Текст книги "The Lost Key"
Автор книги: Catherine Coulter
Соавторы: J. T. Ellison
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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 27 страниц)
17
Ariston’s
12:20 p.m.
Sophie knew they had to hurry. She slammed the door to the office, threw the deadbolt, and ran to the circular stairs. When they were safely belowground, she faced him.
He’d grown some more, at least a couple inches. Now she had to look up at him. But right now she was so mad at seeing him, so afraid for him, that she didn’t know whether to hug him or hit him.
“You’re supposed to be in California. Caltech wasn’t to your liking? Did the brains there catch on to who you really are? Tell me the truth now, why are you here?”
“You know why I’m here, Sophie. We have a major problem. Someone in the Order has betrayed us.”
She slammed her fist into his shoulder. “The grand search again? Adam, when will you and Dad give that up?” Her voice caught. She looked stricken. “Oh, no, no, Dad’s dead.”
Adam Pearce ran a hand through his too-long hair. “I know, I’m sorry, Sophie. But this is so important, the most important thing in Dad’s life. And now that they killed him, I’ve got to keep on with it.
“Sophie, listen to me, I found it, I found the sub. I called Dad last night and told him, and he was going to share the news with a few members of the Order. And today he’s dead. Either the Order has a traitor or there’s something even worse going on.”
“Really? You actually found the sub, after all this time? Nearly a hundred years? You actually found the Victoria?”
Adam nodded. “I’m ninety-nine percent sure this is it. But now, Dad . . .” His voice trailed off and he simply stood there, looking at her helplessly, tears trickling down his cheeks.
Sophie pulled her brother against her and held him, crying with him, and let the pain come.
Their lifelong search for the lost World War I U-boat was really over? She said, “Was it worth Dad’s life?”
He shook his head against hers. “No, no.”
She said against his neck, “The FBI agents asked me if I knew who EP was. I didn’t tell them anything.” She slowly pulled back, took her brother’s young face between her palms. “You did it, Adam, if anyone could find it, you could. I’m so proud of you. Dad was, too, wasn’t he?”
“Oh, yes. But you know Dad, he said something like, ‘Well, it’s about time.’” Their father had known his son would find the sub when Adam’s genius had burst forth at the age of eight, and he’d hacked into their bank’s checking-accounts system. He’d been caught that one time and everyone had marveled and laughed and given the little genius a pat on the shoulder. It was the last time he got caught. Soon he’d been able to dig deep into computer networks, circumvent firewalls and other security measures. At fifteen, their father had given him the mission: find the Victoria.
She tried to smile, seeing her father speaking, but she couldn’t. “The FBI agent said Dad had some satellite specs on his computer that were classified. I take it you know how he got those?”
He swiped away the drying tears on his face, waved his hand. “That’s irrelevant.”
“Adam, it is not irrelevant. The FBI are pissed, and looking in to who sent the info to Dad. I think they knew I was holding back. Those two, they’re not going to go away. I know they’ll keep after me. And they want Adam Pearce very badly. And they saw a photo of us as kids, you know, the one in Dad’s bedroom.”
“I look different. Don’t worry, I’m Kevin Brown—quick thinking, sis. I’ve put hundreds of layers in to protect us both.” He grabbed her shoulders, made her look him in the eye. “I narrowed down the location of the sub last week. Last night I took command of a private satellite that was passing over Scotland to take a look. Dad and I always thought the Victoria was lodged deep somewhere, under an outcrop of rock or land. It’s only been in the last year that the satellite technology is to the point where it can see past underwater shelves. I mean, it can see right through the land under the water. And that’s where I found it, nestled up under a huge rock ledge in northern Scotland. Like I said, I told Dad last night, and we were supposed to meet today so I could show him. I couldn’t tell him where it was over the phone, it was too dangerous.”
“Why didn’t you show him last night?”
“Because I was still in California. I took the red-eye from L.A. I got here as quickly as I could. And then this morning, when I got the text, I headed straight from JFK to meet him here.”
