“Try to stop them, clearly,” said Graverobber. “Didn’t think it was possible to piss off the patriarchs any more than we already have, but clearly I was underestimating how low we could sink. Stealing secrets from the tomb?”

“You’re one to talk, Graverobber,” I sneered. “I think a person threatening to quit should go high on the suspect list. If you quit, you have nothing to lose.”

“But do you think he’s a thief?” Jenny asked me with a penetrating glance. “Do you think he could be bought like that?” I was surprised to see her actually taking his side. I was surprised to see her meeting my eyes, to be frank.

“Explain my motivation for selling anything to this nutcase,” he snapped. “Unlike some of you, I hardly have a cash flow problem.”

“Assuming it was one of us.” Soze’s tone immediately mollified the room. He clicked back to the website. “Which, though I’m not ruling it out, I’m not going to take for granted, either. So let’s not start pointing fingers until we have more evidence. Patriarchs come and go from this place all the time. Yes, we have a record of their visits in our guest book, but that doesn’t mean a thing. You don’t know how long the traitor may have been sitting on this information before he decided to go public.”

“Or she,” Graverobber corrected.

Thorndike groaned. “While we play pronoun games, the clock is ticking. What’s the plan?”

Soze looked at Lucky, who piped up. “I’ve checked out the site’s Whois, of course, but it’s a private registration, which I figured it would be. I’ve got a couple more tricks up my sleeve for tracking down this fellow, but frankly, I’m not sure how far it’s going to get us. The problem with a paranoid conspiracy theorist is, well, he’s already paranoid. He’s sitting in a bunker somewhere with an aluminum cap on his head, certain the CIA and the FBI and whatever are trying to track him down. He’s probably got himself pretty well hidden.” She sat down at the computer. “But like I said, I’ll try.”

“Great.” Soze looked around the table. “Anyone else?”

“I’ve got some friends in the radical community,” said Thorndike, then stifled a cough. “It’s a long shot but sometimes they know people who know people. Fringe of all stripes tend to hang together.”

“And they’re fine working with The Man?” Juno mocked. “You retain any street cred whatsoever after joining Rose & Grave?”

“I’m starting my revolution from the inside,” Thorndike said, then sneezed. Lucky glanced at her for a moment, then returned her eyes to the screen. The rest of us took two steps away from Typhoid Thorndike.

“Shouldn’t our focus be on rooting out the traitor in our midst?” Bond asked in clipped tones. “It seems as if that would be much more useful in the long run. Has anyone considered Howard?”

“Howard’s not a Digger,” said Frodo.

“No, but he was a tap. I doubt this website fellow would concern himself over a technicality.”

Soze shook his head. “Howard doesn’t have access to the Black Books, but your point is well taken. We do need to find out who’s behind this. But I’m not sure how. It’s not as if we can fingerprint the books. The patriarchs are sure it’s one of us. I’m thinking it may be a patriarch trying to get us into trouble again, maybe weaken our support base a little more than it already is.” He gestured with his phone. “This particular trustee is already our biggest detractor, so his reaction is no surprise, but he’s not the only patriarch going postal.”

The White House Chief of Staff had been the force behind last year’s conspiracy to deprive all the new taps and the senior club of their internships as punishment for participating in initiating the first female members. And as Poe could attest, he wasn’t afraid of carrying through on his threats. Not only had the senior been denied his White House summer job, he’d been rendered unemployable anywhere on the Hill. It was unheard of for a Secretary of Rose & Grave to be forced to spend his graduate summer gardening.

The next fifteen minutes were devoted to strategy, though all of our theories and plans were hampered somewhat by the realization that someone standing in the room (or one of our missing members) could be responsible for our current plight. As the conversation waned, I started thinking that maybe Soze had a point. If there was a patriarch determined to ruin this club and start afresh with next year’s taps, then causing all this internal strife was no doubt exactly the way to accomplish his goals.

Pretty soon, the room emptied out as each of my fellow knights departed, task in hand. Lucky remained bent over the laptop. I approached gingerly, as one might a wild animal that might suddenly a) bolt, or b) snap your head off. My anger at what I assumed to be her betrayal paled in the face of our current issue—and more, in the wake of what I’d seen outside the coffee shop.

“Lucky—”

“I’m really busy right now,” she snapped. Apparently, we were going with option b.

“Fine. We can talk later.”

“I’d prefer if we didn’t talk at all.”

“Yeah, I’m getting that,” I said, becoming somewhat snappy myself. “And though you can be as difficult as you want out there in the barbarian world, inside we’re supposed to support one another. I just want to help you.”

“Do you even know what a firewall is?” she asked.

“You know what I mean.”

Her fingers stilled on the keyboard and then she slowly turned and faced me. “I don’t care who you think you are, Amy Haskel, or what you think you heard. If you want to pretend it’s different in here, then that’s your problem. I know I’m under the same judgment in here as I am outside. I’m not going to let myself be corrupted just because a bunch of silly men in robes tell me it’s okay. And I’m not going to pretend any of you have my best interests at heart just because you took an oath to a minor goddess that doesn’t exist.” And then she turned back to the computer, and commenced typing.

Damn. Why did she join at all if she despised us so much? I took a deep breath. “You know, I never really thought it had anything to do with gods or goddesses. I thought that silly wood engraving was a symbol of this thing we made, all one hundred and seventy-seven years of us.” Okay, that was the definition of graven image, but bear with me. “This isn’t my religion, Lucky, and no one is asking for it to be. No one is asking it of you, either. But when I make a promise to someone, on anything, it’s not about the thing I’m swearing by, it’s about me. I made a promise, and I’m going to keep it. So I do have your best interests at heart. I do because I promised I would.” I turned to walk away. “And you owe us two dollars for using my barbarian name.”

I was halfway to the door when she spoke. “Coffee.”

I turned around. “What?”

Lucky sat in a leather armchair three sizes too big for her and stared down at the end of her braid. “I, um…I spilled my coffee earlier. I could really use some caffeine. So if you wanted to, um, make us some coffee, I’ll be done here by the time you get back and we can talk.”

I laughed. “You chew me out and then ask me to fetch you coffee? Luck, if you think that would work on anyone who didn’t really like you and want to help, then you have a very odd grasp of the human spirit.” I headed to the kitchen.

Now, if I were Hale, where would I hide the coffee? I was crouching in front of the pantry, shoving aside bags of potatoes and onions, when I heard footsteps behind me.

“Wow.”

I stood and spun to see George standing in the doorway, jaw hanging open. Damn, where did he come from? I hadn’t heard him on the steps. He came toward me, his eyes glinting behind his glasses. “Turn around, ’boo.”

I furrowed my brow but did as he asked, slowly rotating until I faced him again. This time, his mouth was closed, and his face shone with appreciation.