The Lost Key (A Brit in the FBI 2)

Nicholas fell silent, seeing it all again. “He got right into the thick of it, and flipped his switch. He was strapped into a vest filled with ball bearings and nails. The bomb not only took out our mobile command, it killed my entire team and ten civilians. I realized he knew his mistress had sold him out and he knew his time was short, and he wanted to ensure his martyrdom and kill as many of us as he could. He succeeded. The two bombs killed upwards of fifty people that day.”

“And Weston?”

“He doctored data, making it appear that I’d been the one to bring Dastgir into our midst, that I’d been too blind to see what he was doing, and what he really was, and that I’d refused to consider Weston’s spoken concerns about him. He was, of course, a fanatical Taliban member who wanted all of us to die. It was his word against mine and he held the higher rank. He had more juice than I did. And he knew I wouldn’t go to my father to get things changed. And I should have, but I didn’t.

“Truth is, I screwed up. I should have gone over Weston’s head right away when he refused to act.

“My fieldwork days ended rather quickly after that since Weston made it a point to blow my cover before he left to become the high commissioner in Rawalpindi.

“I ended up riding a desk, as you Americans put it, instead of being boots on the ground, where I belonged. I left the Foreign Office not long after, because Weston made sure I had no future there. And now you know the whole story.”

Penderley tapped his watch. “Nicholas, given Weston chose his own survival over the truth, why is he working with a madman like Manfred Havelock?”

“Unfortunately, it plays perfectly. Weston’s a lot like Havelock, unstable and unpredictable, and maybe not as mad as Havelock, at least overtly, but inside, he’s close. When I knew him he was a liar and he didn’t care who got killed, and now? He sees Havelock as a genius who can rule the world with Weston at his side.”

“Then our people will get inside West Park, see if there’s any evidence there to tell us what’s happened to Sophie Pearce. I’ll get them looking for Weston, too.” Penderley shook his head. “And this man is in MI Five.”

He clasped both their hands. “Whatever else he is, Weston’s no fool, so watch your backs. Get to Scotland and stop these maniacs. I’ll tell the PM exactly what’s on the line and that Weston is up to his neck in it.”

He left the plane, and the pilot secured the door. Moments later, they lifted into the air, banked right, and began the quick run to Inverness.

71

Gravitania

Loch Eriboll, Scotland

6:00 p.m.

Adam awoke to the sound of helicopter rotors. Helicopter rotors? Where was he? He realized he was lying on a narrow cot, his wrists tied in front of him. He seemed to be rocking. He was on a boat. But how could that be? He felt as if he had fog in his brain. He lay perfectly still, thinking. Something was very wrong, but he couldn’t put his finger on it, everything was a blur. He only knew he shouldn’t be here on a boat with helicopter rotors whooshing. He was supposed to be in London with his godfather. His godfather. He saw his body, the men standing over him. It all came back to him.

Adam quickly got the knots apart, shook his hands to get feeling back, and looked around the small stark cabin. There was a bucket to his right, and to his left, another cot, and there was a person, with long, dark tangled hair.

It was Sophie, on her side, facing him. Her eyes were closed, and she wasn’t moving.

He rolled off the metal cot and stumbled over to her, afraid she was dead. Like their father, like Oliver. He looked down at her, afraid to touch her. He leaned close. “Sophie, wake up.”

She moaned and rolled away from him. Her shirt was ripped open and he saw her back, the raw welts still oozing blood. “That bastard beat you,” but of course he already knew that, he’d heard her screams over the phone while März stood over him, smiling the whole time. And he’d yelled out the sub’s coordinates to make that madman stop beating her. He remembered the needle coming into his neck, März still smiling as he plunged it in.

He leaned over her and slapped her cheeks. “Come on, you can do it. Wake up, Sophie.”

Her eyes opened. As gently as he could, Adam turned her back over onto her side to face him. She lifted her hand to touch his face. “Adam? Is that you? Really? Thank God, I thought they’d killed you.” She started to move, gritted her teeth and held perfectly still.

“Sophie, I know your back hurts. I’m sorry but there’s nothing I can do about it. No, no, you’ve got to stay with me. We’ve got to get out of here.”

Sophie wanted to scream, but she wasn’t about to, not with her brother looking so afraid. She had to keep it together. “Where are we?”

“One of Havelock’s ships. We’re also very probably in or near Loch Eriboll.”

“You gave him the coordinates.”

“I had no choice, Soph, you were screaming and I had to make it stop.”

The door opened. Adam jumped to his feet, ready to fight.

He knew the man slipping in the cabin, had known him for three years. Alex Grossman, their friend, their father’s friend. “Alex, what are you doing here? Are we being rescued?”

Sophie grabbed Adam’s wrist. “No, he’s not here to help us, Adam, he’s with Havelock, he’s the enemy. His name isn’t Grossman. It’s Shepherd.”