Page 4 of Stripped

Chapter 3

The Tower, as it was called, was the compound Alexander McKay used as the headquarters for The Watch. It was named for the tower house that stood at the front of the property. Originally used for military purposes, now it housed offices, the Great Hall and the colonel's personal residence. Wraith drove through the wrought iron gates and down the winding road that took him past it, to the mansion where the agents stayed. The estate was set back in a sheltered glen and sat along a meandering river that fed into the loch. As for now, this was his home and had been for the past eleven months, while he recovered from the bomb blast that crushed his femur and punctured one of his lungs. It was here, he learned that to the rest of the world, Robert McFadden, his former self, had died in an explosion and he was given a new identity, Robert Wraith.

He pulled into the curved drive and parked the car. He was apprehensive to face McKay after the botched assassination attempt and he wasn't sure how his reception would be received. Alexander McKay, the colonel, was the first person he met when he woke up after the bombing which involved Al-Saad, the notorious terrorist and leader of the IWP, Islamic World Power. Al-Saad had taken a personal dislike to the Duchess of Torridon, Ailsa McLennan, an American who married into British nobility, and used her as a rallying cry to gain supporters. The radical extremist had issued several death threats against her and even shot her in the arm during a roadside ambush in the Scottish Highlands. As his threats became more sinister, Robert knew, as her Personal Protection Officer, the only way to end the madness was to take him out. Little did he know then, it would cost him his life or at least the only life he knew. His friend and fellow soldier, Dougal Murray, whom he fought with in the SBS in Afghanistan had given him the phone number to The Watch, telling him to use it if he ever got himself into a situation he knew he wouldn't get out of alive. He had no idea whom he was calling when he dialed the number as he lay dying, crushed under a crumbling building. He had no idea of the implications.

He opened the door to the massive house and made his way to the eastern wing, where his small apartment was located. It was no more than a bedroom and sitting room, but he didn't require anything else. Alex would know he had returned as soon as he crossed through the gates. Wraith would be expected in his office to debrief, but he needed to shower first and collect his thoughts. He was still reeling from the adrenaline of the whole experience but, mostly, from seeing her. Ailsa. He never thought he would look into her dark green eyes again. The ramifications would be numerous if anyone found out he was still alive, but he knew she wouldn't say anything. She was probably as shaken up as he, at seeing him. The spray from the hot water in the shower scalded his skin. He relished the feeling. It was better than the empty numbness he usually felt. For the first time since the fatal attack, he actually felt alive. He turned the water off and dried himself with a towel, the sensation of his blood coursing through his veins, empowering. Tonight, might not have gone as planned but he was alive, and Ailsa was safe. That thought alone would carry him for a while. He put on a pair of navy-blue, wool trousers, tucking a white button-down shirt into the waist and pulled a gray cashmere sweater over his head. The mistake would come at a cost, he thought as he ran a brush through his short brown hair, of that he was certain.

The colonel had extremely high standards for his agents; they were with all due respect to McKay, one of the most elite organizations in the world. The Watch was a secret division of The Black Watch that continued after the regiment was amalgamated into the Royal Regiment of Scotland in 2006. To the rest of the world, the organization didn't exist. As McKay explained to him in the beginning, 'There are those in the world who think they are above punishment, the most powerful criminals, involved in the worst crimes. Sex trafficking, child pornography, drugs and embezzlement, to name a few. They get off with no punishment because they are rich and have connections to members in government and law enforcement. A fair trial would never happen, nor do they deserve one, so The Watch takes care of them. No one is above the exemption of punishment. Like the original Black Watch, we are just employed to rid the world of the most atrocious criminals.'

Wraith closed the door to his suite. The mansion was empty, the halls dark and deserted. Most of the agents would be out on assignments and those who were in residence would have gone into Aberdeen for the night, to enjoy the clubs. He walked the short distance to the tower house. The chill in the air pulled at his lung, forcing him to pause and catch his breath. He took the inhaler he carried out of his pocket and looked at it before putting it away. It had become a crutch. He hated he still suffered from the bombing physically. It made him feel compromised. Broken. Normally, he wouldn't care, but something had changed tonight, and he needed to hold on to the small bit of renewed life he felt. He forced himself to take a deep breath, the scar tissue stretching as pain seared through his chest. It eventually subsided, and he slowly recovered. He entered the stone building and walked down the hall that led to McKay's office and sitting room. Gabriel, one of the other agents, was just coming out.

"You're back," he said. It was a redundant statement, they would know he returned and the assassination was mishandled. "He's waiting for you."

Wraith nodded.

"I was actually coming to get you."

"I needed to shower first," he said. "Gather my thoughts."

"That's understandable. Injured in the line of duty?" Gabriel asked, pointing to his lower lip.

Wraith ran his finger over the swollen spot where Primrose McNeil had bitten him. There was something fiery about the wee lass. He wondered how she was getting on. "Something like that."

Gabriel opened the door, ushering him into the dark office. Mahogany paneling lined the bottom half of the walls, the rest were covered with dark green wallpaper. The room was rich and masculine.

The colonel sat on a brown leather sofa before a fireplace. The smell of burning peat, earthy like ancient moss, filled the air. He stood. "There you are. I thought you might be avoiding me," he said. He was in his mid-sixties, with short gray hair styled in a pristine cut. He had an angular and fit body that was accentuated by the expensive tailored suit he wore. Expectancy laced the office; explanations would be judged as either excuses or failures. The Watch didn't tolerate mistakes. Alex adjusted his tie before sitting down and pointed to a leather side chair. "Have a seat."

Wraith sat down, uncertain how to begin.

"Gabriel, would you pour us some whiskey please?" McKay turned to Wraith. "So, Angus is dead."

"Yes, sir, but I didn't kill him."

"I know. I saw the news. I knew you wouldn't deviate from the plan. What happened?"

"Someone got to him first." He took the glass Gabriel handed him. "I was about to take the shot when someone entered his box and threw him over the rail."

Gabriel sat down beside the colonel, crossing his legs in an elegant fashion. "Did you see who it was?"

Wraith shook his head. "It was no more than a shadow." He went on to explain the events that followed, omitting the part about running into the duke and duchess. He pulled his phone out and brought up the photos he took of Angus on the screen, handing it to Alex. "His neck was broken before he fell."

"Aye," he said as he studied the pictures. "That will be left out of the autopsy report, I'm sure."

"And this man with the owl mask?" Gabriel asked, his voice as smooth as silk.

"I'm sure it's our killer or someone who was involved in the operation." He paused. "Look, I apologize if I messed up the mission—"

"On the contrary," McKay said, interrupting him. "There are a lot of people who would have liked to see McNeil dead. He had many enemies. This might open up an avenue into some of his other nefarious associates. You don't become the head of the opioid black market in western Scotland without ruffling some feathers. Whoever killed him had a reason. They knew his guard would be down." He took a sip of his whiskey, thinking. "You say you had contact with his granddaughter?"

"Yes, briefly. I used her to get down the back stairs of the theater to avoid the crowds. I wanted to get to his body before the police arrived."

"She might be a way in."

"A way in? She's a nineteen-year old lass," Wraith objected. "Spoiled at that, I'm sure."

"She's his only heir. His colleagues and solicitors run his various businesses. There will be a funeral. His killer might be there."

"You're right, Colonel," Gabriel agreed. "We've been trying to infiltrate his inner circle for years. It's been impossible to breach."

---