The Lost Key

“Manfred Havelock is not the type of man to belong to the Order, the type of man to look at the world objectively, and sanely, without self-interest, and come to agreement with other members. How could he possibly be a benefit to our community?”

“He has money,” Claude Benoit, France’s finance minister, said frankly, “and money is something we always need. Also he has the ear of the entire scientific world. He has the means and the intelligence to raise the submarine.”

“We have to find the damned thing first,” Leyland said.

Weston nodded. “As you know, Adam Pearce has finally located the sub. When we have the exact coordinates, we will share this information with Havelock. He not only has the technology to retrieve the key from the sub, he can do it without alerting the military to our presence. For this ability alone, he would prove his true worth to the Order. I believe he is also in a position to locate Adam Pearce. We’ve never had someone with Havelock’s leverage before.”

Had he said too much, or still not enough? He waited.

The Sultan of Brunei, Omar Hakim, a tough old hawk who was known to disappear his enemies, said, “Leverage? Whatever do you mean, Weston?”

Careful, man, don’t make Havelock sound like the promised land. Back off a bit, let them find their way to the answer. “Perhaps leverage is too strong a word, Omar. Let me rephrase. Havelock has a foot in a world we don’t. The closest we come to the scientific community is Mason, and he admits he’s very limited in his technical scope.”

Omar said, “I do not see what the rush is to vote in new members. We should take our time, do things properly, according to the bylaws of the Order. We can certainly act, even though our numbers are not at our mandated fifteen. It is an emergency, after all.”

Huang Chén, a wealthy Chinese industrialist from Beijing, all of seventy, with a brain fast as a striking cobra, said in fluent English, “The bylaws allow for emergencies, Omar, and as you said this appears to be a big one—someone is trying to destroy our world, this same someone who had Jonathan and Alfie murdered, and now I believe it imperative that we get back to strength immediately. I for one have no intention of allowing Marie Curie’s weapon to be used against us or anyone else. If we don’t find it, and control it now, the world could be in very big trouble.”

51

Oliver Leyland looked at the men around the table. He was shaking his head. “Jonathan and Alfie aren’t even cold yet. Surely this can wait until we have buried them properly.”

“I fear not, dear Leyland.” It was Stuart Niles who spoke, the eldest member of the Order, and a leading British member of Parliament, a hard-line old autocrat, verbally skilled, intelligent, looked up to by the other members. Weston once would have voted to euthanize him, but not now. Niles was on their side. Even though he spoke in an obnoxious stentorian voice, the other members usually followed his lead. “Weston is right to move quickly in this matter. I have heard rumors the American FBI have been investigating, and are aware of the submarine’s general location.” He turned his attention to Weston. “The simple fact the American FBI have the location, and we do not, is a disgrace. Should they retrieve the sub and the key before we do, the weapon would be in their hands. You said we still do not have Adam Pearce, Weston?”

“He is adept at hiding in plain sight.” Weston smiled, allowing a bit of nostalgia into his tone. “His father taught him well.”

“I ask myself,” Leyland said to the group, “why wouldn’t Adam Pearce come to us immediately? Why is he hiding? From us? And the answer is, of course, that Alfie was murdered, his safe cleaned out, his own father was murdered, and Adam Pearce isn’t a fool. He fears there’s something going on within our Order, and that’s why he hasn’t run to us. And now you wish to add Havelock? I tell you, it’s insanity.”

“Leyland, I must correct you,” Weston said. “Adam Pearce ran because the FBI is after him. He has no fear of us.”

“Leyland, the bottom line is that Havelock has the resources right here to find Adam Pearce and go after the sub,” Stuart Niles said. “The rest of it, we will deal with in due time. My friends, the last thing we want is to be outed to the world.” He paused a moment, then his orator’s voice rang out. “I move we have a vote. Today. Right now.”

Weston wondered what Havelock had given Niles to bring him over. He wasted no time. “So moved. Do we have a second?”

Alastair Burrow raised a meaty paw. His voice was better suited to television, deep and throbbing with sincerity. “I second the motion.”

Weston said, “All in favor of extending membership in the Order to the son of Order member Wolfgang Havelock—Manfred Havelock, who has a hereditary right to the position—say aye.”

A super majority ruled. It was rare they found themselves divided, in any case, but today was different. Today the vote was the narrowest in Order history.

There were twelve men in the room. Six hands raised immediately. After a few moments, Dmitri Zachar assented, giving them seven. Who would be the eighth? Weston looked around. Not Leyland, he was against this, sitting upright in his chair, clearly angry. Weston watched Omar Hakim bite his lip, then slowly, he put his hand in the air.

Weston wanted to yell his victory, but he said nothing, merely raised his own hand in the air. He made the ninth.

“The ayes have it. Manfred Havelock will be inducted into the Order straightaway. I will let him know immediately,” Weston continued. “You know Alex Shepherd. He’s proved his loyalty time and again through his covert operations on our behalf, most recently his three-year stint in New York with Jonathan Pearce. Some of you believe Shepherd should go back into MI Five and work his way up. One day he could run the British intelligence services, and if he did, he’d be a true asset to their group. Therefore, I also would like to move that Alex Shepherd be made a full member of the Order and take over as Messenger for Jonathan Pearce. He will continue his nominal position with MI Five because it is to our advantage that he does and he has expressed an interest in taking over for Pearce.”

Alastair Burrow said, “So moved.”

“Seconded,” Niles said.

“All in favor?” This time, to Weston’s relief, all the hands raised.

“Excellent,” Weston said. “Alex will be well pleased by this news. I will tell you, he is currently with Sophie Pearce, who is cooperating fully with helping us locate her brother. As you know, Adam Pearce has the exact coordinates of the sub, and, as I said, he wisely ran from the FBI. We will have him with us again, very soon, and we will keep him safe from the FBI.

“Alex tells me Sophie Pearce is passing him a message to come in, and we will guarantee him safe passage from the FBI and any further persecution on the Americans’ behalf. As soon as I have news, I will send our new Messenger to you.”

There were murmurs among the group. It was time for the last play. Weston drew in his breath. He knew this was going to be tricky.

He cleared his throat to bring all their attention to him. “Gentlemen, before we adjourn for the day, we need to nominate and vote in one last member. This will bring us back to full strength and we can then move forward, helping Havelock retrieve the key. Alfie Stanford relayed to me his desire to see Heinz Gernot take his place. You’re all familiar with the man; Gernot is the head of Germany’s—”

Oliver Leyland banged his fist on the table. “Wait a minute, Edward. Gernot would change the balance of the Order. We always have eight Brits. This would give the Germans two seats.”

Weston smiled. “As I said, Alfie told me Gernot would be ideal, with his obvious influence in the EU. Indeed, he was quite insistent we begin to branch out, to lessen the British grip a bit. And Gernot is a friend of this country. Why, last month he—”