Chapter Thirty-Two
Rafe
Shortly after Eric slipped out of the room, we began discussing in earnest how to interrogate Hubie. He'd been listening to our discussion. That was on purpose. We wanted him to wonder what we might actually do to him, and so we mentioned a variety of torture techniques that we have no intention of utilizing. But the tactic worked. Forty-five minutes into the discussion, Hubie started shaking and crying. After another half hour of glowering at him in silence, the prat finally decides to speak.
"I'll tell you anything," Hubie whines. "Anything, I swear it."
Ramsay chuckles darkly. "Glad to hear it, laddie."
Where is Eric? I assumed he'd gone to the loo. But relieving himself couldn't possibly take this long.
I glance at Iona. "Do you know what's become of young Eric?"
"No. I thought he went to get a wee piece or...something."
"Getting a sandwich doesn't take an hour and fifteen minutes."
Toby brings out his mobile and flicks his fingers over the screen, then taps as if he's typing something. "Oh, bollocks. You are daft as a bush sometimes, Eric."
"What has your best mate done now?" I ask.
Toby shoves his mobile back into his pocket and shakes his bowed head. "Eric stole one of the limos and drove back to Loch Fairbairn to find Graham Oliver."
Iona leaps out of her chair. "He shouldn't have done that. Graham is dangerous. Only a lunatic would do the things he's done, and who knows what he might try next."
Toby lifts his head and winces. "Graham, ah, fabricated filthy pictures with AI. Apparently, they show all of us having an orgy at my dad's house. He used just enough real images to make it seem believable. We'll all get to see what Graham's done once Eric comes back."
How bloody long will that take? My hair-trigger temper is beginning to get tired of waiting.
Iona approaches my chair and crouches there, placing her hands on my knees. "Dinnae get upset, Rafe. We need to find out everything Hubie knows, now that he's ready to talk. Stay calm---for now."
Just hearing her voice makes me feel more relaxed.
But I still want to pummel Hubie---and Graham Oliver.
Toby's mobile chimes. He reads the text, then flattens his lips.
"What is it?" I ask.
"Eric thinks we should meet him near the newspaper office. He'll wait for us there."
"Yes, that would be quicker than Eric driving back to this castle only so we can race into the village again."
Thane taps one finger on his chin. "What will we do with Mr. Frye? We haven't interrogated him yet."
"Let's do that in the car. The girls can stay here at Dùndubhan." I cup Iona's cheek. "I wasn't including you in that statement."
"Good. I won't need to stow away in the boot of the limo after all."
Thane and Ramsay take possession of Hubie as we exit the office. The rest of us trail behind as we make our way down the spiral staircase. We stop to duck into the guest wing and let the girls and Phillip know what's going on. He vows to protect the women. I hadn't expected that, but I believe he means to do just that if anyone should breach the castle.
Then, we're away. Eric left us with the larger limo, which means we'll have plenty of space for making Hubert Frye talk.
As the car starts rolling down the drive, Toby sends another text to Eric. He's asking his best mate to send photos of the newspaper issue Graham Oliver wrote and printed. That way, we'll know what to expect when we get to the village. In a matter of minutes, we have those images.
That bastard . He plastered these lewd AI images all over the village.
Both Iona and her brothers insist upon seeing the fake photos. I watch as their expressions shift from shock to disgust and finally anger.
I'm currently sitting beside Iona on the bench across from Hubie and Iona's brothers, who flank the prat. "If you two don't mind, I'd like to talk to this bastard face to face. Would you be comfortable with moving onto this bench with Iona? Then I can have Hubie all to myself."
"Of course," Thane says.
"Aye, that'll work," Ramsay declares.
Hunched over, we all shift about until we've reached our assigned positions.
I drape an arm over Hubie's shoulders. The second he cringes, I lean in and speak in a soft yet menacing tone. "Did you help Graham craft those fake images?"
"Um...yes?"
"No uncertainties, Hubie. Yes or no are the only valid responses."
The prat cringes again. "Yes, all right, yes. Graham didn't know how to use AI, but I'd been playing around with it for a while. AI is even better and easier than normal identity theft."
"So you could destroy innocent people's lives more easily. How entrepreneurial of you, Hubie."
The git begins to shiver. "P-please, don't kill me."
"Kill you? Oh, no, you slimy little maggot. You will not get out of your predicament that easily." I curl my fingers around his wrist like a handcuff. "It's prison for you. Maybe your mate Graham Oliver can share a cell with you."
"Prison sounds perfect. I'll plead guilty, I promise."
"Glad to hear it." I place my mouth within millimeters of Hubie's ear so I can whisper to him. "Tell me all about Graham's master plan. You can skip the bits we already know and start from right now."
"Graham said the fake photos and the newspaper story were one half of the final phase." Hubie chews on his lip with the speed of a beaver gnawing on a tree. "The second half involves getting Iona arrested for money laundering."
"Why? What does he hope to gain from that? Aside from the obvious prison time."
"He really just wants to humiliate Iona and take control of the newspaper."
Thane leans forward to stare directly at Hubie. "His plan is unhinged, but I reckon that's the point. Graham was always a scheming liar who felt the world owed him whatever he wanted. But I thought he became a pig farmer in Liverpool."
Hubie nods. "Yeah, he did that for a while. But Graham always had, ah, higher aspirations."
I fist my hand in Hubie's hair to yank his head back. "So, you aren't as much of a moron as you want us to think. Higher aspirations? I'd wager you studied at university before deciding a life of crime was easier than working."