Sophie sat down on the floor, taking it all in, trying to make sense of the story. “You’re telling me Dad was killed because you found the sub? Why? Isn’t that what the Order wanted? I thought they’d be thrilled at the news, not homicidal. They’re supposed to be united on this matter.”
Adam’s lean face was etched in misery. “They are. That’s why I need Dad’s phone, so I can see who he called last night. At least we can narrow it down. But there’s more, Sophie. I told you Dad texted me this morning and told me to meet him down at Wall Street. I did, even though I thought it was weird. But when I got there, he was already dead. So—I knew before you told me upstairs.” His throat clogged with tears. “I knew.”
“Why Wall Street?” she asked. “Why there? It makes no sense.”
“Because it’s away from Dad’s territory. I think the man who killed Dad sent a text to me from Dad’s phone, and one to Dad from mine. To draw us together.”
“So the murderer was after both of you.”
Adam nodded, chewing on his lip. “Yeah. Maybe. The minute I saw what was happening, I got out of there, headed up here. I was careful, took a couple of cabs, the train, to make sure I wasn’t followed.”
“You weren’t followed. At least not by the man who killed Dad. The FBI got him, he’s dead.”
Adam’s voice was hard. “Good. That’s good. I’m glad the bastard’s dead.”
Sophie asked, “How would he text you and Dad? Did your phone get stolen?”
“No, not mine, but it’s possible to spoof a phone number, you know that. Kid’s play. If someone broke into Dad’s and got their hands on his cell, they could do it easily.”
He reached out a hand, squeezed hers. “Your hands are like ice.”
“It’s all right, it’s nothing.”
“Don’t shut me out, Sophie. Please. Not again.”
“I’m not.” She began to pace, winding around the vitrine case in the middle of the room. “I’m trying to figure all this out. The two FBI agents are acting really strange, like there’s something they know but aren’t telling me. And they don’t trust me, not that I blame them. I’m not a very good liar. But you know I couldn’t tell them the truth, it’s far too dangerous, and since every cop in the known universe is after you—” She paused, then added, “They showed me a picture of the man who killed Dad.”
“Did you recognize him?”
“No.”
“Well, you know as well as I do there’s lots they aren’t telling you. If they found Dad’s hidden SD card, then it won’t take them long to figure everything out. They haven’t had time yet. I have to get out of here before they come back, see if it’s too late to access Dad’s files remotely and delete them. I already got into his e-mail account. I didn’t see anything unusual, no outgoing messages.”
“Could he have sent an e-mail, then deleted it?”
“Yes, but I’ll have to break into his e-mail client’s server to see what they have, and we’re running out of time. Soph, get me Dad’s phone. Whoever he called, whoever he wrote, that’s who had him killed.” His voice cracked, and suddenly he was a little boy, and she his big sister, there to protect him. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”
Again, she held him close for a moment. Could he, nineteen years old, barely a man, could he fix things? She didn’t know. “Adam, if the Order killed Dad and want you dead as well, then you’re in danger. I don’t want you hurt.”
“You know we can’t stand by and wait to see what they’ll do, Sophie.”
“I know, I know, we have to find out who did this. I’ll see if the FBI will give me Dad’s phone, or at least tell me who he called last. You need to disappear.”
His face was pale in the red-tinged light. “Now that I think about it, I don’t understand why they’d want to kill me, since I’m the only one who knows where the sub is located and could tell them. And they want that sub. Yeah, if they got that info, then I’d no longer be necessary to them, and whack.”
They would kill him, but she didn’t say it aloud, no need. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, lose Adam, too.
“Tell me where the sub is. Exactly.”
“No, no way, not until we figure out what’s happening. You didn’t know yesterday, and you don’t know today. It’s safer that way.”
She saw he wouldn’t budge. He was more stubborn than she was. “Fine. We have to get you out of here. Use the back door, out into the alley. I’ll contact you if I find anything out, and you do the same. But don’t come back here, and don’t go to the house. You hear me? And watch your back.”
