“Could he have sent an e-mail, then deleted it?”

“Yes, but I’ll have to break into his e-mail client’s server to see what they have, and we’re running out of time. Soph, get me Dad’s phone. Whoever he called, whoever he wrote, that’s who had him killed.” His voice cracked, and suddenly he was a little boy, and she his big sister, there to protect him. “I can’t believe he’s dead.”

Again, she held him close for a moment. Could he, nineteen years old, barely a man, could he fix things? She didn’t know. “Adam, if the Order killed Dad and want you dead as well, then you’re in danger. I don’t want you hurt.”

“You know we can’t stand by and wait to see what they’ll do, Sophie.”

“I know, I know, we have to find out who did this. I’ll see if the FBI will give me Dad’s phone, or at least tell me who he called last. You need to disappear.”

His face was pale in the red-tinged light. “Now that I think about it, I don’t understand why they’d want to kill me, since I’m the only one who knows where the sub is located and could tell them. And they want that sub. Yeah, if they got that info, then I’d no longer be necessary to them, and whack.”

They would kill him, but she didn’t say it aloud, no need. She couldn’t, wouldn’t, lose Adam, too.

“Tell me where the sub is. Exactly.”

“No, no way, not until we figure out what’s happening. You didn’t know yesterday, and you don’t know today. It’s safer that way.”

She saw he wouldn’t budge. He was more stubborn than she was. “Fine. We have to get you out of here. Use the back door, out into the alley. I’ll contact you if I find anything out, and you do the same. But don’t come back here, and don’t go to the house. You hear me? And watch your back.”

He thought for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll be in the Village for a while with Allie. You know how to reach me.” He turned to go, but she grabbed his arm.

“Wait, wait. There is something else. Dad said something before he died, they have it on video. It’s nonsense, really, but maybe it will make sense to you. ‘The key is in the lock.’ Do you know what that means?”

“Well, sure I do, but—”

She heard the voices of the FBI agents and cut him off. “Damn, they’re coming back, you have to go. Now.”

She opened the fire door and waved him away, but he stopped, looked back, and gave her a rakish grin. “‘The key is in the lock’—it’s not what you think, sis.”

“Adam, where’s your wallet? Really?”

“In my shoe.”

Then he was out into the alley, up the stairs, and out into the bustling New York streets.

18

Nicholas and Mike waited for Sophie and Kevin Brown to disappear into the office, safe, out of harm’s way, then Mike grabbed the walkie from Nicholas and moved to the right, to the nearest stack, so she’d be hidden from sight. Nicholas melted into the first stack on the left, and together they waited to see if the man came through the door. Mike clicked the button on the walkie so they could hear everything being said outside, but turned the volume down so the intruder couldn’t hear anything at the store’s door.

Nicholas listened to the surveillance team intently until they suddenly went silent. He nodded to Mike, who whispered, “What’s he doing, what’s he doing?” into the walkie.

Nicholas recognized Special Agent Ben Houston’s voice. “He stopped two doors down. We’ve got a loose box around him so he won’t get away. He’s watching the street, probably looking for us. Hang in there, let’s see what he does. Okay, he’s moving now, coming toward the door. Bald, about six feet, wearing jeans and a Windbreaker. Young, rangy guy, looks buff, real strong.”

Nicholas said to Mike, “I’m half tempted to let him come in, see who he is and what he’s after.”

She duckwalked to his position. “Too chancy. He could come in guns a-blazing.”

Ben’s voice came through the walkie. “He means business, people, he’s being deliberate now, not looking around or watching for a tail. Okay, here he is, at the door. You should be able to see him now. He has something in his left hand, I see metal, might be a weapon—”

Nicholas grabbed the walkie from Mike’s hand, said, “Take him. Take him now.”

Nicholas and Mike stepped out into plain view, weapons raised, and watched the surveillance team converge on the suspect. They saw his head was shaved and he wore a black goatee. He took one look in the glass door, met Nicholas’s eyes, saw the weapons pointed at him, and threw his arms up in the air.

“Don’t shoot, don’t shoot!”

Ben appeared behind him, shouting, “FBI, FBI. Put your hands on your head, get down on your knees. Do it, do it now!”

The man went down on his knees, no hesitation. Ben wrenched his arms back behind him and cuffed him as Mike opened the shop door.

She stood over him, hands on her hips. “FBI. Who are you?”

The man looked confused. “Whoa, whoa! FBI? What’s going on here? What in the world is happening?”

Mike slipped her Glock back into its clip at her waist. Nicholas very nearly smiled. She looked as tough without the Glock in her hand.

Nicholas stepped forward. “Tell us your name.”

“I’m Alex Grossman. I have a lunch meeting with Jonathan. He’s got a book I ordered; he called me last night. My phone’s in my pocket, you can check.”

“What else? Maybe some needles, a weapon?”

“No, man. Only my keys, my wallet, and my phone. What do I look like, a terrorist?”

Mike said, “That isn’t funny, sir. Not at all.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m a little freaked out here, okay? Can I put my hands down?”

Nicholas frisked him quickly and retrieved Grossman’s wallet, phone, and keys.

He said, “Where were you this morning, Mr. Grossman?”

“Asleep. I own the Bullet Pub. It’s also a restaurant. We had a private event last night, the group stayed way later than planned. I didn’t get home until after three a.m. I caught some sleep, then headed over here to meet Jonathan. Please, tell me what’s going on.”

Nicholas nodded at Mike, flashed the small cell phone. “Pearce called him last night at eight-thirty p.m.”

Mike nodded. “Tell me what Mr. Pearce said, exactly, Mr. Grossman.”

“That the book had come in. That’s all. He always called when an order arrived. We chatted a bit, caught up. It’s his personal touch, why everyone likes doing business with him. What’s happening?”

“Mr. Pearce was murdered this morning,” Mike said, then nodded at Ben to unlock the cuffs.

“Jonathan’s dead?” Grossman sounded blank-voiced with shock. “But how? Why? I mean, it doesn’t make any sense.” Then he became very still, going inward, Mike thought, accepting his friend’s death as fact. He whispered low, “God rest his soul. Jonathan’s a great guy. Please, tell me you know who did it.”

Mike ignored his questions, leaned against the counter, crossed her arms. “How well did you know Mr. Pearce, Mr. Grossman?”

“Well enough. This can’t be happening. I don’t feel well, can I sit down for a minute?”

Nicholas heard the back door open. Sophie stuck her face out, pale, scared. He waved for her to come to the front.

Nicholas said, “This man says he’s here to pick up a book. Do you know him?”

Sophie let out a big breath. “Oh, yes, I know him. He’s a very good customer. Alex, Mr. Grossman, how are you?”

Grossman looked at her pale face and pulled her against him. “I am so sorry, honey, I’m so sorry. What can I do?”

She gulped down tears. “Nothing, at the moment. Did you have an order in?”

“Yes. Your father called me last night.” He glanced over at the register. “That’s it right there—the Tiffany blue cover. Auden’s Poems. Inscribed by Dick Grossman on the half-title.”

Mike saw Sophie was frowning at Grossman, upset that he’d spoken to her father. But she said, “Agent Drummond, may I? It’s already been paid for.”