CHAPTER EIGHT
The flight to Edinburgh was only half full, and Sir Elyan the White could stretch out over two seats, piling his books and papers in the spare one. He could afford first class but traveled in coach so as to not attract attention. One couldn’t be too careful when the stakes were so high.
In his carry-on bag, he had two laptops: his own and Professor MacPherson’s. He still hadn’t been able to get through the password protection. He’d have to find someone to do that for him, although he had no idea who to ask. He had never consorted with criminal types.
He was a holy man, one incapable of committing a sin.
Those things he had done were necessary, part of God’s plan.
He bowed his head and sent up a silent prayer. First, he gave thanks that he had managed to get this far and
