“Yes, yes, I’m fine, no problem. But I can tell you this for a fact, a real bullet to the chest hurts more than the rubber ones we used in training at Quantico. The vest stopped the bullet in its tracks, a right relief, but it still knocked the wind out of me. Since there was also a flash bang in the mix, I went down. I thought for a minute it was all over.”

“And Mike?”

“I’m good,” Mike said to Sherlock.

Sherlock said, “We heard about Nicholas killing the man who had a gun against your head, Mike. Thank goodness you’re both okay. Dillon’s right, a very hairy day.”

“An afternoon neither of us want to repeat,” Nicholas said, but Sherlock heard the layer of excitement in his voice. “Mike didn’t flinch, a gun to her head and she didn’t move an inch. The woman’s brave, maybe a bit of crazy, too, remains to be seen.”

“Yeah, right,” Mike said, and smacked him on the shoulder.

“Savich, don’t worry about tomorrow, it was a clean shoot. Everything will come out in my favor.”

“I believe it will. Now, I had a feeling you needed something, so what can I do for you, Nicholas?”

“Well, if you have a moment, I’d like to talk to you about the case.”

You’re on suspension, Agent Drummond. There is no case, but Savich didn’t say that, rather, “Tell me what you need.”

“I need MAX.”

“As it happens, one of your agents, Gray Wharton, called me an hour ago and asked for MAX as well. Talk to me.”

“What did Gray ask for?”

“He saw code in some of your victim Jonathan Pearce’s correspondence. He said everything was moving too fast, and it would take him too much time to crack it, and asked for help.”

Another reminder you aren’t the only hotshot computer knife in the drawer here in New York. Nicholas said, “Gray’s exactly right. In some of Mr. Pearce’s correspondence, there are short sections in code, although at first glance, if you’re reading quickly or just skimming, you won’t catch it. Not only is there a sophisticated code, but there’s also a pattern in the correspondence. I’ve identified fifteen people whose letters have the same code. The rest of the correspondence seems to be normal conversations. The problem is, the fifteen names are also in some sort of code. Do you think MAX can crack it?”

Savich gave a little laugh. “Gray pointed out the same things. I got the bit between MAX’s teeth two hours ago, so it’s already done. That was one of the reasons I called.”

“I’m glad to know Gray called first, since I’d seriously wonder if you could read minds from afar.”

Savich went quiet for a moment. “Not quite,” he said finally. “You were on my mind, with the SIRT and all. Then after Gray’s inquiry, and that got me thinking. When MAX broke the code, I cross-referenced the names. I came up with a very interesting list of people. I’m e-mailing you the list now. They’re from all over the world, Nick, mostly Britain, and we’re talking high-level, important men. There’s a zip file with the codex, too.”

“Anyone from Germany, by chance?” Mike asked. “The men we’ve been chasing today are all German nationals.”

They heard tapping, then Savich said, “There is one in the file from Germany, Wolfgang Havelock. He passed away last month, had a massive stroke at his London office. Now here’s where it gets interesting. His son owns a multinational nano-biotech company—Manheim Technologies. His name is Dr. Manfred Havelock. Forty-seven, brilliant, rich as Croesus, and from what MAX has to say, he’s doing some groundbreaking work in the nano-biotech field. The guy holds over seven hundred and fifty patents in neural pathway nanotech.”

Nicholas said, “Brain implants. Savich, this is our best lead yet. Is there anything in the files on him doing less-than-legal work?”

“Right now, it looks like he’s legit, but I’ll set MAX to do some more digging, see if there’s anything off-book we need to know about.”

Nicholas’s heart was beating a rapid tattoo, adrenaline pumping in his veins. “Brilliant. Perfect. Thanks for your help, Savich. You remember Pierre Menard? FedPol? He’s looking into the technology companies for us as well, see what he has to say about Havelock.”

Savich said, “Good. And Nicholas? You see that Mike does the legwork on this. We don’t want you getting yourself in any more trouble since you are, officially, suspended. Am I clear?”

“Clear as glass, Savich. Thanks for the list of names. Sherlock, give your husband a cookie, he deserves it, although I’ve got to say the popcorn really sounds good.”

After Nicholas punched off, Mike said, “Let’s call Menard.”

But Nicholas had stopped moving, was staring intently at the screen. “Hold on. What’s this?”

“What?”

“There’s another file, buried in the system. I didn’t see it earlier, and I guess Gray didn’t, either. It’s encrypted and password protected. Pearce has it set up in a subfolder, and it’s hidden deep in the system files.”

Mike said, “I’ll bet Adam set it up for him. Can you get in?”

He hit some buttons on his keyboard, accessed the file. “Ah, yes, and now that we have the codex, we’ll be able to break the code easily and see what it actually says.”

Nicholas started to whistle, a song Mike recognized from his cell ringtone. The Sex Pistols—“God Save the Queen.” The keys clicked in a steady staccato rhythm, and after a few moments, he said, “We’re in.”

What he saw made his eyes go wide.

“What is it?”

Nicholas flipped the computer around so she could see the screen.

“Ever heard of polonium-two-ten?”

Mike nodded. “Sure. It’s what the Russians allegedly use to assassinate people. Are you saying Pearce has something to do with polonium?”

“There’s a letter here, from Alfie Stanford to another man, Edward Weston. Dated last week. It’s very brief, I’ll read it to you. ‘Weston, Havelock’s making a move in black-market Russian polonium. I trust you’ll see it goes nowhere. He is not to be trusted, and with Adam Pearce getting so close, we must not allow Havelock anywhere near the key. I fear his father may have told him about the U-boat and Marie’s key and book. If so, it isn’t good. Stop him, Edward.’ It’s signed AS.”

“AS—Alfie Stanford. So it is now, officially, tied together. A U-boat? What key, what book? Who’s Marie? What is Mr. Stanford talking about?”

“I don’t know.”

Mike said, “Well, if this Manfred Havelock is trying to buy polonium on the black market, then we know there’s something rotten going on here. Two murders and counting, very bad indeed.”

Nicholas nodded. “Weapons-grade polonium has a very short half-life, which means Havelock would have to use it fast or lose it. Mike, you’re right, this is very bad. We have a very serious problem on our hands.”

38

Mike said, “We need to call Zachery, right now, get a whole team on his trail.”

“I agree. But first I want to hear what Menard has to say so we can give Zachery all the information he needs.”

Mike said, “If a German national who was a technology leader in nano-biotech is making a play for polonium, this scares me to my boots. This U-boat, if he finds it—”

Menard answered on the first ring. “I was about to call you, Nicholas. I have a name for you, someone I think will be of interest.”

“Is it Manfred Havelock?”

“I see I wasted my time since you found this person on your own?”

“No, Pierre, you’ve verified it for us. It’s a long story, but we cracked an encrypted laptop full of files, and there was a warning about Havelock trying to buy up Russian polonium stores.”

“What? Polonium? This I do not know about. Mon dieu. This is frightening news. Havelock, il est très fou—crazy in the head, you know what I mean? He is quite intelligent, but there are whispers, and more, about his personal choices. He is known to be unpredictable. He is a scientist, and owns a company that makes brain implants for amputees and such. I believe he would be the most logical choice behind the implant you saw today. But this—polonium?”