“No, Mom, Iraq is not on my radar.”

“Oh good. Good.”

With the monotony of the conversation already getting to him, and a desire to eavesdrop on Alexander’s conversation, King spoke quickly. “Listen, Mom. I was just calling to make sure you were both okay, that you’re both safe.”

“Oh, we have nothing to fear here,” Lynn said. “We’re safe.”

They entered the parking lot across the street from the monument and pulled into an empty space. A large red, double-decker tour bus pulled up behind them. Eager to get out of the car and not thinking about what might be outside, King exited the Mercedes and was greeted by an amplified voice.

“Welcome to Stonehenge, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for choosing London Hills Tours.”

King closed his eyes and sighed. Maybe she hadn’t heard. She certainly hadn’t reacted. “Mom, I have to go now.”

“Okay, hun. You’ll call back when you can?” she asked. “Don’t make us worry.”

“I won’t. I will. I have to go. Love you.” King ended the call as Alexander finished his own.

“Just the two of us,” King heard him say. “A few days, and make sure it’s dry. Good.”

Alexander hung up the phone, slid it inside his pocket, and exited the car.

“Dinner date?” King asked as he exited as well.

“Reservations of a sort, but not for food.” Alexander closed his door. “Nothing to concern yourself with.”

But King was concerned. Everything Alexander said and did raised more questions, and with each unanswered question, his trust of Alexander ebbed. Who was he talking to? Who were the two people he mentioned? And what were these secret reservations? The only reason Alexander had to keep secrets from King—who wasn’t interested in money, power, fame, or immortality—was that he wouldn’t like what he heard.

“Throwing me a surprise party?” King asked, searching for information without an outright confrontation.

But Alexander acted as though he hadn’t even heard the question. “I can hardly remember my parents,” he said. “But I know I’m glad I didn’t have a cell phone when they were alive.” He shook his head with a grin.

King saw through the phony smile and understood the meaning behind Alexander’s deflection: back off. Not one to back down from anyone, including immortals, he was about to push the subject when a mob of tourists exited the tour bus. Some went to the visitor’s center for pamphlets, restrooms, and drinks while the rest made a beeline for the subterranean passage that led to the other side of the road and a spectacular view of the stones. Other than the new arrivals, the parking lot was largely empty, save for a few cars. By Stonehenge standards, they had the place to themselves.