“Gray? Would you like to explain?” Zachery said.
Gray put another image onto the screen. “I ran facial recognition on every airport, bus terminal, and train station in New York. This popped up.”
There was a grainy image of a man carrying a woman across a tarmac. Mike recognized the pair as Alex Shepherd and Sophie Pearce. He’d pulled off her wig and her dark hair was tangled over his arm.
Nicholas asked, “Where is this?”
“Teterboro, late last night.”
“Did you get the tail number of the plane?”
“I did. It landed at London Airport about an hour ago, the private airport. They’re already off the grid again.”
Mike said, “London makes sense, since the majority of the men Pearce were in contact with were in the UK.”
Zachery said, “Gray has prepared a laptop for you uploaded with all the additional files. I understand he already replaced all the SD card files Grossman tried to steal. It’s good you managed to erase everything before he got his hands on it. In the meantime, Nicholas, I expect you to show me some of that razzle-dazzle magic computer work you’re famed for. Find out why a group of international leaders want this lost submarine so badly, and what the hell the key in Loch Eriboll opens.”
“With pleasure, sir.”
Zachery turned to Mike. “Mike, once Nicholas decodes the files, you will share with Interpol and Scotland Yard what the link is between the fifteen men Mr. Pearce was conversing with, and start rounding them up for questioning. And find out everything you can about Shepherd and this connection of his to MI Five.”
“Yes, sir.”
Zachery flicked off the screen. “People, we’re an inch from figuring out what this weapon is, and why Havelock’s been buying up polonium. The Brits claim not to know; let’s see if they’re being truthful with us. If they’re involved, they very likely have a line on Adam Pearce. Find him, find Sophie Pearce. The tw
o are clearly tied together.”
Gray handed Nicholas the laptop. “Everything I hadn’t already sent you has been loaded, plus a few extras you might need along the way. I’ll be linked to you in real time.”
“Brilliant. Thank you.”
“One more thing,” Zachery said. “There’s a full-scale international alert for Manfred Havelock. He’s gone to ground. He was in Berlin as of last night, but his jet took off very early in the morning, and they didn’t file a flight plan. Gray is going to keep looking for him; he did such a great job finding the Fox when she snuck off to France, I’m sure he’ll find this guy.”
He leaned on the table, suddenly serious. “You two listen to me. You be careful. We have multiple agencies involved. You’re going to be on foreign soil, and this time, Nicholas, you work for the FBI, you represent the United States, so there will be no rogue Bond crap. I regret taking all the fun out of your life, but no bombing, no shooting, no kidnapping of thieves. You hear me?”
The corner of Nicholas’s mouth kicked up. “Roger that, sir. Who is our contact on the ground in London?”
“Who else? Your old boss, Hamish Penderley. Now, go find Sophie Pearce. Find her alive, and her brother, and recover this weapon, whatever it may be, and don’t kill any more people, unless it’s absolutely necessary, or so help me God, don’t bother coming back.”
49
6:00 a.m.
Per standard operating procedure, Nicholas and Mike had small go bags stashed in their desks—a change of clothes, a spare weapon, ammunition, two disposable cell phones, and a tablet computer. Nicholas had also included a bevy of computer cords and other tools of the trade he felt might be necessary.
Mike looked at the clean jeans, the clean blouse, the clean underwear, and couldn’t wait to wash and change in the plane lavatory. No one had said a word about her wearing Nicholas’s white shirt. Things were so tense, so focused, maybe no one had noticed.
They grabbed their bags and their Glocks and Gray met them in the hallway. He handed them some papers.
“Here are your official papers allowing you to operate on foreign soil, so there’ll be no running afoul of the British government.”
Mike clapped him on the shoulder. “You always think of everything. Thanks, Gray. Listen, why don’t you go take a twenty-minute catnap? We’ll be in touch as soon as we’re up and running on the plane.”
He smiled. “I look that bedraggled, eh? Smell a little ripe?”
“No, nothing like that. You’re going to make Nicholas think FBI agents don’t ever sleep.”
“What did you say? We’re allowed to sleep?” And Gray laughed. “I wish you’d told me sooner. You two be careful.” He tapped his temple. “I’ll be ready for you when you’re in the air. Twenty minutes will do me fine.”