The Lost Key

“No, sir. Not at all. This is about the FBI agent who responded to Pearce’s murder, and was responsible for Mr. X falling in battle. His name is Nicholas Drummond.”

Havelock slowly set his scotch glass on his desk. “I don’t suppose you know who that is?”

“Yes, sir. He is former Foreign Office, then he went to—”

“You idiot, I don’t care about his résumé. Drummond’s the one who tracked the Fox across Europe and retrieved the Koh-i-Noor in three days. He brought down Saleem Lanighan. Lanighan was a tough son of a bitch, too, and now he’s in a nuthouse in Paris, they say he’ll never have his brain back. And Drummond’s father has the ears of all the British government. Do you understand, März, Drummond is very high in the government?” He banged his fist on the desk, making the scotch splash up over the edge of the crystal glass. “These are not men to be trifled with, März. They will eat us whole if given the chance. The Drummonds must not be allowed to interfere in our plans.”

“If you want me to have Drummond eliminated, I will arrange it. It would not be difficult.”

Havelock calmed, narrowed his eyes at März. “You’re wrong. It would take more than Mr. X or Mr. Z to take down Nicholas Drummond. He is dangerous, and unpredictable. I would take great pleasure doing it myself, and I’m the only one who could, truly, but I can’t be under any sort of suspicion, not if the Order are going to accept me into their fold. No, leave Drummond alone for the time being. But watch him, März. Watch every move he makes, keep him off the scent. If he gets close, then you deploy. Do you understand me?”

“Deploy, sir? You mean deploy the micro–nuclear weapon? But the MNW has not left the testing grounds. We do not know if it is traceable. Nor do we know what the fallout will be. It could be worse than we anticipate. We do not know—”

All Havelock had to do was shake his head, only a small movement, but März was instantly quiet. “I do not recall asking your opinion, März. Besides, we are past that point. Now that Pearce’s son has found the submarine, we must move quickly before others find out. The moment you access the coordinates from Pearce’s computer, we will leave and retrieve the key.

“Understand me, März. If we have to use an MNW on Drummond, we will. Once we have the key and the weapon and adapt it to my MNWs, it won’t matter, we will then be invincible. The Order won’t be able to do a thing to stop us. Do you know, my father told me about the kaiser’s private treasury of gold that was also supposed to be aboard the submarine along with the key? If true, which I doubt, the gold would be a nice bonus. Now, gather all the micro–nuclear weapons for possible deployment.”

März nodded slowly. If he felt doubts, they didn’t show on his face. “It will be done, sir. Will there be anything else?”

“Why, yes, there is. Send Elise back in.”

“Sir, I believe she has retired to her quarters.”

“Your point, März?”

März said, “I’ll send her right away,” then turned and left the room. Havelock waited for the door to close, then carefully wiped up the spilled scotch, fixed himself another, and sat back in the chair.

Drummond. And his father.

But no, he couldn’t use an MNW on Drummond, even though the image of him being vaporized on the spot by a small nuclear bomb radiated pleasure and anticipation in the deepest part of him. No, he couldn’t authorize it, not yet. It could allow them to trace the technology back to him. They were too powerful and their questions would resonate and multiply and lead to inquiries at the highest levels, and the delicate spiderweb he’d woven would unravel before he was able to find the key. And the kaiser’s gold?

8

Near Wall Street

10:00 a.m.

Mike knew Nicholas was tense, angry, just as she was. She touched his arm as they watched the techs load Mr. Olympic’s body into the medical examiner’s van. “It’s always tough, the waste, the not knowing why,” she said. The van doors closed with a clang. “And now he’s dead and can’t tell us. But we will take care of Mr. Pearce, we’ll get him justice. You know that, Nicholas. Are you okay?”

He let out a deep breath. “Yes, I know that. I’ll be fine.”

Mike shielded her eyes from the sudden glare of the sun off the glass windows of Trinity Church, to their right. She saw a crowd was gathered a little farther down the street, in Zuccotti Park, watching them.

“Good.” She popped him in the arm, gri

“Talk about fast, Mr. Olympic would have gotten away from us if you hadn’t known that shortcut. This is strange, Mike, all of it. I mean, Mr. Olympic hung around, then he was so afraid when we got him, he popped cyanide in his tooth?”

“Or whatever it was. You’re right. Leave your cape on, okay?”

“I wonder, did Superman ever get a pilot’s license, or did he wing it?”

“He winged it, absolutely.” She glanced again at the growing crowd. “Let’s go back. Maybe there’s an update on the video, and we can see for ourselves what happened.”

“Yes, let’s. I’d like to see how Pearce was taken down.” He paused, gave her a long look. “You know, you could be Ms. Olympic.”

She said coolly, not looking at him, “I tried, but I wasn’t good enough.”

He pictured a younger Mike, all long, strong legs, blond hair in a ponytail, focused, determined— “Long distance or sprint?”

“Long distance.”

He believed it. He paused for a moment, frowned. “It’s strange. I feel like someone’s been watching us, but how could anyone do that? Forget it, come on, let’s get back.”

It took them only a few minutes to walk back to Federal Hall. Officer Wilson stood by the crime scene tape, keeping people out.

“We heard there was an incident with the suspect and he’s dead,” Wilson said. “What happened?”

Nicholas said, “Well, he led us on a merry chase, Tasered me, then managed to get himself dead when I caught up to him the second time.”

“Did you have to kill him?”

“No, it was something else entirely, something he ate, maybe. Next time, Wilson, you can chase him.”

“Nah, I’m not as young as I once was.” He gave Nicholas a manic grin. “You look worse for wear yourself, Agent Drummond. Anything we can do for you? You need a medic?”

“I’m fine,” Nicholas said. “What we need are the video feeds of the murder, if you have them.”

“Happens we do. The agent over there, Louisa? She has them downloaded.”

Louisa was sitting on the edge of the truck’s gate with a laptop balanced on her knees, her bobbed blond hair blowing a bit in the light spring breeze. She looked up. “Hey, you’re back. Good.” Then she really looked. “Whoa. You guys look like you’ve been in a war. What in the world happened to you two?”

“Not all that much, really, and the suspect is dead,” Mike said. “We really need that video feed now, Louisa.”

“Or yesterday, whichever is fastest,” Nicholas said.

“You got it. You’re in luck with the video. I’m almost done enhancing it. Like the witnesses said, the men actually argued for a while before he killed Pearce.”

She turned the laptop around and hit play.

The feed was grainy, angled down, so Mike knew immediately it had come from a traffic cam, but it was clear enough that they could see Mr. Olympic loitering on the corner when Pearce rushed into the frame. Pearce had been jogging. They watched him bend down to catch his breath, rub his knees, check his watch, and look around. When he didn’t see who he was expecting to see, he sent a quick text message on his cell.

Such mundane acts, Mike thought. He had no clue he was about to die. She’d seen death videos too often, and it always made her sad and angry to watch a person’s life end violently.