“I see. Were you able to tap into the Messenger’s systems before Mr. X’s untimely demise?”
März hated his fear, wondered briefly if Havelock would quickly slide his favored Spanish stiletto into his neck. “Yes, but we were not able to upload Mr. Pearce’s data before Mr. X was killed.”
Havelock felt such rage he wanted to kill all of them. Without Mr. X finishing his part of the mission, hooking into Jonathan Pearce’s computer for Havelock’s remote access, they couldn’t retrieve the coordinates for the lost sub, and time was running out.
Havelock’s voice went deadly quiet. “First Mr. X kills Pearce, against my orders, then he gets himself dead? Better for him, perhaps, but not for you. You’re lucky Mr. Z is still functioning as he should.
“You will fix this, März. We can’t afford to have the plan derailed. Nor can the Order realize we are behind it or there will be problems, huge problems, that could destroy everything. Find a way to retrieve the information from Pearce’s computer before the FBI find it.”
“Yes, sir. There is another route to the files, sir, though it involves a human asset.”
Havelock waved a hand. “I don’t care what you have to do.”
“Understood. Also, it turns out we were incorrect earlier about what Pearce said as he died. What he actually said was ‘The key is in the lock,’ not simply ‘The key is the lock.’ Does that make any sense to you?”
Havelock took a sip of scotch. “I will think about it. Pearce was fond of riddles. I’m sure this is yet another of his trying games.”
“We may have another problem, sir.”
Havelock met his lieutenant’s eyes, and März flinched, knowing the deadly sarcasm was coming. “More problems, März? Am I not paying you enough? Providing you with the
proper tools? Are you incapable of running the most simple of missions without cocking it up?”
“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