Chapter 20
20
Monday, 3:50 p.m.
“ S amantha.”
“I’m still up here,” her voice came immediately. “Plotting.”
Rick topped the attic stairs, the framed map in his arms. “I think,” he said slowly, turning the frame to face her, “it worked.”
Standing from the little office area she’d dug out for herself in the attic, she moved around a stack of antiques. “So this is the pesky little map that’s caused so much trouble,” she mused, swiping her hair behind an ear as she bent down. “Can I get a better look at it?”
He put it front side up over a chest of drawers. “Yes, but didn’t you hear the part where I said it worked? They went for the money.”
“I did.” Samantha pulled that large, folded paper from her pocket and laid it down next to the old piece. She’d drawn her own map, he realized. Apparently from the clues she’d picked up from a dozen different sources. Was it necessary to see if her version was accurate? No, not really. But she more than likely wanted to know how close she’d been to the original.
“Do keep in mind that this old thing is costing me a million dollars,” he returned, a bit miffed.
“Yeah.”
Given that the maps had been drawn nearly two-hundred-fifty years apart, she’d been pretty much spot on. The old map was actually a little rougher than hers and not quite to scale, but that had probably been intentional. As he looked at the old map now, he was surprised it had taken him as long as it had to figure it out. If he hadn’t grown up knowing the legends and the countryside, it would have been much more difficult. She’d managed it, though, and in a fraction of the time it had taken him at fifteen.
“How good a look did Reggie get at this when you were kids?” she asked.
“A pretty good look. We had it turned upside down, though. I happened to look at my tracing of it the right way up while I was out walking around the village, and it just kind of…made sense.”
She nodded. “You’re a good chess player, too. You see patterns.”
“Thank you.” He felt a little like he was being placated, but he could live with that. Lowering the frame to rest it against the bureau, he eyed his cat burglar. “There is a chance they’ve sincerely given up the hunt, you know.”
That made her look up. “They’re just spending the afternoon rolling around on all their cash, then?”
“I wrote them a check. Probably not quite as fun, but I suppose they could be rolling on it.”
“Did you give ‘em the speech? And have ‘em sign the paper?”
Richard frowned. “I’m not an amateur, you know. I hit all the highlights: that I don’t want all that publicity up here; that the past should remain in the past; that even if there was something to find, they were in way beyond their depth; that a million would more than likely put any so-called treasure to shame, that by signing their names they were agreeing to take the money in exchange for the treasure. Everything but double-dog daring them to go behind my back. I’m not sure it wasn’t entrapment.”
“Better they decide to go behind your back now than in six months.”
“True enough.” It hadn’t been pleasant, though. “If Reg doesn’t take that bait, I suppose we can be fairly sure the treasure is safe.” Reg used to have a modicum of common sense. It would be a pleasant surprise if his cousin used it today.
“Mm hm.” Samantha picked up her walkie-talkie. “Stoney, anything?”
“I was just about to call you,” her fence’s voice came back immediately. “The cousin and the Viking just left the house. Told Yule it was to take a walk and see the snow before it melts. The village knows. They’re keeping an eye on them.”
“Did they tell you they were heading out?” she asked Rick.
“No, they did not.” Dammit . “How is it you were so certain?”
Samantha shrugged. “I’ve spent lots of time with people who’re never satisfied with what they have and who always think they can get a better deal. And no, I don’t mean you.”
“I should hope not.”
“Nope. You drive a hard bargain, but you stick with the decision. That’s why when guys like Kigomo cheat, it ticks you off.”
That actually made him sound rather upstanding. He could live with that. “What’s next, then?”
“Plan A. Or A point five, because I was hoping the weather would keep them inside until tomorrow. You go catch up to them, be in a good mood because you won, and keep them away from the village for at least an hour.”
“And what will you be doing, pray tell?”
Half turning, she kicked her heel into the framed map, breaking the glass. “Me?” she said, her mind clearly already spinning different scenarios. “I’ll be negotiating.”
