“Watch the tape,” Zachery said.
Gray Wharton looked even worse than Zachery, clothes wrinkled, his salt-and-pepper hair sticking straight up, bags under his eyes. “Here we go,” he said and queued up the scene for them. He hit play and the feeds began to roll.
Zachery said, “So the United Nations security people knew Sophie’s father had been killed. She came in yesterday afternoon—after you interrogated her—and stayed until after eight-thirty p.m. They saw her leave. Gray?”
Gray moved the tape forward a few minutes, and Sophie Pearce walked down the grand glass stairs in the UN’s front lobby.
“So far, so good,” Zachery said. “But when the security team recycled the feed for the day, one of them spotted Sophie again. She hadn’t left after all; she’d just ducked into a doorway. One that leads down to a private garage below the building.”
The view on the wall changed.
They were now inside a well-lit parking garage. The view was of the door to the space. A woman with black bobbed hair and dark sunglasses stepped out of the door.
Mike leaned closed. “Freeze that, and blow it up. Are you sure it’s Sophie? It doesn’t look anything like her.”
Gray said, “Watch.” He hit a few buttons and another screen popped up with a picture of Sophie Pearce on one side, and the half-silhouette from the garage on the other. “I ran facial recognition on the feeds as soon as we got them. It’s her, all right.” He hit the button, and the parameters started to align. Mike watched the red triangles layer over both faces until they flashed green. He was right, this was Sophie Pearce.
“And who’s our friend there?” Nicholas asked, pointing toward the main screen where a man wearing a baseball cap was leaning against a car, slightly out of view of the camera.
Gray said, “He stays out of the frames, but I caught a jawline profile, and it was enough to make a match in the system. The guy in the garage is the same one who visited Ariston’s yesterday.”
Gray pressed another button, and a different series of pictures flashed up onto the screen. Mike was shocked when the photos aligned.
The man they showed wasn’t wearing a hat. He had a closely shaved head, and stared out at them, ready, focused, eyes on Sophie Pearce.
She said, “Alex Grossman. He’s the son of a bitch who broke into Nicholas’s place last night and clocked me on the jaw.”
Nicholas said, “He took Sophie first, then came to my house. Show us the rest, Gray.”
They watched the short fight, the needle in the neck, Grossman laying her in the trunk of a diplomatic car.
Nicholas said, “Very fast, very smooth. What’s his involvement here? Is Grossman his real name?”
Gray shook his head, a small frown playing on his lips. “Not according to Interpol. It took some back-end work, but I identified him. Grossman is an alias. His real name is Alexander Shepherd. And he works for MI Five. British intelligence,” he added. “He’s been on special assignment for the past three years, reporting directly to the Exchequer, Alfie Stanford.”
Nicholas started laughing, shaking his head and laughing. He said, “You mean to tell me the bastard’s on our side?”
48
26 Federal Plaza
“Yep, that’s exactly it,” Gray said.
“Bloody MI Five doesn’t even bother to inform us they have an operative on our soil, in our operation? I’m calling them immediately. There’s no excuse.” But it was Alfie Stanford giving the orders, he thought, and now that he was dead, who was directing Grossman?
Zachery held up his hand. “Here’s the bottom line. You and Mike are going to London. New Scotland Yard, MI Five, and FedPol all want a crack at this submarine. And to reward you, I suspect, since you are the ones who found the coordinates to the sub, you’re to be allowed to be on the ground in Scotland when they bring her up, if that is even possible.”
Nicholas said, “So we’re actually going to be involved in recovering the sub? In getting the key?”
“Yes,” Zachery said. “They will provide you diving gear. I know Mike doesn’t dive, but I assume you do, Nicholas?”
“Yes, sir.”
Well, of course he did. She wanted to punch him. No, she should learn, and she would.
“Good. All of you listen up now. A naturalized American citizen was killed for his knowledge of this submarine, and now his daughter has been kidnapped. We’re a part of the international investigation now. And you’re in luck, the director has sent his G-Five for you to use. We need totally secure communications while you’re in the air, and he clearly feels you’re the right agents for the job, or he wouldn’t have given his blessing to this little junket. The Gulfstream is waiting for you at Teterboro.”
Mike said, “Submarine rescue aside, why do you think Sophie’s been taken to London, sir?”