Page 35 of Savage Reckoning

I’m already ticking off the list in my head. I’ll need to go back to Northampton and get things moving. As well as bringing myself up to speed on any medical issues, there will be private ambulances to order and consultants to placate. It won’t be straightforward, but I’ve handled trickier situations. Probably.

My clinic on Caraksay is at capacity. I have three patient beds, each now in use for victims of the crash. As well as purchasing a ventilator—fortunately they are in plentiful supply after the surge in demand during Covid—I’ve also hired two agency nurses for a month to enable the round-the-clock care Ethan’s condition requires.

The ventilator is a precaution, but I don’t expect to need it. Ethan’s condition is stable, which is the only reason Mr Renny finally agreed to release him into my care. That and Cristina’s insistence that her husband’s recovery would be massively enhanced if he was in his own home with his family around him. He arrived by helicopter a few hours ago and is now comfortably installed with Cristina at his bedside and a personal nurse to monitor his every breath and twitch.

I remain confident our king will recover. It’s just a question of when.

Magda has been on Caraksay for a couple of days now and is already venturing out of bed. It will be a few weeks before we can pursue the prosthetic she needs, but that will come. She seems stronger every day and in decent spirits, considering.

From a medical point of view, Aaron is my biggest problem. He refuses to remain in bed and spends more time in conference with Jack and the others than he does in my sickbay. I make it a point to do his obs every few hours, but that’s about as much as I can manage and then only with Beth’s support.

As for me, I’m exhausted. I’ve been flying back and forth between then Outer Hebrides and Northamptonshire for the last three days getting everything organised and I wouldn’t need to take my second glove off to count the number of hours’ sleep I’ve had in that time. That needs to change. I take a final circuit of the clinic before telling Cristina and the nurse I’ll be in my cottage if anyone needs me.

I intend to sleep for a week.

When I first arrived on Caraksay, I shared my aunt’s cottage. It got a bit crowded when Janey joined us, too, but we managed. Then, when the clinic was constructed a couple of years ago, I had living quarters built on. Just one bedroom, a living-space-cum-kitchen, and a bathroom, it’s compact but does me fine. I even have a view of the ocean, something I never even thought I wanted until I had it. There’s something incredibly soothing about sitting by my window in a rocking chair I scrounged from Auntie Jacqueline, watching the waves, the seabirds, the seals, and occasional dolphins. And it’s there that just as I finally nod off, I’m jolted back into wakefulness by a loud rapping on my door.

CHAPTER 8

Gabriel

I’ve travelled pretty much all over the world, first in my ‘official’ military career, and more recently in my less formal role. I’ve seen deserts, jungles, frozen wastelands, and lush forests and I’ve fought for my life in all of them. Even so, my first sight of the Savage empire’s Hebridean stronghold takes my breath away.

Remote, rugged, jaw-droppingly beautiful but wild as a cougar, this place is beyond impressive. The chopper circles twice before landing, so I have ample time to take it in, from the majestic castle perched on the highest point to the ancient dwellings scattered about the lower hillsides, to the craggy cliffs and isolated shingle beaches. The place is simply breath-taking.

And impregnable. I can see at once why Ethan Savage located his headquarters here, why he chose this place to raise his family, and why his brother insisted that we regroup here when danger threatened. Caraksay castle has stood tall for centuries and will be here for many more years to come.

It’s isolated, though. Over an hour from the mainland by helicopter, more by boat. I appreciate seclusion as much as the next hired assassin, but even that has its limits.

We land in the forecourt right in front of the main entrance to the castle. I hop down onto the cobbled ground, followed by Jack Morgan, Aaron Savage, Tony Haigh, and the one they all call Rome. The women are already here, having been ordered back to their island stronghold for safety when the threat became real. There’s a welcoming committee already assembled, and each of my companions is soon embracing their wives, girlfriends, children.

There are a surprising number of children. I count four boys aged from perhaps six to around twelve, as well as three much younger ones. An older woman seems to be in control of the youngest children while the boys dart about being alternately hugged and roughed up by the men. It’s impossible to work out who belongs with who, and maybe it doesn’t much matter.

I assume Megan is here somewhere, but she doesn’t turn out to greet us. I quell any disappointment, and rather than standing around like a spare part, I hoist my duffel bag on my shoulder and head for the steps leading up into the fortress itself. I gather this is where I’m to be quartered. I find myself in what I suppose was once the great hall, now a curious combination of conference room, dining space, and basketball court.

A middle-aged woman carrying a huge pile of folded laundry hustles in from a door at the far end. She halts when she sees me.

“Ach, ye’ll be the American, then?”

I suppose she’s speaking in some form of English, but I’ll be damned if I understand a word she says. “Excuse me, ma’am?”

“The American. That’ll be ye, then. Ye’ll be i’ need o’ yer bed an’ a bite tae eat, aye?”

This time I recognise the words ‘bed’ and ‘eat’ and decide this sounds promising. “Yes, ma’am. If you could just—”

“Aye, well, follow me, then.” She bustles past me and starts up the huge central staircase. Halfway up, she pauses to peer back at me. “Well, are ye comin’ or no’? We dinnae have all day tae faff about here, ye ken.”

I catch the gist of her meaning and set off after her.

I’m allocated a room on the first floor. Or would that be better termed a chamber? Despite the outwardly austere appearance of this ancient structure, the accommodations are exceptionally comfortable. A huge four-poster bed dominates the space.

My guide dumps a fresh set of sheets in the middle of it. “I’ll be back tae make up yer bed. Just ye make yersel’ comfy, like…”

The magnificent bed is complemented by sturdy period furniture. I’m no expert, but I recognise old when I see it. And stately.

The stone-flagged floor is strewn with colourful rugs, and the plastered walls are hung with tapestries which I have no doubt are centuries old. Where once candles or oil lamps lit the space, there is now sympathetically designed modern lighting and underfloor heating. The Savages don’t rough it, and neither do their guests.

“This’ll be ye, then,” my guide informs me. “Bathroom’s through there. When ye’re ready, come down tae the kitchen an’ I’ll fix ye something’ tae eat.”

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