He glances at me sideways. "Well, it is easier. Unless you get caught."
The limo has just slowed down, and a moment later, it stops altogether. We are here, wherever that might be. I assume our destination is the newspaper office. I peer out the shaded window and see the other limo with Eric standing alongside it.
And I waste no time. I thrust the door open and leap out, rushing across the street to where Eric is waiting. "Where is the newspaper office?"
He points toward a building across the street, about two blocks further ahead of where we stand.
"Thank you, Eric. Stay here."
I barrel down the middle of the street, angling toward the shops and other establishments on the far side, and I don't stop until I reach the newspaper office. One car beeped at me, but I did not step aside for the vehicle. At last, I burst through the doors of the newspaper office.
Graham is sitting in Iona's chair.
Oh, no, the bastard will not get away with that---or his vile plans for revenge. I am his reckoning.
Graham rises from the chair. "Rafe Knight. How kind of you to pay me a visit and congratulate me on taking back my newspaper."
"Your newspaper?" I hurl my entire body at the desk, flying across it, dragging Graham down onto the floor with me on top of him. "Care to rethink everything you've ever said or done in your entire life?"
Spittle sprayed from my lips when I snarled those words. And I notice a large brown bag of some sort lying on the floor near my cheek. So, that's his infamous satchel.
Graham sneers at me. "If you kill me, that will only make me a martyr."
"Oh, I have no intention of murdering you. That would be too simple. You deserve a long prison sentence with a cell mate who enjoys orgies."
I stand up while gripping his shirt with both hands, hoisting him off the floor. His shoes dangle in midair. "You have one minute to retract every fucking lie you ever told about Iona Buchanan. I will permit you to fall down at her feet and literally kiss the ground she walks on."
As I hear the bell above the door chime, I turn round while still holding Graham off the floor.
Eric, Toby, Iona, and her brothers walk into the office. Ramsay has taken command of Hubie, who seems completely deflated. My mates and my son stare at me.
"Someone ring the police," I say. "Fergus and Sorley will have the privilege of dealing with this piece of rotting rubbish."
Toby dials his mobile. "Hello, this is Toby Knight. My father has just, ah, detained the two men who harassed Iona. We're in the newspaper office. Graham Oliver has unlawfully taken control of the building, which is owned by Iona Buchanan. Yes, good. Of course we'll wait, and we'll be happy to provide statements."
My son ends the call.
Thane turns his attention to me. "Why don't we take the bod ceann off your hands?"
"No. I will maintain control of the prisoner until the constables arrive."
And that's precisely what I do, though I set Graham on his feet. He has no chance of escaping, not with three of my mates and my son on hand."
Iona steps closer to me and my prisoner. "You don't own this newspaper anymore, Graham. You lost control of it seven years ago."
"You are not the legitimate owner." He lifts his chin high, gazing down his nose at Iona. "I sold the paper to a fellow journalist a few years ago, and now I've bought it back. The Loch Fairbairn World News belongs to me."
Thane scoffs. "Your business was liquidated during the bankruptcy proceedings. Iona bought it after that---legally."
Sorley and Fergus enter the building. For a moment, they simply sweep their gazes over everyone as if they're assessing the situation.
Then Fergus shakes his head. "Graham Oliver, what are ye doing here in someone else's office? Ye dinnae own this place anymore."
Graham thrashes and bellows. "I have always owned the paper! It's mine forever!"
"Is that so?" Fergus brings out his handcuffs. "The government disagrees. Sorley, why don't you take that little man who's wilting in Ramsay's arms."
"That would be Hubert Frye," I tell Fergus. "You know who my prisoner is."
"Aye. Everyone in the village knows and despises Graham Oliver."
"You lot might want to grab the satchel on the floor behind the desk. I suspect that's where Graham kept all his secrets."
"We'll do that. Thank you for the tip, Rafe."
Once the constables have secured their prisoners, they drag the pair out of the building and straight into a patrol car.
As soon as the coppers drive away, Iona flings herself into my arms. "I was so afraid of what Graham might do to you---until I remembered you are the lightning sorcerer. Nothing can harm you."
"That's a wonderfully strange compliment. Thank you."
As our group files out of the newspaper office, a pickup truck screeches to a halt directly in front of us. Rebecca Taylor scrambles out of the vehicle, rushing toward Thane and Eric. She hugs her son fiercely and kisses his cheek. Then she throws her arms around Thane, kissing him passionately.
When the couple finally disentangles, Rebecca looks at the rest of us. "Is everybody okay?"
Some of us nod, others voice our agreement, and Toby gives the thumbs-up sign.
Ramsay sighs. "Well, the excitement is over, but the adrenaline is still pumping. What should we do now?"
I glance at Iona and grin. "Shag, eat, and sleep."
Ramsay groans. "That's all well and good for you couples. I dinnae have a girlfriend."
Thane pats his brother's shoulder. "Bonnie from the café likes you, and I've seen the way you look at her. Go order some cranachan for two and charm the lass."
His brother grins. "I think I'll do that."
Eric shakes his head at the sky. "Man, it sucks to be the only guy who doesn't have a girl waiting for him."
Rebecca winks at her son. "I happen to know there's a place full of beautiful young women only half an hour away."
"What are you talking about?" Eric's expression freezes, then he laughs. "Dùndubhan, here I come. Taxi!"
Oh, yes, everyone will have a good time today.