He thought for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll be in the Village for a while with Allie. You know how to reach me.” He turned to go, but she grabbed his arm.
“Wait, wait. There is something else. Dad said something before he died, they have it on video. It’s nonsense, really, but maybe it will make sense to you. ‘The key is in the lock.’ Do you know what that means?”
“Well, sure I do, but—”
She heard the voices of the FBI agents and cut him off. “Damn, they’re coming back, you have to go. Now.”
She opened the fire door and waved him away, but he stopped, looked back, and gave her a rakish grin. “‘The key is in the lock’—it’s not what you think, sis.”
“Adam, where’s your wallet? Really?”
“In my shoe.”
Then he was out into the alley, up the stairs, and out into the bustling New York streets.
18
Nicholas and Mike waited for Sophie and Kevin Brown to disappear into the office, safe, out of harm’s way, then Mike grabbed the walkie from Nicholas and moved to the right, to the nearest stack, so she’d be hidden from sight. Nicholas melted into the first stack on the left, and together they waited to see if the man came through the door. Mike clicked the button on the walkie so they could hear everything being said outside, but turned the volume down so the intruder couldn’t hear anything at the store’s door.
Nicholas listened to the surveillance team intently until they suddenly went silent. He nodded to Mike, who whispered, “What’s he doing, what’s he doing?” into the walkie.
Nicholas recognized Special Agent Ben Houston’s voice. “He stopped two doors down. We’ve got a loose box around him so he won’t get away. He’s watching the street, probably looking for us. Hang in there, let’s see what he does. Okay, he’s moving now, coming toward the door. Bald, about six feet, wearing jeans and a Windbreaker. Young, rangy guy, looks buff, real strong.”
Nicholas said to Mike, “I’m half tempted to let him come in, see who he is and what he’s after.”
She duckwalked to his position. “Too chancy. He could come in guns a-blazing.”
Ben’s voice came through the walkie. “He means business, people, he’s being deliberate now, not looking around or watching for a tail. Okay, here he is, at the door. You should be able to see him now. He has something in his left hand, I see metal, might be a weapon—”
Nicholas grabbed the walkie from Mike’s hand, said, “Take him. Take him now.”
Nicholas and Mike stepped out into plain view, weapons raised, and watched the surveillance team converge on the suspect. They saw his head was shaved and he wore a black goatee. He took one look in the glass door, met Nicholas’s eyes, saw the weapons pointed at him, and threw his arms up in the air.
“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!”
Ben appeared behind him, shouting, “FBI, FBI. Put your hands on your head, get down on your knees. Do it, do it now!”
The man went down on his knees, no hesitation. Ben wrenched his arms back behind him and cuffed him as Mike opened the shop door.
She stood over him, hands on her hips. “FBI. Who are you?”
The man looked confused. “Whoa, whoa! FBI? What’s going on here? What in the world is happening?”
Mike slipped her Glock back into its clip at her waist. Nicholas very nearly smiled. She looked as tough without the Glock in her hand.
Nicholas stepped forward. “Tell us your name.”
“I’m Alex Grossman. I have a lunch meeting with Jonathan. He’s got a book I ordered; he called me last night. My phone’s in my pocket, you can check.”
“What else? Maybe some needles, a weapon?”
“No, man. Only my keys, my wallet, and my phone. What do I look like, a terrorist?”
Mike said, “That isn’t funny, sir. Not at all.”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m a little freaked out here, okay? Can I put my hands down?”
Nicholas frisked him quickly and retrieved Grossman’s wallet, phone, and keys.
He said, “Where were you this morning, Mr. Grossman?”
“Asleep. I own the Bullet Pub. It’s also a restaurant. We had a private event last night, the group stayed way later than planned. I didn’t get home until after three a.m. I caught some sleep, then headed over here to meet Jonathan. Please, tell me what’s going on.”
