Rebecca seemed unfazed by losing her escort, but she was clearly upset at having to leave. She tried to put on a brave face, but I could see that she was holding back tears. I hugged her to me and buried my face in her hair, inhaling her scent. She would be safer far from this unfolding disaster. Things were going to get very ugly here, very soon, and I didn't want her to be part of any of it. I knew that she was still a good person, and I didn't want her to see what we were about to unleash. I also knew that having her so far away from me was going to eat at me, her absence a gnawing pain like hunger that I would have to fill with frenetic activity and distraction. God, I would miss her. I started fidgeting as the restlessness built in me.
Fergus stood wordlessly and watched that plane take off.
"She'll be safe there, Angus," he said eventually.
"I know."
"And she doesn't need to know anything of what happens here."
"Thanks, brother. But I'll probably end up telling her about it anyway if she asks. No secrets, no matter what. She's my lady and she deserves the truth."
"Well, stop looking so bloody miserable, and let's get your little brother-in-law back. And kill us some bad guys."
"Right. Did Oliver tell you about his tank?"
"Bloody marvellous. He imported the thing from South Africa a couple of years back. Don't ask me why. But it's got a funny name, means honey badger, apparently. And you know what they say about honey badgers."
"Vicious little buggers, not scared of anything. And they'll bite your nuts off give them half the chance."
"Sound like anyone you know?"
I chuckled. "I'll tell Oliver you said that."
"Oh, I wasn't thinking of Oliver," said Fergus. I laughed.
Brothers.
We drove in companionable silence back to the estate where I'd dropped Oliver earlier. He'd looked pale and tired, and that arm of his hung at an odd angle. The bullet wound was over the right shoulder, and must have shattered a few bones as it tumbled through his body. He would be fine in a couple of hours, but until then he would have to sleep. I hadn't slept for a couple of days, but I'd gone for weeks on end with no sleep in the past, and I knew that for me, sleep was optional, but not a necessity. But Oliver was broken, and the combination of iron and sleep was exactly what he needed to heal.
We left Oliver upstairs asleep while his bones and tissues rebuilt themselves, and Fergus and I sat down in the dining room where he'd set up all his equipment. Our intention had been to plan for the forthcoming extrication of Mark from that seemingly impenetrable stone fortress, but as soon as we pulled up the screen showing Mark's trackers, we froze. They appeared to have been split into two very distinct groups, one of which still blinked at us from the stone building we'd visited earlier. The second, a single marker, appeared to have moved about twenty miles from the other two. Fergus frowned heavily.