He caught her arm as she retrieved the map, folding it along its old creases. “You’re the one who pointed out how seriously the villagers will see this.”
“This is what I’m good at, Rick. Let me do it. Just keep them off the road long enough that I can get past them.”
“Not alone.” His grip on her arm tightened. “I’d risk bringing the eyes of the world up here before I’d risk you.”
She blinked as if she’d needed the reminder that the risks she took affected him. “I’ll take Stoney.”
“And Tom.”
“I am n—”
“And Tom,” he stated again. On that point, he had no intention of budging. She might know how to deal with people who had things to hide, people who’d stepped across the street to the wrong side of the law, but Tom knew about negotiation and legality. He also had a hell of a right hook if it came down to that.
She blew out her breath. “Fine. Get going. Do you have your walkie?” She pulled it from his pocket and handed it to him. “Channel five. That’s just you, me, and Stoney. The village is on seven, and everybody in the house is on three.”
Reluctantly he released her arm. “Be careful.”
With a swift kiss she grabbed up all the maps and headed downstairs. “You, too.”
He didn’t have much to be careful about, since he had the boring, pedestrian task of getting in the way of Reg and Miss Nyland, but he understood why it needed to be him. His coat and gloves waited in the foyer, and he pulled them on as Yule found him a scarf.
“It’s a bit late for ye to be going out, m’laird,” the butler observed.
“I’m trying to track down my cousin,” Richard returned, very conscious of the fact that whatever he told Yule would make its way down to the village. “I wanted his opinion on upgrading the stable and making it a bit more useful.”
“Ah. Last I saw, he and his lass were headed along the road down to the village. They left but five minutes ago. I’d imagine ye can catch ‘em up without much trouble.”
“Thank you, Yule.”
It had definitely gotten colder as the sun drifted lower in the sky. Whatever half-melted snow still lay on the ground would freeze into ice overnight. That would make driving a problem, but the helicopter shouldn’t have any difficulty when it arrived at noon. He wouldn’t have minded Tom remaining longer, but Walter Barstone needed to go.
Settling into a slow jog along the road, he caught up to Reg and Eerika just past the third curve. “There you are,” he said, slowing as he reached them.
He caught the end of Reg’s stifled frown as his cousin turned around. “What, am I to sign a promise to leave Scotland now? Couldn’t that wait until we returned to the house?”
“The equipment drivers will be back tomorrow,” he returned, biting down against his immediate urge to return sarcasm with even more blistering sarcasm. “I wanted your opinion on something before they got started. Come take a look at the stable with me before it gets dark.”
Richard intentionally worded his statement as a demand rather than a request, but even so he wasn’t certain whether it would work or not. He caught Eerika elbowing Reg, but pretended not to notice since his cousin fell into step beside him.
“This is not good timing,” Reg muttered. “We’re trying to figure out how to use an extra million dollars when we’re not permitted to name the source.”
“You’re sharing it with her, then?” Richard returned in the same tone, as he left the road to take the more direct route back to the house. Samantha and her two-man crew needed to get past them down to the village. “You’re that certain she’ll stick around even without Booty Queen ? That she’s a…keeper? That’s how you worded it with Samantha, isn’t it?”
“I’m sharing it in the sense that I’ll do some traveling and maybe fuck her on half a dozen different continents. Maybe she can turn that into a show.”
Richard caught a whisper of movement off to his right, but he kept his attention on Reg and their whispered conversation. Samantha hadn’t wasted any time. He assumed she meant to move the loot before Reg and Eerika could discover it, but he wasn’t certain how or why that would discourage them from searching further. But he trusted her, and so he would go along with it. For now. “That’s your plan, then?” he said aloud. “Take the funds you could be investing and waste them on mojitos and vibrating beds?”
“I haven’t decided yet. What do you want to do with the bloody stable?”
