Chapter 30 #2
“You do remember the attack outside of the archive, right?”
“Of course.” With those two tiny words, she got up and took her clothes into the bathroom to dress. Fuck. She was hiding herself from me.
Not fuck, Penn. That’s good. That’s what you were trying to do—separate last night from reality.
I took a swig of the disgusting coffee and called Lance.
“You called Merlin before you called me?” No hello, which was what I’d expected.
“It was the middle of the night, Lance, and I needed a safe location. You would have called him to arrange it anyway, so I cut out the middleman.”
“I’m not a fucking middleman, and you should have at least called me second.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.” I paced from one wall to the other and refrained from looking at the bathroom door.
“Three o’clock, Arthur. He woke me up at three fucking a.m. to inform me Rick Younge showed up and beat the shit out of you.”
“I don’t know if I’d call it the shit.” My left knee protested the lie. Amid all the other injuries, I’d forgotten the scrapes and bruises from the torn pants.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“I don’t believe you for a second. How’s Gwen?”
That gave me an excuse to look at the door and listen.
The tap was running in the sink, so she wouldn’t hear what I said to Lance.
What could I actually say without him flipping out?
The kiss and the sex were definitely off limits.
Whatever had happened between them, he obviously cared about her—whether that was some hope they might get back together or because he was a stand-up guy underneath his smarmy exterior.
I chose the most conservative version of the truth. “She’s shaken up, but she’s a tough cookie.”
“She’s fucking amazing. I already told you that.”
That she was.
“Did you fuck her?”
“Lance!” I put a fist over my mouth and stared at the door, as though she might have heard his question or my outburst. “This is a protection job.”
“I’ll take that as a yes.” The jealous tone from our prior discussions about her was absent. What did that mean? “Now that we’re clear on that, what’s our plan?”
Gwen came out of the bathroom, fully dressed. She was a mess in dirty clothes, her hair rumpled and no makeup, but she was also fucking beautiful. Stop it! Gwen pointed at the phone as she crossed to her laptop.
“It’s Lance,” I said to her.
“Let me talk to her,” he said.
I ignored the request and answered his earlier question. “We’re heading to Cornwall. Gwen suspects everything points to Tintagel, and I think her case holds up.”
“You want to go back to the cottage?”
“Yeah.”
Lance laughed, a dry, skeptical sound. “The cottage Rick probably knows about?”
“I’ll talk it over with Merlin, but I’m thinking we have him coordinate our transport. He’s arranged for a new car for me, so we’ll take the ferry back. You’ll fly to an airstrip farther east of Cornwall than last time. He’ll get you a car, and you can take the back roads.”
“And hope no one notices?”
“We’ll do it like our winter trip. No one ever figured out we were there.”
Gwen opened her laptop at the table and began typing. Thankfully, she’d had her power supply in the messenger bag when we went to the archive.
“That was a weekend getaway, Arthur. Not an op. If someone found us—”
“The cottage has full security coverage, and I’ve spun it up remotely. We’ll see anyone coming. And there’s kit in the safe room.”
“Your father’s apocalypse bunker?”
My father’s insurance company had insisted on the safe room. If the police ever stopped by and wanted a tour, though, the quantity of firearms alone would have meant hell to pay. “Yeah, that one.”
“Jesus.” Lance exhaled. “This is the best option?”
“They’re coming after us. Rick said they want the sword and Gwen’s research.”
“So give it to them?”
Gwen’s typing slowed. She was listening. How could I explain the calculus to Lance without scaring the shit out of her?
Fortunately, my silence was all he needed to figure it out. “Her research is in her head. The only way to completely eliminate the research is to eliminate her?”
And that was the other part of the equation.
What if they followed her across the ocean?
What if nowhere was safe for her? What if heading toward the danger was the wisest choice in the end?
“The cottage is the safest location we have access to. Anywhere else, we’re exposed and unfamiliar with the terrain.
At the cottage, I know every approach, every exit, every blind spot.
You know them too. Plus, if things turn to shit, we do have the safe room. ”
“Are we calling anyone else in?”
“Merlin’s sure he can get Morganna digging into Rick’s connections, so we can figure out what we’re facing. I’ll loop him in once we’re moving. Aim for tonight. Drive in after dark.”
At the table, Gwen stopped typing and glanced at me.
If she’d wanted to talk to Lance, she would have pressed.
But no, she was waiting for me to get off the phone so she could talk to me.
If I was lucky, she wanted to discuss the email she was drafting.
If I wasn’t—and I hadn’t found much luck over the last few days—she wanted to talk about last night.
“How are things on your end?” I asked Lance. “Geneva treating you well?”
“Treating me? I got here after ten last night, after fleeing Malta and that gorgeous translator. She was flirting with me, by the way.”
“So not well?”
“I’ve spent more time with our flight crew than doing anything useful.”
“Could be worse?”
“It could be. I could have Rick Younge kicking the shit out of me.”
I rolled my eyes at him, because even though he wasn’t in the room with me, he’d expect it. “It wasn’t the shit.”
He chuckled. “Are you making small talk or is there something else you need to say?”
“I’m asking about your trip.”
“You never ask about my trip.”
I turned toward the wall and lowered my voice. Maybe I should have taken the rest of the conversation outside, where I could pace without Gwen’s attention on me. “I’m apologizing. For all the last-minute changes, the Malta redirect, all of it. This op has been a shitshow.”
“Arthur.” His voice flattened. He’d caught me stalling, and we both knew it. “What’s going on?”
Honestly, Lance, I have no idea. I slept with your ex, and now I’m committing to taking her and you into the lion’s den, all so I won’t be the one knocking her down this time.
And I don’t think Gwen’s right about me. I shouldn’t have started this company.
Because I’m making stupid decisions.
The Crécy article was right about me.
And so was Rick Younge.
“Nothing, Lance. I’ll have Merlin send you the details.”
He didn’t push it, which was unlike him. Which also meant he’d likely unload on me in person. “I’ll see you tonight.”
“Thanks, brother.” I hung up and pocketed the phone.
When I turned around, Gwen’s hands were in her lap. “Arthur—”
“Not right now, Gwen.” I’d spotted a supply of garbage bags on the storage shelf, and the place needed to be spotless for its next emergency guest. “I need to work out the logistics.”
“I can help with—”
“I need to plan the route to the cottage, timing, the car. Give me a bit to think it through, so I can call Merlin to implement.” I collected the used wipes and the gauze packaging, then repacked the first-aid kit.
“Are you sure? I can help figure things—”
“Once I’ve worked it out, I’ll walk you through it.” I checked the bathroom for trash. Empty. “Right now I need to do it in my head.”