The Lost Key

“Nicholas, the Trilateral Commission doesn’t date back three hundred years, they’re newbies. Why do I have the feeling we haven’t even scratched the surface of what the Highest Order is up to?”

He said, “Because they’re supposed to be working for good, and they have someone like Manfred Havelock involved with them?”

“Exactly. You don’t seem terribly surprised by this.”

“I don’t? I am, I assure you.”

“Come on, Nicholas. I can see data ru

He focused on her. “Very well, it was something my father said when I called to talk to him about Alfie Stanford’s death. He said if Alfie’s death was murder, and had been committed from inside Downing Street, as we suspect it must have, it was a bigger situation than anyone could imagine. Then he steered me away, told me the Brits had it well in hand, and to stop thinking about it.” He turned to stare out the window, then he pushed the green button. The pilot’s disembodied voice came through the air.

“Yes?”

“I need to make a call. A private call. Will our security measures do an appropriate job scrambling the signal?”

“Absolutely. Use the phone in the arm. Hit nine. That will fully encrypt the call. Thanks for letting me know, it makes my instruments squirrelly while you’re co

Mike looked at her watch. It was only 8:00 a.m. “He is breaking airspeed records. It’s one p.m. London time. We’ll be there by three o’clock, and we should have plenty of daylight to get north to the loch. Assuming they haven’t left without us. Assuming Adam has given them the exact coordinates.”

He reached into the arm and pulled out the secure phone. “I’ll bet anything he hasn’t.”

“Who are you calling?”

“The one person who might have some insight into what’s really going on here.” The phone clicked a few times, then he heard the familiar ti

53

North of London

12:30 p.m.

Could she trust Alex? Even though he’d assured her the Order had only her best interest at heart, Sophie simply didn’t know. Her father was dead. What was the Order doing about that? And the murder of Alfie Stanford? If they did want her safe, why hadn’t they simply told her, rather than sending Alex Grossman—no, Shepherd—to kidnap her?

Alex was driving a Vauxhall that waited for them in the airport’s short-term car park. Driving in downtown London was craziness, but he expertly maneuvered in and out of traffic until they hit the M40 and it became less populated, the city streets giving way to green fields.

Near High Wycombe, he pulled to the side of the road and put the car in park. He looked at her.

“Why are we stopping?”

“I’m going to give you a choice.”

“About what?”

He dug in his pocket and pulled out a syringe.

“Oh, no, don’t you even think about it, Alex whatever your name is. You try to stick me with another needle, it will be the last move you make.”

He reached into the bag he had in the backseat and pulled out a length of black fabric. “This is your choice, the needle or a hood.”

“A hood? Like terrorists use on people they’re going to behead? Are you nuts?” She yanked at the car handle, only to find it locked. By him. To keep her a prisoner. She didn’t look at him, she was too angry.

“Either I can knock you out again or you can put the hood over your head. One or the other. No other choices.”

She didn’t know much about guns, but she wished she had one right now. She held out her hand for the black hood. “And you expect me to trust you? Why should I believe you won’t kill me when you find Adam?”

He crossed his hands over his heart. “I swear to you, Sophie, I would never hurt you. You may not believe me, but I promise I’ll keep you safe, or die trying. Now, would you please put the hood over your head so we can get this over with?”

“Where are we going?”

“Someplace safe.”

She searched his eyes, but he said nothing more. “How long?”

“Fifteen minutes, tops. And please lie down in the backseat. Wouldn’t do to have people staring as I drive past with a hooded woman in my front seat.”

He gri

“Don’t even consider peeking. If you fiddle with the hood, I’ll have to stick you with the needle.”

He pulled back onto the road.

Sophie hated this, hated the darkness, the suffocating feeling of the thick black material. She couldn’t breathe properly, started to raise the bottom edge so she could get a bit of air.

“Sophie, don’t.”

Of course he was watching. “I can’t breathe.”

“Not long now.”

Sophie had a general idea where they were. Now she had to concentrate on which direction the car moved, the turns, anything.

She counted in her head, left, left again, then a tight turn right, straight. She guessed they’d entered some sort of drive. Nearly there. Her heart was thudding. She was afraid, very afraid.

“Can I take the hood off?”

“You’ll have to keep it on until you’re in your room. You must be starved. I’ll make sure you’re given food and drink. Please, Sophie, don’t worry, we only want to keep you safe. I’ll be nearby.”

The car stopped and Alex helped her out. She could make out no light, nothing. She began to feel claustrophobic. He heard her breathing quicken. “Relax. Not long now. Here’s the steps.”

She stumbled once, but he steadied her. She listened, but heard nothing to give her a clue where they were.

Up three flights of stairs, he walked her down a long hallway, then stopped. “This is your room. One second more.”

She heard him open the door. Once they were inside, he pulled the hood off. He actually ran his fingers through her hair before she jerked away.

He stood by the door and watched her look about the room. Dark walnut canopied bed, yellow-and-white striped wallpaper. It was beautifully appointed. She turned back to him. “What happens now?”

“I’ll be back soon.”

She grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare leave me here, you bastard.”

He pulled away her hand, squeezed it. “Sophie, you’ll be fine. Try to relax. I’m going to send someone up with food and tea.”

When the door closed behind him, she heard the sound of a key turning.

She wasn’t meant to be kept safe. She was a prisoner, pure and simple. He’d locked her in. He’d lied. She shouldn’t have pulled the hood over her head, she should have forced him to try to stick that needle in her, and she’d have fought him, maybe hurt him badly. But no, she’d trusted him, taken the easy way.

She felt numb as she walked to the window. She had to keep it together, she had to stay calm and think.

She was on an estate, and clearly the house was big. She looked out over a large expanse of gardens. She saw a fence ru

No phone, no computer, and no way to get out. The windows were locked. Even if she broke a window and shouted, who would hear her? She saw no one outside, not a single gardener to maintain those beautiful gardens.

She was studying the ledge outside the window when someone knocked on the door. She heard the key turn, and the door opened. She ran into a young girl bringing in a tray. The tray went flying, scones and jam hit the carpet and the hot tea splattered both of them and the girl yelled, then ran.