Arthur Campbell paused as he stepped off the front porch of a beautiful blue-gray Victorian-style three story mansion, nestled between Queen and Jefferson Streets. It was considered prime real estate overlooking Cape May’s prominent Beach Avenue and the Atlantic Ocean. Although the early February day was bright and sunny without a cloud in the sky, a fierce sea wind penetrated Arthur’s body anywhere his pea coat didn’t directly cover, taking the sub-freezing temperature deep to his bones.

Arthur hated hats and rarely if ever wore one, but today he would certainly have made an exception. He was afraid to touch his ears as they had become so numb in the five-minute walk to his meeting, he was afraid to touch them for fear of finding they had fallen off. And his legs, his legs felt like they had a thousand pins and needles poking at him though his trousers. His face burned like it was on fire and the hour he had just spent indoors did little to alleviate his discomfort.

Never had he felt such a take your breath away, bone piercing cold. He left his beloved Avalon Island in the Carolinas and a balmy seventy-five-degrees behind him two days prior and thought his pea coat would be enough to see him through his brief visit to New Jersey. But his coat covered only half his body, rendering him ill-prepared for Cape May’s wind and bone chilling cold and making him eager to get back to his home turf. He had been to Boston on many occasions during the winter but never experienced anything as bitter cold as this.

He turned his collar up to protect his neck and ears as best he could, shoved his hands into his coat pockets and braced himself as he stepped into the increasingly gusting wind and headed west along Beach Avenue back toward his hotel. As he walked, he embraced the cold hoping it would take his mind off his recent encounter, but the piercing wind and bitter cold did little to numb the grief and the horror he had just experienced at the Buchanan residence.

Jimmy Buchanan was a twenty-three-year-old Marine seconded to Arthur’s command at the newly established Revenue Cutter Services weather station located on the Campbell owned Avalon Island. Jimmy was one of the last people of many to be killed on or near the Island under unusual and extremely brutal circumstances.

Although not in any way responsible for the killings, including Jimmy’s, Arthur felt morally obligated to start a foundation committed to reach out and assist family members of those affected. It was this effort that brought Arthur face to face with Jimmy’s parents, Robert and Elizabeth Buchanan.

Like Arthur, Robert Buchanan was a mariner at heart but spent only a few short years of his youth at sea. His seafaring days ended early when he married money and quickly ascended as a prominent figure in the maritime shipping industry. His success was due only in part to his matrimonial connections. His keen market insights and ability to convince his father-in-law to invest heavily in modernization and diversification quickly took the family-owned company, American Eastern Lines, from being the tenth to the second largest shipping company in the country,

It took Arthur’s foundation staff every bit of eighteen months to track down Buchanan’s whereabouts, and it was with great reluctance they agreed to see Arthur when they were finally contacted. Although Jimmy’s assignment and Arthur’s command were officially under the auspices of the Revenue Cutter Services, they both were part of a covert, para-military unit known amongst themselves as The Sable Council, or as most called it… The Sable.

Like the French Foreign Legion, The Sable protected the identity of their ranks closely. But unlike the legion, they did not have the second chance policy and did not accept men of questionable background. They had high standards for moral character, loyalty, intelligence and the ability to conduct violence when called upon. These were difficult characteristics to find wrapped in one package making recruitment challenging, but retention rates were high.

Due to their mission purpose, they protected the identity of their troops to a fault. Even amongst the ranks, there was an unwritten rule not to pry into the private lives of their comrades. Despite this organizational requirement the men were a tight knit group, a well-oiled special operations unit with a very special purpose.

So, when Arthur inquired internally within The Sable for Jimmy’s particulars he was stonewalled. Had it been Cline Cameron making the inquiries, The Sable may have been more open. Still, the response from the upper echelon did not sit right with Arthur. Something was wrong, he could sense it.

Robert and Elizabeth were the last family members to be approached by the foundation, and even with so much time having passed, their emotions remained as raw as the day they learned of their son’s death. Jimmy was the couple’s only son who never married and his death ended his parent’s lives as much as it did his.

Robert’s stellar rise to success took an abrupt pause when Jimmy came home in a pine box after having been ravaged beyond recognition. Officials attributed it to an alligator, but the Buchanan’s knew different. They weren’t sure what attacked their son, but they knew it wasn’t an alligator and they knew the remains in the pine box did not belong to Jimmy.

Robert and his wife Elizabeth retreated to their summer home in Cape May, and never so much as opened a window shade as if trying to will themselves to join their son wherever he was. What they revealed to Arthur during their hour-long meeting would haunt him for the rest of his life.

After leaving the Buchanan residence, Arthur headed to the Colonial Hotel where he booked his accommodation for his brief stay in town. The hotel was recommended by his foundation director, Maddie James. It was a new luxury hotel with all the modern amenities including a centralized steam heating system which he now appreciated more than ever after his walk to and from the Buchanan mansion. He made a mental note to thank Maddie graciously for the excellent recommendation when he returned home.

It was only a five-minute walk to the hotel but between the cold wind attacking him and his mind trying to process what he had just learned, the walk seemed to Arthur like it would never end. He felt suspended in time, trapped between making a promise he almost certainly couldn’t keep and the need to share his new burden with someone who cared, someone who would understand.

