The Lost Key (12 page)

26 Federal Plaza

3:00 p.m.

Mike called Ben the moment they got in the car. “We're on our way back. We have big news. Do you have Sophie Pearce?”

“We do,” Ben answered.

“Good. Ask Gray to scan photos of all the German nationals who entered the United States in the past week, see if he can find Mr. Olympic on a flight manifest.”

“Will do. See you in ten.”

She hung up her cell and looked over at Nicholas. He was staring at his tapping fingers on the dash.

She said, “I know you're frustrated, Nicholas, but stop it, okay? Dr. Janovich was right, it wasn't your fault.”

“Of course it was. I was the one who popped him in the jaw with my elbow, I think. And that means we'd know what all this was about if I hadn't killed him.”

“Your activating the poison was a fluke. Look at it this way. If Mr. Olympic hadn't died, and Janovich hadn't found the implant in his brain, we could never have known that someone was watching everything through his eyes, listening to everything we said.
And now we know it's someone who's connected to one of the big nano-biology firms. It's all good.”

Nicholas stopped tapping his fingers. “Yes, of course you're right.”

Still, she understood. Any death, even accidental, unleashed demons that visited in the night. She said simply, “We all live with it, Nicholas. You know even better than I do that it's something we have to deal with. Now snap to, Superman, I need you.” And that made him smile.

“Good. Now, we've got to figure out what we're missing. Jonathan Pearce was lured to Wall Street by Mr. Olympic and killed. Sophie Pearce lied through her teeth to us and her brother, Adam, is probably wanted by the intergalactic police. What are they hiding? What are they up to?”

He was focused again. “I'm going to go out on a short limb here and say Mr. Olympic, our dead German, was sent to access Pearce's files. He's definitely the one who broke into the system before we arrived at Mr. Pearce's apartment.”

“You don't think it could have been Adam Pearce?”

“No, no reason for him to access his father's computer since he'd have everything duplicated on his own computer. If you were looking for something specific, and you had a man you could send in who could visually upload everything he saw, and heard? I'd say Mr. Olympic.”

Mike said, “We really need an ID on Mr. Olympic, like now.”

“We also need to look at another possibility here, Mike. The information on the spy satellite is certainly worth spending some time tracking, if that's what they were after. Again, for a layman to have those plans on his personal computer is more than worrisome.”

“What are you saying? Do you think Jonathan Pearce was involved in some sort of espionage?”

He said, “You saw the list of people he dealt with, they're all over the world, and all very powerful. Was he simply mailing classified information to the highest bidder inside the books they bought? If so, it's rather elegant, actually, and very old-school. Al Qaeda, for example, uses handwritten notes for their biggest operational plans since computer communications between terrorist franchises aren't secure.”

She nodded. “Okay, yes, it's the only safe way of moving information in this new digital age, especially since it's virtually impossible to erase information.”

He said, “You're right. I can resurrect nearly any hard drive. Everything leaves a footprint, no matter how ghostly. And to think, Pearce's son is a well-known hacker. I'm going to say father and son were in cahoots.”

“
Cahoots
? From a Brit?”

He glanced at her, saw she was smiling. “I'm flexible. And yes, cahoots. Now I hope Sophie Pearce is going to give us some real answers.”

When they stepped off the elevator, Nicholas said, “I recall something in Pearce's files about a company out of Germany doing groundbreaking nano-biotech work. There wasn't a name, but I'm sure it would be easy to find. Do you remember Pierre Menard, from FedPol?”

“Of course. How could I forget him? He was smart, fast on his feet, and the biggie, he really liked me. Maybe you, too, but not as much.” Menard had been a vital part of their search for the Fox and the Koh-i-Noor diamond.

“I'm going to call him. Maybe he'll know of a German nano-biotech firm that would fit the bill.”

Ben ushered them into the room next to the interview room where they could observe Sophie pacing, back and forth, muttering all the while.

“She's mad,” Nicholas said. “It's fun when a witness is mad, they tend to lose control more easily. I really don't understand, though, why she's so upset.”

“Pretty obvious, don't you think?” Mike said. “Her dad was murdered this morning and now she's trying to protect her brother. We're the cops, her brother's biggest enemy.”

