The Lost Key (A Brit in the FBI 2)

“The drug I gave you, it makes you thirsty, so drink up.”

She finished the can. She pushed her hair back, realized he’d taken her wig. “You said three people in the Order died? Who besides my father?”

“Wolfgang Havelock—he had a stroke last month. On the surface, it looked like natural causes; he’d had an aneurysm clipped the year before, but after what’s happened today, I’ve changed my mind. This morning, about the same time your father was killed on Wall Street, Alfie Stanford, the leader of the Order, was murdered as well, here in London, and the contents of his safe, with all our fail-safes and the other SD card, were taken.”

Alfie Stanford dead? She hadn’t heard. It didn’t seem possible. Both Stanford and her father. They’d been close friends since before she’d been born. “That’s crazy, it sounds like a B movie.”

Alex leaned back in the chair, his eyes on her face. “B or C, doesn’t matter. The fact is, the Order is under attack. It’s Edward Weston who is now the actin

g leader. Do I trust him? He has been a member for over thirty years, so yes, I suppose I do. But our files have been compromised, both by Mr. Stanford’s murderer and by the FBI. Sophie, I’m afraid, for the Order, for the future of mankind.”

Did she believe him? “Who are you?”

He crossed his arms on his chest. “Alexander Shepherd, at your service.”

“So you’re like a super-secret double agent or something?”

He smiled, and his face changed utterly. He no longer looked terrifyingly brutal, not with that white-toothed smile. He was wearing a gray jacket over a white button-down and jeans. She’d never noticed him dress like that before. She’d always seen him in casual gear, chef’s gear, perfect for running his restaurant.

He looked younger than she’d thought, younger and more vital than the quiet, watchful book lover who’d stopped by the store on the weekends when she worked.

“Or something,” he said. “I’m not a full member of the Order. I’m sure your father has explained how it works, it is your legacy, after all. I’m rather like you, aware of the Order’s existence, its mission, and its goals. Then I was assigned to be your father’s backup, for lack of a better term. I was in place to keep an eye on him, to make sure he was never compromised.”

“So you don’t really own a pub?”

“I do, but it’s a cover. I love the place, it’s become a passion of mine. One day, I might even own one for myself, more a restaurant than a bar and grill, I think. I like to cook, I’m good at it.” He paused, his hand tightened into a fist. “No time soon, though, I doubt.”

“Are you really a book enthusiast, or were you just pretending?”

“I love books. I loved Ariston’s. I hope, when all of this is over, you’ll be able to keep the store open. It would be such a shame to see it go away. I know your father wouldn’t want to lose it.”

She swallowed, hard, fighting back tears. “I don’t know what I’ll do. My dad was the one with the grand passion.”

Alex leaned across the table. “There’s more, Sophie. I was also tasked with protecting you, should something happen to him. That’s what I’m doing. If anything, be glad I removed you from the FBI’s scrutiny.”

She looked at her hands clasped together in her lap. “I still don’t understand why you had to drug me and kidnap me. Would it have been so difficult to simply tell me the truth?”

“Please forgive the attack, the needle. I felt it best to eliminate your options last night. I needed you safe on the plane before I went to the Brit’s house to get the SD card before the whole world found out about the Order.”

She stared at him, slowly nodded. “I’ll forgive you if you tell me one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“This weapon that could destroy the world in the wrong hands. What is it, exactly?”

“It’s better, safer, I think, that you don’t know. If—when—this all works out, then I’ll tell you. Then you can decide if you wish to continue with your father’s work or continue in your current career as a translator. Okay? Will you accept that?”

When she didn’t answer, he reached out his hand to her. “Trust me.”

“No,” she said, ignored his hand, and looked out the small window to see London below. “You said you’re afraid they’re trying to get their hands on Adam. Who is ‘they’?”

“It’s a he. The man’s name is Manfred Havelock, the son of the Order member who died last month.”

“Or was murdered, you think. By his own son?”

“I don’t know, but given who Havelock is, I wouldn’t doubt it. Tell me how you were supposed to contact Adam.”

She reached into her pocket for her phone. It wasn’t there.