She looked over at him. “Your dad told you something super-secret, and you’re not supposed to say anything?”

Nicholas had to laugh. “You’re too smart for your own good. Yes, he told me something very disturbing. The Home Office believes Alfie Stanford was murdered.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me. I thought he was old enough to die on his own?”

“Yes, he was, but he wasn’t ill. One of the medics found a needle mark on his neck.”

“That’s not good. Do they have a suspect?”

“If they do, he didn’t tell me. I don’t believe in coincidences, Mike, and here we are, hit in the face with a huge one. Alfie Stanford and Jonathan Pearce have clear ties, and they’re both murdered on the same day?”

She didn’t believe in coincidence, either. “And Adam Pearce is an über-hacker, and his sister lied to us. But how is it all related?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Ah, here we are, your inaugural FBI autopsy. Let’s hope Dr. Janovich found the poison pill.”

25

Office of the Chief Medical Examiner (OCME)

2:20 p.m.

Dr. Janovich was waiting for them in his office, dressed in stained scrubs, his eyes shining brightly with excitement. He tapped his watch face when he saw them, but without rancor.

“Finally, you’re here. I didn’t want to wait, so I started without you. Come on. I have something to show you.”

They stood over Mr. Olympic’s naked and partially autopsied body. Janovich spoke quickly, pointing to a nasty scrape on the man’s shoulder. “Did quite a job on him, didn’t you, Drummond?”

“I believe the tarmac was responsible for that particular mark.”

“Ah. Well, this isn’t the interesting part.” He pointed at the wall, where X-rays hung on a light box. “Look closely. Do you see the foreign object in his skull? I went digging in his brain, and I found this.”

He used a small set of calipers and showed them a tiny bit of metal, no larger than a thumbnail, thin as paper.

Mike said, “It looks like shrapnel.”

Nicholas’s heart rate jumped, adrenaline poured into his bloodstream. “No, not shrapnel, Mike. Dr. Janovich, can I see it under the microscope?”

Janovich beamed at Nicholas. “Good, good.” He set the rectangle of metal on a clear glass slide. “Try it at one-hundred-times power. It’s quite illuminating.”

The metal object came into clear focus. Nicholas’s breath caught. He hadn’t wanted to be right, but—“It’s an implant. There must be two hundred filament leads off this.” He stepped away so Mike could take a look. “Dr. Janovich, where did you find this, exactly?”

“Embedded behind the optic nerve. The incision was well healed, which means it’s been in his brain for a good while. I also found a very small feed into the auditory nerve as well, so small I nearly missed it. All in all, it’s amazing.”

“Sight and sound? Is that even possible?”

Janovich said, “Evidently, it is. I’ve never seen anything like it. This is incredibly advanced technology. And this implant? It isn’t a metal alloy I’ve ever seen. It’s biologic in nature, meaning it can merge with the brain tissue it’s implanted in and not be rejected. If it does what I think it does, well—” He shrugged. “It’s huge, terrifying, really.”

“Could it be running now?” Nicholas asked.

Janovich shook his head. “I don’t think so, not without its processing power. It shouldn’t be able to stand on its own.”

Mike held up a hand. “I know about implants used for people who’ve lost limbs, to help them control new arms and legs. Through thought-controlled action.”

“Yes,” Dr. Janovich said. “Yes, implants are very big in robotics and nanotechnology. There are even implants for the blind, those with progressive diseases like macular degeneration, to restore their sight.”

Mike said, “Let me look again; talk me through this.” As she studied the implant, Nicholas said, “Do you see the filaments coming off the edges? They’re thinner than a piece of hair.”

“It looks like a metal millipede. So this is a brain implant. It’s tiny, wafer-thin. It was implanted behind Mr. Olympic’s optic nerve?”

“Yes,” Dr. Janovich said.

“And not because Mr. Olympic was going blind.”

Nicholas said, “Oh, no, quite the opposite. Dr. Janovich, correct me if I’m wrong, but I assume it was mono-vision—meaning the people who were getting the feed from the implant could only see out of Mr. Olympic’s left eye?”

“You’re right, Drummond.”

Mike’s head was cocked to one side. “You’re saying that someone could see through Mr. Olympic’s eye? See what he was seeing?”

Nicholas said, “Implanted into the optic nerve, it’s possible this works something like a video camera, uploading images as the user sees them. And since Dr. Janovich also found the thin thread that fed into the ear, I’m guessing the person behind this could hear what Mr. Olympic heard as well.”

“A visual recorder, then,” Mike said, “and the audio part as well. Sight and sound.”

Dr. Janovich said, “Since I pulled this implant out of his brain, your wild speculations aren’t so wild after all. If someone was watching, and hearing, remotely—”

“Holy crap,” Mike said. “It makes sense and it sounds insane.”

Nicholas was so excited he was nearly vibrating. “It’s possible, though. Look how tiny the implant is. Think of the uses. You could send someone into the field and all they’d have to do is stand around looking at the target, and the chip would do the rest, relaying the information to a remote server. And if it can be done live, it would change the face of intelligence gathering forever.”

Dr. Janovich said, “It’s entirely possible.”

Nicholas said, “Dr. Janovich, you’re certain the device only works with active brain waves?”

“I believe so. It definitely runs biologically. There is no battery, nor any way to take it out and recharge without surgical intervention. It used the suspect’s brain to charge and run. Without its electrical plug, so to speak, it can’t work. Once his heart stopped, transmission stopped as well.”

Mike said, “Who has the capabilities to make such a thing? And the ability to make it work?”

Nicholas said, “I reckon any of the private firms who do this sort of research. It’s one thing to develop a prototype. It’s a whole different level to put them into action. We’re talking billions of dollars. The list of firms capable of doing this can’t be very long.”

“You could look at universities, too,” Janovich said. “No, forget it, not enough money.”

Mike said, “No chance there’s a serial number, like we see on other implants?”

Janovich said, “Good thinking, but I wasn’t able to find one. If I can get the device open, I might see something, but I really don’t want to try it. I think we need someone well versed in nano-biotechnology to autopsy the chip. I have a friend at MIT who’s quite accomplished in the nanotech field. I’d recommend bringing him in to have a look inside, see if we can identify a manufacturer.”

“Do it,” Mike said. “Right away, if you please, Doc.” Mike drew in a deep breath. “Imagine, someone was watching remotely as Mr. Olympic murdered Jonathan Pearce. Hurry, sir, we don’t have time to waste.”

Dr. Janovich said, “There’s a lot of money in nano-biotech, a lot of private investors. It might be harder than you think to find out who developed and placed this particular device. Especially if he doesn’t want to be discovered.”

Nicholas said, “Oh, we’ll find him. I have an idea of where to look.”

Mike squared her shoulders. “And knowing who Mr. Olympic is will go a long way toward helping us ID the maker of the implant. There still haven’t been any matches on his fingerprints?”

“Not yet,” Janovich said. “I don’t think he’s a local. If he’s in CODIS, we’ll have a match soon.”