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who nodded. “A private collector in Austria reported some items missing yesterday. One was a large crystal thought to be an important Atlantean artifact.”
    Michael hit the table in frustration. “Damn.”
    “What is this Tuaoi Stone?” Arnold asked.
    “Metaphysical tradition holds the whole of Atlantis ran off the energy of an enormous crystal, several stories tall,” Michael explained. “Cayce saw it in a temple with a retractable roof. It provided the power for ships, houses…the whole shebang. I’ll bet there was more than one, though.”
    Doctor Abernathy nodded. “If Cagliostro is gathering Atlantean crystals, perhaps he’s located some important artifact, or even found the Tuaoi Stone.”
    “That crystal would be very large,” Michael said. “I doubt any museum or private collector has it; I’d know about it. It must still be buried at the bottom of the Atlantic.”
    Arnold leaned his chair forward. “Let’s stick to the facts. We know he’s stealing crystals. Are there others he’s likely to target?”
    Michael closed his eyes and tried to visualize the names of museums and private collectors holding such artifacts. “The organization keeps a list. My own files are in storage.”
    “Where?”
    “At Grandmother Elizabeth’s.” He boxed up his apartment rather quickly after Anne was ready to travel. The files would be difficult to get to now. Robert had a duplicate, even harder to reach.
    Arnold got up, flipped open his cell phone, and pushed a button. After a few seconds, he said, “I need the plane.” His voice grew muffled as he walked back into the living room.
    “We’re going somewhere?” Michael tried to mask his dismay.
    Doctor Abernathy chuckled. “No. Arnold is following up a lead about the whereabouts of Cagliostro. You have a funeral to attend and—”
    “Some research to do,” Michael finished for him. He started to stand up.
    Doctor Abernathy held up a hand. “First, you need to sleep.”
    Michael sank back into the chair. “I gave up my apartment before we left for England.”
    “We have room here.”

Chapter Five
    Anne woke before the dawn, when the celestial tides stir the Earth awake. The birds had begun tentative chirpings just outside the window, and by the time she finished her morning shower, they were in full song. She rummaged through her suitcase and found some clothes. Downstairs, she threw on Cynthia’s cloak and began the climb up the Tor. Her calves started to burn halfway up, but she soon reached the top. She sat against the stone tower and turned her face to the glowing horizon. Today, there was no voice from the long past, no vision of a standing stone; the present was enough. The grey mists gradually gave way to the soft greens of spring as the sun peeked over the edge of the world.
    A lamb ambled over and sniffed around her, then took a tentative nip at her cloak. Laughing, she pushed the youngster away. It scampered over to its waiting mother and nudged its nose under her belly to nurse, its black tail swishing back and forth. Anne leaned her head back, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her face. After a few minutes, a shadow blocked the light. She opened her eyes to a thick bank of grey clouds blowing in from the ocean. A cold drizzle started up. Pulling up the hood on the cloak, she headed for the house. She hoped to visit Chalice Well today and walk over to Wearyall, to explore the sites Michael had mentioned, but not in this rain. She’d wait for sun…or at least until she acclimated to the English weather.
    After a quick breakfast of toast and tea, Anne found herself drawn to the front office. She opened a few drawers, but felt no inclination to get down to work. She lit a fire and took out the manuscript. As soon as she settled in the well-worn armchair, she heard a scratch at the back door. She jumped up and hurried to open it, but the porch was empty. She looked around the back yard and up the slope of the Tor. Two lambs chased each