Free Siege of Stone by Chet Williamson Page B

weapons, covert operations equipment, and communications devices the operatives had come to expect.
    Beside the van, there was also a small Peugeot similar to the one they had used before in Scotland. Its compact size made it perfect for the narrow, twisting roads of the highlands, and the engine had been modified so that it would accelerate quickly and powerfully up the country's steep hills.
    The maps showed that it was nearly 300 miles northwest to the peninsula. Most of the roads were one-lane, with passing places. With luck, they might be able to get there before dark.
    Joseph got into the Peugeot while Laika joined Tony in the van, and they headed up the A9, Tony in the lead. It was a sunny, welcoming day, and the highlands wore autumn hues of pale yellow and brown, highlighted by the green of the Scots pines that covered much of the hillsides.
    Tony was quiet, more so than he had been before their trip to the southwest and his involvement with Miriam Dominick, who had accidentally died in a shootout between the ops and some of LaPierre's hired thugs. Laika noticed that he still wore the silver cross that Miriam had given him. It dangled from a chain around his neck.
    She had tried to talk to him about it, thinking that if he opened up it might be easier for him to live with the loss. But he hadn't wanted to talk and she hadn't pushed him. Now they sat in silence, until he finally spoke.
    "This day reminds me of the first time we came here. But up here it's more like the Isle of Skye than Loch Ness. Hardly anybody around."
    "Sort of like the desert," Laika observed, thinking of the isolation of the southwest.
    "I like it better here," said Tony after a moment. "Trees and lakes instead of just desert. I don't know how anybody can live out there." Then he gave a short, barking laugh, and Laika knew he had just thought of all the deaths they had seen. And she knew whose death he was thinking about most.
    It was eight in the evening when they drove into Gairloch. From there they went another three miles up the west coast of the peninsula, and turned left onto a dirt road that took them to the cottage that had been rented for them. It was a large, white, two-story house only a hundred yards from the rocky beach that looked out across the Minch, the body of water separating the mainland from the Isles of Harris and Lewis. There was not another cottage in sight.
    They went into the house first and looked it over. Downstairs was a large living room with a television and sparsely filled bookshelves, a smaller parlor, a kitchen, and a dining room. Three computers sat waiting for them on the long dining room table. "Guess we eat in the kitchen," Joseph said.
    The refrigerator and pantry were well stocked, and the closet just inside the front door was filled with rain gear in their respective sizes, as well as several pairs of rubber boots. Upstairs there were four small bedrooms and two baths.
    Then they unpacked the van, taking the weapons, explosives, and covert supplies down into a windowless cellar accessible only from the kitchen. Once locked, the heavy door to the cellar would need a well-placed charge to open it.
    Afterward, they had a supper of sandwiches. Laika and Tony had tea to finish, and Joseph helped himself to the single malt Scotch thoughtfully provided by whoever had prepared the place for Skye. Joseph smacked his lips after the first sip. "I'd forgotten how much I liked Scotland," he said.
    "Better be careful," Tony warned him. "You'll have bad dreams."
     
    I t wasn't a bad dream Joseph Stein had that night, but a good one. Joseph dreamed that he awoke in the middle of the night, and saw his father standing next to his bed, tall and strong, as he had been when Joseph was a boy. He seemed to be illuminated from within, and was smiling at Joseph.
    His presence was comforting, and Joseph thought how nice it was of his father to come back from wherever it was that people went when they died. He probably wanted to