“It’s a stable.” Richard paused, trying to decide what the hell he did want to do with the building. They hadn’t planned out this part. He could improvise, he supposed. “I’ll likely be spending more time here at Canniebrae. That means vehicles and horses. I want a building that will fit with the house, but also does everything a stable, garage, planting shed, and storage shed does, and also has at least temporary space for a construction overseer and whatever supplies we’ll need for restoring the west wing that can’t be exposed to a Highlands winter.”
“You’re going to have to make it a great deal larger than it is now,” Reg commented, actually taking a look at the building in question.
For the next forty minutes they discussed building materials, how to separate the animals safely from the machinery, windows, heating systems, and paving the old carriage way. It almost felt like the old days, before he’d informed Uncle Rowland that while he didn’t mind suggestions, he would not tolerate being “managed”. Back when he and Reg had still been close.
He’d missed this, he realized, even knowing now that his cousin more than likely meant to go behind his back the second he turned around, and that he wasn’t having a genuine conversation as much as he was stalling for time. Eerika didn’t seem interested in any of it, instead hanging well behind them and checking her watch or her phone every two minutes. Part of him hoped he actually had just interrupted a stroll through the woods. Even that part of him, though, wasn’t willing to bet on it.
At the same time, Samantha’s assessment that he’d monetized his relationship with his only cousin continued to push at him. Richard took a breath. “Do you like selling cars?”
“What the bloody hell do you care?” Reg shot back at him, defensive all over again.
“Because you’re very good at reading between the lines. I could use you, I think, if you want to give it a try. I need a scout in London, someone to keep an eye on up-and-coming businesses and those that aren’t being utilized to their full potential. Lots of chatting people up and being charming, dinners, drinks, that sort of thing.”
Reg tilted his head. “Are you serious? Why bother? You’ve already bought me off.”
“It’s not charity,” Richard cut in. “This is my business, and I think you know by now how seriously I view it. I think you’d be good at it. If it…improves our relationship, I will consider that a bonus.”
The younger man actually looked down at his shoes. Was it guilt over what was he and the Viking were in the midst of plotting? A genuine thoughtful moment? Richard kept a close eye on him. If this actually stopped the treasure nonsense, that would be a second additional bonus. Mostly, though, Samantha had been correct. He needed to stop looking back at who’d wronged him or thought differently than he did and start looking forward at what he wanted for his life. In his life.
“I…might consider it, Rick. I’d like to think about it, first.”
Richard nodded. “I’m on holiday, anyway. We can talk before you leave.”
“Certainly.”
Finally, the Viking moved forward. “Reginald, I’m getting cold. And you promised me dinner in the village.”
“My apologies,” Reg said immediately, stepping away from the rear of the stable. “I lost track of time.”
“It’s getting dark,” Richard put in, making one last move to keep them close by, or to maybe convince them to change their minds. “Wouldn’t you rather I have Rob bring the jeep around for you?”
“No,” Miss Nyland countered. “We prefer to walk.”
“You know, the jeep might be a good idea, my dear. Otherwise we’ll have to walk back up the hill in the dark.”
She stomped one foot, and it nearly went out from under her. “Fine. Yes, we’ll take the jeep. Let’s be off, then.”
“I hope there are no hard feelings, Eerika.” Richard started around the side of the stable, whistling for Rob as he went. “No doubt Reg filled your head with fanciful tales of jewels and gold. It’s far more likely, if there was a cache somewhere, that it would have been silks and sweets and the occasional reticule. People riding in carriages to parties didn’t exactly carry all their riches with them.”
“Then why is this non-existent cache worth a million dollars?” she returned. “You being a sharp-eyed businessman and all.”
The gloves seemed to be coming off. That was fine with him. He’d put up with far too much shit from his relations over the past few days than he would have ever done before Samantha. Before he answered her, Rob appeared and Richard sent him to fetch the jeep.
