Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Evan was having a blast. It was the first time he'd gone undercover, and he was rocking it.
He couldn't wait to rub his experience in his brothers' faces.
They would be gutted they'd missed out. Poor them.
So sad. He grinned as he watched Rab do a cartwheel straight into a sand bunker.
He landed on his head, jumped to his feet and pumped his fists in the air with a roar of triumph—as though he'd intended to do that exact thing in the first place.
At this rate, the guy would be in a full body cast before he said his vows.
They were out of sight of the restaurant now, and away from the watchful eyes of the rest of his team.
Evan took a fortifying breath. This was it.
He was on his own, and mission success depended on him.
He cast a glance at the five guys he'd befriended and, with enthusiasm, cheered them on as they hit their balls up the course.
One more hole and they'd be near the estate fence.
It didn't take long, even drunk the Scots could play a game of golf. As soon as Evan spotted the security fence, he turned to Wee Andy, not to be confused with Big Andy, and said, "Nearly forgot the photos boys. Get the drone."
"Aye, aye," Wee Andy said as he pulled it out of his empty golf bag.
If anyone had wondered why they were toting around a bag with no clubs, nobody had said anything.
"This is gonnae be epic," Big Andy said as he came up beside them. Then he gave Evan a worried look. "Please tell me you're no’ just gonnae take video of us playing golf?"
"Hell no," Evan said as he set up the drone. It purred to life and, satisfied it was sending all of its footage straight to his cloud storage account, he stepped back to take control. "We need to do something worthy of recording. I'm thinking a music video."
"I can sing," Wee Andy said proudly. "And I've got the looks for a boy band."
The others laughed.
Wee Andy was offended. "I could have been in Wet Wet Wet back in the day."
The laughter turned to puking noises.
"You had to go and pick the worst Scottish band ever," Big Andy said. "I'm embarrassed for you. There are a million better bands you could have named, like Simple Minds."
"Or Prefab Sprout," Mick said.
"Runrig," Davy shouted.
That earned a cheer, ending the list of band suggestions.
"Gimme a go on the drone," Rab, the groom, said as he staggered toward them.
"Sure," Evan said amicably. "Name all of the seven dwarves and I'll hand it over."
"Aw, come on, Evan, nobody knows all seven." Rab started counting them off on his fingers. "Dopey… Boys, I need help."
"You're Dopey," Wee Andy said then laughed like he was hilarious.
"Sneezy!" Mick called, looking particularly pleased with himself.
Evan, meanwhile, had the drone in the air. "You can stand around getting an aneurysm trying to remember the dwarves or we can make a video for your women. What's it gonna be?"
"Video!"
"Then we'd better make this fast," Evan said. "Head to that fence, it’ll make an awesome backdrop. Don't forget to hit some balls as you go."
"What will we do when we get there?" Davy asked. "Want to act out Braveheart?" Seeing as he'd painted his face half blue for their trip to the island, this suggestion was no surprise.
"You and bloody Braveheart," Mick said. "It isn't even historically accurate."
"I don't care." Davy took a deep breath and bellowed, "You can take my life, but you'll never take my freedom!"
That started a chant of freedom, freedom, freedom. Evan moved toward the fence; it was like trying to herd drunken baby goats.
"We should sing Flower of Scotland," he said as he pointed at the fence. "Over there. Look at the spotlights. It'll be like we're on stage."
"Epic!" Wee Andy charged across the grass. "Wish I had my bagpipes."
"I've got something better," Big Andy said. He dug into his golf bag and came out with a traffic cone.
The cheer that went up could probably have been heard on St. Patrice.
"You cannae play a traffic cone, numpty," Rab said, trying to focus in on the cone. He was swaying so much it was a miracle he was upright. "Unless it's got a hole in the end, then we can use it like a megaphone."
As one, the group of friends examined the cone.
There was no extra hole. They were so disappointed that Evan burst out laughing.
They were nearly at the fence now. On the other side, the guards had just noticed the drunken young men.
It wouldn't be much longer before they spotted the drone. Evan took it higher.
With the guard’s attention on the raucous group, it was easy to fly the drone high over their heads. Evan studied the small screen on the control console with some satisfaction, as he made the drone head toward Damien's house.
"That's it," he shouted to his new friends. "Against the fence. Get in a line with Rab in the middle. Somebody's gonna have to hold him up."
"If you puke, I'm leaving you here," Davy said as he threw an arm around his friend's shoulders.
Rab grinned like an idiot before launching into a tuneless rendition of Flower of Scotland.
Fortunately, a couple of his friends managed to find the tune as they joined in, and Evan didn't think it sounded half bad.
He joined the lineup along the fence, keeping an eye on the drone footage as he sang.
The drone was now above the estate house.
He used the controls to move it around the exterior of the building.
"I'm going up," Big Andy announced, just as they'd reached the part where they were sending the English home to think again.
Evan cast him a glance, and sure enough, he was climbing the fence, cone in hand.
"No' a good idea," Evan cautioned as the guards started heading their way.
He watched as one of the guards spoke into a radio. None of them had pulled their guns, yet. Evan supposed he should have felt thankful for that. He kept one eye on his new friends as he maneuvered the drone. Meanwhile, the boys were cheering Big Andy on as he made his way to the top of the fence.
"Sir," one of the guards called. "Please get down from the fence. This is private property."
"Don't come any closer," Big Andy told them. "I'll no' have you looking up my kilt and getting jealous over what you find there."
"Get down from the fence," the guard ordered, his hand resting on the gun holster at his hip.
"No' before I crown this island for Scotland," Big Andy shouted.
The boys started chanting Scotland, Scotland, Scotland. Evan joined in and threw in a drunken grin to help him blend. So far, nobody had noticed that he had a controller in his hands, but that wouldn't last long.
