Guinevere said, “And others believe?”
“That Arthur fought alongside Mordred, his protector. No one knows the truth and how to differentiate between fact or fiction, history or mythology. But one thing most people agree on was that the sword was split into two, with one shard being taken back to the Isle of Avalon to help heal Arthur, while the second half was taken as a token of victory by Mordred.”
Sam said, “Great. So, assuming Arthur and Mordred were real, we need to find out where Arthur’s part of Excalibur ended up and where Mordred took his part. Then, we need to work out a way to magically forge the two parts together — and use it to kill Excalibur. Is that how you read all this, Guinevere?”
Guinevere made a coy smile. “Yeah, that’s about it.”
Lindsay said, “I don’t suppose your brother simply left more clues in the book about where to find these things?”
“Good point,” Guinevere said, as she turned the vellum, and placed the cipher over it.
All three of them gasped.
It was a list of three locations.
GLASTONBURY ABBEY ENGLAND
JERUSALEM ISRAEL
DRAGON BREATH CAVE — MAJORCA
There was no doubt in any of their minds about the meaning. King Arthur was buried in Glastonbury Abbey, Mordred and his sword were buried in Jerusalem, and the Dragon Breath Cave held the fire to forge the sword whole again.
Guinevere tried the next page.
Nothing.
She turned the vellum, but the book was short, and there were no more writings.
Sam asked, “Can you think of anything else Patrick might have left you?”
“No, nothing at all,” Guinevere lied.
“All right. It’s not a lot to go on, but I’ll have some of my researchers see what we can find at those locations.”
“What are you saying?” Guinevere asked.
Sam grinned. “I’m saying we’re going on a Quest to restore King Arthur’s famous sword.”
Sam turned to Lindsay and said, “Do you have a digital copy of these books I can buy?”
Lindsay said, “Yes, of course. Come this way.”
Guinevere watched as Sam left to buy the digital version.
As soon as his back was turned, she flipped the cipher over and placed it on the last page of the book. It immediately revealed more writings.
She felt the rush of adrenaline as she read the words the cipher had revealed to her.
ONLY YOU GUINEVERE CAN DRAW THE SWORD FROM THE STONE
Chapter Thirty-Five
Sam thanked Lindsay for her help. A moment later, he heard a distant scream. He stepped outside the Rare Books Room looking for its source. His eyes glanced across the Pearl Room, along the Basil Hallward Gallery.
Nothing.
He turned around, and came face to face with a man in a black balaclava. The man leveled the barrel of a handgun at him, and said, “Get your hands out where I can see them!”
Sam slowly moved his hands upward. “Okay. What are you after?”
Two more men in balaclavas entered the Pearl Room.
The man holding the gun against Sam said to them, “Secure the Rare Books Room! And hurry, the police will be here any minute!”
Sam heard Lindsay scream at them not to damage her books.
“I found her!” One of the attackers said. “Patrick’s sister. Guinevere!”
“Good,” the first attacker shouted. “Turn around Mr. Reilly.”
Sam did as he was told.
An instant later, he felt the cold, hard barrel of a handgun being pressed against the base of his spine.
“Let’s go. Walk and don’t do anything stupid.”
Sam watched as another two men covered in black balaclavas moved with military precision, securing the escape routes of the Pearl Room. All this time he thought he’d been dealing with Excalibur the monster, or Excalibur the man, but this was the first he’d realized a well-funded organization might be behind it.
These men, he realized, were most likely mercenaries. Hired elite soldiers. Guns for hire. It was going to be difficult to find a way out. Best case scenario, it was still likely to have significant collateral loss of lives.
Swallowing hard, he said, “Okay. You’re the one with the gun. I’ll do what you say.”
“Good decision.”
They stepped into the Rare Books Room.
A man inside had his arm around Guinevere’s neck, so that his elbow applied pressure to her throat. The man had a gun pressed at her head. Lindsay was standing next to the checkout section, with her hands behind her head.
The third mercenary was throwing expensive, rare, books around, ripping pages, and cursing.
“Where is it?” The soldier shouted at Guinevere. “I know you came here for the last copy of Historia Brittonum!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Guinevere replied.
The mercenary punched her in the gut once. It was hard, and Guinevere winced in pain.
Sam tried to step forward, but the man behind him said, “Don’t…”
He stopped.
Across the room, Guinevere stood up. Her jade eyes widened, and became piercing like fire.
The soldier asked, “Now do you have something to tell me?”
Her mouth twisted in disgust. “Yeah. Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to lay a hand on a woman?”
The mercenary laughed. “All right, I was happy to do this the easy way. Single bullet to the head and all. For Patrick’s sake. But, if you want to make it painful, be my guest.”
Guinevere tried to hold her hands up placatingly. She tried to say something… but the man holding her throat made it come out in barely a whisper.
The man who appeared in charge cupped his hand to his ear and said, “Sorry, what was that darling? I couldn’t hear you?”
The man holding her looked up at the man as if to say, what do you want me to do, boss? The leader gestured to give her space.
The man stepped backward, letting Guinevere go free.
She took a deep breath in and out before adjusting her position, trying to get a comfortable stance.
The leader met her eye. “Now, what do you want to tell me?”
Guinevere said, “I just wanted to say…”
“Yes?”
“If you walk out that door now, there’s a good chance you might get away with this…”
“And if I don’t?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I heard your friend say something about the police being here any minute…”
“You’d better tell us where the book is then.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.” Guinevere’s lips twisted into a wry smile. “But if you touch me again, none of you are getting out of here alive.”
The man laughed.
He then punched her hard in the gut.
Only this time, she stepped forward to meet him.
With a retractable razor blade she’d picked up from the stationery desk a minute earlier, she turned and lunged, so that the blade sliced straight through her attacker’s throat.
In an instant, it cut through the tough tendons, ligaments, and cartilage that were designed to protect the vital pieces of a person’s windpipe and large carotid blood vessels.
The leader’s eyes widened in terror.
His hands reached to his throat to stem the bleeding.
Before they had gotten there, Guinevere had already taken his handgun. It was a Walther P99. A first-generation 9mm version, with a green polymer frame. Developed by the German company Carl Walther Sportswaffen of Ulm, the semi-automatic was popular in law enforcement, military, and by the looks of things, mercenaries.
The next few seconds happened lightning fast.
The soldier holding Sam asked, “Are you all right?”