“Here's something else,” Ben said, handing Nicholas a transcript. “There was so much, we got Agent Jack McDermitt on loan from the Investigation Unit. He and Gray took apart the forensic data from Pearce's phone and computer, looking for ties to his son, and to any foreign entities who might benefit from the plans of the spy satellite. Here's the extended transcript of the texts from Pearce's phone back and forth to EP—Adam Pearce. Father and son were searching for something, what we don't know since it's all coded. But Gray and Jack both think it's something major.”

Ben was right, the conversations were indecipherable, full of abbreviations and numbers. Nicholas wanted to study them himself, but they didn't have the time now. He folded the papers, stuck them in his jacket pocket.

“See anything?” Mike asked.

“Like Ben said, it's all coded. We need some time and the key, a codex of some sort. We'll ask Sophie, odds are she knows what it all means. Ben, will you watch, see if anything stands out for you?”

“Of course.”

He said to Mike, “Do you want to be the good cop or the bad cop?”

She punched his arm. “Can't you tell I'm the spitting image of Glinda the Good Witch?”

“Let's do it, then,” and he crossed the hall into the interrogation room.

N
icholas stomped into the room, impatience and annoyance rolling off him, heavy as a noxious cloud. He took a seat across from Sophie Pearce and stared at her, his look dark, violent, scary, because he didn't say a word. Mike followed him more slowly, stood against the wall, her arms crossed, silent.

Nicholas said without preamble, his voice hard and low, “We know you've been lying to us, Ms. Pearce. We know the young man you called
Kevin Brown
this morning wasn't an old employee. We know he was your brother, Adam. We have a warrant out for his arrest, and every law enforcement official in the tri-state area has been informed of his acts of treason against this country. They won't go easy on him when they find him. Trust me on this, you want us to be the ones who take him into custody. Now, tell us how to find him or we'll arrest you as an accessory to murder.”

Nicholas had taken her off guard. Mike watched Sophie Pearce press back against the chair, maybe a bit afraid now, but then she got hold of herself. She even sat forward, ready to face him down. She said very deliberately, “I don't know what you're talking about.”

He leaned forward as well, their foreheads nearly touching. He
looked ready to strangle her, but still, she didn't move, didn't pull back. “Of course you do. We don't have time for any more evasions, any more lies. You will tell me where your brother is.” He sat back suddenly, tapped his fingers on the tabletop, loud in the silent room. “Don't you understand? After your father's murder this morning, we learned we aren't the only ones looking for your brother. It's clear his life is in danger.”

Mike was right, this was the way to get to her. He saw a flash of fear in her eyes.

Mike said from behind him, “I know you love Adam, Sophie, and that's why you're protecting him. Believe me, I respect that. You've lost so much today. You shouldn't have to go through this, too. And—”

Nicholas cut her off, his voice steel-edged. “If you don't tell me everything, you're going to lose not only your father, but your brother, too. So where is he, Ms. Pearce? Where is Adam?”

She'd wavered, he'd seen it, but now she looked him straight in the eye and said flatly, “I don't know.”

Nicholas slammed his fist on the table, making her jump. “You're lying. I can see the pulse in your neck race faster with every single lie.”

Mike said quietly, “Sophie, you know what this is about. You know the men who killed your father are trying to get to your brother. You don't want his blood on your hands. Help us, Sophie. You know we're the good guys. We don't want anything bad to happen to Adam. I have a brother, too. I'd do most anything to protect him. Maybe even go so far as to try to hide his identity to keep the cops from arresting him. But if he was in danger, I would stop pretending I didn't know where he is.”

That did it. Sophie cracked wide open. She jumped to her feet,
splayed her palms on the battered table. “What was I supposed to do, give you his real name? He's a hacker, he has a record. You know he's wanted. You'll put him in jail. Adam isn't the reason my father was killed, he isn't.”

Nicholas said, “You think not? Where is he?”

She shook her head. “You don't understand. Adam wouldn't, couldn't, be the reason my father was killed.”

Nicholas shoved the transcript Ben had given him toward her, knowing it looked official. “It's all here. Your father was lured down to Wall Street this morning with a text message from someone calling himself EP. EP, Sophie.
Eternal Patrol,
your brother's underground call sign, which you know very well. Your brother asked your father to meet him. Your father was killed doing so. It doesn't take a genius to see what's happening here.”

