"Absolutely not. The more people helping him the better. Please keep him safe, Fergus." I felt like crying then, anticipating the aching loss of the man I loved, but I smiled instead. "Will he be back before I have to leave?" I asked hopefully.
"He said he would," smiled Fergus. "Actually, what he said was that the plane was not to leave until he'd seen you. Delaying a flight just to say goodbye. Angus can be so demanding." More mock despair. I nodded gratefully.
Two hours later I sat on the plane as it shuddered its way into the air. Angus had come to the airport to say goodbye, stunningly good looking in a dark blue shirt open at the throat, and dark trousers. I ignored the bloodstains that I smelled rather than saw on his shoulder, knowing somehow that they weren't his. Blood had become a common occurrence in my life recently, and I'd stopped being shocked by its increasingly frequent appearance. Which in itself was pretty shocking, I guess. But you can't make yourself feel something that you don't, so there was no point in being upset about it. As long as it wasn't Angus', then it was just blood.
I kissed him and he held me and told me he loved me. We stayed like that until eventually Fergus had intervened, saying that the plane had to take off in the next ten minutes or be grounded for the day. He'd then removed a smart phone from the sling which held his injured left arm, and tucked it into my hand. He winked, kissed me on the cheek and disappeared.
"My tracker, little love," Angus had explained. I'd clutched the phone tightly and smiled at him through my tears. At least I'd know where he was. At least I had that.
I watched the houses below become tiny as I thought about my beautiful man putting himself in danger to save my brother. Tears started rolling down my cheeks again as it occurred to me that I may never see either of them again.
Angus
In retrospect it was inevitable that Oliver would have a tank. It was more of an all-terrain armoured vehicle, but still. Typical.
Turns out it was tucked away in the garage at the Colborne residence, a mere half an hour from Letham and that stone fortress that held Mark and the snipers. We decided to check on it after I'd said my goodbyes to Rebecca at the local airport.
Fergus had decided that he would be staying with us in Scotland instead of travelling back to Russia. He maintained that we would need his help getting Mark away from Anne, but I suspected that he was scared he'd miss out on all the action. Fergus wasn't as inherently vicious as I was, but he still liked to play. Apparently the temporary amputation of his left hand that he'd sustained during the fight against Jack's minions was not any kind of deterrent.