“More classified information?”
Antrim caught the sarcasm. “Something like that.”
Gary stood beside his father, listening.
“What’s so important?” Malone asked him. “What are you doing here in London?”
“When you were one of us, did you go around discussing your business with strangers?”
No, he didn’t. “We’re leaving. Thanks for finding my boy.” He faced Gary. “Our bags are inside. We’ll get them, then find a hotel for the night.”
Antrim took stock of the ex–Magellan Billet agent. Personnel records had noted Malone to be forty-seven years old, but he looked younger, a thick mane of blondish brown hair barely tinted with gray. They were about the same height and build, and even their features were similar. Malone seemed in good shape for a man out of the game for over a year. But the eyes were what really interested him. As noted in the Justice Department personnel jacket, they were a pale shade of green.
He’d played this right so far.
Now for the finish.
“Wait.”
MALONE WAS PLEASED THAT HE’D GUESSED RIGHT.
Blake Antrim was in trouble. He’d sensed it almost immediately, especially when Antrim realized Ian was gone. Whatever was happening was not going right.
He stopped and turned back.
Antrim came close and said, “We have a big problem. A national security problem. And Ian Dunne may have something we desperately need to solve it.”
“A flash drive?”
“That’s right. Did you see it?”
He nodded. “Ian has it. He took it when he ran.”
“Did you read it?”
“Some.”
“Care to share what was on it?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Really? Your eidetic memory gone?”
“You been checking up on me?”
“After I learned you were here, with Ian Dunne, and your son was in trouble.”
He’d been born with a memory for details. Not photographic. Instead, he could recall the simplest of details, nearly at will. A curse at times, but more often a blessing. So he summarized for Antrim what Farrow Curry had written, noting that one file was password-protected.
“Any idea where Dunne might be?” Antrim asked.
“I just met the boy yesterday. He wasn’t the friendliest.”
“How about you, Gary?” Antrim asked. “He say anything to you?”
His son shook his head. “Not much. He lives on the streets. But he did say something on the plane about a bookstore he would sleep in sometimes at night. The lady who owns it, Miss Mary, was nice to him.”
“He say where that is?”
“Piccadilly Circus.”
“Seems like a good place to start,” Antrim said.
Malone could not resist. “Particularly considering it’s the only place you have.”
“That make you feel better?” Antrim asked. “I’ve told you I’m in trouble. Admitted the problem. What more do you want?”
“Call Langley.”
“Like you called Stephanie Nelle every time you got yourself into a tight one?”
He’d never made that call. Ever.
“That’s what I thought,” Antrim said. “You handled it yourself. How about another favor? Go to that store and see if Dunne shows up. You two seem to have made a connection, more than any of us.”
“Who were the guys at the airport? The ones who jumped me and took Gary?”
“They work for a shadow group called the Daedalus Society. They’ve been interfering with this operation for some time. I thought we had things under control with them, but I was wrong.”
“Ian was allowed into the country without a passport.”
“I did that. When he was located in the States, I asked British Customs to authorize his entry. I had men at the airport waiting for you. But the other two found you first. Just one more thing that went wrong.”
Malone could see that he’d struck a sore point. But he could sympathize. He, too, had experienced operations that simply would not go right.
“All I can tell you,” Antrim said, “is that things here are important and time is short. We need that flash drive.”
“So did the other two men who jumped me.”
“Like I said, the Daedalus Society is after the same thing.”
“Dad,” Gary said. “Go find him.”
The comment surprised Malone. “We don’t have a dog in this fight. We need to get home.”
“What’s a few more hours?” Gary said. “It’s late. We have the time. See if you can find him. I’ll go with you, if you want.”
“No way. Your mother would kill me with what’s already happened. And I wouldn’t blame her.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him for you,” Antrim said.
“I don’t know you.”
“Make your calls. Check me out. You’ll find everything I’ve told you is the truth. Gary can stay with us a few hours. I have agents, and I’ll personally look after him.”
Malone hesitated.
“A few hours to see if Dunne can be found. That’s all I’m asking.”
“Do it,” Gary said.
“I need to make that call,” he told Antrim.
The agent nodded. “I understand. I’d do the same thing. But remember, I’m the one who found your boy.”
Point made. But he recalled Ian’s fears. “If I go after Dunne, I do it alone. None of your guys around.”
“Agreed.”
“You really cool with this?” he asked Gary.
His son nodded. “You gotta do it.”
IAN HAD NOT LIKED THE LOOK OF THE MEN WHO’D EMERGED from the car. Too official. Too determined. He was glad to see Gary was okay, back with his dad. But the fake police from Heathrow had definitely spooked him, so he decided it was time to leave.
He’d taken the flash drive for two reasons.
One, he wanted to show it to Miss Mary. She was the smartest person he knew, and he was interested in what she had to say.
The second was maybe Cotton Malone might come looking for it.
If he did, he’d know where to go.
So he headed for Piccadilly Circus.
Twenty-three
OXFORD