Diana Peterfreund: Under the Rose

Amy owes many of her turns of phrase to the classic works of literature she studies; I applaud the teachers who introduced me to them. And last, but not least, I am in debt to my fellow sons and daughters of Eli for inspiring my stories, and to my secret sources, for allowing me inside their wonderful world.

DIANA PETERFREUND graduated from Yale University in 2001 with degrees in geology and literature. A former food critic, she now resides in Washington, D.C.; this is her second novel. Visit the author’s website at:

http://www.dianapeterfreund.com.

On Sale Summer 2008

I hereby confess:

Even the secretive and the powerful

need vacations…

Please turn the page for a special advance preview.

Not all tropical islands keep their treasures buried, but for those that do, no map will help. Take, for example, a tiny strip of land off the coast of Florida. It has been long understood by those who care to keep track of such things that this glorified sand bar, this unassuming key, heavily wooded and boasting only one decent beach, is actually a lush and luxurious retreat for the members of one of the most notorious secret societies in the world.

But Cavador Key is not listed on any map, whether those commissioned by the state, or the penciled sketches of shallows by a dock-bound old salt. The locals won’t speak of it above a whisper. No charter company will take you thither, and when emissaries from the island come to the mainland to pick up supplies, they are silent as the grave about their employers and their employers’ mysterious pursuits.

What happens on Cavador Key? Rumors abound, but few have seen the rituals up close. Anyone boating near the island is given stern warnings to stay away, and if unheeded, these warnings turn into threats. The tops of several roofs peek out of the ground cover, and grainy photos reveal evidence of people scurrying from building to building, wrapped in dark hooded cloaks in spite of the warm Florida weather. Recently, access to satellite photos revealed still more: a helicopter pad, the remnants of an airstrip, and crisscrossed pathways surrounding a somber, windowless structure. Those who have made it close enough report strange sounds, and stranger lights. Those who have made it closer still are never heard from again.

So next time you’re out on your boat, a little sunstruck and with way too many piña coladas on your tab, don’t make a decision you’ll regret. Cloak-and-dagger government cabals, clandestine midnight rituals, and inexplicable disappearances aren’t on your spring break itinerary. Stick to sunbathing, snorkeling, and that all important spring fling. You don’t want the kind of trouble an unplanned excursion like this can bring you.

But, hey, is there an offshore island paradise that doesn’t hold a secret?

Trust me on this one. Some of us know the truth about Cavador Key. But we’re few in number, and we keep our secrets close, just as we were taught by the Order of Rose & Grave.

Don’t believe me yet ? Do you think, perhaps, that I’m simply spouting the party line? Or maybe you suspect that even a dedicated Digger like me doesn’t know everything about the organization to which I’ve pledged my all, and even less about the property we call our most sacred retreat. That I’m just going down there to party and get a tan.

Interesting theory. Shall we put it to the test?

Cole Porter. Keep up.

All [sic], naturally.

“The thing speaks for itself.” Though never a Classics major, the confessor does know a little Latin.