The Lethal Target(13)

‘But you’re American,’ said Lauren. ‘I thought you said your great-great-great-grandfather went to Canada.’

‘He did,’ agreed Muir. ‘But two of his sons crossed the border and settled in Chicago, thinking life might offer greater opportunities for them there. And that’s where my particular branch of the family comes from. The Windy City.’ He sipped his drink. ‘Most people have no idea the impact that Scotland has had on North America, both sides of the border. Most Canadians are either from Scots or French descent, mainly Scots. And the States wouldn’t be anywhere without the Scots!’ He leant forward. ‘Remember the moon landing in 1969?’

‘Not personally,’ said Jake. ‘Way before I was born. But I know about it, obviously.’

Muir didn’t seem to have heard him, he continued with what was becoming almost a lecture: ‘At the ceremony to celebrate the moon landing, the three men on the podium were the astronaut Neil Armstrong, President Richard Nixon, and the Reverend Billy Graham. All of Scottish descent.’

‘The Clearances?’ asked Jake.

Muir shook his head.

‘No, the Reivers.’

‘The Border Reivers.’ Lauren nodded.

‘I’m impressed.’ Muir smiled at her. ‘One of you knows their Scottish history.’

Lauren was on the point of retorting: ‘I ought to know about the Reivers, I’m a Graham,’ but she stopped herself in time. My name’s Cooper, she reminded herself. Helen Cooper.

‘The Border Reivers were clans who operated both sides of the Scottish and English border from the twelfth century to the seventeenth,’ continued Muir. ‘They were murderers and gangsters. They killed for profit and for power.’

‘Just like modern organised crime,’ said Lauren.

‘Absolutely,’ agreed Muir. ‘Chicago, New York, London, Mexico. The story’s the same.’

‘But you say they did it for five hundred years,’ said Jake.

‘Because there was no law in that part of Britain,’ said Muir.

‘They called the border area the Debatable Lands,’ added Lauren.

‘Like I say, you know your history,’ he said.

‘So what happened to them?’ asked Jake. ‘They suddenly stopped?’

Muir gestured at Lauren. ‘I’ll let you tell him.’

‘King James I of England offered the clans a deal: they could either join him and become his servants, swearing fealty and giving all their lands and goods to him, or they could be transported to the New World — America. Or they could be executed.’

Muir grinned.

‘In the words of The Godfather, it was an offer they couldn’t refuse. About half accepted the king’s terms, and just under half accepted the offer of a new life in the American colonies.’

‘What happened to the rest?’

‘They were executed,’ said Lauren. ‘As an example to any others who might be considering rebelling.’

‘An English king killing and exiling Scots,’ murmured Jake. ‘I’m surprised the Scots who want independence haven’t made more of that.’

‘He was King James VI of Scotland before he became King of England,’ said Lauren. ‘He was the son of Mary, Queen of Scots.’

‘I see,’ said Jake.

Muir grinned and raised his glass to them in a toast.

‘See?’ he said. ‘Trust me, the Scots should spend more time blaming their own Scottish aristocracy for their troubles!’





Chapter 9



As they got back to their room, Jake’s mind was still whirling with all the historical facts Muir had loaded them with during their session.

‘Wow!’ said Jake. ‘That was some history lesson!’

‘He’s an expat,’ explained Lauren. ‘Expats and second-generation immigrants are always more patriotic about their mother country than the people who still live there.’

‘Still think he’s CIA?’ asked Jake.

Lauren shrugged.

‘If he is, his cover’s good.’

‘So, what next?’

Lauren smiled and came to Jake, and put her arms around him.

‘After the history lesson, I was thinking of trying some biology,’ she whispered.

‘I always preferred biology,’ he murmured.



Next morning, the sky was overcast, but Jake couldn’t have cared less if it had been blowing a gale outside. He was here, with Lauren, and they were closer than they’d ever been.

After breakfast they set out for the site of the dig again, dressed for anything the weather might throw at them, and both with binoculars hanging around their necks.

‘You think that professor might get suspicious if he sees us again?’ asked Jake. ‘I mean, we’re supposed to be tourists.’