Then he faced Miss Nyland again. “It’s not worth it. By my way of thinking, my cousin has for no apparent reason become obsessed with a treasure map from when he was fourteen. I’ve therefore given him a sum hopefully large enough to assist him in whatever it was that sent him looking for the treasure in the first place. And you might consider the downward path of Geraldo Rivera’s career after he opened an empty treasure vault, then maybe be a little more grateful to me for saving the two of you from that. Any other questions?”
“No,” Reg broke in, frowning. “No more questions.”
“I still want to go to dinner in the village,” Miss Nyland said stiffly, her chin lifted. “Let’s go now, Reginald.”
For a bare second Richard thought his cousin might resist, might grow a conscience or a spine, as Sam would say. With a twitch of his cheek, though, Reg nodded. “Thanks for the loan of the jeep. We’ll be back later.”
“I’m not your nanny. Watch the first turn. It’s slippery.”
They rounded the corner, heading for the wide stable door at the front of the building. Richard stayed where he was, swearing a nearly soundless, cloudy blast of warm air. The two of them weren’t just going for dinner at The Bonny Lass. He’d be a fool to believe otherwise.
He pulled the walkie-talkie from his pocket and switched it to channel three. “They’re getting in the jeep now,” he said quietly. “Where do you want me?”
“In the house, where we all are,” Samantha returned immediately, sounding a little breathless. “Yule knows what’s up. We’re all there, and we’re having dinner as usual. Got it?”
Richard frowned at the black box in his hand. “Yes, dear,” he returned.
“Sorry. In a hurry. You’ll have to stall your aunt and uncle now, so they don’t start wondering where we are. Love you.”
Well, at least she had time to say that. At the sound of a vehicle starting and then heading down the drive, he returned to the front of the stable. With every fiber of his being he wanted to charge down to the village and help. Instead he’d been elected to be the “everything’s normal” guy. He couldn’t see what was happening, didn’t know what was going on, and if/when everyone returned he would have to play along and hope for the best.
This was one gig, as Samantha called it, that he really wanted to be a part of. On the other hand, if anything went wrong he was precisely the person he wanted available to swoop in and perform a rescue.
While Rick went to delay his cousin, Samantha ran downstairs. “Stoney,” she said into the radio, gathering up a couple of flashlights, “get your coat. I need you downstairs. Now.”
“Roger that,” his voice returned briskly.
She skidded into the old portrait gallery. “Grab a trowel or shovel if you can find one, too.”
“Ten-four.”
“Is this an all-thieves-on-deck drill?” Donner asked, turning from his perusal of a suit of armor.
“Thieves and lawyers,” she countered. “Rick wants you to help me. It’s not a drill. Meet me in the foyer. Dress warm.”
She really could have used a little more time to finesse this plan, but it was what it was. Tactical supply-wise she didn’t have much that would be useful, but most of this was going to depend on other people, anyway.
“I need Yule in the foyer,” she yelled to no one in particular, hoping the house’s secret walkie-talkie network would come through for her.
The butler reached the foot of the stairs just as she did. “Did you need me, Miss Sam?”
“Yes. Okay, here goes. There’s a ninety-nine percent probability right now that Reg and Eerika are going after Will Dawkin’s treasure horde. They’ve seen the old map. They think it’s somewhere in a cave behind The Bonny Lass, and if they don’t find it there, they’ll never give up.” Stoney and then Donner arrived behind her, but she kept talking.
“The three of us here are heading down to St. Andrew’s, and I need you to trust me. We’re on your side. I need a look at the treasure, and I’ll need some help getting a few crappy pieces back into the original cave and making it look undisturbed. We have about an hour. Got it?”
Yule’s craggy face had gone more gray than usual, and he kind of looked like a magician whose secret-hiding curtain had just fallen down. “I…I’m nae certain why ye’ve told me all this, lass.”
