The Lost Key (35 page)

H
avelock merely nodded at his backpack. “Ah, Agent Caine, how little imagination you have. Think, dear girl, I will be the one giving all those precious law enforcement agencies the orders.”

The longer he talked, Nicholas knew, the more likely it was that the commander's people would come looking. Keep him talking, it was their best chance.

Sophie's hands were tied in front of her, Havelock's scalpel digging into her neck. She couldn't move, except for her eyes. She was staring at Nicholas, and she began to blink rapidly, her eyes never leaving his face. Then she turned her head a bit to the right. He looked, but didn't see anything. What was she trying to tell him?

And then he saw it, a small glass beaker with a yellowish substance inside, and it was within her reach, if only she could pull free of Havelock.

Havelock was still talking about how he wouldn't dismantle the law enforcement agencies because, after all, there were still criminals in the world. Nicholas began coughing, bending over, grabbing his stomach.

Havelock yelled, “What is wrong with you?” In that instant of distraction, Sophie jerked away from him and grabbed the glass
beaker. Before he could stab her, she whirled around and smashed the beaker into Havelock's face. The glass shattered, and he started to scream.

Nicholas sprang forward, stopped in his tracks. Havelock's face was melting, the skin pouring off the bone. Whatever the acid in the beaker was, it had sat brewing one hundred years.

Nicholas grabbed the backpack from Havelock's arms as he fell to the ground, screaming, screaming, clutching at his face, and screaming.

Mike picked up her Glock, put the muzzle against Havelock's head, and pulled the trigger.

Havelock's body twitched, then went still. Eyeballs stared blankly from the bones of his face at the ceiling of Curie's lab.

“You okay?” Nicholas said and she looked at him and smiled faintly. “I am.”

Sophie pulled the gag out of her mouth. She stood over him. “He was a monster and he was mad.” Sophie suddenly sucked in her breath and looked down at her hand. A tiny bit of the acid had gotten on her skin and had left an angry red burn. Who cared? She looked up. “Thank you both for saving my life.”

Mike untied her wrists, cupped Sophie's hand. “We need to get you aboveground, quickly. We have no idea what that acid is.”

“It's
esprite de sel.
Spirits of salt, also known as muriatic acid,” Sophie said. “It was on the label, and I knew what it would do.” She laughed through a sob. “I wonder why Madame Curie abandoned this lab but left the muriatic acid behind. Was she using it in her experiments?”

“We'll never know,” Mike said. “There's no one left to tell us.”

Nicholas took Sophie's arms between his hands. “We didn't save you, Sophie, you saved us. Well done.”

“We need to go get Adam,” Sophie said, but Nicholas held up a hand. They could hear Dendritte and her people shouting from higher in the tunnel.

Nicholas picked up the backpack that held Havelock's MNW. “No one can ever say a word about what is in this box. We can't let anyone, any government, any technology company, get their hands on this weapon. Agreed?”

Mike and Sophie nodded. Mike watched him shoulder the backpack. The shouting grew closer. Commander Dendritte burst into the room with several cops on her heels.

She took in the scene, eyes wide when they landed on Havelock, and then she reholstered her weapon, and said,
“C'est fini, non?”

Nicholas nodded.
“Oui. C'est fini.”

Paris

6:00 a.m.

The Paris dawn was bright and fresh, a new day beginning. The people of the city were waking up and preparing for their day completely unaware of the battle that had raged beneath their streets overnight.

Sophie was tended to, Adam had been rescued and brought to them, Elise arrested. They did a quick debrief with Commander Dendritte. When Mike's stomach growled loudly, the commander grinned and suggested they eat something while she started on the mountain of paperwork.

Over freshly baked croissants and hot
café au lait,
they talked. When Nicholas told Adam that not only Havelock was dead, but also März, Adam whooped and gave Nicholas a high five.

Then Sophie and Adam talked about Ansonia and Josef and their son Leo. Sophie said, “I even owe my affinity for languages to Ansonia.”

Mike raised her cup. “Here's to the direct descendants of the Rothschilds.”

