First things first. He had to get the handcuffs to the front so he could use his hands. He relaxed his shoulders and stepped back with one leg, working his foot between his hands and his butt. His hands were now scissored between his legs, and he stepped back with the other leg, and his hands were in front of him.
He saw a lighted keypad next to the door—the room was alarmed and that meant he had no chance of breaking out, not without alerting Havelock and the woman. He’d have to find another way.
He turned then and looked around at a maritime museum, the walls wainscoted in rich, warm walnut, painted white above the paneling, and covered with magnificent paintings of old ships, set beneath individual soft lights.
The room was full of naval memorabilia. As he walked through the long room, he realized the old maritime equipment was not only authentic, it all had been lovingly restored, set in vitrine cases with museum-style lights. He saw letters and old ships’ logs, sextants and astrolabes, even a full-size weathered wooden wheel with a gold roundel at its center.
This room would have been Christmas for his father. But Havelock? He couldn’t imagine him assembling, much less displaying and caring for this incredible collection.
He walked slowly around the room again, this time looking for anything he could use to communicate to the outside world. He went back to the alarm system, checked it thoroughly. There was a small button with a lowercase script letter I. It looked similar to the intercom system they had at home.
He pressed the button and heard Havelock’s voice, and he was speaking English. He was crowing, he was so pleased with himself. He was talking to Elise. Havelock said, “Who would have imagined Curie’s hidden address would be so simple? Nineteen G thirteen R. How very brilliant she was.”
Elise: “Nineteen G thirteen R—what do the numbers and letters mean?”
Havelock: “It always made sense to me her secret lab had to be here since this was her home. But you see, Elise, her lab isn’t in Paris, it’s under Paris. Her lab is in the tunnels. And now, my dear, I must go. You stay here and guard the boy. If he does anything you don’t like, feel free to kill him. I will be back before dawn.”
Then silence. Then he heard Havelock speaking French to someone. On his cell phone?
Adam felt adrenaline shoot through him. Those numbers and letters Havelock had discussed with Elise, they had to be directions to Curie’s lab in the tunnels beneath Paris.
He saw two lights on the pad light up. Then there was a small beep, and the two lights went off. Havelock had left the house through the front door. Adam hurried to the window, and saw Havelock walking quickly down the street. He was going to get Curie’s weapon.
He had to work fast. He needed a computer or a phone. Anything.
He made another circuit of the room, looking under the cases, against the wall, for wires.
Then he saw it, in a case across the room—an old Morse code transmitter. It was in pristine condition, but that didn’t matter. Without something to transmit to, he’d never be able to use it.
But it gave him an idea. What other communication or navigation equipment was in this room?
It only took him a few minutes of searching to find an old hand-crank ham shortwave radio.
He needed to get both items out of their cases, then he had to crank the hell out of the ham radio, and start sending messages. Someone would be listening. They always were.
He had to break through the glass of the display cases and his fists wouldn’t do it.
He lifted the wooden wheel off its stand, muttered an apology, and smashed the spokes through the top of the vitrine case.
84
Near Paris
The pilot came over the intercom. “We will be landing in ten minutes. There is a call for you, Agents. From an FBI special agent in charge Zachery.”
“Thank you,” Nicholas said. “Please put him through.”
“I hope they’ve found Havelock,” Mike said. “It would make our jobs a lot easier.”
Nicholas’s armrest vibrated once, gently. He answered the phone. “Sir, we were about to call you, we’ve—”
Zachery interrupted him. “Quiet, Drummond. We’ve received a shortwave radio transmission on a private, secure frequency normally only known of, and used by, the American government agencies. Someone has managed to hack into the radio transmissions of Air Force One, the DEA’s evening broadcast, and the CIA’s feeds to Mumbai. Secret Service is understandably livid, the CIA is breaking down the director’s door. The DEA aren’t too happy with us, either, since they were in the middle of an op, which has since gone south.”
Nicholas couldn’t help himself, he grinned like a fool. Adam had managed to upset three major government agencies in a very short amount of time.
“I hope the message will make sense to you since the sender has been using your name liberally in his transmissions. Know Morse code, by any chance?”
“I do, sir. Play me the message.”