nd waited patiently for the stupid British security services to admit one of the world's most deadly assassins into their country.
"Welcome, Mr Gladstone. I hope you enjoy your visit to Scotland!" the security officer eventually greeted him, sliding his false passport back over the counter and pressing the button on the desk that allowed the electronic doors behind her to open and admit Copernicus.
He nodded, smiled, and walked into Scotland.
It had been several years since Copernicus's last visit to the UK. Each time he travelled, it was with a different identity. He became a new person, acquiring an identity no longer needed by someone else. Someone who had died, recently.
People like Copernicus thrived upon the fact that some British systems were so antiquated, and so 'secure' that they didn't speak to each other, yet.
A person could be dead on one database, and alive on another. And during the transition period which existed between the different civil servants with their wonderful bowler hats trying to communicate with each other, bad people like Copernicus could run around at will, and do whatever they wanted to.
Of course, it wasn't all plain sailing.
When Britain did something well, it did it very well. They had CCTV. Everywhere. Linked with high-speed connections to MI5, MI6 and local and national police forces. Throw in the growing use of facial-recognition, and machine-to-machine learning, and anyone with a criminal record and previously registered visual features should expect to have a very limited lifetime on UK's streets before feeling a hand upon their shoulder which was attached to the long arm of their law.
Which is why Copernicus had twice had plastic surgery. Allowing him to continue to operate throughout the world at will, Britain included.
His background, his identity, who he really was,... it all meant very little to Copernicus.
His eyes looked outwards, not inwards, and he never paid lasting attention to who he was. If he woke up one morning and didn't like who he had become, he could change himself. Recreate himself. Evolve.
The Assassin's Gift Page 31