Sophie raised hers as well. “Now Adam and I will do our share
so there will be more descendants for the next hundred years. May Ansonia and Josef never be forgotten.”

They clicked cups. Mike looked back and forth between brother and sister. “Amazing. All of it is absolutely amazing.”

Adam said, “You're pretty amazing, sis. Look at you, you destroyed Havelock. You saved the Order. Not to mention the world.” He paused for a moment. “I wish I could have seen him.”

“I'm glad you didn't, Adam. He looked like a monster out of a horror movie.”

Adam looked over his shoulder, then leaned close across the table and whispered, “Did you get the weapon?”

Sophie didn't say a word.

Nicholas fiddled with his spoon a moment, reached over and wiped a spot of foam from Mike's chin. “You needn't ever worry about the weapon again, Adam. It's been taken care of. Something that powerful, that deadly, no person, no government should ever have control of it. I've destroyed Curie's notebook and Havelock's files.”

Mike said, “For now, Havelock's company's been closed down. All the technology he's discovered—it needs someone who isn't mad as a hatter to guide it properly, to see it's used for good.”

Sophie said, “We can only pray there's not another mad genius like Havelock to resurrect it all again.”

Mike thanked the good Lord above Dendritte hadn't known what Havelock had been after in Curie's lab. If she'd known about the MNW, there'd have been hell to pay. She could hear the howls from French government loud in her head.

Nicholas said, “I identified the man from Havelock's files, code name Mr. Z. He was Mr. Stanford's secretary, Trevor Wetherby,
and he was the one who killed him. He was working for Weston, of course. Word leaked late last night that the inquest found Stanford's death was murder. As you can imagine, the media is having a field day with this. Who knows where it will head?”

Sophie asked, “What happens to Adam?”

Nicholas sat back in his chair, his hands steepled in front of him. “I suppose it depends on Adam.”

Nineteen, and the kid was already surpassing Nicholas's own skills. It felt strange, he had to admit.

“I'm willing to do whatever you want, sir.”

“Are you? You're willing to go to jail? Because that's where you belong.”

Adam's face fell. Mike kicked Nicholas in the ankle under the table. “Quit torturing him, it's not nice.”

Nicholas said, “All right, so we'll make a deal. But Adam, there will be some jail time, no way around that. You've hacked too many sensitive agencies, stepped on a lot of very big toes, thumbed your nose at too many important people. But if you're willing to work with me, to tell me everything you've done, and how you did it—we may be able to get your jail time reduced.”

Adam looked appalled. “Are you saying I'd have to work for the Man?”

“Forever, probably,” Nicholas said, and felt ancient. “Don't look like you're going to throw up. Get used to it. We need minds like yours. So if you're willing to cooperate, we could plead you out as a misdemeanor, and you'll be out in well under a year.

“Ah, I see Commander Dendritte waving to us. I believe she wants to speak more with you and Sophie, probably more grilling for Mike and me as well. Then it's back to New York.”

“And then? I know, I know, after the slammer, it's the Man.
Okay, I can do that.” He flashed a big smile. “Within reason, of course.” Nicholas paid for breakfast and they went to see Commander Dendritte. They made a date to come speak to the higher-ups in the Parisian Sûreté. Mike and Nicholas watched brother and sister follow the commander, Adam's arm slung around Sophie's shoulders. He turned and mouthed
Thank you
to Nicholas and gave him a thumbs-up.

Nicholas smiled down at Mike. “They'll both be okay now.”

“Now that I've had sustenance, I need sleep, at least until we have to report in for more talk, talk, talk.”

“I do as well.”

Mike said, “And then we debrief for Zachery, and, and, and—”

Nicholas took her hand. “All of that, but sleep first. Where shall we go?”

“I was thinking of a little pension, maybe a bit on the seedy side, with no hot water—”

He laughed. “Do you think instead you could put up with a shabby two-bedroom suite at the Ritz?”

She slowly nodded. “Well, if you insist. I remember I liked that place okay—especially the soft bed.”

E
arly the next morning they were eating breakfast and watching the continuing media frenzy about Alfie Stanford's and Oliver Leyland's murders on the BBC when Mike's cell rang.