Nicholas nodded at Mike, flashed the small cell phone. “Pearce called him last night at eight-thirty p.m.”
Mike nodded. “Tell me what Mr. Pearce said, exactly, Mr. Grossman.”
“That the book had come in. That’s all. He always called when an order arrived. We chatted a bit, caught up. It’s his personal touch, why everyone likes doing business with him. What’s happening?”
“Mr. Pearce was murdered this morning,” Mike said, then nodded at Ben to unlock the cuffs.
“Jonathan’s dead?” Grossman sounded blank-voiced with shock. “But how? Why? I mean, it doesn’t make any sense.” Then he became very still, going inward, Mike thought, accepting his friend’s death as fact. He whispered low, “God rest his soul. Jonathan’s a great guy. Please, tell me you know who did it.”
Mike ignored his questions, leaned against the counter, crossed her arms. “How well did you know Mr. Pearce, Mr. Grossman?”
“Well enough. This can’t be happening. I don’t feel well, can I sit down for a minute?”
Nicholas heard the back door open. Sophie stuck her face out, pale, scared. He waved for her to come to the front.
Nicholas said, “This man says he’s here to pick up a book. Do you know him?”
Sophie let out a big breath. “Oh, yes, I know him. He’s a very good customer. Alex, Mr. Grossman, how are you?”
Grossman looked at her pale face and pulled her against him. “I am so sorry, honey, I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
She gulped down tears. “Nothing, at the moment. Did you have an order in?”
“Yes. Your father called me last night.” He glanced over at the register. “That’s it right there—the Tiffany blue cover. Auden’s Poems. Inscribed by Dick Grossman on the half-title.”
Mike saw Sophie was frowning at Grossman, upset that he’d spoken to her father. But she said, “Agent Drummond, may I? It’s already been paid for.”
“I’m sorry, he’ll have to come back another time.”
Sophie glanced at Grossman, then back at Nicholas. She stood straight, in good control of herself. “Agents, please. I’m going to have to close the store for the time being, until I can get caught up on everything. There’s no reason to hijack Mr. Grossman’s book. It’s already paid for. Please, my father wouldn’t want his store or his customers to suffer because of him.” Her voice stayed strong and steady, and Nicholas gave in.
“Fine, but we need to get moving, so be quick about it.”
Sophie packaged up the small book, wrapping it in several layers of brown paper and twine, as if it were glass and easily breakable. Nicholas had to resist telling her to hurry up, but again he had the feeling she knew more, and now she was using the time to get herself calmed and in control. He could be wrong, but he thought something about Grossman, about the phone call, had upset her. If so, why? They’d take a closer look at Alex Grossman. As Sophie wrapped the book, Grossman gave his information to Mike. If he owned a nearby business, he wouldn’t be hard to track down.
Finally, Sophie handed the wrapped book to Grossman. He rested a hand on her shoulder. “I’m really sorry, Sophie. If you need anything, please don’t hesitate to call. I’m sure you won’t be interested in cooking for a while; stop by the pub, I’ll feed you. It’s the least I can do.”
“Thank you, Mr. Grossman. I—thank you.”
She turned away from him. Grossman watched her for a moment, then nodded to the agents and went out the door, the bell tinkling behind him.
Mike asked, “Out of curiosity, how much was that book worth?”
Sophie glanced at the small sales slip her father had tucked into the register the night before. “Forty-eight hundred dollars.”
Nicholas walked to the back of the store, opened the door to the office, and shouted down the stairs, “Mr. Brown? You can come up now.”
Nothing. Sophie was busying herself with the register. Nicholas called out, “Sophie, where is Mr. Brown?”
Sophie cocked her head to one side. “Oh, he had to go, he had a lunch meeting, like he said. I let him out the back.”
Nicholas stalked back up the aisle toward her, clearly pissed. “You shouldn’t have done that. We weren’t finished talking to him.”
