Chapter Forty-Three
Kirk
I waste no time, using the momentary distraction to slip away from my hiding place and rush toward the eastern wall of the compound.
Years of free climbing and stunt work have made my muscles respond automatically, finding handholds in the rough stone that most wouldn't notice.
The grappling hook makes a soft thwip as it secures itself to the top of the wall.
I test it with a sharp tug, feeling it catch securely.
Then I glance back to ensure I'm not being watched and begin my ascent, every movement swift but controlled.
This is what I do best---moving through spaces others can't, finding paths where none seem to exist and taking wild chances.
This is all for the greater good this time.
I reach the top of the wall in seconds, pressing myself flat against it as I survey the compound below.
From this vantage point, I can see the inner courtyard, dimly lit and patrolled by two more guards.
Kenny is being held somewhere inside Cairntorran, according to our intel.
I need to climb up to the second floor, east wing, third room from the end of the hallway.
Getting in is the easy part.
"I'm on the wall," I whisper into my comm. "Interior has two visible hostiles. Proceeding to entry point."
I detach the grappling hook and secure it for my descent on the inner side of the wall. As I prepare to drop down, I catch sight of something unexpected---a third guard, previously hidden in the shadows beneath a stone archway. Mhac na galla. The intel was off.
"Update: third hostile identified," I inform the team. "Adjusting approach."
"Abort if necessary," Logan reminds me. "We can try another---"
"No time," I cut him off. "Kenny's been in there too long already."
I monitor the patrol pattern for another minute.
The third guard is on a different rotation than the other two, creating a small window of opportunity when all three will have their backs turned.
It's not much, but it's all I need. I slide down the rope in one fluid motion, my boots touching the ground with barely a whisper.
As I detach the line and flatten myself against the nearest wall, I remind myself to breathe quietly.
The darkness wraps around me like a second skin, a welcome ally in this treacherous game.
My heart pounds, but my hands are steady.
This is what separates professionals from amateurs---the ability to function when your body's screaming at you to run.
The adrenaline sharpens my senses rather than dulling them.
As I track the guards' movements, I count the seconds in my head.
Twenty-three seconds until the next opening. Twenty-two. Twenty-one.
"East entrance is unguarded but likely alarmed," I whisper. "Going in through the servant's window as planned."
Logan's voice crackles in my ear. "Satellite shows heat signatures concentrated in the north wing. Be careful, Kirk."
"Always am," I lie, smirking to myself.
When the count hits zero, I dart across the open space, my footfalls imperceptible on the flagstones.
I had scoped out the manor three days ago, thanks to the intel Thane provided.
I've memorized the entire physical layout of Cairntorran Manor by heart thanks to Keltie's guidance. She is an amazing lass.
Though not as amazing as Gretchen Carver. No one could outdo her.
My voice is barely a whisper as I offer my final statement to everyone through my comm. "About to scale Cairntorran's eastern wall. If I'm not in touch in fifteen minutes, assume Kenny and I are both dead."
The old stone feels cool against my fingertips as I begin my climb, finding purchase in centuries-old mortar cracks.
Cairntorran may be ancient, but its weathered facade is a climber's dream.
I scale the wall with practiced ease thanks to my old friend muscle memory.
I've accomplished similar ascents on film sets and adventure vacations.
The difference is that no safety harness will catch me if I slip tonight.
Now that I'm at the servant's window, I test it gently.
Locked, as expected. I extract a thin metal tool from my belt and work the ancient mechanism with delicate precision.
A satisfying click rewards my efforts, and I ease the window open just enough to slip through it.
The musty scent of old wood fills my nostrils as I drop silently into what appears to be a storage room.
Dust motes dance in the shaft of moonlight from the window.
I pause, letting my eyes adjust to the deeper gloom within.
Though I listen for any unusual noises, I hear none.
There's nothing but the creak of old timber and my own careful breathing.
I check my watch---thirteen minutes to find Kenny and get out. As I move to the door, I press my ear to the weathered wood before easing it open a crack. The corridor beyond is dimly lit by wall sconces that cast more shadows than light. Perfect.
"I'm in," I tell the team through my comm. "Heading to the east wing now."
"Be advised, we've lost visual on the north patrol," Logan says. "They could be anywhere."
"Wonderful," I mumble, slipping into the hallway.
I hug the wall as I move, staying in the deepest shadows.
The floor creaks beneath my weight, and I freeze, holding my breath.
Nothing. No one comes to investigate. I exhale silently and step forward carefully.
The manor's interior is a maze of corridors and rooms, some grand and others utilitarian, all bearing the weight of centuries.
I navigate by memory, counting doorways and turns.
The darkness is both my enemy and my friend, hiding dangers from my sight but concealing me from others.
A voice echoes from somewhere ahead, and I squeeze myself into an alcove, becoming one with the shadow of an ancient suit of armor. Two men pass by but do not notice me.
"The boss wants us to move him at dawn," one gent says. "He doesnae want to risk another night in this rat-infested place."
