The Sixth Day (A Brit in the FBI 5)

“The game is always afoot for us. Let me tell my mother and talk her out of coming with us. Oh, and I’m going to update Savich. Let him know what’s going on. Get packed, and I’ll meet you at the drive in twenty minutes.”

“Tell S and S I said hello.”

Nicholas watched her nearly dance out of his office. She was an excitement junkie, just like him. He was a lucky, lucky man.

He dialed Savich. “Sorry to bother you, but I need to run something by you.”

“Let me get Sherlock on the phone, too—all right, here she is.”

He filled them in, and they listened without interruptions, until Sherlock said, “Wait. Let me get this straight. Your theory is the victims were already being investigated by Security Services, and you think someone may have hacked the Security Services’ databases and gained this knowledge? Nicholas, the Security Services’ servers are the most secure in the world, as secure as ours.”

Savich laughed. “Sweetheart, both Nicholas and I—and don’t forget Adam Pearce—all of us could hack their databases.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re all geek gods.”

Nicholas laughed. “That’s good, Sherlock, I’ll have to tell Adam.”

She continued, “But the real question is, how would someone outside know to hack the databases to find these specific names in the first place? Or are classified documents being leaked? Either way, if someone is murdering people Security Services are investigating, you do have a serious problem.”

“Yes,” Nicholas said. “We need to find out why these two were being investigated. You know about the massive malware attack Adam and I stopped this morning. And remember, Parliament was attacked head-on back in June.” He paused a moment. “I’m thinking perhaps this goes deeper than we think.”

“Deeper, what do you mean?”

“It’s all coordinated with another purpose at the core of it—what, I don’t know. Yet. But I’ll keep you updated with what Mike and I discover.”

Savich said, “Please do. I’ll pass this along to the president’s team. Keep us posted.”

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Nicholas cruised his Beemer down the long lime-tree-covered drive to the country road. Mike turned in her seat to look back at Old Farrow Hall glistening under the sun, the wildly blooming front gardens, and off to the side, the tall, thick bushes that formed the labyrinth. Could there be a more perfect place on this earth?

“That was fast talking to get your mom to stay here and not jump in the car.”

“Anytime I can outtalk her, I deserve a medal. She’s too smart.”

“I don’t know how, but she said she knew we could be up to something dangerous. And the look she gave me, Nicholas, like I’d better step in front of a bullet if it came your way. Hopefully she was reassured I am your personal dragon slayer.”

His personal dragon slayer? He liked the sound of that. He thought again of Lake Trasimeno, her near drowning, and swallowed.

Mike fastened her seat belt. “Your mom could give my mom a run for her money. Did I tell you the Gorgeous Rebecca acted at university?” She paused. “Wow, I said it like a Brit. Okay, she once played Petruchio’s Kate. I don’t know if it was her talent that made her so amazing or the fact that one look at her and every man in the vicinity fell to his knees. I told you my dad’s been in love with your mom since her TV show? Well, turns out the Gorgeous Rebecca loves her, too, says she wants to have high tea with her at Browns in London.”

He laughed. Nicholas had yet to meet the Gorgeous Rebecca, but he’d seen photos of her. She was a heart-stopper, no question about that. His own mother’s beauty was different, more whimsical, perhaps, he wasn’t certain.

Nicholas navigated the Beemer through the small town of Farrow-on-Gray and turned south onto the highway.

Once they were on the A14, Mike said, “I like to watch you drive, especially on the wrong side of the car and the wrong side of the road.”

He shot her a grin. “Do you now?”

“Yes. Very capable, very steady at the helm.” She gave him a wicked grin. “All in all, you handle most things quite well.”

A black brow went up. “Only ‘quite well,’ not, say, perfectly?”

“Well, there does seem to be a small tendency to get us nearly killed. But hey, usually not more than once a week. I can deal with once a week.”

“Ah. Well, Agent Caine, I will do my best not to get us dead on the drive to Westminster.”

“Hey, be super careful. It’s been longer than a week.” And oddly, she suddenly felt a chill and fiddled with the air conditioner, turned it down a notch. “Nicholas, do you really think MI5 and MI6 were hacked? And if they were, the idea someone might be using that information to find targets, even to assassinate them, feels out of control to me.”