“Because I need you to radio whoever’s in charge at the village and let them know we’re on our way. Your secret is safe with us, Yule. Let me help you keep it that way.” She pulled open the door herself, shrugging into her coat as she did so.
“The…radio? I dunnae ken what—”
“I know how you’re talking to each other and to the village, Yule. It’s genius. But this is important. We’re going down there whether you help us or not. Rick feels like part of this is his fault, and so we’re helping make it right. Come on, guys.”
“I – I’ll see to it, Miss Sam.”
It didn’t surprise her that Stoney fell in right behind her, because whether he approved of her becoming a goody two-shoes or not, he was family. She had to give the lawyer some credit, too, because he didn’t hesitate either.
“If Yule can’t convince the village guys, they may just be waiting for us with torches and pitchforks,” Stoney noted.
Rick’s voice drifted to her from somewhere just ahead, and she veered left into the trees. “Keep low, and no talking,” she whispered.
Hosting a “how to be a thief” seminar hadn’t been on her agenda for today, but this would be for nothing if Reggie and Norway realized what was going on. Donner was nearly Rick’s height and wasn’t crouched nearly low enough, but on the other hand Stoney was wearing a bright blue coat. So far they were both in the C-minus range.
When they’d put a couple of dips and rises between them and Rick, she straightened again, accelerating into a fast trot. “Let’s hoof it, team.”
“How far is…the village?” Stoney panted.
“About a mile. I told you to get more exercise.”
“At least it’s downhill most of the way,” Donner put in.
“You got the gist of what I was telling Yule, didn’t you?” she asked both of them.
“Yep,” Stoney said. That made sense; he was pretty familiar with her methods even if this was a rescue rather than a grab.
“I think so. Not quite sure I…get it all, though.”
Great. The lawyer was running out of steam, too. This was definitely the D-Team. But Rick was busy keeping Boris and Natasha off her back. “We’ll have to play it by ear. I don’t know how cooperative they’re willing to be. It would be easier if I just slipped in and did this on my own, but I don’t know how the village will react to those two snooping around, especially when their goal is to make a really big deal out of it.”
Just threatening Reggie and Norway might be easier still, but all it would take would be a phone call to the authorities, or to the Viking’s producer friend about locals hiding a national treasure, and everything would change – and not for the better. Hopefully the villagers would realize that as well.
Yule had definitely communicated something, because a dozen big-ass Highlanders stood in front of the church when she and her panting cohorts slipped out of the woods. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Sam, that’s Donner, and this is Stoney. What did Yule tell you?”
“I’m Father Michael,” the smallest of the big men offered. “What Yule said didnae make much sense, so ye’ll have to tell us directly, I’m afraid.”
She nodded. “I can do that. Can we head into the church while I’m talking? We don’t have much time.”
Jamie MacCafferty, the owner of The Bonny Lass, stepped in front of her. “I reckon we’ll talk right here. Because I’m nae in favor of letting that rich fancy man take what’s ours. Or letting ye get a look at it, for that matter. We had a deal with Addison.”
And this was why she preferred to work alone. “Over the past month Reggie Addison has convinced himself that his cousin Rick found Will Dawkin’s treasure map, and that finding the treasure will make him and his girlfriend rich and famous. He got his hands on the map even after Rick hid it from him, and in an hour or so he’ll be down here to claim it all for himself.”
“He’ll nae find it.”
“I know. Because you moved it to the church after Rick tracked it down. But there’ve been too many arguments and lies. If he doesn’t find what he expects, he may just call the authorities out of spite and let them see what they can turn up. I think you know what that’ll mean.”
That caused some grumbling, most of it in Gaelic – one of the languages she didn’t speak. If she and Rick ended up spending more time here, she would have to remedy that.
“What’s yer idea then, lass? Just hand it all over and hope he keeps his gobber shut about where it came from? I’m nae willing to give our future over to some pretty London boy who already has gold coming out of his arse.”
