Read Lucifer's Crown for Free Online Page B

Jedburgh and over Carter Bar into England, following the old Roman road to Hadrian's Wall. The Wall met the western sea at Carlisle. Perhaps ... Perhaps what?
    Calum had taken Mick on a tour of the Borders some years back, stopping at ruined castles and ruined abbeys and ruined forts until he begged for mercy, a Coke, and a fry-up. Now that same holiday would be a treat, Mick thought, grinding his teeth. As soon as he found his dad he'd organize it.
    Not one town in the map index was named Fairtichill. The black triangle labeled Schiehallion 1083 metres —one black triangle, not three—lay between Loch Tay and Loch Rannoch, in the Highlands. Mick didn't think that, fairy mountain or not, it had moved house to the Borders. Folding the map, he jammed it back into the cabinet. It caught on something, so that he couldn't shut the drawer.
    He spread the files apart to see what was lying beneath them, and picked up his great-grandfather Malise's sgian dubh . The knife was sheathed in black leather trimmed with whorls of silver. Its bone handle was smoothed by years of use. At its top nested a flat chipping of what looked to be black marble, even though every other sgian dubh Mick had seen displayed a semi-precious gem. When he drew the steel blade it glinted bright and sharp. For such a small knife, extending from his wrist to his fingertips, it was surprisingly heavy. Its cold kiss sent a shiver up his arm. Why had Calum hidden it here? The last Mick had seen of it, it had been tucked away below the blankets in his mother's kist.
    Replacing the knife in the drawer, he picked up Calum's check book. Amongst the amounts written to Jenner's Department Store and Safeway's were five checks for fifty pounds each made over to “Ellen Sparrow.” His dad had been on his own for three years now. Nothing wrong with him having a lady friend. But Mick didn't know sod-all about his father's life, did he?
    The phone went. His heart lurched. He fumbled the receiver, then slammed it to his ear. “Mick Dewar."
    "Mr. Dewar,” said a male voice with a clipped English accent. “Detective Inspector Gupta of the Somerset constabulary here. We've just received a missing person report on your father. He was seen at Glastonbury Abbey yesterday afternoon with a woman, a journalist named Vivian. Do you know her?"
    "No.” Another woman? “Does she know where he is?"
    "She was found dead this morning."
    Mick slid spinelessly down the chair, cradling his head on the bar at its back. “Dead? How?"
    "We don't know yet. Why do you ask?"
    "When my father phoned this morning he was ranting something terrible, saying someone was chasing him, saying there was something he'd never told me. He was off his head. Maybe he..."
    "...witnessed a death?” Gupta asked carefully.
    Mick's nod was more of a shudder. “Who saw Dad with this Vivian?"
    "Several Americans on a study course. The lecturer overheard Calum warning Vivian off an event scheduled for last night. Do you know his plans for last night?"
    "No. He was doing business in the south of England, and had an appointment this morning at Glastonbury, to view a line of sheepskins, but he never showed. Mind you, he planned his trip round the weekend, so he could have a tour of Stonehenge and Salisbury and the like."
    "Do you have a photograph of your father and a copy of his itinerary? It could be the man at the Abbey was another Calum, but that would be too much of a coincidence, I expect."
    Mick heard his father's ragged voice saying, Nothing's a coincidence . “Oh aye, I'll put you onto the secretary."
    "Thank you. We'd also like a statement from you detailing what he said in his phone call. We'll arrange for someone..."
    "No.” Mick sat up straight as a ramrod. He had something to be going on with at last. “I mean, aye, I'll do anything to help. But if something in Glastonbury drove my dad round the bend that's where I'm needing to be."
    "Very good, then. If you'd call round the station when you