Eye of the Storm by Lee Rowan Page A

other side of the Channel near St. Catherine’s Point. Marshall was reluctant to deliver his first negative report thus far, but found his employer not only unperturbed, but unsurprised. Word had preceded them, from an agent in Paris, that the doctor had completed his personal business and was on his way to the coast.
    “The unfortunate thing is,” Sir Percy said, “The good doctor left the city several days later than he originally intended. We’d expected him to come along the coast, but he’s gone overland. I’m sure he has his reasons—and I wish I knew what they are.”
    “And what if he never appears?” Davy asked bluntly. “How long are we to wait before taking action?”
    “It shouldn’t come to that. If we don’t see you in ten days at the most, I’ll be in touch. We’ve already sent out inquiries to other sources, so perhaps we can glean something of interest.”
    That was not much of an answer, all things considered. This was no stranger they were discussing. Marshall and Davy owed a great deal to Kit, and they were both fond of his wife, Zoe, as well as her father. There was no question of abandoning Dr. Colbert in dangerous territory, but it was a hundred miles from Paris to the shore. Anything could happen on such a long journey, and the risks were higher for an older man traveling alone.
    Given the delay in the doctor’s schedule, they might have had time to spend a day in port, but Sir Percy had brought them fresh provisions along with a few pieces of mail, so there was no sound reason to delay. With a slightly frustrated Marshall at the helm, the Mermaid came about and headed back across the channel.
     
     
    Four days went by, with as many night-time runs in to shore, and nothing to show for any of them. The first week of December slipped uneventfully into the second with a night of rain that left bare skin wet and numb. The crew said nothing, but they were growing restive, and so was David Archer.
    He had an uneasy feeling about this mission. Yes, they had a plausible explanation to offer for their presence; Sir Percy had decided there was no harm in a modest amount of the truth. Archer had even rehearsed the tale he’d give the French captain, if and when they might encounter one.  He’d rehearsed it so many times that if he were an actor he’d be afraid the role had gone stale. The story was simple: he’d received a letter from his cousin, Baron Guilford, saying that his father-in-law wanted to be met at a small village on the coast and there was simply no way to contact him to say that it would be inconvenient and not a very good idea. The old man was harmless, a bit of an eccentric, and the Baron wanted Grandpére brought safely home to the children. After the favors St. John had received from Baron Guilford, he wasn’t going to disoblige him.
    Why did they look for the signal at night? Colbert had decided it would be easier for them to be sure of his presence than in the daytime. They would not send a boat until after sunrise, of course. Indeed, Captain Marshall thought it a foolish plan, and liable to lead to trouble—Will was quite ready to speak his piece on that, and he wouldn’t need any acting ability—but Captain Marshall had only been hired to sail the vessel, and since Mr. St. John was the owner, he had a right to make the decision, didn’t he? After all, Dr. Colbert was a Frenchman by birth and he’d been allowed in right enough, so where was the harm in picking the old fellow up by the seaside?
    If Archer hadn’t heard similar foolishness himself, usually from civilians in need of rescue, he’d find it hard to say such a thing with a straight face. But with any luck at all, the covering story would never be needed. When they saw the signal they would swing a lantern with a red glass, send a boat, and meet Dr. Colbert on the beach.
    All he had to do was appear. Which he refused to do.
    The days passed slowly, running in to shore late and back into the channel