“I’m not willing to have you give it up, either. Let me look at the stash. While I’m doing that, some of you will need to open up the old cave behind The Bonny Lass. We’ll move a few of the worst pieces back in and close it up again – just well enough that it’s not obvious but a couple of amateurs could find it fairly easily. It’s sealed up on the pub end, I assume?”
“Aye. For eighteen years. The ravine side’s been closed for longer than that.”
“We need to open the ravine side, because that’s the one on the map.” She pulled the original map and her version from her pocket. “I put this map together by reading up on Will Dawkin and taking a ride around the countryside. That means someone else could find it, too. Someone other than Reggie Addison. You need a decoy treasure there to keep the real one safe.”
“And who are ye, that we should be trusting ye with anything, Yank?”
Lifting her chin, Samantha met Jamie MacCafferty’s glare. “I’m the one who on a lark figured out where your damn treasure is and decided to help you keep it instead of calling National Geographic and getting a TV show out of the deal. Will Dawkin left this for you. Don’t mess it up now.”
He drew in a breath, his nose flaring. “If ye lot hadnae come up here, we wouldnae be in this mess.”
Men . “And if William Wallace had had a six-gun and some extra ammo, Scotland would never have gone back to English rule.” She checked the time on her phone. They were already cutting this far too close. “So do you want to play ‘what if’, or do you want to take care of what is?”
He blinked. “What is,” he conceded.
Father Michael gathered up both maps. “We can debate the rest of this later. Clive, Jamie, take the other lads and start digging up the ravine, and remember ye’ll have to make it look good and easy to open when we close it up again. Miss Sam, ye come with me.”
Finally . “Stoney, go with the cave guys. You know what it needs to look like. Donner, you’re with me.”
The pastor and two other men led the way into the church, through a well-hidden door in one of the vestibules, and down into the cellar. From there they opened yet another door, this one hidden behind a bookcase. Man, she loved this kind of stuff. It was a shame the village would probably want to move the loot again after this, because this was a really good hiding place.
She pulled a flashlight from her pocket and turned it on. A dark hole became a stone-walled cave lined with heavy wooden shelves. On the shelves were metal and wooden boxes of varying sizes, together with seven silver candlesticks, a dozen old dueling-style pistols, what looked like an old saddle, and a fair-sized amount of snuff boxes.
“Wow.” She couldn’t help it. Right there in front of her, things that had been owned, treasured, and used by aristocrats two hundred fifty years ago. From the number of boxes still here after all this time, Will Dawkin had been one hell of a thief.
“Time limit, Jellicoe,” Donner commented from behind her.
Samantha shook herself. “Right. Do you have any original chests or boxes or satchels?”
Father Michael pointed at a lower shelf. “All those there.” As she took a closer look, he dug into the back corner and produced a moldy-looking lump. “We’ve kept most everything, just in case. Will a saddlebag work for ye? And that crate there.”
“Yes. Perfect.”
They began opening boxes. Most of it was jewelry and old coins, and given that the village had already been selling off things for better than two centuries, the original horde must have been massive. She selected some yucky-looking bolts of silk, a couple of broken tea cups and saucers, one gold and two silver coins that looked worn enough to pass for being buried in the dirt since the mid seventeen hundreds, one paste pearl necklace, and a pretty gold necklace from which she reluctantly pried out the ruby in the setting.
“There. Does that look like stuff scavengers would have left behind a long time ago?
“Aye,” the priest returned. “Ye’ve a good eye for antiquities.”
“They’re a hobby of mine,” she said, ignoring Donner’s throat clearing. “Let’s stuff most of it in the saddlebag, grab that wooden box and the saddle, and head over to the ravine.”
Far too many people had emerged from their homes and shops to watch the goings-on. She couldn’t blame them, given the significance of the treasure to Orrisey, but it looked damned suspicious. When she mentioned that to Father Michael, the pastor produced a walkie-talkie and spoke a few words in Gaelic. Almost immediately the crowd began thinning.