“It's Zachery.”

Nicholas groaned. “I knew he'd have more questions, but now? It's midnight in New York. Doesn't the man sleep?”

“He probably wants us to get ourselves back to New York today. Hello, sir. It's a lovely midnight in New York, right?”

“No, it's raining. Listen, you two,” Zachery said. “As you know, the world press is going nuts with all that's happened. But since that isn't your problem you will simply say to anyone who asks that you have absolutely no comment.”

Mike met Nicholas's eye. “Yes, sir, we know nothing at all.”

“Good. Now, I have to tell you there is still no sign of Edward Weston. He appears to have disappeared off the face of the earth. Our agencies are beginning to believe Havelock killed him and buried him deep. No one knows.”

Nicholas wished it were true, but he didn't believe it. “No, sir, I know to my boots he's out there somewhere. And he's got money, from where, I don't know, but he's waiting, that's all.”

“Well, perhaps you're right. You'll be pleased to know you have three governments who are very happy with you right now. And one who is rather peeved.”

“The Germans?” Nicholas asked.

“How'd you guess? They're claiming the gold belonged to Kaiser Wilhelm and want it back. I hear they're cheering in Scotland, claiming all that gold belongs to them, right of salvage.”

Nicholas said, “Well, it's going to cost big bucks to clean up the pollution caused by Havelock's blowing up the
Gravitania.
”

“I haven't heard Scotland use that argument yet, they've all still got golden bars before their eyes. In any case, it's not your problem.”

Nicholas said, “Oh, yes, have you seen to Adam Pearce?”

“Yes. He's agreed to our terms, so all is good in nerd land. Well done, you two. Both of you have done a wonderful job. You and Mike get back here pronto. The director wants to know what exactly happened to his plane.”

Nicholas said, “Does that mean no SIRT review?”

Zachery laughed. “No, there will still be an inquiry, for you both, but I'm sure we'll find a way to make it as painless as possible.” Zachery laughed again. “When you save the world, those things happen.”

“We'll catch a plane this afternoon. Any chance of a ride home?”

“After what you two managed to do to the director's plane? It's Air France for you. Enjoy the flight.”

When Nicholas hung up, Mike said, “It was a good try.”

“Perhaps I'll give Penderley a call. We didn't bung up the prime minister's plane.”

“What, you're too good to fly commercial now?”

He grinned back at her. “I really don't care what we fly, I only want to go home.”

And she thought,
New York is home.
She rose and stretched. “Time to pack my pathetic go bag.” She leaned down, laid her palm against his cheek, something Nicholas was getting used to, and quite liked. “No stitches to pull this time. That's good.”

His go bag was sitting beside the door of the suite. He heard her bedroom door shut. He had one more call to make.

His father answered on the first ring, asked immediately, “Are you all right?”

“I am.”

There was a slight pause, then, “What's wrong, Nicholas?”

How did a parent always know? “Dad, what is your role in the Highest Order?”

“You know this isn't a conversation to be had over the phone.”

“I need to know. Please, don't put me off. Tell me.”

“All right. Alfie named me to replace him. It was in his will, a private one, meant for me and the other members of the Order. And I've accepted. We've lost so many people, and several more are corrupt. I will see to it they are rousted, and the Order's ranks are filled with men and women who want the best for their countries, who won't pervert the power given them by wealth and privilege and society.”

“In that case, Dad, I have something for you, something I know the Order didn't ever want found because no person or government should ever have this sort of power.”

Harry sucked in a breath. “I will send someone for it immediately. As far as the world is concerned, no one will ever know it even existed. Now that you've destroyed Havelock, the Order can refocus. Do what's right for the world. When it's time, Nicholas, I trust I'll be able to count on you to do the same.”

“Me?”

“It is a hereditary organization, when possible. Alfie's eldest grandson will be stepping in when he's finished his tour of duty. When it is my turn to leave the group, you will take my place.”

Him, part of the Highest Order? “But I have no influence.”

Harry Drummond laughed. “You have more than you know, Nicholas. More than you
know.”