The Lost Key

“You do it, Mike. Use cha

Nicholas and Halpern pulled Shepherd free of the netting, two hundred pounds of deadweight. They hauled him to a small cabin off the stern.

Mike ripped open his T-shirt, unstrapped the body armor Velcro. Once they pulled it off him they saw the huge bruise on his chest. “Somebody shot him dead center. From the color of the bruise, it wasn’t all that recent.”

The second shot had happened very recently. It had missed the vest—a small hole high on Shepherd’s shoulder, blood still oozing, a through and through. He groaned, tried to jerk up, but Mike pressed him back down. “It’s okay, lie still. I’ll try to fix you up. Help is on the way.”

Halpern went back to guard the door. Nicholas stood over Shepherd. “Time to tell us everything, Shepherd. First, is Havelock already in the submersible?”

Shepherd’s eyes were closed, his teeth gritted against the pain. “Yes, but I don’t know how long he’s been down.”

“Where are Sophie and Adam?”

“Probably with März, Havelock’s familiar. He’s dangerous. They aren’t safe.”

“Is Havelock alone?”

“I don’t know. I was in the water, hanging on to the anchor, when I saw März and Weston help him get the submersible in the water, then I think Weston took Elise to the other boat.”

“Who is Elise?”

“Havelock’s mistress. He likes pain. She’s a dominatrix.”

“Why did they shoot you?”

Shepherd opened his eyes, blue as a summer day and filled with pain. “Havelock whipped Sophie because he wanted to break Adam. I was trying to get her and Adam off the boat when März stopped us. Weston shot me. März kicked me overboard. I played dead, then I climbed up the nets and managed to hang on until you found me.”

Nicholas said, “What is your role in all this?”

“My loyalty is to the Order. I worked for Stanford. He assigned me to guard Jonathan Pearce three years ago after his former guard retired.”

Nicholas said, “We know MI Five didn’t have a problem with this assignment since Weston is deputy director general.”

Alex moaned. Mike put a cup of water to his mouth, let him drink.

He fell back, panting. Mike said, “I’m sorry, I know it hurts. A little longer and I’ll have you all bandaged up.”

He closed his eyes against the pain, whispered, “You’ve got to listen to me. Weston betrayed the Order. He works for Havelock. I failed Sophie and Adam. I failed Jonathan. One of Havelock’s assassins killed him.”

His voice was thready; Mike didn’t know how much longer he could hang on. He wasn’t shaking with cold too much, and that was good, but the pain and the exhaustion were pulling him under and there was simply nothing else she could do for him. Where were the medics from the Dover?

Alex couldn’t let go yet, he had to tell them, had to. “Weston told me Jonathan Pearce’s death was a mistake. Havelock only wanted Adam Pearce. Massive screwup. Havelock’s man was only supposed to take Adam when he showed up on Wall Street. Havelock didn’t want Jonathan dead. Jonathan was the secret keeper as well as the Messenger, the only one in the Order who knew the entire story.”

“What story, exactly?”

He was fading fast. Mike and Nicholas leaned close.

“What story, exactly?” Nicholas asked again.

He whispered, “Josef and Ansonia.”

Mike lightly squeezed his hand. Ansonia, he recognized her name from Jonathan’s files. “Who are they, Alex?”

“The key. They stole the key.”

Nicholas hunkered close. So they were from long ago. Shepherd was nearly out. Nicholas said quickly, “You said Weston went with Elise to the other boat. Where is the other boat?”

Barely a whisper. “North,” he said, and he was gone.

Mike said, “He’s lost a lot of blood, Nicholas. I’ve done the best I can. I hear a helicopter.”

Halpern said from the cabin doorway, “The medics are here for Shepherd.”

Nicholas said, “Good. Time’s up. Ryan, you and I have to dive down to the sub, now.”

75

Nicholas climbed into his thick neoprene dry suit, ran through the equipment, tested his regulator and tank.

He caught Mike watching him, and smiled. “Havelock came prepared. He prepped his boat with all the cold-water equipment we need. The dry suit’s a must since it’s going to be bloody cold down there. Don’t worry, all right?”

“Is that your way of telling me you’ve got this under control?”

He nodded. “It is. I do. Don’t fret.” And he was ready. He said more to himself than to her, “Now I wonder where will I find a key so small it will fit in my palm.”

“You’ll find it. Be careful, both of you.”

Both men nodded. They needed to hurry, the sky was changing color, going a soft, warm yellow-gray. The sun was nearly behind the westerly mountains.

Mike shook his arm. “How are you going to get in the sub?”

“I’ll bet you Havelock’s already done it for us.” He took her shoulders. “Have faith, Mike.”

She had to believe if the key was on the sub, he’d find it.

She let him go, watched him turn to Halpern. “Ready, Lieutenant?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

They made their way to the stern. The sun was descending rapidly now. It would be dark when they came back up.

Halpern checked Nicholas’s equipment, and Nicholas returned the favor. “It’s going to be sketchy down there, sir.”

Nicholas only nodded. He’d dived several times onto shipwrecks, but never into a sub. He knew there’d be choking silt and zero visibility. It had scared the crap out of him since he was a bit claustrophobic, and now he was doing it again.

“All right, then. Bottoms up.”

They do

Nicholas flipped on the camera feed attached to his mask so Mike could see what he was seeing. They fired up their propulsion devices and started to dive, the lights cutting a path through the murky water.

Beneath the surface it was an odd blurred gray. Large fish swam away from them, salmon, Nicholas thought.

They didn’t see Havelock’s submersible. They followed the radio signal on the side sonar buoy. Within five minutes, they were at the spit of land. They dropped deeper.

And there she was.

Victoria lay on her side, wedged under the wall of granite. She was in surprisingly good shape. They’d been hit and the captain had managed to limp his sub into the loch. Whether the captain had been able to wedge her under the shelf on purpose, or it was the serendipity of the tides and chance, they’d never know.

They swam closer, saw beds of mussels attached to her stern. They swam along the outside length of the sub to the bow and there it was, not a small torpedo hole, but a wide jagged opening, only minutes before blown apart so Havelock could fit through.

Nicholas set his DPD against the side of the sub, then signaled to Halpern to remain at the opening and carefully eased through the jagged tear. His torch was powerful, and it needed to be, he knew, because of all the silt Havelock had stirred up. He followed the ghostly light into the black interior. Fish swam past his face.

He found himself in a long narrow tube, divided into individual compartments. He concentrated on not becoming disoriented. He saw that the first hatch was open, and could make out ancient equipment through the veil of silt, strings of algae flowing off the edges of the sub’s walls and ceiling, waving like ghostly arms.

He swam slowly into the second compartment, through the fog of silt. He saw bits of human bodies, several long bones swaying in the dark water, three skulls loose, the empty eye sockets staring up at him through the torchlight. There was no way to know how many men had died on the sub because the thick beds of refuse and the blinding sediment hid so much. There had to be more than three, he knew, and he paused a moment to pray for these men entombed here for so long. And for the families these men had loved, who’d grieved and prayed.