“I would have thought having wealth like that hidden away would have you at each other’s throats,” she said, as they hurried along the bottom of the ravine. “There must have been villagers who thought it belonged to them more than anyone else, or who disagreed with the speed at which you were using the funds.”
“One or two, aye,” the priest returned. “But when Will Dawkin left for the American Colonies he made it clear that his gift was for the village, so that we would survive whatever the Sassenach – the English bastards – tried to do to us. The whole village submits requests or suggestions, and a council of seven meets to vote on the next purchase or improvement.”
“That’s impressive,” Donner said, thankfully not pointing out that selling off antiquities without registering them first was also illegal. Because she really didn’t want to have to deal with that mess right now.
“It helps that we can be charming and persuasive, I reckon.”
“I hear that,” Samantha commented, stepping over an old fallen pine tree. They climbed down another dip, approaching the area she’d searched… Crap, had it just been this morning?
And she’d been dead on target, too. If she’d factored in that they’d moved the treasure because of Rick stumbling across it as a kid, she would have started this morning’s search at the church, but this was where it had been for the previous two hundred plus years. Right here.
Stoney emerged from the manhole-sized opening in the side of the ravine. “It’s small and rough, but we’d need way more time to open it up more. We also found a nice boulder to roll over the opening here.”
“Excellent. I’ll go in and place everything if you guys will hand it in to me.”
Putting her flashlight between her teeth, she dove in headfirst. The ground was cold and damp, but it hadn’t frozen yet, thankfully. In another couple of weeks this would have been a very different operation. She picked up a fist-sized rock and scraped and punched it into the wall a couple of times where the shovel marks were too obvious, going in about a dozen feet before a higher, wider chamber opened up. At the back, crumbling dirt revealed part of a brick wall – The Bonny Lass’s cellar.
Settling the flashlight into the dirt wall, she heaped up some loose soil. When the box arrived, she flipped it on its side and half buried it. The saddle went into the opposite wall as if over time the sides had caved in over it a little, while she squished the sheets of silk into the edge of the box and the dirt around it. When she got hold of the satchel she took out one of the necklaces and dropped it behind the saddle, clumping more dirt over most of it.
Digging a little wedge into the bottom of the wall, she spread the dirt around to soften the floor. The saddlebag had to appear overlooked, but not so well-hidden Reg and Norway wouldn’t find it.
“They’re getting in the jeep now,” Rick’s voice came from her pocket, making her jump. “Where do you want me?”
If they were driving down, her team had like ten minutes left. She pulled out the radio. “In the house, where we all are,” she returned, digging out a little more dirt with her free hand. “Yule knows what’s up. We’re all there, and we’re having dinner as usual. Got it?” Reaching over, she shoved the saddlebag into the space she’d made, reaching into it for a coin she could put just at its mouth so light would reflect against it. Hopefully.
“Yes, dear,” Rick said, English affront nearly dripping from the speaker.
She started out again on her hands and knees; using one elbow to brace herself, she lifted the walkie-talkie again. “Sorry. In a hurry. You’ll have to stall your aunt and uncle now, so they don’t start wondering where we are. Love you.” Once her head poked out of the hole Stoney grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet. “We have ten minutes, max. Let’s get some dirt shoved in right at the end and put the stone in front of that. We,” and she gestured at herself, Stoney, and Donner, “need to get out of sight. I’m thinking The Bonny Lass cellar, so we can listen in and make sure this is working.”
“Aye,” Jamie said, handing a shovel to the large man Father Michael had called Clive. “Get to it, lads. Come in for a beer on the house when ye’ve finished, but clean yerselves up first. I have standards to maintain. This way, Miss Sam.”
“Is this how you become a crime boss?” Donner whispered, leaning closer to her as they moved past where amateurs would look for footprints and climbed the steep hill.
“You’d better hope not, Guido,” she returned, reaching back a hand to haul the rounder Stoney up behind her.