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“Wait, I almost forgot.” The Raven bounded down the steps, walked to the car, whipped out a handkerchief, and wiped down every car handle she or Mark had touched.
Standing agape, she tried to interpret the Raven’s unusual cleanliness. Was the Raven a clean freak, or did he suffer from obsessive-compulsive disorder?
He glanced in her direction. “I’m removing the fingerprints for your protection.” Pocketing the cloth, he traipsed back up the stone steps.
She and Mark followed the Raven to the cottage’s front door. A generator and a hefty satellite dish sat tucked behind a wooden fence, shielded by thick shrubs that disguised their incongruous appearance next to the historic architecture.
The Raven punched in a code on a sleek digital keypad. The keypad snapped open and revealed a digital fingerprint reader. He placed his index finger on the reader, and the door lock beeped once and unlocked.
“Tight security you have here.” Intrigued, she examined the discreet black box. The modernity of the device clashed with the weather-aged wooden door.
“I can’t afford to take chances. Please come in.”
She stepped inside with Mark just behind her. The foyer opened to a sparse, tasteful living room with a mahogany leather couch resting on a plaid, wool rug woven in muted navy, greens, and reds. A leather club lounger graced the opposite corner, paired with a carved wooden side table covered with paperback novels. The stone fireplace appeared functional, and an oil painting depicting the Battle of Culloden hung above the mantel. A collection of ornate, pewter, Scottish quaich bowls formed a straight line in ascending order of size. A large, sturdy basket stood nearby, filled with tidy bundles of kindling.
“Please have a seat while I check the house. I need to confirm no one’s been here or planted bugs so we can speak freely. And I’ll scan both your mobile phones, too.”
Mark’s eyebrows rose, and he jabbed her arm with his elbow.
The Raven took their phones and ran a handheld scanner over each one before returning them. “You’re clear. No bugs. I’ll be right back.” He disappeared down a hallway toward the back of the cottage.
“This place is immaculate. I’ve never seen a bachelor flat so tidy.” Tess spoke in a low, quiet voice and gave Mark a nudge.
“Have you seen many bachelor flats?”
Although amused, she didn’t respond to his quip. To the left, the kitchen sported gleaming counters and a spotless floor. The dining room, however, held a massive desk and an explosion of electronic spaghetti. Trails of countless cables lined the floorboards along the wall and connected with a dizzying array of computers. Green lights flashed in a constant rhythm on multiple surge protectors and the eerie, artificial glow contrasted with the living room’s welcoming golden hues.
“What an amazing sword.” She drew her breath. A highly polished broadsword was displayed on the wall next to the fireplace, designed with a unique steel cage basket encircling the hilt. Wide hooks held the gleaming weapon horizontal. A spotlight above targeted light onto the blade, which bounced off the steel. “Wow, a double-edged blade with a basket cage around the hilt. How unusual…is it eighteenth-century?” Eager for a closer look, she approached the display, taking care not to touch the blade.
“How do you know about swords, Tess?” The Raven leaned back on his heels and cocked his head to watch her.
She detected a more-welcoming tone in the Raven’s voice and wondered how much, if anything, Kyle had told him about her. “When my father was stationed in Switzerland, I studied fencing for three years in high school. My instructor also taught me the history of swords. My dad insisted I learn several forms of self-defense, but fencing’s the one I enjoyed most.”
The Raven strolled over to the sword. “This original weapon dates from the 1740s, and at the time, Highlanders and Jacobites preferred it. The basket protected the soldier’s hand from being injured in the throes of battle.”
“Smart.” Mark shoved his scarred hand into his jeans pocket.
Seeing regret in Mark’s expression, she stepped close and placed a hand on his back.
“Would you both like a cup of tea? I have biscuits, too.” The Raven gestured at the kitchen.
“Yes, thank you.” Forty-five minutes of gusting wind on Culloden Moor had chilled Tess to the core. “Mark?”
“Yes, thanks.” He sat on the leather couch, leaned into the deep backrest, and stretched his legs.
“One moment. I’ll go heat up a kettle.” The Raven disappeared into the kitchen.
Tess rested her crutches against the wall and sank onto the couch beside Mark. She teased him with a playful jab on the shoulder. “See? No unsterilized surgical instruments, only biscuits. Who would’ve guessed?”
The Raven returned, carrying a round, leather bar tray with three cups of black tea, small pitchers of milk and sugar, and a plate stacked with shortbread biscuits. He handed each of them a cup of tea, then folded his smooth hands in a prim cross. “Right. Now we’re settled, I insist on the following rules. Whatever we discuss tonight, we guarantee to keep it confidential. I will keep everything you tell me in strict confidence, and I expect the same of what I share. Do you both agree?”
Tess nodded without hesitation.
“Yes.” Mark reached over and selected a few shortbread biscuits.
“Good. May I please see the USB drive?”
Reluctant to release it, Tess stalled. “First, you need context about Kingsley Tech and the attack at Cedarcliff.”