Arthur approached the Buchanan family much like he did all the other affected families, with hope of bringing closure and to assist in any way he could to rebuild their lives for the future without their loved one. In all cases thus far, he succeeded to one degree or another. But the Buchanan family was different.

Jimmy Buchanan graduated at the top of his class at the prestigious College of New Jersey and had unlimited opportunities he could have pursued. How he came to be an enlisted man in the Marines and ultimately selected for entry into The Sable was a mystery to Arthur, but he knew that understanding this would be crucial in keeping the promise he made to Jimmy’s parents.

Although Robert and Elizabeth were open in some regards, they were very reserved with what they shared about Jimmy’s early life other than the fact they were a very close family. Trust needed to be nurtured, and Arthur knew it wouldn’t come easy.

When Arthur made it back to the hotel he made a beeline to the massive walk-in fireplace in the grand lobby. Although the hotel was heated with a state-of-the-art steam heating system, he was grateful the builders had the foresight to incorporate a functioning fireplace. Not only was it a beautiful visual enhancement to the lobby’s large but cozy ambiance, it also provided much needed direct heat to warm Arthur’s body and soul.

He took his pea coat off and stood as close to the fire as he could to warm his legs. He held his hands out until they stung from the heat before putting them to his ears to bring them back to life. Slowly his body stopped hurting, and he thought he could now focus on more important matters than just keeping warm.

Being off season, the hotel and the entirety of Cape May were lacking people in any significant numbers. There was no industry or any reason to come to Cape May other than for a respite from daily routines. It was at the end of a sixteen-mile-long peninsula and more than one hundred fifty miles from New York City, so it was not on the way to anywhere.

But it was very picturesque, it was the quintessential seaside resort town. With passenger train services improving, Cape May was quickly expanding from a summer only resort town to a year-round getaway destination. As a result, several hotels such as the Colonial were accommodating this trend by staying open year-round.

The winter months drew families for holiday gatherings and couples seeking a romantic weekend seaside experience. Here they could enjoy the comfort and the amenities of a heated luxury hotel while overlooking the Atlantic Ocean with the panoramic views the Colonial offered.

Being a weekday in February, Arthur had the lobby all to himself except for the receptionist and a young man named William who acted as concierge, bellboy, lobby maître d' and tended to the fireplace or any other odd job that popped up. Arthur stood with his back to the fire while William loitered at the far end of the lobby allowing Arthur his privacy while keeping a watchful eye on the fire and Arthur in the event, he needed something.

As Arthur was feeling the fire bringing life back into his frozen body she caught his eye. He saw her coming from across the expansive room as she gracefully descended the grand stairway from the mezzanine level to the lobby. The lobby could have had a hundred people in it, and he would have noticed her just the same.

Greta was more than his unofficial life partner. She was his friend, his confidant, and his ballast when he wasn’t sailing on an even keel. She was Arthur’s soul mate and he hers. She accompanied Arthur to Cape May, knowing he may need support. Somehow, she knew before leaving home the Buchanan’s were going to be different from the others.

She smiled from across the room even though his face told her something was off. The look on his face confirmed what she already knew. She had sensed it. She knew he was in distress even before he left the Buchanan house and it wasn’t the cold that set her inner alarms off.

He tried to hide his anxiety as she walked up and gave him an affectionate kiss on the cheek. She gently pulled him to her, allowing their bodies to touch, adding a hint of intimacy to the reunion hoping to put him at ease.

“Hello handsome, how did it go?”

Although he smiled, she heard the tension in his voice as he said, “Not well.”

“Care to talk about it?”

Arthur didn’t answer directly and reluctantly broke their embrace to sit on a couch facing the fireplace. Greta sat next to him, his hand extended, sandwiched between the two of hers as he searched for words.

She knew the contact would help the words come when he was ready. Arthur was not a man who was easily rattled so she knew what she was about to hear was going to be something consequential. She sat holding his hand between hers waiting for him to find the right words.

After a few moments Arthur began. “You know, when I started the foundation, I did so with lofty intentions of helping people. I thought I considered everything, providing financial support, finding meaningful employment, reengaging distressed people with family and society, whatever was needed for each circumstance. I thought it would be uplifting… to help people.”

As he paused, Greta could see the anguish, she could feel the raw emotion he was fighting to contain. She squeezed his hand slightly and let him find his next words. What he saw and experienced in that house rocked the man she knew so well. The man who had seen the horrors of battle and stared death in the eye on countless occasions only to survive to fight again. She braced herself for what was to come next. But it didn’t come. Not in its entirety. That would come later, on the train ride home.

Arthur looked imploringly at his soul mate. “Greta, these people need help in the worst way and so do we. The tragedy they experienced and are still experiencing is just the beginning. The peace we have enjoyed these past eighteen months is about to end. For the first time in my life, I don’t know what to do. But maybe, just maybe I know someone who does.”

Greta smiled at Arthur for having the wisdom to realize he couldn’t save everyone single handedly. “And who might that be?”

“Morgan le Fay.”