"Sir," the guard said again, this time more forcefully. "Get down from the fence right now. This is private property and you're trespassing."
Big Andy paused to look down at the man. "Is that an order? What you gonnae dae? Shoot me?" He was nearly at the top of the fence now.
There was movement on the golf course, and Evan spotted two golf carts, full of hotel security, coming their way. Time to bring the drone back to the party. He turned the joystick to direct the craft back to the fence.
Big Andy, meanwhile, had reached the top. With great fanfare, he placed the traffic cone on top of one of the floodlight casings, as though he was planting a flag on the moon.
"For Scotland," he bellowed.
A drunken cheer went up. Big Andy saluted his friends. Evan eyed the controller screen. The drone was almost back to the party. Behind him, the hotel guards climbed out of the carts.
"Get off the fence," one of them ordered as they ran at the group.
"It's the fuzz," Wee Andy shouted. "You can take my life but you cannae take my beer! To the bar, boys. Run!"
Big Andy jumped from the fence and landed on top of Rab. They collapsed in a cursing heap. The drone was over the lawn behind the fence. Nearly there, he just had to get it over the fence before someone noticed it'd strayed.
"Drone!" One of the estate guards pointed upward.
Too late.
Evan had two options. He either abandoned the drone and ran, or he acted like a drunken fool. He went for the second.
"Don't touch my drone," he shouted. "I've got important party pictures on there. It's against the law to interfere with a man's party pictures. Isn't that right, boys?"
His new friends stopped running and turned toward the fence.
"That's our drone," Mick shouted. "Our music video is on there. We're just trying to have some fun."
"This is a bachelor party," Davy shouted. "And you're ruining it, mate."
"No Scotland, no party!" Wee Andy roared, which made the rest of them start chanting the same thing.
Unfortunately, the guard didn't care that they were in party mode. All he cared about was the drone.
"I think it flew over the house," one of the guards called to the other.
Before Evan could protest, the first guard took out his gun and shot the drone from the sky. The action shocked the Scottish boys into silence as they watched the drone plummet to the ground. It hit with an underwhelming thud.
"That's no' on." Wee Andy recovered first. "That's uncalled for, that is. You killed our drone. Murderer! Drone killer! Darth Vader!"
Evan felt the need to correct the mistake. "In Star Wars, Vader went after droids not drones." Nobody paid him any attention, which was fair. They had more important stuff to deal with than getting Star Wars trivia right.
An estate guard picked up the drone. Evan couldn't tell if the gunshot had destroyed the memory card, but it wouldn't matter anyway, he hadn't used it. Everything it'd recorded had gone straight to the cloud. There was nothing on the drone for them to see.
"Give that back," Evan shouted. "That's wedding memories. We need it. I got a great shot of the boys singing for their girlfriends." He put on a puppy dog pleading face. "Come on, man, you're ruining our night."
"Aye," Davy said, shaking off a hotel security guy who was trying to take his arm. "I got dressed up for this and everything. Wore my best Scotland kit." He brushed off the national team jersey he wore like it was a thousand-dollar suit.
That sent his mates into hysterics as the security men rounded them up and herded them towards the carts. Evan couldn't do anything but follow along.
"Wait," one of the guys from the estate called. "We need the control unit. Get it from the redhead."
Hell no.
If they got hold of it, they'd know the footage was uploaded. Then they'd wonder what footage he'd gotten. Then there would be questions, probably at gunpoint.
"The Scots never surrender," Evan shouted. "You'll pry this controller from my cold dead hands."
A security guard bore down on him. Evan lobbed the device to Davy, who snatched it from the air like it was a rugby ball and took off down the course.
The others shook off their guards and followed, turning the event into a rugby game as the controller was thrown between friends, and the poor guards tried to intercept it.
They were no match for the Scots. Drunk rugby was Scotland’s other national sport.
As they reached the part of the green that abutted the restaurant, Evan shouted for the device and Big Andy tossed it to him.
He made a show of fumbling the catch. The device hit the ground hard, and Evan stamped on it for good measure.
Before he could pick up the wreck and toss it back into the game, a security guard tackled him to the grass.
There were gasps of shock from the restaurant diners.
Evan caught sight of his team, watching his every move with tense expressions.
He grinned widely as he was dragged to his feet.
A roar of outrage sounded from his new friends who complained about foul play and poor sportsmanship.
Unfortunately, the hotel security guards weren't concerned with fair play.
One by one, they took hold of the Scottish team and loaded them into the awaiting golf carts.
Wee Andy, aware he had an audience in the rapt diners, leaned out of the cart and shouted, "We're gonna deep fry your coconuts!" Before grinning like an idiot.
His friends tried to turn it into a chant, but it didn't have the rhythm needed to really be catchy. As the golf carts drove past the restaurant, Evan winked at his team. Successful op. He sank back into his seat with satisfaction.
It was then he spotted Damien Poole, striding across the dining area, broken drone in hand. He headed straight toward the Benson Security table. And worse still, he'd seen Evan wink at his team.
Damn it.
He'd blown it.
He'd gotten carried away and exposed his team. They were fried. What a crappy, rookie move. His brothers would never have done something so stupid.
Damien signaled to the driver of Evan's golf cart, and it came to a halt.
One of his personal security team approached the cart and asked Evan to get out.
The other carts passed, full of his new friends, who were equal parts worried and outraged.
They called for his release. But it was too late. There was nothing anyone could do.
His shoulders slumped as Poole's private guard gestured for Evan to follow him—straight to the rest of his team. His stomach clenched and he knew without a doubt that he'd have to act his arse off to get out of this mess. Unfortunately, he wasn't the triplet with the acting prowess.