“But you said the men who killed my father are searching for Adam.” She looked at Nicholas, right through him, and her face suddenly turned hard.

“I see now, you're lying to me. You're playing me. You already know who killed my father. You never thought his own son could have done it, you're not that stupid. No, you want the boy hacker who's made your lives a misery because he's so talented, so smart, much more than any of you.”

She jumped to her feet. “I won't help you put my brother into prison! I'm through speaking now. I'd like to call my attorney.”

She stood there, her arms crossed over her chest.

“You're not under arrest, Sophie,” Mike said, pushing away from the wall. “You're free to leave, but please understand, your brother is in imminent danger. Help us find him before it's too late for him, for both of you.”

“Your father's dead, Sophie. Don't let Adam be next.”

Sophie closed her eyes and swallowed. Finally, she said, “You don't need me. I know how you work, you can track Adam off his phone.”

“We can't because your brother doesn't use the same kind of phone as most people,” Nicholas said. “You know he unlocks them, puts his own operating system on them, adds programming to make them untraceable, and the phones themselves are disposable. Think, Sophie. We can't protect him if we can't find him, and that's what's most important right now.”

She gave it up. “He stays in the Village when he comes to town. If I need him, I leave word at the Starbucks on the Lower East Side, on Delancey between Allen and Orchard. His girlfriend, Allie, works there, she knows how to find him. He thought it was safer if I didn't have the address.” She stood up. “I'm leaving now.”

Nicholas rose. “Thank you for your help. And Sophie, I'm sure we don't need to remind you to be very careful out there.”

A hint of panic, but only for an instant. She straightened her shoulders. “I always am.”

East Village

4:00 p.m.

Nicholas and Mike left immediately for the Starbucks on Delancey. They didn't wait for agents to back them up, no time, and both of them knew it. Adam Pearce would be there or he wouldn't. If they needed help, they'd call in.

Agent Lia Scott was the eyes and ears on Sophie Pearce and was monitoring all calls, e-mails, and communications from Adam Pearce when they found him. She called Mike as they parked a block from Starbucks.

“Lia, what's up?”

“Hi, Mike, a quick update. We have the trap set up and live on Sophie Pearce's phone lines, so we're listening and watching. Our girl is calling all over town, looking for her brother. So far, she hasn't managed to locate him, but with this many people beating the bushes, he's going to know you're coming, and probably run.”

“Did she alert this Allie we're about to see at the Starbucks?”

“Not that I can tell, but we had a ten-minute lag time while the paper cleared on the phone tap. It's possible.”

“Where is Sophie now?”

“The phone shows her back at her apartment in the Alexander. As long as she keeps her cell phone on her person, I can trace her steps around town pretty easily. She's parked right now, and so am I.”

“She doesn't know we're listening, so she should keep her phone on. Thanks, Lia. Let me know if she goes on the move.”

“Will do.”

All eyes behind the Starbucks counter were on them the moment they walked in. It was, Mike thought, like they were wearing a sign. She marched up and flipped out her badge. “I'm looking for Allie.”

A handsome young black man with a Mohawk immediately stepped forward. “Allie McGee? She's not in today. She called in sick.”

“Who's your manager?”

“I am. Stephen Torres. What's the problem, ma'am?”

“We need her home address, right now.”

He didn't move. “Is she in trouble?”

Mike leaned on the counter with both arms. “She's going to be, if you don't tell me how to find her.”

One of the baristas said, “I'm Shelley. I'm her best friend. She's over on Avenue A. One-oh-seven Avenue A, apartment five. She's probably not there, though, she has school today. She had a huge midterm today, and our work schedule was set last week. I traded shifts with her so she could take her test.” The girl shot her manager a guilty look. “We're not supposed to trade shifts without getting permission first.”

Mike said, “Nice of you. What school does she go to?”

“NYU. She's a computer science major.”

“She have a boyfriend?”

The look on Shelley's face told them the answer to that.

“Does he live with her?” Nicholas asked.

“No, not really. In fact, I haven't seen Adam in a long time. Allie said he was in California. She doesn't talk much about him, I don't know why.”

Mike said, “What's her phone number? Right now.”

Shelley gave Mike the number.

Torres said, “Hey, Allie's a good kid. What did she do?”

