Lammas Night Read Online Free PDF Page A

for the protection of the realm, and what popular opinion tended to lump together as charlatanism, witchcraft, black magic, and satanism. There were vast distinctions, but Graham was loath to attempt reasoned explanations at a time when stories of Nazi black magical practices and atrocities were already too common.
    Denton stopped the Bentley again outside the Constable’s Gate, where guards once more inspected their identification and shone shielded torches inside the car. Distractedly, Graham drummed his finger tips against the arm rest as they continued into the castle precincts, for he was impatient now to reach the Ops Room and find out for certain about the Grafton . Though his ability on the Second Road was usually reliable, he did not like the hints of danger that had teased at his sleep.
    But as they crawled past the few cars parked at the foot of the Constable’s Tower, something less sinister caught his attention: a familiar-looking Rolls-Royce that had not been there the previous afternoon when they left for Oakwood. Was it possible that William was back at Dover?
    â€œThat Phantom II by the tower, Denny—isn’t that Prince William’s car?” he asked, craning his neck for a better look as Denton glanced in the rear-view mirror.
    â€œIt does look like it, sir. They didn’t build too many like that. His aide said Monday that he might be back today if the evacuation was still going on.”
    â€œHis aide?” Graham sat back in his seat with a vexed mutter. “I love the way staff always know our movements before we do.”
    â€œSir?”
    â€œNever mind, Denny. I was just being peevish. I haven’t had my tea yet. Ignore me.”
    â€œYes, sir,” came the slightly amused reply.
    Graham sighed and closed his eyes as the car inched along toward the headquarters car park, reminiscing with affection about the man who owned the Rolls—who, despite his rank, had always seemed almost like a younger, if occasionally exasperating, brother. There were many memories, some of them far too grim for a morning already ripe with the possibility of yet another disaster—for Prince William had worked the Intelligence Service with Graham when he was Michael’s age—but the memory that surfaced now brought only a smile.
    He grinned as he recalled a night not very many years before when he and the prince had escorted two young ladies on a lighthearted evening on the town and had not returned to the Palace until well past dawn. William’s father had been waiting for them, silently fuming.
    Both men had been less prudent then—and William retained a regrettable tendency to revert to his earlier playboy behavior with all too little provocation—but Graham, at least, had learned not to encourage frivolity in the King’s youngest surviving son thereafter. It was all very well for William to endanger his life when on an active mission—the King had four other sons, after all—but woe be to anyone, relative or subject, who led a member of the Royal Family into public scandal!
    Contemplation of scandal brought Graham back to William, so often on the brink of trouble, and he found himself wondering, not for the first time, whether William would be scandalized, were he to learn of the rather unorthodox methods in use to track Michael tonight. Of course, the prince was aware of the official and theoretical scope of Graham’s section, as was anyone with even minimal intelligence connections who cared to ask. But he did not think William took it any more seriously than anyone else other than for its pure propaganda value.
    Especially with the prince, that suited Graham very well. Even in his early years with the Service, Graham had been careful to cultivate the impression that his interest in and knowledge of such subjects as astrology and so-called psychic phenomena had arisen from a childhood fascination and preoccupation with parlor tricks and