“Easier said than done,” George said.

“Furthermore, our position on barbarian visitors is very clear. They are here by invitation of the society only. If they are at any time making a knight feel uncomfortable, they will not be allowed to remain, no matter what another knight or patriarch might say about it. That’s what our oaths demand.”

“Fine,” said Frank. “We’ll leave tomorrow. With our boat.” A few of the other patriarchs looked stricken by the prospect of losing access to the yacht. (Didn’t bother me.)

“You’ll do what you need to do,” Poe said. “Whether that’s leaving or making it clear to your barbarian wife that she needs to show more respect to her hosts. All of them.”

This was being said in front of patriarchs twice his age. Who were listening to him. I stared in shock at Poe, but Malcolm hardly looked fazed. Was this how it was back when Poe was secretary of D176? Had people just shut up and obeyed him when he spoke? No wonder he couldn’t stand me when we met. I’d never treated him with anything approaching this level of respect.

Poe was still talking. “I spent the last two hours going over every inch of this island, looking for any evidence that we had visitors. I didn’t find anything new from the earlier sweep that D177 did. But there are signs. It makes sense that only the women’s cabin would have been affected by a raid. It’s isolated from the others, and it was empty this afternoon, while the central compound was filled with people. The only other vulnerable area would be the guesthouse, and I spoke to the inhabitants there.”

“You can say his name, you know,” Demetria grumbled.

Poe ignored her. “They saw nothing unusual. But at least one knight saw strangers on the island early this afternoon.” He nodded to Clarissa, who looked vindicated. “I also spoke at length to Saltzman, who is prepared now to give a report of the recent barbarian activity on the island, as well as lay out what he feels are necessary precautions until we get to the bottom of this.” He motioned to Malcolm, who tapped thrice, once, and twice on the door to the tomb. Salt entered.

Now I was trying to catch Poe’s eye. Intruders on the island? What was he playing at? He knew as well as I did that Clarissa hadn’t seen anyone but us on the crescent beach. And yet, he was going to indulge in this whole fantasy of visitors?

Was he trying to placate Frank? That didn’t make any sense, given what Poe had just said to him about keeping his wife in line. And yet, Poe had no reason to lie. Deny, maybe, but to promote the “intruders” idea? It was Kadie, naturally. We all knew it.

Salt’s report was the size of War and Peace. Great. Folks started settling in for the long haul, and I was impressed by everyone’s patience. I honestly think it’s the most fun the caretaker ever had, explaining to a roomful of trapped, if not rapt, society members about how he’d been roused twice on the night of January 27th by a series of strange green lights in the sky.

In the middle of his report on the first week in February, I lifted my head to see Poe looking at me. When he was sure he had my attention, he mimed taking a plate down off the shelf and breaking it over his knee. I stifled a surprised laugh. Where had that come from?

He held my gaze for one moment more, then morphed back into Secretary Poe, serious as a study hall proctor, paying attention to Salt’s report as if the dead bird the caretaker had found on his front stoop the morning of February 24th was indeed the portent of doom he claimed it to be.

At long last, the old man wrapped it up and we spilled out of the stuffy stucco box and headed to dinner, as famished as death row inmates with a last minute reprieve.

“Well, that was long and pointless,” Demetria said.

“Yeah. At this point, our cabin could have been trashed by Kadie Myer, Kurt Gehry, conspiracy theorist nuts, aliens, marauding pirates, or just really bitter squirrels.” Jenny sighed. “Who decided this trip was a good idea?”

Clarissa shrugged. “But I do think Salt had a point. We need to be on our guard. Obviously, people have trespassed here, and I doubt they’re afraid to do damage. I think the patrols are a good idea.”

“They’re a good way to keep us from getting sleep,” Harun said.

“I second that. If I wanted to march around in the dark, I’d have signed up for ROTC,” said Ben. “I came here to relax.”

“How much relaxing are you going to do once they trash your stuff?” Jenny asked.

“Touché.”

“He was right about not wandering around alone, too,” Kevin said. “If I had anyplace else to go, I’d leave Cavador Key tomorrow. I didn’t expect us to be under attack here.” So much for this being a group bonding experience.

“Well, you can thank Gehry,” Demetria said. “That’s why there’s so much focus on the island right now.”

“Then why isn’t it Gehry getting attacked?” George asked. “Since when do I have to be that bastard’s scapegoat?”

“You, George?” Clarissa said. “Care to show me your new bright orange purse?”

Malcolm and Poe sat on the other side of the room during this dinner, and I made sure to sit with my back to them so I wouldn’t stare. But I swear, throughout the meal, it was as if I had an internal radar beeping out Poe’s position. Now he was at the salad bar, now getting a refill on his coffee, now visiting the table of another patriarch. Beep beep beep.

This called for chocolate. I was pouring hot fudge over my ice cream when the beeps started up again. Proximity alert.

“You’re drowning your scoop,” came his voice from behind me.

“Well, you know me and drowning,” I replied without looking back, and put down the bottle of sauce.

His next words were almost too soft to catch. “I’m sick over what that spray paint said about you.”

That was unexpected. No, that was…mind-blowing. I was glad I was looking away, since it took me a second to recover. At last, I turned toward him. “There was stuff all over, about all of us.”

“They knew about yesterday.”

“Yeah, imagine that. It’s all anyone could talk about.”

“So someone sneaking around could have overheard it.”

“Why do you think it was an intruder? You know very well—”

“The campfire. The tape recorder. Amy, someone is infiltrating this island.”

I rolled my eyes. “But they’re harmless, like you said. The person who trashed the room is sitting right over there. You know it.”

“I’ve spoken to both of the Myers. They aren’t my favorite people, but they aren’t violent, either. This was violent.”

“You take an awful lot upon yourself, you know.”

“Yeah. I do.”

“What was up with the meeting today? Why were you acting like you were in charge?”

“Because I am.”

“What does that mean?”

He blinked. “I’m in charge. I called the meeting, I ran it. I’m in charge.”

“You’ve barely graduated.”

“So? I’m on the board of the Trust.”

“You never told me that.”

“Every Secretary is the year after he graduates. But I was in the doghouse all last semester, remember? I couldn’t even go to TTA meetings. Now, ever since Gehry’s been out, I’ve finally been able to do my job properly. And,” he added, “I don’t exactly tell you everything about my life.”

Or anything at all. I returned to my seat and wolfed down my ice cream so fast, I almost choked.

I’m sick over what that spray paint said about you.

Poe had called the meeting. He’d talked to everyone on the island. Even Kurt Gehry, whom he had more reason to hate than the rest of us combined, considering how Gehry had canceled his White House internship and shoved him off the TTA board. While we were busy scrubbing paint off the mattresses, he’d conducted a full investigation. For me.

George was wrong. Poe wasn’t a jerk. But he wasn’t like anyone I knew, either.