Page 112 of Under Arthur’s Protection

“That would be great, Ethan. Thank you.”

He pulled the open Tintagel map closer. “If you’re heading to the cave, watch out for the tide.”

“I know,” I said. “There’s a low tide this afternoon. We might go then.”

“Is there?” Ethan wheezed a laugh. “I remember the first time you went with your father. You came home and talked Hettie’s ear off for hours.”

I’d come tearing into the kitchen with sand in my hair and under my fingernails, spilling every detail of my trip. She’d lifted me onto the counter and let me eat leftover stew straight from the pot. She’d listened to every word as though it was the most important story she’d ever heard. “Hettie was a patient woman.”

“She was a saint to put up with you.” Ethan’s old, weathered face didn’t handle smiles well. It was hard to tell the difference between happy and angry. “I should leave you to your planning, though. The dogs are probably whining outside, wondering where I’ve gone.”

“Thanks for checking on us.” I offered him a hand up, but he waved it away, and I walked him to the kitchen door.

He collected his rifle and pushed the door open, revealing his two old hounds sniffing a nearby bush. “Be careful at Tintagel, Master Arthur. Those cliffs aren’t forgiving.”

“I will.”

He headed across the lawn, the dogs trotting behind him.

When I returned to the dining room, Lance shook his head. “That man has given me the creeps since I was fifteen.”

“He reminded me of the Crypt Keeper when I was little.” I couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t have the gray hair or the scowl.

“He still does.”

Gwen had taken a seat at the table and was pulling her notebook from the messenger bag. “He seems sweet.”

“He’s a good man.” When we’d arrived the first time, I’d called him a neighbor, rather than admit my family employed caretakers for our properties. As though Gwen hadn’t noticed how pretentiously large my father’s cottage was. “He’s worked here since my father bought the place.”

“Is that how he got so close without setting off an alarm?” Gwen asked.

“No, that’s on me.” I picked up my phone and swiped through to the security app. I’d been distracted by her hand on my crotch during the approach, then by Gwen herself once we were inside. I turned the system back on. “I switched on the bypass while we were driving in and forgot to re-enable the full system. He came in the same direction we did.”

“Back to work.” Lance gestured at the Tintagel map. “Cave first, while we have the window. Ruins after, if the cave’s a dead end.” His gaze moved across the table from Gwen to me. “Are you two bringing the sword?”

You two? As though Gwen and I were the partners all of a sudden, and not Lance and me.

He knows, Arthur. He totally knows.

“We should leave it here,” I said, as much to move past his implication as anything else. “If they’re waiting for us, we shouldn’t arrive with exactly what they want.”

Gwen looked up from her notebook. “Clavis means key.”

“I know what it means.”

“What if it’s literal? What if it unlocks a physical object in the cave?”

Lance put out his hands, as though weighing options. “She’s got a point.”

She did. But so did I. However, we were hoping we’d slipped into England before Rick and whoever he was working for suspected we were there. If our entry into the country was stealthier than our arrival at the cottage, they might believe we hadn’t left France. This afternoon’s low tide was a blessing—the perfect time to enter the cave, search it, and leave.

“Okay. The sword comes,” I said. “Gwen and I go down into the cave. Lance, you’re overwatch on the mainland side of the bridge. You’ll have eyes on the road, the beach, the cave entrance, and the far exit.”

“In clear air, sure. Depending on how thick the fog gets, I may have a long lens pointed at a wall.” As a former sniper, Lance usually covered us from a distance, so I hadn’t expected pushback. He indicated a hard case on the floor next to the door. “Fortunately, I found a little quadcopter in the safe room with thermal and low-light cameras. I called Tristan an hour ago, and we confirmed he can fly it from his desk at home, as long as we’ve got a clear cellular signal. He’ll be able to punch through the fog where my glass can’t.”

“I like that.” I nodded. “You keep the bridge, he keeps the sky. Two sets of eyes.”

Lance opened a small bag that had been sitting on the corner of the table. “And I bought some earpieces before I left Geneva since your radio’s somewhere in France. They’re off-the-shelf units that’ll pair with our phones.”