OFF-ROAD VEHICLE
TWENTY-FIVE THOUSAND DOLLARS.
Even as he made his way back into the main body of the castle, Alex thought about what he had just done. It had been an awful lot of money to give away without thinking. He could have held back a little of it, bought something for Jack or Sabina.
He shook his head, annoyed with himself. Charity was what the evening was all about. The money wasn’t his and never had been. He remembered the look of anger in Desmond McCain’s eyes as Alex had revealed his straight flush. McCain might be a born-again Christian, but he hadn’t liked being beaten and somehow Alex doubted that he was going to be invited back.
Sabina had disappeared, but Alex stumbled across Edward Pleasure in yet another of the castle’s many passageways, leaning on his walking stick while he talked on his BlackBerry. There was a spiral staircase just behind him, leading up to the next floor.
He closed up the phone as Alex approached. “That was Liz,” he said. “She’s not feeling any better and I’m beginning to think we ought to head back after all . . .”
“That’s fine with me,” Alex said. “In fact, Sabina was looking for you. She wants to leave too.” It was half past eleven. In just thirty minutes there would be the countdown to midnight, balloons, more champagne, and a chorus of “Auld Lang Syne” before what had been described as the biggest fireworks display in Scotland. Guests were already streaming past, making their way into the main room. But Alex didn’t mind missing it. There was something about Kilmore Castle that he found unsettling. Maybe it was the fact that it was so ancient and remote, perched high above the loch as if it didn’t want to belong to the twenty-first century. He would be glad to see in the New Year somewhere else.
“Let’s wait here for Sabina,” Mr. Pleasure said. “She’s bound to turn up sooner or later.” Neither of them spoke. Alex could hear music coming from the dance floor—now they’d shifted into Michael Jackson. A few more guests hurried past. One of them recognized him from the casino and smiled at him. Once again, the two of them were alone.
“So, are you looking forward to school?” Edward asked, as much to fill the silence as anything else.
“Yes. I am.” If the question had taken Alex by surprise, so did the answer. He really was looking forward to the start of the spring term. He felt safe at school. He felt normal.
“What was that essay you were working on?”
Alex had brought homework with him to Scotland. After taking so much time off, he was trying as best he could to catch up. “I’m doing a project about GM crops,” he said.
“GM?”
“You know . . . genetically modified. It’s something we’ve been looking at in biology. How scientists can muck around with crops and make them do different things.” Alex dredged his mind, trying to remember what he’d been learning the term before. “It’s something Prince Charles is always going on about,” he said. “He’s afraid they’ll accidentally destroy the world.”
“The real problem with GM crops could be the corporations who end up controlling them,” Edward said. “Have you heard of the terminator gene?”
Alex shook his head.
“It’s something they’ve built into plants that effectively turns them off. It stops them from reproducing.
So if you want more wheat or barley or whatever, you have to go back to the same company and pay them. You see what I mean? Whoever controls the genes could end up controlling the world’s economy.
It might be a good subject for me to write about myself. The real danger of genetically modified food . .
.”
There was the sound of footsteps coming down the spiral staircase and suddenly Desmond McCain was there, pacing toward them. Sitting at the card table, Alex hadn’t realized how big the man was. He was almost seven feet tall, built like an American football player, with oversized shoulders and arms. Given his life story, he must have been at least fifty years old, but he looked much younger. He obviously still kept himself in shape.
Edward Pleasure turned around and recognized him. “Reverend McCain!” he exclaimed.
“Mr. Pleasure . . .” McCain came to a halt. Alex saw a hard-to-read emotion pass over his face. His eyes, ever so briefly, clouded over as the zigzag that was his mouth stretched tight. Then, just as quickly, the expression of unease was gone. He smiled. “I’m very glad you could make it to my little affair,” he said. He gestured at Alex. “Are the two of you together by any chance?”
“Yes. Have you met?”
“Alex and I were playing cards just a few minutes ago.” McCain’s smile remained, but it seemed a little strained and artificial. “If I’d known he was your guest, perhaps I wouldn’t have been so rash with my betting. He actually cleaned me out.” They were now all standing on the same level, but McCain still loomed over them. “How is the article?” he asked.
“It’s finished.”
“I hope it won’t contain any unpleasant surprises.”
“You won’t have long to wait. It should be out next month.”
“Have you delivered it?”
“Not yet.”
“I’m looking forward to reading it.” McCain examined the journalist as if it was his mind that he was trying to read. For a moment neither of them spoke. Then McCain blinked as if he had suddenly lost interest. “But now you must forgive me,” he said. “I have a speech to make. Thank you so much for coming to Kilmore Castle. It was very good to see you again. And a pleasure to meet you, Alex.” He swept past them in the direction of the banqueting hall. Edward Pleasure was looking puzzled.
“What was all that about?” he asked.