Sophie’s chin rose. “Kevin’s not a threat, nor did he have anything to do with my father’s death. He’s a kid, nice enough, but not old enough to get it together, you know?”
Mike said, “We don’t know he didn’t have something to do with your father’s death, Sophie. It was odd, Brown suddenly in the store the same day your father’s been killed. Give us all his information. We’ll have to find him, check him out.”
“I don’t have it. It’s probably on my dad’s computer, but all his files are password protected.” She glanced at her watch. “I want to see my father. Where is he?”
Mike said, “I’ll make arrangements so you can see him. Tomorrow, maybe.”
“I’ve got to go. Dad’s funeral arrangements—all his friends, I don’t know, there’s so much—when will I be able to bury him?”
“Probably a few more days. I’m sorry, Sophie, but I can’t give you an exact day yet.”
She was crying again, and Mike drew a deep breath and let her go.
Nicholas narrowed his eyes after her. “She was lying through her teeth. Oh, her grief for her father was real enough, but Kevin Brown? She simply let him go? And the identity of EP?”
Mike was shaking her head. “I don’t understand her. Why wouldn’t she tell us everything she could to help us find out why her father was killed?”
Nicholas said, “And why was she upset over Alex Grossman speaking to her father last night?”
“You saw that, too, did you?”
19
Lexington and East 53rd Street
Alex Grossman wanted to run full out, but he couldn’t, the FBI might be watching him, so he forced himself to walk the four blocks to his apartment at a steady pace, the only secure place he could make the call. And he needed to make the call, right now. More was at stake than Jonathan’s death. He had to keep the charade in place, no matter what.
He took a deep breath. Jonathan Pearce, the Messenger—dead. He couldn’t get his brain around it. It was a disaster. The Order—every link in the chain was meant to be unbreakable, and yet the most important link—the Messenger—was dead. Not only dead, he’d been murdered. Sophie was barely holding it together, and Adam, dear God in heaven, what would Adam say when he found out? No one even knew where he was.
What would they do now?
Thank the Almighty he’d managed to get the book with the SD card hidden inside, as they’d arranged. And Sophie, quick on her feet, had managed to get the book to him right under the noses of the FBI. If they’d lost Pearce and the files—
No, don’t think of it. You have the SD card. Call in. Weston will know what’s to be done.
Grossman’s apartment, despite the Midtown location, was a fifth-floor walk-up two blocks down from his pub. He didn’t mind the stairs, they kept him in shape. When he burst into his flat, he locked the door and went straight to the safe in the kitchen, nicely disguised in one of the cabinets, right behind three cans of kidney beans.
He started to put the book inside, but something made him stop. He held the book for a moment, staring down at it. Slowly, he untied the twine, unwrapped all the layers of paper.
He opened the book. There was a space cut inside the pages, the perfect size for a small micro–SD card.
But the space was empty.
Panic slammed him. He tamped it down. He had to think. There were only two possibilities—either Jonathan Pearce hadn’t put the SD card in the book after all or someone had gotten to the store before Alex had and stolen it.
There were only two copies of this SD card in existence—standard operating procedure for the Order. Redundancies. One card was supposed to be in the book. The other was in Alfie Stanford’s safe at 11 Downing Street.
He reached into the safe and pulled out an encrypted satellite phone. He noticed his hands were shaking. Adrenaline. Calm down, lad, there’s much to be done.
He dialed the number from memory. It was answered on the first ring.
He blurted out the words, his American accent gone to reveal his natural crisp British. “Pearce is dead.”
Edward Weston said calmly, “Yes, I know. Did you retrieve the book?”
“Yes, but the SD card wasn’t inside. FBI agents were in Jonathan’s store.”
“Yes, I know. Do you have any idea where Pearce’s SD card could be?”
“I’m not certain at this time, sir. Sophie was there in the store as well. She was a mess.”
“Yes, yes, I’m sure she was. We all are. What about Adam Pearce, was he there?”
“I didn’t see him. I don’t know how to contact him directly.”
