Page 94 of Promises to Keep

“He’s hidden!”

“Och nae!”

I waited.

A strange man’s voice emitted from my earpiece: “Come and get me, Magnus Campbell.”

James’s voice: “...who the fuck… why are you… on our channel, asshole?”

“I’m your worst—”

His words were cut short with a gun blast.

James’s voice: “...‘Our Worst’ is dead… stables clear.”

I entered the small outbuilding, checked the corners and behind the sacks of grain. “Storeroom clear.”

Then James’s voice: “Fuck!”

Fraoch’s voice: “He’s got James.”

Colonel Quentin’s voice: “Who? Who has... is that him? Northside of stables?”

Fraoch: “Aye, I am blocked.”

Colonel Quentin: “Okay, steady, James, you cool, can you duck?”

James voice, “He’s got me — no I can’t fucking duck!”

Another strange man’s voice: “Drop yer weapons!”

I snuck toward the stable, where I crept tae a position far behind the man who was holding a struggling James. I quietly loaded a fresh magazine.

It smelled of horse and hay, the land around us eerily quiet. I aimed my rifle,steady steady—

A gunshot sounded through my earpiece.

Och nae, who was shot...?

I kept m’sight on the man holding a gun on James,focus.

Fraoch’s voice: “Quentin? Quentin?”

There was nae answer.

Focus, Magnus.

I took the shot, exploding the man’s head against the building, his body slumped tae the ground.

James scrambled up. “I’m good! Thanks! Headed for that last asshole!” He charged around the corner.

I asked intae my radio: “Are ye checkin’ on Quentin, Fraoch?”

“Headed that way!”

I ran tae the last outbuilding, enterin’ rifle first around the doorjamb intae the darkened room, tae see Lady Mairead risin’ unsteadily from behind a cask. She was wearin’ an oversized dirty and ragged sackcloth gown. Her hair was a pale gray fluff around her face. She looked weakened and verra auld.

Her voice wavered, “Magnus? Magnus, ye came?”

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