The Lost Key (A Brit in the FBI 2)

“Hang on. Gray will upload it for you.”

Nicholas said to Mike, “We’ve got him. Sophie, your brother is amazing.”

For a moment, there was nothing, no sound, only static. Then he heard the clicking. He listened carefully. It started with a series of repetitive clicks, over and over and over again. Then a series of coordinates, the words Paris, Curie, Lab, and a series of seemingly meaningless letters and numbers—19 G 13 R—followed by a brief explanation of their meaning, and the name Havelock, three times.

Nicholas asked Gray to play it for him again, then a third time. He finally looked up to see Mike’s excited face.

“Is this what I think it is?”

Nicholas nodded. He tapped Sophie on the hand with his pen. “Your brother is alive, and in the process of pissing off the government. I’ll say it again, Sophie, your brother is amazing.”

“You know where he is?”

Nicholas nodded. “Adam’s managed to give us both his location and the location of Madame Curie’s secret lab.”

85

Paris

1:15 a.m.

Nicholas called Pierre Menard of FedPol to help clear the way through the French bureaucracy.

The call was answered on the first ring.

“Allo, Nicholas. When you call in the middle of the night, I assume bad things are happening.”

“Good things, for once, my friend. But I do need your help.”

He explained some of what was happening. “Our plane is due to land in ten minutes. We have an address for Manfred Havelock, but I don’t think he’s there at the moment. We believe he’s gone into the Paris underground after something quite priceless. We need to find him, Pierre, now.”

“The weapon you discussed with me last evening?”

“The very same. We have to move fast, as if there is an imminent terrorist attack on Paris, but we need a needle to handle this, not a sledgehammer. Can you help?”

“Of course. Tell me exactly what it is you need, and I will make it so.”

“Send the police to the address on Quai d’Anjou and rescue Adam Pearce. Then we’ll need a guide, Pierre, which is why I thought of you. Isn’t there a group of revolutionarie

s who meet down in the catacombs and cause a ruckus?”

“I don’t know if we could call them revolutionaries. The French police call them cataphiles.”

“That’s it, cataphiles. I recall reading about a group of cataphiles who have mapped the tunnels between the limestone quarries that run under the city. Not the quarries the city turned into ossuaries, I’m not speaking of the Empire of the Dead. This would be the uncharted areas, north into the sixth arrondissement. I believe they call themselves the Extreme Underground?”

“Oui, I have heard of these people.”

“Since it is illegal to be in the tunnels, and I know the Paris police are quite serious about rousting the cataphiles, do you think there may be a name in their files, someone who may be a leader of this organization?”

“Oui, you do indeed need an experienced guide, Nicholas, but not one of the cataphiles. They would not cooperate even if you offered to reward them handsomely.

“I believe you would be better served by using the skills of an elite police unit responsible for the catacombs. I will contact the commander of this unit. Do you have any idea where to start?”

“Near the Sorbonne.”

“I will have someone meet you there.”

“Hurry, Pierre. Havelock has quite a head start.”