Grossman could hear Weston tapping his fingers on his desk, a longtime nervous habit. “I see.”
“What are your orders, sir?”
“I need you on a plane to London straightaway.”
Grossman was surprised. “I shouldn’t stay in place? My cover will be blown. Try to get ahold of the SD card? The FBI agent, Drummond, he was at the store this morning. He and another agent are investigating Jonathan’s murder, so I’ll bet he found it at Jonathan’s apartment. I could try to waylay him, maybe—”
“Absolutely not. It doesn’t matter, not now. Prepare yourself, Alex, there’s more.” He heard Weston take a deep breath. “Alfie Stanford died in his office at Eleven Downing Street two hours ago, and the contents of his private safe were stolen.”
“No,” Alex said, stunned, disbelieving. Stanford was their leader. He’d run the Order for more than thirty years. To lose both him and Pearce in the same day was unthinkable. “It’s murder, surely, sir, it must be. We’re under attack.”
“I believe you’re right, Alex, but we won’t know anything until the inquest. Scotland Yard is conducting an investigation, as well as the Security Service. We’re coming at this from all angles. Now you understand why I need you to come to London right away. Forget the SD card. There’s no way you can get it. Right away, Alex, tonight.”
Pearce dead, Stanford dead. And—“Sir, Wolfgang Havelock died not above a month ago as well. I know he had a stroke, but with three members of the Order dead in such a short period of time—”
“Exactly, Alex, exactly. You’re absolutely correct, it seems the Order is under attack. The information stolen from Stanford’s safe can cripple us all. We are convening an emergency meeting of the Order, and I want you here.”
“Yes, sir, of course. My cover will be blown, but it hardly seems to matter now.”
“Good. I’ll share some news with you, Alex, because I know I can trust you, and you’re going to know it soon enough, anyway. I know that Pearce was in direct contact with Alfie Stanford last night. As for the message you passed to me last night from Jonathan, it was indeed good news—the very best news, actually—Adam located the submarine at last. We don’t have the exact coordinates as yet, but we will soon. Once we get to the sub, we’ll retrieve Marie’s key and her book and be able to find the weapon, and the kaiser’s gold, if that isn’t a myth.”
“Do you think it’s possible English spies really did manage to steal the kaiser’s private treasure?”
“Probably no, but we’ll see. I don’t intend to let anyone get in the way. Now, I’m not sure who to trust right now, Alex, so you must be careful.”
“The pub—”
“That is why you have a partner. Call him, tell him your mother is ill and you must return to—where does your current legend say you’re from?”
“Chicago. Lincoln Park, a few blocks from the zoo.” He said the words automatically, the information so ingrained in his being he could recite it in his sleep, with a knife pointed at his throat.
“Right. Tell him you must return to Chicago immediately. We’ll take care of the rest and send a plane for you. It will be waiting for you at Teterboro. And Alex? About Drummond having the other SD card. I believe you’re right. Drummond used to be with the Foreign Office, and he was Met Police for a stretch, before moving to America to join the FBI. We detected a breach on Pearce’s computer this morning. I think this Drummond character may have made a mirror of the files. If he has, certainly it’s very likely he found the SD card during a search of Jonathan’s apartment.
“If that is the case, we must simply forget about getting it back. Drummond has already turned the SD card in. I’m sorry the American FBI have it, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. So what I want you to do is bring Sophie Pearce with you. She’s in danger, and until we understand what’s going on here, who else is also after the sub and the key, she must be protected.”
Alex looked out the window, watched the pigeons alight on the sill, cooing and preening. Oh, bugger it all, how was he going to get Sophie to come willingly with him? She wouldn’t, no way, it wouldn’t matter what he said. “What about Adam?”
“Do not worry about him. I have others looking for him.”
“Very well, sir. May I ask who is taking over the Order now that Mr. Stanford is dead?”
There was a slight pause, then a hitch in Edward Weston’s throat, which he quickly cleared away.
“I am.”