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back to the café in years and on arrival discovered that the place had changed. Instead of being an out-of-the-way diner serving comfort food at tables covered with red and white checked oilcloth, the menu offered avocado toast, whole grain and organic dishes, fresh fruit, and other fare aimed at the health-conscious youth market. The décor had transitioned from something resembling his mother’s kitchen to a funky beach theme with colorful murals and ancient surf music. He preferred the previous boring vibe and greasy offerings. Baldwin, on the other hand, said she could learn to like the place now.

After breakfast, they went to the mall. With some difficulty they found a man’s scruffy wig in an even brown that contrasted nicely with his sun-bleached surfer hair he kept relatively short. Glasses were easy. They found a vintage black rim pair that the eyeglass store quickly fitted with clear glass. Evarts told the salesperson that he was going to a costume party as Buddy Holly. Her condescending expression said she had no idea who Buddy Holly was and couldn’t care less. Next, they went to a grocery store and bought food and paper supplies as if the apocalypse could be spotted on the near horizon.

After they got it all home and packed away, Evarts received a call from Wilson looking for her ride to the base. He glanced at his watch and saw it was nearly five in the evening. The day had flown by. He instructed Wilson to wait at the Lilac Pâtisserie on State Street, a three-block walk from the police station. Evarts didn’t think the upscale pastry shop would appeal to the Egyptians cruising the neighborhood.

He made the fifteen-minute drive by himself. Baldwin stayed behind to put away their purchases and start dinner. Evarts pulled curbside of the Lilac Pâtisserie. He could see Wilson inside drinking coffee in a to-go cup, but after glancing in his direction, she made no move to get up. Evidently a wig and glasses were a good disguise. The next time she glanced out, Evarts waved, and she nodded before leaving. As she exited the store carrying a single duffle, she looked none too happy.

“Problem?” Evarts asked after she stashed her duffle in back and he pulled away.

“With the assignment? No. With my lodging, yes. After sixteen years in the Army, I prefer something other than base accommodations. I was actually looking forward to a few days in a nice motel without my kids and husband constantly demanding attention.”

Evarts laughed. “That’s all? Because of open communications, I didn’t mention where you’ll really be lodged. We had hoped you’d agree to stay with us, but if you prefer, you can stay anywhere in Santa Barbara. My treat.”

“Anywhere?”

“Anywhere.”

“Tempting to empty your wallet, but I graciously accept your invitation to stay with you. Where is that?”

“A two-bedroom, two bath apartment in Hope Ranch. Ten minutes from where we are now. A five-minute walk to the beach. I think you’ll like it.”

“Sounds good. Commander Standish is clueless as to your whereabouts.” She popped open the glove box and waved the rental agreement at Evarts. “Rented cars, rented apartment, and disguises. How long do you think that will work?”

“At least until Monday.”

Wilson laughed. “Wow, that’s a whole day. Ambitious, aren’t you. From what I hear, those Egyptians are still on the prowl, so picking me up was a bad idea. Better to keep your head down a while longer.”

“I’m working on getting them looking in a new direction. If that doesn’t work, I’ll figure something else out. Learn anything today.”

“Yeah, in fact, we may have an inkling of an idea. If—”

Evarts interrupted. “Hold it until we get to the apartment. I want Trish to hear as well.”

“Sure.” Wilson made a quick survey outside the car. “Pretty town. Commander Standish says you own a mansion up in the hills. A rented apartment must feel like a comedown.”

“I’d rather be home, but Hope Ranch is an exclusive community, and the apartment is expensively finished. We’re not exactly slumming.”

“Good to hear. The further away from a barracks, the better.”

Evarts drove through an archway that signaled the entrance to Hope Ranch and then along a wide groomed avenue outlined with greenways and palm trees. Apartments were situated near the entrance because the prime ocean-front lots were reserved for the wealthy. Evarts pulled into a double garage where another similarly bland sedan was already parked.

“Can I use one of these to go back and forth to the station?” Wilson asked. “It would be safer for you.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Good. Besides, even if you return to work, I don’t think our hours will be similar.”

“I’ll write out directions,” Evart said.

“No need. I kept an eye on the route. Besides, most people can direct me to the police station.”

As they walked out of the garage, Evarts used a key fob to close the door. Wilson appeared to be examining everything. After they climbed to the second-floor entrance, Wilson slowly spun around with an expression of disapproval.

“I presume anonymity is your primary protection.”

“Plus, a steel door and a small arsenal,” Evarts responded.

She did a test-knock on the door and nodded positively.

Baldwin met them at the door when they entered. She showed Wilson her room and left her to unpack and freshen up. In less than five minutes, Wilson joined them at a dining room table that could seat six.

“Drink?” Evarts asked.

“Beer?”

“Anchor Steam or Pilsner Urquell?”

“Pilsner Urquell, my favorite. How’d you know?”

“I used to work in intelligence,” Evarts quipped.

As he got up to serve drinks, he heard Baldwin say, “Don’t let him kid you. He bought what he likes.”

After drinks were distributed, Evarts said, “Diane has an idea. I asked her to wait until you were present to explain it.”

“Already?” Baldwin said. “You only spent a few hours with Standish.”

“But I had a plane ride to study the situation … and think. The idea may be a dud. It depends on whether the current Templars follow the rule of their ancestors.”

“Which rule?” Baldwin asked.

“It’s not singular,” Evarts said.

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