He nodded.

She said, “It strikes me we missed something at Allie’s apartment. Neither of the Germans had the files on them. So who took it?”

“Adam. Clearly.”

“Maybe that’s why he was on the video. He was at Allie McGee’s apartment to get the files, but he was obviously followed. They probably also followed him to Ariston’s yesterday morning too, wanting to get their hands on the SD card.”

“Sounds good to me.” He pulled around a garbage truck, got the finger from a driver.

“We need to get eyes on this Havelock character. Let’s be sure to call Menard after we’re briefed on Sophie.” She punched his arm. “Hey, no SIRT for you.”

“Unless there’s some rule I don’t know about,” he said as he turned into the garage under Federal Plaza.

When the doors opened on the twenty-third floor, Mike slapped her access card against the reader and the door unlocked. They went straight into the senior staff hallway.

The offices were already a hive of activity, people hustling about, hurrying down the halls. It was not an atypical scene. The New York Field Office routinely did 5:00 a.m. “knocks,” serving warrants to criminals. These knocks were witnessed by the team in a control room, with multiple wide screens on the walls. Almost as good as being there themselves.

But there wasn’t a knock this morning, and the people who were here had only one thing on their minds: finding and saving Sophie Pearce.

When they came into Zachery’s office, he rose to stand behind his desk. “Come, come.” Zachery looked utterly whacked, Nicholas thought, his eyes bloodshot, his fine suit on the bitter edge. At least he’d been able to put on a fresh white shirt and shave.

Zachery said, “You made good time. Follow me.”

He led them to the control room one floor down, where Ben, Gray Wharton, and Louisa Barry were already assembled.

The wall of screens was up and running as well. Mike took one look and said, “That’s the front of the United Nations. They took her from the UN? It’s one of the most protected spots in New York.”

“Watch the tape,” Zachery said.

Gray Wharton looked even worse than Zachery, clothes wrinkled, his salt-and-pepper hair sticking straight up, bags under his eyes. “Here we go,” he said and queued up the scene for them. He hit play and the feeds began to roll.

Zachery said, “So the United Nations security people knew Sophie’s father had been killed. She came in yesterday afternoon—after you interrogated her—and stayed until after eight-thirty p.m. They saw her leave. Gray?”

Gray moved the tape forward a few minutes, and Sophie Pearce walked down the grand glass stairs in the UN’s front lobby.

“So far, so good,” Zachery said. “But when the security team recycled the feed for the day, one of them spotted Sophie again. She hadn’t left after all; she’d just ducked into a doorway. One that leads down to a private garage below the building.”

The view on the wall changed.

They were now inside a well-lit parking garage. The view was of the door to the space. A woman with black bobbed hair and dark sunglasses stepped out of the door.

Mike leaned closed. “Freeze that, and blow it up. Are you sure it’s Sophie? It doesn’t look anything like her.”

Gray said, “Watch.” He hit a few buttons and another screen popped up with a picture of Sophie Pearce on one side, and the half-silhouette from the garage on the other. “I ran facial recognition on the feeds as soon as we got them. It’s her, all right.” He hit the button, and the parameters started to align. Mike watched the red triangles layer over both faces until they flashed green. He was right, this was Sophie Pearce.

“And who’s our friend there?” Nicholas asked, pointing toward the main screen where a man wearing a baseball cap was leaning against a car, slightly out of view of the camera.

Gray said, “He stays out of the frames, but I caught a jawline profile, and it was enough to make a match in the system. The guy in the garage is the same one who visited Ariston’s yesterday.”

Gray pressed another button, and a different series of pictures flashed up onto the screen. Mike was shocked when the photos aligned.

The man they showed wasn’t wearing a hat. He had a closely shaved head, and stared out at them, ready, focused, eyes on Sophie Pearce.

She said, “Alex Grossman. He’s the son of a bitch who broke into Nicholas’s place last night and clocked me on the jaw.”

Nicholas said, “He took Sophie first, then came to my house. Show us the rest, Gray.”

They watched the short fight, the needle in the neck, Grossman laying her in the trunk of a diplomatic car.

Nicholas said, “Very fast, very smooth. What’s his involvement here? Is Grossman his real name?”

Gray shook his head, a small frown playing on his lips. “Not according to Interpol. It took some back-end work, but I identified him. Grossman is an alias. His real name is Alexander Shepherd. And he works for MI Five. British intelligence,” he added. “He’s been on special assignment for the past three years, reporting directly to the Exchequer, Alfie Stanford.”

Nicholas started laughing, shaking his head and laughing. He said, “You mean to tell me the bastard’s on our side?”

48

26 Federal Plaza

“Yep, that’s exactly it,” Gray said.

“Bloody MI Five doesn’t even bother to inform us they have an operative on our soil, in our operation? I’m calling them immediately. There’s no excuse.” But it was Alfie Stanford giving the orders, he thought, and now that he was dead, who was directing Grossman?

Zachery held up his hand. “Here’s the bottom line. You and Mike are going to London. New Scotland Yard, MI Five, and FedPol all want a crack at this submarine. And to reward you, I suspect, since you are the ones who found the coordinates to the sub, you’re to be allowed to be on the ground in Scotland when they bring her up, if that is even possible.”

Nicholas said, “So we’re actually going to be involved in recovering the sub? In getting the key?”

“Yes,” Zachery said. “They will provide you diving gear. I know Mike doesn’t dive, but I assume you do, Nicholas?”

“Yes, sir.”

Well, of course he did. She wanted to punch him. No, she should learn, and she would.

“Good. All of you listen up now. A naturalized American citizen was killed for his knowledge of this submarine, and now his daughter has been kidnapped. We’re a part of the international investigation now. And you’re in luck, the director has sent his G-Five for you to use. We need totally secure communications while you’re in the air, and he clearly feels you’re the right agents for the job, or he wouldn’t have given his blessing to this little junket. The Gulfstream is waiting for you at Teterboro.”

Mike said, “Submarine rescue aside, why do you think Sophie’s been taken to London, sir?”

“Gray? Would you like to explain?” Zachery said.

Gray put another image onto the screen. “I ran facial recognition on every airport, bus terminal, and train station in New York. This popped up.”

There was a grainy image of a man carrying a woman across a tarmac. Mike recognized the pair as Alex Shepherd and Sophie Pearce. He’d pulled off her wig and her dark hair was tangled over his arm.

Nicholas asked, “Where is this?”

“Teterboro, late last night.”

“Did you get the tail number of the plane?”

“I did. It landed at London Airport about an hour ago, the private airport. They’re already off the grid again.”

Mike said, “London makes sense, since the majority of the men Pearce were in contact with were in the UK.”

Zachery said, “Gray has prepared a laptop for you uploaded with all the additional files. I understand he already replaced all the SD card files Grossman tried to steal. It’s good you managed to erase everything before he got his hands on it. In the meantime, Nicholas, I expect you to show me some of that razzle-dazzle magic computer work you’re famed for. Find out why a group of international leaders want this lost submarine so badly, and what the hell the key in Loch Eriboll opens.”