"Fair enough. If I don't hear otherwise, I'll see you there."
Sketchbox tucked under his arm, Peregrine trotted off to join his new wife. Adam and McLeod both gave her cheery waves as she leaned across to open Peregrine's door, but as they made their way back to the BMW, McLeod allowed his jaunty air to lapse.
"I hope you know what you're doing in all this," he said as he unlocked the doors and they both got into the car. "I'm bound to tell you that I'm none too comfortable about what went on back on the island. I find it less than reassuring that you haven't any clear recollection of what went on while you were in trance."
"Ordinarily, I'd agree," Adam said as he buckled up his seat belt. "I'm afraid you'll just have to trust me on this one. For what it's worth, I believe that Lama Tseten's intention was to introduce me to the universal templates underlying both our traditions. Certainly he believes that I now possess the basic intrinsic power with which to construct a defense against Green Gloves and his followers. And my own instincts are in favor of trusting his belief."
"So you say," McLeod agreed dourly, turning the key in the ignition. "What I don't like is that there's no way to field-test this before we come face-to-face with the enemy."
"On the contrary, that's partly the reason I've set this meeting at Julian's tonight," Adam said. "Whatever conceptual knowledge Tseten may have imparted to me, it was done at unconscious levels. There's still the job of bringing that information to consciousness, so it can be used. Fortunately, I have at least a vague idea what will be involved to accomplish that."
With an unconvinced snort, McLeod guided the BMW out of the station car park and eased into the proper lane to take them onto the motorway, not speaking again until they had negotiated the interchange that put them back on the way to Edinburgh.
"Answer me this, and I'll say no more on the matter," he said, glancing sidelong at Adam. ' 'Do you still think Tseten qualifies as a Buddhist saint?"
"Now more than ever," was Adam's confident reply. "And I expect our experience will demonstrate as much, before all this is over."
They spent most of the hour-long drive back to Edinburgh beginning to develop the general form of their battle plan. En route, after checking in with his service - his presence would be required at the hospital before they went to Julian's - Adam rang Humphrey on the cell phone to have him begin investigating travel options - but one of the many details that must be worked out before they betook themselves willy-nilly to Ireland to seek out a derelict German submarine and its contents.
"There's one other thing I need you to do for me, Humphrey," he said, before ringing off. "Before seven, I'd like you to deliver my medical bag to Mr. Lovat down at the gate lodge - the bag reserved for very special house calls. He isn't there now, but he should be home in a couple of hours."
He waited until they got to McLeod's home before making several calls of a more sensitive nature on the inspector's secure line, all of them to Ulster numbers. McLeod managed to find a battered road map of Northern Ireland from a previous motoring holiday with Jane, and they spread it on his desk for reference while he and Adam alternated talking with their counterparts across the North Channel. Although the exact destination for the forthcoming mission had yet to be determined, probably until they were actually on Irish soil, at least the physical requisites for dealing with an antique submarine could be guessed at. The degree of psychic investment remained to be seen.
"Right, Magnus. I'll ring you as soon as I have our flight details," Adam said, when he and McLeod had outlined their likely requirements. "Do you need to talk to Noel again, or have you two got that part sussed out?"
"Oh, I know what needs to be done at this end," came the reply, in the lilting accents of the Ulster province, "but I won't have anything more to tell him until I've talked to my local contacts. Some of what you've asked for will take some doing."
"I appreciate that," Adam replied. "You know I wouldn't ask if there were any other options. We'll talk to you later."
After further consultation and a check of the time, Adam had McLeod drop him at the hospital for a brief check-in on his patients, for he had been absent since the previous noon, and hoped to be away in the morning as early as possible. Meanwhile, McLeod made a foray to the bookstores along Princes Street and George Street to procure the appropriate large-scale Ordnance Survey map of the Donegal coast. When he returned to Adam's office at half-past six to collect him, he found his chief on the phone again, looking none too happy.
"More problems?" he asked, as Adam rang off and cradled the receiver.
"You might say that. I certainly hope the timing on this mission isn't critical, because I don't see a way in hell we're going to get to Belfast before mid-afternoon tomorrow. I have a nine o'clock lecture that I can't cancel and can't get anyone to take for me - I've already cancelled once this week with this class. Not that it makes much difference, because the first flight Humphrey can get us on goes at three-twenty in the afternoon. The earlier flights are booked out, even if I didn't have that lecture, and the odds against three standby seats becoming available don't bear thinking about."
"What about the ferry, then?"
"The ferry connections are no better - we'd just be driving instead of waiting, and still get in late in the afternoon. Of course if I dump my lecture, we could drive through the night and catch the first boat - but I don't think we dare shortchange ourselves on sleep, going into something like this."
"Sounds like we go at three-twenty then," McLeod said.
"I doubt Magnus can get his arrangements squared away much before then anyway."
"You're probably right - which is why I discarded the idea of hiring a plane," Adam agreed. "My resources aren't unlimited, and it's foolish to squander them just to gain a few hours that can't even be used." He sighed. "The clock is ticking, though. I don't think we can afford to waste very much time."
"Aye." McLeod glanced at his watch. "Speaking of which, if we waste much more time here, we'll have to skip supper - and the sandwiches and coffee I had on the boat gave up the ghost hours ago. You didn't even have that; you must be starving. Jane said she'd have something holding for us, whenever we can spare half an hour to wolf it down. The other option is a Big Mac."
"I'll opt for Jane's cooking any day," Adam replied, rising to collect his coat. "Let's get out of here before someone pages me; they know I'm in the building."
They made their escape without being apprehended. Jane McLeod had a simple supper waiting when the two of them returned just after seven o'clock. Over modest helpings of silver-side of beef with cabbage and boiled potatoes, McLeod told her of the beauty of Holy Island, and the environmental work going on there, but nary a word of who they had gone to see, or why. Nor did Jane ask. McLeod's announcement of a trip to Ireland on the morrow elicited a raised eyebrow, for even Jane knew that Ireland was totally outside her husband's police jurisdiction, but her only comment was to inquire what kind of bag she ought to pack for him.
At a quarter past eight, after rendering appreciation for the meal and apologies for having to eat and run, Adam bade her good night as he and McLeod betook themselves and their maps off to Lady Julian's, pulling up in front of her Edwardian townhouse just before half-past. Peregrine's Morris Minor was already there, parked directly underneath the street light that lit the sidewalk and steps up to Julian's front door. Two spaces farther on was the dark green Volvo Estate usually seen running errands in Father Christopher Houston's parish.
Of Christopher himself there was no sign, but the door was just opening to admit Peregrine, his blond hair agleam from the brass carriage lights to either side of the door. Returned to the more formal and genteel milieu of Edinburgh, he was kitted out in classic navy blazer and grey flannel bags tonight, instead of the more casual attire of earlier in the day, but the battered sketchbox under one arm was the same that had gone to Holy Island. Adam's medical bag was in his other hand. Behind him, a lean figure in clerical attire pulled the door wider and partially emerged.