Mike gave her best scary Fed smile. “Don't worry about it. Thank you, Shelley, for the info. Now, can I have two grande skinny vanilla lattes and two cinnamon scones? To go.”

“Surely, ma'am. On the house, for New York's Finest.”

She left a twenty-dollar bill on the counter, aware of the phalanx of eyes on their backs as they walked out. They got in the car and Mike devoured the scone in three bites, Nicholas in two. He wiped his mouth. “That was well played, Special Agent Caine.”

“Thanks. You so owe me a real meal, Nicholas. An apple, a scone, and a latte ain't gonna cut it.” She brushed the crumbs off her lap, took a deep gulp of the latte, burning her tongue in the process.

“Let's go to her apartment,” Mike said. “If I were on the run, I'd hide out at my girlfriend's place. It doesn't appear that Allie even told her best friend that Adam is a big bad wanted hacker.”

Allie McGee's apartment was only a few blocks away. Mike checked in with Ben, told him where they were going, told him to be ready for a call if they saw something hinky. “And Ben, find out who owns the lease on this apartment.”

Even though all they wanted to find was a nineteen-year-old
boy, she and Nicholas had come prepared, vests, comms on the off chance they ran into trouble. She and Nicholas geared up while Ben ran the property record.

He said, “It's in the name of Allison McGee. Bought last year, for eight hundred thousand dollars.”

“Pricey place for a kid in school, working at Starbucks on the side. Did her parents fund it?”

She heard tapping. “It was paid for in cash. Full purchase price.”

“Interesting. Have the financials come back on Jonathan Pearce yet?”

Ben said, “As it happens, yes. Pearce is a very wealthy man. Both the son and daughter have healthy trust funds. And lookee here, there was a withdrawal for one million dollars from Adam Pearce's trust right before the apartment was purchased.”

“Gotcha, thanks, Ben.”

“Call if you need backup. Wait up, here's Gray.”

Gray Wharton's voice came loud and clear. “One more thing, Mike, Sir Nicholas—Jonathan Pearce is a viscount. The Tenth Viscount Chambers, to be exact.”

That got Nicholas's attention. “Chambers? Who is Pearce's father?”

“Looks like his dad's name was Robert, son of Leo, son of—no, wait—it looks like Leo was adopted by William Pearce way back in 1917, before the end of the war. As to who Leo's real father was, I'm going to have to dig to find that out. Do you think that could be important?”

Nicholas said, “No clue, Gray. I doubt it, but if you happen to see it, let me know. Thank you. Quit calling me ‘sir.'”

It was a secure building, requiring either a code or a buzz in from an apartment to open the doors.

Mike cupped her hands against the glass to get a better view of the lobby setup. “I don't see a doorman. We're going to have to buzz Allie's apartment.”

Nicholas pressed the button for 2A. Nothing. 2B answered, though, and Mike adopted her best young girl voice. “Hey, it's five, I left my keys upstairs.”

“Not again,” came a harassed voice, but the door buzzed, and clicked open.

Mike gave Nicholas a grin. “Works every time.”

Nicholas shook his head. “You'd think New Yorkers would be more careful.”

“No kidding.” They'd looked at the apartment floor plan, saw Allie's place was rear-facing, with a sectioned fire escape that let down into an alley.

They took the elevator to the fifth floor. Apartment five was the last door down a narrow, elegantly modern hallway with stained teak floors and small wheatgrass installations along the wall, the embedded lights reflected by beveled mirrors, giving a lovely glow to the space.

“Nice to have a rich boyfriend these days,” Mike said.

They were at the door now. Nicholas leaned in, listened. It was quiet, too quiet. He whispered, “Something doesn't feel right.” Didn't smell right, either. He smelled the sharp pungent odor of copper and that meant blood, a lot of it.

Not good, not good.
Mike pulled her Glock from its clip at her waist, called Ben. “Ben, come down, something's not right here.”

She knew they should wait, but she knew to her gut something was very wrong. She stood to the side of the door, and banged her fist three times, yelled, “FBI. Open up.”

Nothing. There were no sounds.

Nicholas reached for the doorknob. Unlocked. He met her eyes, nodded. Mike called out again, then he opened the door and went in, quick and fast, Mike behind him, her Glock high, his low.

And everything around them seemed to explode into movement.