The Lost Key

Pearce was dumbstruck, and what he said was “I’m very glad you’ve told me, Leo.”

Leo nodded. “I have been silent on this for too long. And you have been very kind to me.”

“You are my son. I love you. And you are my heir.”

This was said simply, and Leo swallowed back the emotion rising in him. Pearce smiled, and placed a comforting hand on Leo’s arm. “Tell me about this man. Who was with him?”

Leo handed Pearce a sheaf of papers. “These men.”

There were two more names—Dietmar Lusion and Wilfried Gobb.

“Lusion was the leader. He was the one who tortured my—Josef.”

Pearce leaned forward, took Leo’s hand. “No, no, Josef Rothschild was your father, and a very fine man as I’ve told you many times over the years, a brave man, a man who was willing to do anything to achieve an end to the war. He never gave them the information, did he?”

“No. He stayed strong throughout, but I heard his screams. I had an eye to the door, I could see the shadows of the boots passing the door as they paced, firing questions at him, trying to make him tell them where the kaiser’s gold and the key were hidden.

“I believe the pain was too much and he suffered a heart attack, because one minute they were screaming at him, and the next, nothing. I heard them leave. I waited until I heard the car pull away, then I—”

Pearce touched his son’s arm again. “And then I found you.”

“Yes. There is more, sir.”

Leo handed Pearce a letter. He read it quickly and looked up, face puzzled. “Your mother?”

“Yes. My mother was the one who stole the key from the kaiser. She was on the Victoria. She went down with them. They are somewhere north of Scotland. Jos—my father, he told me about the weapon, about the mission, the gold, about my mother’s final act of bravery.” He played with the handle of his cup. “I did not think we would see the kind of war we experienced ever again. These men know about the key. They will be searching for it. We must find these men, and kill them.”

Pearce studied Leo’s beloved face. You would be so proud of him, Josef, so very proud. “Are you ready to join us, then, Leo? Join the Order? You of all people know it will be dangerous, very dangerous. You have a family to think about.”

Leo Rothschild Pearce actually smiled. “You never hesitated, sir. My mother and father never hesitated. Even knowing they could die at any moment if they were discovered. So yes, it would be my pleasure, sir.”

Pearce stood up, and Leo did as well. “We need to bring you to the Order. Come with me.”

Leo said, “My mother’s name was Ansonia.”

“I am very sorry.” And he took Leo in his arms and held him close.

With the help of all of the Order’s resources, it took three years for Leo and William Pearce to find and kill the three men who’d killed Josef Rothschild and the other members of the Order on that long-ago night in 1917.

William Pearce, 7th Viscount Chambers, passed away in 1962. After years of distinguished service, Leo Pearce, 8th Viscount Chambers, was named head of the Highest Order in June of 1963.

In 1964, Leopold and Grace’s son Robert married Lula Harstock, only daughter of Lord and Lady Wentworth of Kent, and she soon after bore him a son. Sadly, days after his son’s birth, Robert Pearce succumbed to a fever, and died. Within a week, his wife Lula had died as well.

And so Leo and Grace named the boy Jonathan, and raised their grandson. Leo told him the stories of their family—about the kaiser’s gold, a lost key, and Madame Curie’s notebook, and her weapon, but most of his stories were about a brave and tragic young couple named Josef and Ansonia. Some of his grandfather’s stories frightened Jonathan, but he loved to hear about his great-grandmother and Leo loved to talk about her.

Jonathan was a studious boy, like his grandfather, fascinated by books, and once he’d read a rare first-edition Robinson Crusoe, his path was set.

DAY TWO

45

London

6:00 a.m.

He hadn’t slept.

The knowledge that they were so close, and that all he’d been working toward for so many years was about to come to fruition, kept him awake. Kept him from Elise’s side as well. He couldn’t focus on pleasure, or pain, in this state.

Havelock was good at waiting, he’d had to be. Learning patience was his first challenge in life. He knew how patience worked. Patience had gotten him through the hours at the hands of his mother. Patience had forced him to study, to get his degrees early, since the only way he could escape his mother’s cruelty was to leave the house and never return.

Yes, he had always been good at waiting. And that wouldn’t change now. He’d bide his time until everything was perfect, until he held the weapon in his hands, and then he’d strike like a cobra, fast and hard, and no one would be spared, unless he wished it. The world would be on their knees, and he would hold their fate.

He’d called for his plane at 3:00 and they left Brandenburg at 4:00 in the morning. London appeared on the horizon an hour later.

Havelock placed the call as they started in for landing. A screen emerged from the wall, transparent until Weston’s face filled it. He looked alert, already dressed for their big day.

Havelock wasted no time. “Where do we stand?”

“Good morning to you, too, Manfred. If I’m not mistaken, you’re calling from your plane. Am I to assume you’ll be arriving shortly?

“Don’t try my patience, Edward.”

Weston’s lips moved into what might be called a smile. “Fine. Grossman went wheels up at eleven-twenty p.m. New York time. He called from the plane; Ms. Pearce is safe and unharmed. He’ll be on the ground in an hour, with Ms. Pearce in hand. Incidentally, he also managed to capture the data Nicholas Drummond copied from Pearce’s computer this morning. We have everything we need. I ca

“Now all that’s left to acquire is Adam Pearce. He is the only one with the coordinates. Without him, we’re where we were nearly a hundred years ago. Then there’s getting into the submarine. I trust you have a plan?”

The look on Havelock’s face was transcendent and eerie, frightening. Weston felt his blood run cold. Not for the first time, he wondered if he would make it out of this treachery alive. Aligning with Havelock was his only choice, he knew that, but the man wasn’t entirely sane, and it was never more clear than when he wanted his own way.

“I do. My ship is in northern Scotland and is in position to move at a moment’s notice. Get me Adam Pearce, Edward, and I’ll have the key in my hand by evening.”

“What about the FBI?”

“The Americans? By the time they figure out what’s happening, along with all the other law enforcement entities across the globe, it will not matter. We will have the upper hand.”

“We need to watch our backs. This Nicholas Drummond character, he’s smart, and I don’t like having him in the mix. And you know who his father is.”

“Then eliminate him, my dear Weston. I would set März to the task, but he has more important things to handle today.”

“Killing an American FBI agent might not be the wisest course of action.”

Havelock screamed into the screen, “He is of no consequence to me! Kill him!”

Havelock was breathing hard, too hard, he was out of control, and that wouldn’t do. He smiled, outwardly calm again. “The only person who matters now is Pearce’s son. I took the liberty of having him messaged—the poor boy believes he’s smarter than I am, and broke into my business systems overnight. He did not succeed, though he believes he did. I sent him a message he won’t soon forget. Now, find him, Weston. And take the girl to your estate in Oxford. She’ll be secure there.”