The Sixth Day (A Brit in the FBI 5)

“I’m not seeing any antiaircraft battery—that would be bad news. So we should be able to fly in, but we’ll have to shut down the security systems first. Knock out their power grid. Though I’m sure they have generators, we might have a few seconds opportunity when the power goes down before the backup turns on.”

Gareth pointed to two rectangular openings. “Are those skylights? Can you get closer?”

The satellite imagery enlarged. “Definitely glass. Even if it is ballistic-grade, do you see those hinges?” He circled the two spots with a red laser pointer. “If we hit it right, it will pop. Nicholas, remember the house in Cambridge we infiltrated from the roof? We could do it again, the same way.”

“I remember. You hit it with a depth charge, and we fast-roped in. That would work. But in case it doesn’t, we need another ingress. Find us one, Adam.”

“Working on it. Hey, look at this huge concrete building over here. It has the massive security, too, but it’s all external. Might be a safe room on steroids.”

“Or he’s keeping something nasty inside.”

Adam ran through what he had found of the house’s schematics. He would kill for a decent set of blueprints, was searching online the whole while, but hadn’t found the right ones yet.

“Nicholas, I’m not seeing any other ingress, but the estate is huge. Seventeen acres of land around it, too. We don’t have enough time to map it all if we want to go in tonight.”

“What’s this, right here? Freeze frame, please.”

Nicholas pointed to an area to the right of the helipad. “There are edges here. Uniform edges. What is this? Can we get the cameras to pan in?”

Gareth said, “Wait, wait, wait, it’s opening. The roof is opening.”

They watched in silence as a section of the roof slid back. In the eerie silence of the massive screens, a black rectangular hole gaped open, and birds began flying out of the roof.

Nicholas asked, “Bloody hell. What is this?”

Mike grinned. “They’re falcons. The ones that have been watching us, I’ll bet, and one of them carried that drone away.”

They watched the screen as it cleared. The roof stayed open.

Adam said, “So there is another way in.”

“Better yet,” Nicholas said, “it’s another way out. That bird roof could be on some sort of automated switch. If it’s a timer, we’re royally screwed, but if it’s something we can control, we can get out through there. The roof it is.” He looked at Mike. “You ready to go for a ride?”

She grinned at him. “Always. This is a walk in the park compared to dropping onto a ship deck in the North Sea.”

Harry said, “I want to try and confirm one hundred percent this is his home. Get Barstow in here. Let’s have him try to make the call again, see if we can pull Ardelean out of the house. We can arrest him off-site and, with any luck, the house—and the falcons—won’t fight back.”

* * *

Barstow was alone in the library next to the command center, his wrist handcuffed to a heavy brown leather couch arm. When Nicholas and Harry came in, Barstow looked up. With his free hand he took off his glasses, held up a slim volume showing an oil painting of a house. “Churchill wasted his time on painting. But his book about his passion is quite charming.”

Harry looked down at him. He looked older, somehow less substantial, his good-old-boy attempt at normalcy pathetic, really. He said, “We need to find Ardelean immediately. He’s murdered a civilian and kidnapped a woman. We have to get her back.”

Barstow laughed. “So, he’s finally gone barking mad, has he?”

Nicholas said, “He’s probably been killing for years. We need to bring him in now. We believe we’ve found his estate, and we believe he’s taken the woman there. It’s well fortified, and we are going in to rescue her. But we need him out of the house. We don’t need the complication of trying to take him down and saving her. If he’s completely off the rail, as you believe, he might simply kill her to spite us. We want her alive. We want him alive, too.”

Harry said, “Try again, Corry. Call him now.”

Barstow pulled out his mobile. “You know he hasn’t been answering . . .” But he put his mobile on speaker and hit a few numbers with his free hand. They waited while the phone rang and rang. Barstow shook his head and turned it off. Moments later, a text appeared.

I’m busy.

Barstow lit up. “Got him.”

Nicholas said, “Tell him you have the money, and you’ll meet him at the flat in Belgravia.”

I have the money. Meet me in usual place.