Page 56 of Savage Redemption

“In Spanish?” His expression is one of bafflement. “But how would she know to use Spanish?”

“Exactly. I’ll be needing a word with that young lady.”

“Want me to find her?”

“No, not yet. She’ll keep. Right now, I need to get on to the fire investigation team, see how quick they can get someone out here. Even if it was an accident, and I tend to think it was, I still need to know how it happened.”

Caseyand the fire investigator arrive within minutes of each other. I barely have time to hug my sister, coo over her toddler, my niece, Roisin, and shake hands with my brother-in-law before the second helicopter appears on the horizon.

I give Casey a quick briefing. “His name’s Carlos di Santo, and he’s still unconscious in our clinic, though Megan says he’s improving. She expects him to come round sometime today. He showed up here masquerading as a builder, but I gather he’s some sort of businessman really. Well, business savvy enough to be able to set up a convincing bogus deal. No idea why he’s roughing it as a hod carrier, but that’s where you come in. Dig deep, I want to know everything you can tell me about Carlos di Santo.” I deliberately don’t mention a possible connection to my other guest, I prefer to give Casey a blank canvas.

She and Ged disappear into the castle just as the fire inspector’s chopper begins its descent. The man is aptly named. Mr Herbert Burnside. I wait for our second visitor on the castle forecourt, Jake at my side.

A portly man of perhaps forty or forty-five hops down lugging a large leather case behind him and pauses to take inhis surroundings with an expression suggesting he’s less than impressed. “Bleak place,” he observes, pulling his woolly scarf more tightly around his neck. “Do you even have running water out here?”

“Yes. Plenty of it.” I bristle. The man is a Philistine if he can’t recognise the raw beauty of my island. The less time he has to spend here, the better. I suspect he agrees. “We’ll show you the site of the fire and leave you to it.”

“Right. Let’s be getting on, then.”

On the short walk down to the clifftop I fill him in on the accounts provided by witnesses.

“I’ll be needing to speak to them myself, obviously.”

“Obviously. Jake, here, is one of them, but I’ll make sure the others are available. How long will you need to be here, Mr Burnside?”

He shoots me a withering glare intended to put me in my place. “I’ll be here for as long as it takes, Mr Savage.”

Jake tenses, and I return the inspector’s scowl. I daresay he’d be missed if I were to simply shoot him. And I do need his expertise. Best to cooperate and get this over with. “Apart from the witnesses and examining the site, what else is involved?”

His chest puffs up, and he turns to regard me. “It’s my job to determine the cause and origin of the fire. I’ll be needing to assess the scene, document what I see, collect evidence, assess the data, and prepare a detailed report. It can’t be rushed. If I need more technical equipment or specialist input, that all adds to the process.”

“Technical equipment?” I query.

“Infrared cameras, for example. Or chemical analysis of samples. Do you have a floor plan of the building? That would save time.”

“I’ll get one to you by the end of the morning.” We arrive at the ruined cottage, just the blackened shell remaining. “Well, I’lllet you be getting on, then. Jake, here, will stay and answer any questions you may have. If you need anything, just ask him.”

Burnside dumps his bag on the ground and retrieves a large torch, a hard hat, and a hand-held dictating machine. “Single-story residential property,” he intones into the gadget. “Four casualties, no fatalities. Yet.” He drags on sturdy steel-toe-capped boots and stomps off through the gaping cottage door, still spouting his observations into the machine.

I nod to Jake. “He’s a prat, but just do your best,” I mutter, then begin the hike back up to the castle.

Casey

I leaveJed and Roisin in the main hall where the other younger children of Caraksay are having a noisy time riding trikes round on the ancient flagstones. My daughter makes a beeline for Sebastian, a few months older than she is, and tries to shove him off his little three-wheeler by way of showing her affection for her cousin. A furious argument ensues. I leave Jed to deal with it.

My IT ‘lab’ on the first floor is more or less as I left it last time I was here. I have an apprentice, young Frankie, and he spends a lot of time in here when he’s on the island. But Ethan insisted he complete his education and somehow managed to get him a place at university. He’s away most of the term, leaving my domain empty.

I wander round, firing up processors, keyboards, monitors, and modems. I intend to run several programs at once to spread the workload and speed up the process. The familiar hum grounds me as all my equipment comes to life.

I have a similar facility in our New York apartment. I suppose I could have simply transferred all my kit over there, but thatwould feel like losing my foothold here on Caraksay, and I’m not ready to do that yet, if ever. And, of course, there’s Frankie. So, I maintain both locations.

I shove a pile of Frankie’s gaming magazines off the seat of my favourite chair and wheel it over to the workbench. Settling in, I crack my knuckles then launch the first of my specialist scanning programs.

“Hey, I saw you arrive. Can I come in?”

I swing round to see none other but the redoubtable Professor Eva Byrne in the doorway.

I resist the urge to curtsey. “Feel free.” I wave my arm in the direction of the one other seat in the room. “Pull up a pew.”

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