The Sixth Day (A Brit in the FBI 5)

“You said that perfectly, Michaela.”

“Don’t worry, Ben’s in control. He’ll call if he needs us. He can handle things while we check you out.” Harry lifted the handkerchief, and she lightly probed the wound, then sat back on her heels.

Barstow groaned.

Mike tapped him on the side of the head with the heel of her hand. “Stop making noise. We’ll get to you in a minute.”

And to Nicholas, “As for you, it’s a nasty scrape, but it won’t need stitches. Through and through, lucky you. I really don’t like this, Nicholas, curse you. It could have been another of your nine lives down the tubes.”

Harry rose, looked down at his bloody hands. His heart was pounding and he knew such fear and rage, it was hard not to kill Barstow with his bare hands. So close, too close. He managed to get out “one moment”—and he disappeared into the bathroom adjacent to the conference room.

Harry came out, handed Mike a hand towel and three washcloths. Thankfully, he had himself in control again. “These should do it.” Together they bound him up. She said, “There, better, we’ll get you to the ER later.”

Mike helped him up, and he pulled her close for a moment. She squeezed his back, whispered, “Stop being a frigging hero, okay, James Bond?”

“A statistical impossibility, Agent Caine. I can’t seem to stop showing off for you.”

Barstow moaned again. Mike said, “Good, his lordship is with us. Time to see what he has to say.”

* * *

They settled Barstow in a chair in the command center, hands cuffed behind hi

m. Harry got right in his face and shouted, “Tell us what you’ve done, you old fool.” Nicholas didn’t think he’d ever seen his father so angry before. Harry Drummond had a long fuse, and Nicholas rarely saw it lit. It was lit now.

Nicholas asked, his voice calmer than his father’s, “Yes, tell us what you’ve done.”

“What have I done? I’m trying to save lives, you idiots. I’ve had a plan on the table for more than a year, a plan to help arm the patriots in Africa who are trying to fight the incursion of terrorism. And it’s been going gangbusters until you lot got involved.”

“Tell us who you talked into building the drones for you.”

Barstow yelled, his face now alarmingly red, “How dare you treat me like this?”

“Talk now or I’ll call the home secretary, tell him I have you here in handcuffs ready for a march through Fleet Street.”

“All right, curse you. We hired a man to build us a drone army. Six patriots gave him a total of one billion to start, one billion on delivery. Then they refused to make the final payment until he delivered the drones. He refused. We were at a standoff. That’s why people are dead. He’s furious and killing every investor who hasn’t given their money.” He sucked in a breath. “I’m next, maybe June, my children. He’ll kill all of us.”

Mike said quietly, “Who is he, Lord Barstow?”

Barstow sneered. “The lot of you think you’re so bloody smart. He’s fooled you like he’s fooled the world. He’s ruthless, a psychopath, and the LSD he’s taking has pushed him over the edge. Still don’t know? The wunderkind of technology, the only man in England capable of building a drone army.”

Nicholas stared at him. “Roman Ardelean? He’s been building an army for you?”

“Yes, thousands of drones to kill the bloody terrorists. I believed the man a true patriot, but he’s not. He’s a common murderer—my wrists hurt. I need some water.”

CHAPTER FIFTY

It was obvious to all of them that Barstow was scared to his soul of Roman Ardelean, but something wasn’t right. Even though Nicholas’s side ached, he wasn’t about to admit it to Mike, who gave him the eye every couple of minutes.

“This is everything, Corry? You’ve told us the entire truth? Roman Ardelean has killed these people because they refused to pay him their final payment for the drone army?”

“Yes.”

Harry motioned them into the hall. “Ben, Ian, I trust you’ve located him?”

Ian said, “Actually, sir, we can’t find him. No one’s answering at his home, his mobile is off, and his offices claim they haven’t seen him. His jet is at Northolt, in the hangar, unused. But Ardelean himself, we don’t know.”

Mike said, “Ardelean wants his final payment. I’m thinking Barstow can get him to come out if he offers to pay him.”