The Lost Key (A Brit in the FBI 2)

Suddenly, he moved. “He’s not dead!” Mike shouted and ran to him.

“Mike, no, get back!”

She was on her knees beside him. “Nicholas, it’s Alex Shepherd. He’s been shot.”

He was alive, barely.

“I’d as soon leave him for the crows,” Nicholas said.

Alex grabbed her hand, and looked up into her face. “Help. Me.” There was a pause, he dropped her hand. She barely heard him whisper, “Please.” He was out cold.

Nicholas said, “We do need to know what happened on this boat, and I suppose that means helping the bastard.”

“He did leave us a note at Weston’s house to tell us where to come. We need to call the Dover right now, get them to send the chopper back and airlift him out of here.”

“You do it, Mike. Use channel sixteen.”

Nicholas and Halpern pulled Shepherd free of the netting, two hundred pounds of deadweight. They hauled him to a small cabin off the stern.

Mike ripped open his T-shirt, unstrapped the body armor Velcro. Once they pulled it off him they saw the huge bruise on his chest. “Somebody shot him dead center. From the color of the bruise, it wasn’t all that recent.”

The second shot had happened very recently. It had missed the vest—a small hole high on Shepherd’s shoulder, blood still oozing, a through and through. He groaned, tried to jerk up, but Mike pressed him back down. “It’s okay, lie still. I’ll try to fix you up. Help is on the way.”

Halpern went back to guard the door. Nicholas stood over Shepherd. “Time to tell us everything, Shepherd. First, is Havelock already in the submersible?”

Shepherd’s eyes were closed, his teeth gritted against the pain. “Yes, but I don’t know how long he’s been down.”

“Where are Sophie and Adam?”

“Probably with März, Havelock’s familiar. He’s dangerous. They aren’t safe.”

“Is Havelock alone?”

“I don’t know. I was in the water, hanging on to the anchor, when I saw März and Weston help him get the submersible in the water, then I think Weston took Elise to the other boat.”

“Who is Elise?”

“Havelock’s mistress. He likes pain. She’s a dominatrix.”

“Why did they shoot you?”

Shepherd opened his eyes, blue as a summer day and filled with pain. “Havelock whipped Sophie because he wanted to break Adam. I was trying to get her and Adam off the boat when März stopped us. Weston shot me. März kicked me overboard. I played dead, then I climbed up the nets and managed to hang on until you found me.”

Nicholas said, “What is your role in all this?”

“My loyalty is to the Order. I worked for Stanford. He assigned me to guard Jonathan Pearce three years ago after his former guard retired.”

Nicholas said, “We know MI Five didn’t have a problem with this assignment since Weston is deputy director general.”

Alex moaned. Mike put a cup of water to his mouth, let him drink.

He fell back, panting. Mike said, “I’m sorry, I know it hurts. A little longer and I’ll have you all bandaged up.”

He closed his eyes against the pain, whispered, “You’ve got to listen to me. Weston betrayed the Order. He works for Havelock. I failed Sophie and Adam. I failed Jonathan. One of Havelock’s assassins killed him.”

His voice was thready; Mike didn’t know how much longer he could hang on. He wasn’t shaking with cold too much, and that was good, but the pain and the exhaustion were pulling him under and there was simply nothing else she could do for him. Where were the medics from the Dover?

Alex couldn’t let go yet, he had to tell them, had to. “Weston told me Jonathan Pearce’s death was a mistake. Havelock only wanted Adam Pearce. Massive screwup. Havelock’s man was only supposed to take Adam when he showed up on Wall Street. Havelock didn’t want Jonathan dead. Jonathan was the secret keeper as well as the Messenger, the only one in the Order who knew the entire story.”