"Katherine Kurtz - Adept 02 - The Lodge of the Lynx" - читать интересную книгу автора (Kurtz Katherine)

the castle, but it apparently hit something in the water. Barclay didn't want to tell me at first what he thought
he saw, but I gather that it was - what one might expect, stirred up by magic from the depths of Loch Ness.
In any case, the boat broke up and sank, and the men themselves must have drowned; no bodies have been
recovered. That would account for all of our operatives."
The Head-Master's expression was veiled. "Where does that leave us?"
Raeburn shrugged. "The police have put forward a rather muddled official theory concerning explosives gone
wrong, with possible terrorist associations. As to the boat, they're postulating the presence of a submerged
log. Far-fetched as these explanations may seem, no one has ventured any others, at least officially. At this
remove, and with no one to raise the hue and cry over our missing men, no one is likely to. After all, who
would guess the truth?"
"Your Inspector McLeod?" the Head-Master suggested.
Raeburn's fair face registered a flicker of dislike. "Possibly. I haven't forgotten about him. Right now, he's
doing us a service by diverting attention away from the supernatural elements in the incident, but his motives
in doing so are far from clear. He will bear watching."
"I should think so." The old man's hooded eyes held a dark gleam of malice. "He has been far too closely
involved for my liking - first at Melrose, then at Dunvegan, and finally at Urqu-hart. And always with the same
two men in attendance - Sinclair and that young artist."
Raeburn elevated a flaxen eyebrow. "It could be argued that McLeod's presence has been largely
coincidental. He apparently is the accepted police authority on matters that smack of the occult, and Melrose
is certainly within his jurisdiction. As for Dunvegan - it might be judged sufficient that the inspector bears the
clan name, and probably had the authority of his Chief. Urquhart, however, is another matter, and our man in
Edinburgh has his orders to keep McLeod under surveillance."
"And Sinclair?"
"His true role is also open to conjecture. I've had some inquiries made, and it seems that he's a fairly eminent
psychiatric physician who occasionally gets called in by the police as a consultant. It would be worth some
trouble to learn whether his interest in the occult is limited to professional curiosity."
"What about the artist?"
Raeburn nodded. "In a way, he strikes me as possibly the most dangerous of the three, precisely because
he's so different from McLeod and Sinclair. His name is Peregrine Lovat, and apart from the fact that he
seems to be Sinclair's protege, he's the one whose presence is most difficult to explain. Were he twice the
age he is, I might suspect him of being the leader of a Hunting Party. As it is, he's little more than a boy."
"Is he a pretty boy?" the Master asked, with a contemptuous curl of his lip. "If the answer is yes, then
perhaps you need look no further for reasons why Sinclair is his patron."
Raeburn snorted. "That might explain some of it, but I don't think it's the case. The titled Dr. Sinclair has a
tiresomely consistent reputation for prowess where women are concerned. I think we must look elsewhere for
the Lovat connection. I intend to do so."
"Lovat is not worth your personal attention," the Head-Master said. "If you want him watched, put someone
else on him - someone you can easily spare. If our plans are to proceed on schedule, you have far more
important things to do."
"I wonder." A slight frown pleated the smooth skin between Raeburn's blond eyebrows. ' 'What if the presence
of these three men was not coincidental? If, in fact, they are adepts of some kind - then they could represent
a very real threat. They'll have seen the sigil on Geddes' ring. If they knew enough to recognize - "
The old man snorted. "If they knew enough to recognize it, we would know by now. Still, if it pleases you,
keep them under surveillance. If they become a further nuisance, we shall deal with that when it occurs."
"But, if they were responsible for our losses at Urquhart - " "Our losses at Urquhart are ultimately of little
consequence," the Head-Master said dismissively. "What have we really lost? The gold? Unfortunate,
perhaps, but we have other means of generating wealth. The book of spells? Who can say for certain that the
spells it contained were as potent as tradition claims? Let us bear in mind that even the bumbling Geddes
was able to entrap the spirit of Michael Scot and force it to do his bidding. Could he have done that, I wonder,
if Scot had truly possessed all the knowledge and power that legend attributes to him?