The Lost Key

Adam watched Alex Grossman—no, Shepherd—help Sophie out the narrow cabin door. What to do? Who to believe? He hated being helpless. He saw a wrench sticking out of some oily rags in the corner and picked it up.

Adam’s brain was near full power again. He remembered this particular ship was one of three in Havelock’s personal fleet, two hundred fifty-one feet from stem to stern, and she had all the latest technology. When they reached the deck, he saw Havelock’s helicopter tethered to its platform, but the MIR-2 submersible was gone. No one was around.

Adam caught up to Shepherd. “There should be forty hands on this ship. Where are they all? Who’s ru

Shepherd said quietly, “Havelock put the crew off on another of his boats before we sailed into the loch. He doesn’t trust anyone. Everything’s on autopilot. Only März and Weston are on board. They’re up on the bridge. I’m supposed to be bringing you water. That was my excuse.”

Adam’s hands fisted. “That man, März, he drugged me and brought me up here, after he murdered my godfather.”

Shepherd stopped cold. “What did you say? Leyland’s dead?”

Sophie was shaking her head back and forth. “No, this can’t be happening. Not Oliver.”

When Adam told them what had happened, Shepherd closed his eyes against the enormity of it. “I am the biggest idiot alive.”

Sophie said, “You didn’t know, you couldn’t know.”

Alex said, “I met Oliver Leyland when Weston assigned me to protect your father three years ago. It was Leyland who told Weston I should be in the Order. I admired him, believed he could move mountains. He was honest, an excellent man. He was my mentor and now he’s dead. Because of Havelock.”

Adam laughed. “But you want to know the big joke? Weston’s supposed to keep Britain safe.” He broke off, swallowed.

“Sophie, Adam, we have to get off this ship.”

“I don’t think so, Mr. Shepherd.”

It was März and he was pointing the same gun at them he’d used to kill Oliver Leyland. “I knew you couldn’t be trusted when I saw the look on your face. You’re betraying us because of this useless bitch. You think you can outsmart Havelock? You can outsmart me? You can’t. Now you will lose everything. We will all go back to the cabin and I will lock the three of you in. Mr. Havelock can decide what to do with you.”

Adam saw the slight nod. He grabbed Sophie, jerked her back against him as Alex Shepherd turned. His right leg came up and kicked out so fast it was a blur. The gun flew from März’s hand and skidded across the deck.

März cursed, grabbed his wrist, then came at Alex. Adam couldn’t get to the gun because the two men were fighting in front of him, the kicks brutal, both men heaving and grunting. Alex kicked März in the kidney, whirled about and sent his foot into his neck, but März was strong and fast and when he kicked Alex in the groin, he went down. He bounced up, but then there was a shot.

It was Weston and he’d shot Alex in the shoulder. März grabbed Shepherd around the neck and slammed his head against the rail. Alex went limp.

März cast a dispassionate eye at Shepherd, who was oozing blood onto the deck.

He looked at Adam and Sophie. “A taste for you of what happens if you don’t do as I say,” and he lifted Alex’s body off the deck and dumped him into the cold waters of the loch.

“No!” It was Sophie. März was nearly on her when Adam went for his throat.

Another shot. Weston called out, “Enough, Mr. Pearce, it’s over.”

März was smiling. “You two. Come with me.”

Weston called out, “März, when you are finished, come to the bridge.”

72

Nearing Inverness

6:00 p.m.

They ate crusty French bread and soft cheese and grapes, and washed it down with tart lemon-flavored Pellegrino.

Mike wiped up a last bit of cheese with a fingertip. “Isn’t it nice the PM keeps his plane so well stocked?”

Nicholas grabbed the last grape. “Maybe next time, more cheddar.” He cleared the tray off the table, then opened Adam Pearce’s laptop. “Now, Mike, if it’s okay with you, I’m going to read aloud about Marie Curie and her polonium according to Adam’s files from the Order. It’s easier that way.”

“Read away. I can’t believe you ate the last grape.”

“I’m a right pig.” He tapped the screen. “Adam left an encrypted note inside two other files with my name on it. When I decoded it, it sent a message to my server. What Adam wrote isn’t complete, but it’s enough.

If you’re reading this, Drummond, this is my take on what has happened. This I know for sure. Everything has gone wrong. Havelock is trying to get his hands on Marie Curie’s weapon.

Madame Curie was a member of the Highest Order. The Order funded a great deal of her research. When it became clear Britain was struggling in the war Curie set out to develop a weapon that would prove so chilling in its consequences that it would prevent countries from ever going to war, or in this case, stop World War I in its tracks. (I see Curie evaluating this weapon like the scientists on the Manhattan Project doubtless did—they were both committed to creating something incredibly deadly in order to bring about peace—to me this reasoning is flawed. In Curie’s situation, though, I think she really believed she could put a stop to the war with an über-weapon without ever using it, and create a world peace keeper. She obviously had too high an opinion of her fellow humans.

She herself was committed to peace and so she worked on it day and night. She discovered another variant of the radiological element polonium-210. (Of course, all of this is far too technical for me to understand completely.)

Curie somehow managed to enhance the short half-life of polonium-210, to retain its efficacy. She believed it would grow stronger over time, and she was pleased because if she could determine how to deliver it, the threat of it would stop the war. Then she discovered her new super-enhanced polonium meant death to all who even chanced to touch it and she quickly realized there would be no controlling it and she’d made a big mistake. She didn’t want to open Pandora’s box. She knew now that she couldn’t allow anything this powerful to be in England’s hands, in any country’s hands, for that matter, and so she went to the head of the Order at the time, William Pearce, 7th Viscount Chambers, and told him the weapon she’d developed didn’t work, and she couldn’t figure out how to make it work.

Though Pearce suspected she was lying, she didn’t change her story.

No doubt in my mind that Curie both hated and was in awe of what she’d created, otherwise how to account for the fact that she didn’t destroy the weapon, destroy all her notes, destroy her secret lab? But she didn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to do it. Why? Perhaps because the monster she’d created was so magnificent she simply couldn’t bear to destroy it. I think she was obsessed with what she’d found, amazed, really, and couldn’t let it go. Perhaps she was already ill from radiation poisoning, and wasn’t thinking clearly, but whatever the reason, she didn’t destroy her discovery.

Curie did the next best thing—she locked everything up, including the weapon itself and her notes on how to manufacture it. Perhaps she believed that if her lab was ever found in the distant future, her weapon could be used for good. (Not very logical reasoning, given mankind’s endless violent history. We will all suffer for her decision if Havelock finds it.)

Curie walked away from the Order and continued her research into radium. The war went on.

But Curie was betrayed. (I can only imagine what she must have felt—questioning her own decisions, so much remorse, dread, because she’d be the cause of Armageddon.) A young colleague of hers was a German sympathizer. He stole her notebook and the key to her secret lab and made his way to Germany. He gave the key to Kaiser Wilhelm and told him for the right price, he’d tell him the location of Curie’s secret lab, and the kaiser would be able to have the weapon.