Page 81 of Undercover Shadow
“MacKenzie—Ian, that is—used his position brilliantly, though,” he said. “The shipping records I’ve analyzed show he was moving weapons components for at least three years before AIWS. Small amounts, nothing that would trigger alerts, but it adds up. He created an entire shadow logistics network within his brother’s company.”
“He’s currently in medical custody,” Viper added. “Paralyzed from the waist down from his gunshot wound. He’s been cooperating fully in exchange for protection—the buyers who lost money on AIWS want blood, and he’s an easy target.”
The final photo appeared on the display. The kindly estate manager, tears streaming down his weathered face, in what was clearly an interrogation room.
“Fergus MacLeod,” Viper said, her tone softening slightly. “This is where the story becomes more complex.”
She pulled up a family tree on the display, showing Scottish noble lineages going back centuries.
“The Bramshire dukedom is lesser-known but ancient. The family holdings include three Highland estates and grazing rights to nearly ten thousand acres. Fergus’s older brother, Hamish, inherited everything when their father died thirty-five years ago. Hamish’s first act was to hire Fergus as estate manager—essentially making him a paid servant on lands that should have been partially his.”
“But that wasn’t the worst part,” Typhon said. “Hamish insisted on paying him a standard salary. A pittance, really, which is why he took on other estates.”
“Jesus,” Con muttered. “That’s cold.”
“It gets more complicated,” Viper continued. “Fergus married Fiona Campbell twenty-five years ago. She was a schoolteacher from Inverness, who came from a working-class background. Fergus never told her about his noble heritage—he was too ashamed to admit that he was essentially a servant to his own brother. As far as she knew, she’d married a hardworking estate manager who’d pulled himself up by his bootstraps.”
“Their daughter Isla never knew, either,” Typhon added. “She grew up believing her father was just a dedicated employee who’d saved every penny to send her to university. She’s twenty-four now, a marine biologist doing Arctic research in Norway. Her whole life has been built on a lie her father told to protect his pride.”
Renegade finally spoke from his place by the window. “My family had no idea that the tunnels beneath Dunravin were being used or that they were even viable.”
“No one understands that better than Ash, Con, and I,” I told him. “So you’re aware, MacLeod did a good job warning us to stay out of them, citing safety concerns.”
While he nodded, I sensed he felt the same guilt as the rest of us whose estates were part of Labyrinth’s network. It was far worse for Ash, learning the level of Ambrose’s involvement.
“I know Isla. We grew up together. She’ll be devastated by this,” said Renegade.
Viper’s expression darkened. “Which raises another concern: her safety and that of her mother. Once we’re certain they had no knowledge or involvement with Labyrinth, we’ll do whatever we can to make sure there’s no fallout for them.”
Renegade’s mouth gaped. “Once you’recertain? You can’t think?—”
“That my uncle was behind one of the most complex and dangerous criminal enterprises in UK history?” Ash stood and paced. “It’s no different, Callen, for me or for them. We have a responsibility to carry out the investigation as we would any other.”
“Right,” Renegade muttered. While I didn’t care for his tone and I doubted Viper or Typhon did, either, he deserved the time and space to reconcile the man he grew up believing was a trusted member of Dunravin’s staff with the criminal he now knew him to be.
“Moving on,” said Viper. “What we’ve surmised is that MacLeod provided access to several Highland properties for years. Not just Dunravin, but twelve other locations we’ve now identified. Hidden weapons caches in ancient tunnels, meeting sites in remote locations, safe houses in forgotten corners of Scotland. He knew every hidden passage, every forgotten door, every tunnel that connected these old estates, because he’d spent his whole life exploring them.”
“When I was a boy, he’d tell me stories about them,” Renegade said quietly. “Jacobite rebels hiding from English soldiers, smugglers moving whiskey, lovers meeting in secret. He made them sound magical.”
“If it’s any consolation, he appears willing to cooperate,” Typhon said. “He’s given us everything—names, dates, locations,financial records. He knows he’s going to prison, knows his family will be destroyed, but he’s trying to minimize the damage.”
“What’s happening to them?” Leila asked.
“My recommendation is that Fiona and Isla remain in protective custody once we’ve confirmed their innocence,” Viper answered. “Obviously, Mrs. MacLeod is not handling the revelation well. Twenty-five years of marriage built on a fundamental lie, discovering her husband is not just nobility but a terrorist, is a lot to take in.”
“Where is Isla?” Renegade asked.
“Returning from Norway under protection. She doesn’t know yet. She’ll be told when she lands.”
He stood abruptly. “She shouldn’t hear it from strangers.”
“That’s not your concern,” Viper said.
“I’m making it my concern.” His tone brooked no argument. “She doesn’t deserve to have her world destroyed by someone reading from a report.”
“The buyers who lost money might target her,” Typhon warned. “What we’re doing ensures her safety.”
“I’ll take over her detail.” Renegade’s expression was set. “She’s innocent in all of this.” He stalked in the direction of the door.
