Page 120 of Under Arthur’s Protection

Rick had taken my phone from my jacket pocket, glanced at the screen, and tossed it over the side in the first minute. Escaping wouldn’t be enough. Without my phone, I couldn’t call Arthur or tell him where I was.

My back was against the inflatable tube that formed the boat’s edge, with nowhere to go but the water. The big-handed guy who’d grabbed me occupied the bench opposite, his knees inches from mine. Rick perched beside the driver, behind a low windshield. The other two waited in the stern, a cinder block and a coil of rope beneath their bench.

A cinder block.

And a coil of rope.

Don’t think about that. Think about Arthur. Pull him toward you. Gravity bends around you two—use it.

Rick had dropped the sword case next to Big Hands when he got into the boat, as though he didn’t care about it. Wasn’t it important? Didn’t he want it? In Champagne, the fake archivist had shouted that we couldn’t keep it.

But here?

“You have the sword,” I yelled at Rick, although he might not have been in charge. “You can have it. Just let me go.”

Rick didn’t bother to look at me.

“Please. I won’t say anything. I’ll go back to the States and⁠—”

“That’s not going to happen.” He pulled himself up with the safety bar beside the steering column and moved next to Big Hands. He was older than Arthur, with more lines etched deep on his face. His eyes passed over me as if I were a rat crawling up from the sewer. “You’ve seen too much, Dr. Lyons.”

“I haven’t told anyone⁠—”

“You’re not going back to the States.” The engine revved higher, and Rick braced his legs as though he’d been born on the water. We sliced through the gray. Gray water. Gray air. Gray sky somewhere above us.

My stomach pitched, every ounce of food I’d eaten rising in my throat. I gripped the rope attached to the outer tube and leaned over the side. The water flew past me, the vomit vanishing behind us.

Go! Go! Dive!

I drew my feet up and tipped myself over the⁠—

Big Hands caught me before I cleared the side. His arm locked around my waist, and he yanked me down hard enough to slam my head against the seat.

I kicked at him. Raked my fingers across his face. I fought. Fucking hell, I fought, but he was too strong.

Once I was pinned, Rick leaned close, his coffee-tinged breath hot against my face. “Don’t do that again.”

My chest heaved, and my legs shook. The water was everywhere, and it was nowhere. The fog was so thick, the shore had vanished. Where would I go? How would I avoid them when all they had to do was circle back and snatch me from the water?

Think, Gwen. Think!

I couldn’t fight them. Not five of them, when they were so much bigger than me. The moves I’d used in Champagne hadn’t done anything here.

And Arthur.

Arthur didn’t know where I was. He knew I was in a fast boat, but that was it. Without the drone, he was as blind as I was. But he’d come for me. He’d find a way. I just had to survive long enough.

But how?

What could I⁠—

“I have a scheduled email,” I blurted. Why hadn’t I said that first? “It’ll send automatically if I don’t log in. I set it up before we came to Tintagel. If something happens to me, it goes to every major English-speaking news channel.”

Rick signaled for Big Hands to take the seat by the driver. He sat down across from me and leaned forward on his elbows. “And what’s in this email, Dr. Lyons?”

Memories of another man asking about my research floated to the surface. Of Lionel nodding and asking follow-up questions about the Walmere sword. I’d trusted him with everything because I’d thought we were building a future.

No one would ever use my research to destroy me again. Not Lionel. Not Dr. Hopkins. And not even Rick Younge. As long as I only told him part of what I had, I still had leverage. “I found the symbol inside the cave.”