The Lost Key

Penderley nodded.

“Good,” Mike said, “let’s see if there’s anything of use on the computer.”

They were careful not to step in the blood that pooled on the landings. There were crime scene techs everywhere.

He saw Mike didn’t look at the man she’d shot. Her back was ramrod straight, her ponytail was a little off-center, her shirt ripped, but she was excited, he could feel it pouring off her.

“Mike?”

She stopped. “Nicholas? Is something wrong?”

He gave her a long look, shook his head. “Let’s see what’s on Adam Pearce’s computer.”

67

After making certain Adam’s laptop wasn’t bugged or trip-wired or attached to a microscopic explosive, Nicholas powered it up. A few moments later, he began to smile.

“Yes, this is definitely Adam’s computer. It’s a hacker’s dream. He’s got a sophisticated and completely custom operating system that I’ve never seen before. And it’s encrypted to the hilt.” He hit a few keys, testing the security. “This is one of the strongest encryptions I’ve ever seen. All this from a nineteen-year-old.”

Mike said, “Impressed, are you?”

“Very. This is beautiful work.”

“Can you beat it?”

Nicholas cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, I can beat it. He may be fresh and new, but I’ve been around the block a few times. Let’s see how his new work stands up to my old-school hacking skills.”

He uploaded his decryption program and set it to run.

While Nicholas worked on breaking into Adam’s computer, Mike looked through his bag. “Underwear, toothbrush, and look here, about five thousand in cash. Where’d he pick that up?” She dug deeper. There was a burgundy-colored passport in the bottom of the bag, issued from the United Kingdom, in the name of Thomas Wren. “This is how he got here. A false passport. It’s a good one, too.” She gave it to Nicholas, who looked it over, then made a quick call. Five minutes later his mobile rang. Customs at Heathrow showed Thomas Wren had entered the UK in the wee hours of the morning, off British Airways flight 176.

Nicholas said, “Adam flew first class, mind you, on a commercial flight out of New York. He’s got a good disguise, no wonder the NGI database didn’t pick up on it.”

She thought of how he’d looked at Ariston’s yesterday morning and shook her head. So much had happened. Yesterday felt like ten years ago. She watched the rain lashing down, obscuring even the cars parked in the neighboring drive. The media must really be committed over here to run around in this weather. She didn’t know if she could get used to this all the time.

Nicholas’s mobile rang. He listened, agreed, and punched off. “Penderley’s preparing a statement about Leyland. He told me to hurry with the computer, see what we have. He says the media has picked up on our presence here. Look here, Mike.”

She stared down at the screen. File after file opened, stacking window upon window of encrypted code, each being run through Nicholas’s powerful program and coming out the other side in plain text. It was in computerspeak, techy code she couldn’t read, but Nicholas clearly could. Not only read it, but understand what it meant.

Nicholas paged through the files for a few moments, then he said, “Yes!” His face changed. He shook his head, his look disbelieving.

“What is it?”

She saw alarm in his eyes. “What? What is it?”

It was as if he had to force out the words. “I know what the weapon is, Mike. We must stop Havelock. We must stop him now.”

68

Nicholas stood, slapped the laptop closed. “We must get to Loch Eriboll immediately. You know Havelock used Sophie as leverage to get Adam to tell him the coordinates. He has them or he’s close to getting them. We have to get the key before Havelock.”

Mike grabbed his arm. “What is the weapon, Nicholas?”

He grabbed Adam’s computer. “Let’s find Penderley, he needs to know this, too.”

She ran after him down the stairs to the kitchen, where Penderley was hovering over a crime scene tech.

“What is this? What have you found out?”

Nicholas motioned both Penderley and Mike into the elegant dining room. “Both Adam Pearce and I cross-hacked the files of Manheim Technologies, we both have his research. I didn’t have the time to look deeply at it, but Adam did. He left me a pretty clear trail of bread crumbs.

“Sir, I told you about the implant we found in one of his men’s heads. Havelock’s been making micro-nukes—it’s all here. The nukes are so small, they could be taken and remotely detonated.

“We know he’s been gathering polonium-two-ten. It’s because he wants to use it as the base for a much bigger weapon. He’s well past the theoretical stage. All Havelock wants now is a bigger payload.”

Penderley frowned at him. “What payload? Be clear, man.”

“Havelock is after a very old radioactive isotope at least one hundred times stronger and more lethal than polonium-two-ten.”

Mike said, “What do mean more lethal? A single drop of polonium-two-ten will kill you.”

“Yes, but we’re not talking simple polonium here. If Havelock can get his hands on this ultra-robust polonium, and combine the two, we’re talking about micro-nukes, hidden in plain sight, that could kill millions. This is our worst nightmare.”

Penderley shook his sleeve. “Explain this ultra-robust polonium? Who came up with that?”

“Marie Curie.”

Mike and Penderley stared at him. She said slowly, “Marie Curie worked over a hundred years ago. There’s no way she could have discovered something this advanced, there wasn’t the equipment, the technology, this—wait, she died of radiation poisoning, didn’t she, from working on radium and—”

“Yes, and polonium. Evidently, she realized polonium was unstable, and had a very short half-life. She believed polonium was much less useful than radium and so that’s where she focused her energies. Or so we thought.”

Mike said, “What do you mean, or so we thought?”

“Historical records show that Curie spent her time developing radium, and left polonium alone. But she didn’t. She found a way to increase its half-life, evidently to make it indestructible, potent and viable in five years, in a hundred years. Adam had a document in his files explaining it all. Sir, we need to move, fast.”

“All right, Drummond, but first, you have to tell me where is this ultra-robust polonium of hers? Is it in the sub and that’s why Havelock wants it so desperately? How could it possibly be potent and viable after being underwater for one hundred years?”

“It isn’t the ultra-robust polonium itself that’s in the sub, it’s her key that leads to where she kept it. That’s why Havelock has been trying to find it. Curie’s book would indicate where she locked it away, and how to use her polonium’s enhanced properties, and the key would unlock whatever it is, a door, a deposit box, a safe, whatever.

“Sir, we have to get to Loch Eriboll right now. Havelock is no doubt going for the sub tonight. He must already have the coordinates. And he’s poised to get there ahead of us.”

“How do you know?”

He shook the laptop. “It’s in Havelock’s files. Adam Pearce hacked into Manheim Technologies, pulled down all of Havelock’s personal files. He owns a ship called the Gravitania. It’s a high-end salvage vehicle. He rents it out to treasure hunters, people who dive shipwrecks and the like. Yesterday, he ordered it to move into position in the North Sea. He’s going after the sub, right now. We must beat him.”

“Or you believe thousands of people will die. But, Drummond, I told you already it would take at least a day to get our gear in place.”