"Aye, the bastard's more trouble than he's worth," the other replies. "Nearly took Hamish's eye out with that fork."
I suppress a smile. That sounds like Kenny all right, resourceful even when captured.
I wait for the men to disappear around a corner before continuing my path through the manor.
The east wing lies just ahead. I check my watch again---eight minutes left.
I approach the staircase leading to the second floor.
The steps look ancient and treacherous in the dim light.
One wrong move and the whole place will know I'm here.
As I ascend the stairs, I test each one before putting my full weight on it, ascending with painstaking slowness.
Halfway up, a board creaks loudly beneath my foot.
I hesitate, listening intently for any reaction.
When I'm certain no one heard, I continue my journey upward, reaching the second-floor landing.
The hallway stretches out before me, and every door appears to be locked. But I dinnae believe that.
At last, I've found my destination. The third door from the end.
I extract my lock picks again and work swiftly despite the poor light. This lock is older and more substantial than the window's mechanism. But it yields to my persistence after thirty seconds of careful manipulation.
"About to make contact," I whisper into my comm. "Stand by."
I ease the door open, wincing at the slight creak of ancient hinges. The room beyond is dark except for a sliver of moonlight cutting through a narrow window. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust, but then I see him---a figure slumped in a chair, hands bound behind his back.
"Kenny," I whisper, moving swiftly to his side. "It's me. I've come to rescue you."
"About bloody time," the lad says with a smirk. "Can we go now? I'm bloody sick of those eejits."
I cut the ropes that bind him, and Kenny doesnae have any trouble walking, thankfully. Dinnae see any bruises or cuts on him either. The laddie jumps up the second I've freed him.
But I should explain what's about to happen. "Kenny, we need to move fast but keep our footsteps as quiet as possible. Let's go."
The lad follows my lead and does exactly what I told him. We hear voices in another room, but the door is shut, and no one inside hears us. I employ grappling hooks to get over the manor's wall.
And then I turn to Kenny. "Are ye ready for this, laddie?"
"Aye." He grins, his eyes wild with a special sort of excitement that comes only from escaping death. "Been ready since they grabbed me."
"Then let's get the fuck out of here." I secure the rope. "You go first."
Kenny doesn't hesitate, grabbing the rope and rappelling down with surprising skill for someone who's been a captive for days. I rush after him, keeping an eye out for any sign we've been spotted. So far, so good.
"Team, we have the package," I whisper into my comm. "Moving to extraction point alpha."
"Copy that," Logan responds. "Vehicle standing by."
We stick to the shadows, moving across the grounds like ghosts.
Kenny keeps pace beautifully, not making a sound.
I'm impressed. Most civilians would be stumbling around like drunk elephants after an ordeal like his.
Kenny shimmies across the lawn on his belly, just as I told him to do, and we reach the edge of the forest even faster than I'd hoped. But freeing the lad was only phase one.
While Rafe Knight shepherds Kenny back to the staging area, Keltie and Domhnall create a diversion that should buy us the time we need to get clear. I check my watch. We're running ahead of schedule, a bloody miracle in an operation like this.
"Almost there," I whisper to Kenny as we reach the tree line. "Just another hundred meters to the vehicle."
That's when I hear it. The unmistakable sound of an alarm blaring from the manor.
Shite. They've discovered Kenny's empty room faster than expected.
"Run!" I hiss, abandoning stealth for speed.
Kenny races away, already ahead of me. As we sprint through the trees, branches whip our faces, and floodlights suddenly illuminate the grounds behind us. Dogs bark in the distance---another complication the intel didn't mention. Mhac na galla.
"They've got dogs," I shout to Logan through my comm. "They're tracking us with them!"
"Copy that," Logan's voice crackles back. "Extraction vehicle is moving to secondary location. Head to the bridge."
Kenny and I switch direction, veering toward the narrow stone bridge that spans the ravine at the property's edge. My lungs burn as we push harder through the underbrush, the sounds of pursuit growing louder behind us. But soon we begin to hear a familiar sound.
The thwapping of helicopter blades.
Within moments, the noise becomes so loud that I cannae speak to Kenny. So, I gesture for him to stop running. As we swing our gazes upward, I spot the lights coming closer, the noise growing louder. And now, the whirlwind created by the chopper is hovering directly above us.
A lad leans halfway out the chopper and yells through a megaphone, "Loch Fairbairn Police! Did ye ring for a ride, stunt man?"
Bod an Donais. I've never been more relieved to see anyone. "Aye, we'd love a lift!"
The helicopter finally sets down on the grass, and the pilot shuts off its engines. Kenny and I sprint toward it with the shouts of our pursuers growing louder behind us. As we reach the chopper, I push Kenny in inside.
"Go, go, go!" I shout as I slam the door shut, leaving Kenny alone inside the craft.
Well, alone except for the pilots.
My team knows what to do and I can see police cars roaring up the drive just in time. Aye, it's over. Now we need only round up the villains.