Even worse, it apparently had been one from the start.
The idea had been to find something that could be used to coax the British government into stopping the Scots from releasing a convicted terrorist. An internal CIA assessment on the potential for Operation King’s Deception had shown that, if successful, the information might be sufficient. The British prided themselves on an adherence to law. Common law was born here, then exported around the world. Their loyalty to legality had been used more than once to squelch a king, expand Parliament, or subdue a colony. King’s Deception had been designed to turn that loyalty against them. Had all gone to plan, Downing Street would have had no choice but to intervene with the Scots. All Washington wanted was a murderer kept in jail. In return, no one would ever know what happened 400 years ago.
But the Daedalus Society had interfered with all of that.
He wished he knew more about them, but there’d been no time to investigate, and any effort to do so would have drawn Langley’s attention.
His only thought now was how to get the hell out of here in one piece. Would they shoot him here? With all of these people around? Who knew. These people were fanatics, and fanatics were unpredictable.
The idea had been to kill Cotton Malone.
But things had changed.
Now he was the one in the crosshairs.
GARY CREPT AHEAD, USING A GROUP OF JAPANESE TOURISTS AS cover. Twenty feet separated Antrim from the two men at the gate, the woman and the other man having stopped about thirty feet behind where Antrim stood, people moving back and forth between them.
His birth father needed him and he wasn’t going to turn away.
The two men at the gate still had no idea he was there, their attention totally on Antrim.
He was approaching from their right and unless they had eyes in the sides of their heads— He burst from the crowd and leaped forward, propelling his body into the air, rolling sideways so his full length crashed into both men.
Down they all went to the pavement, their bodies cushioning his fall.
He heard a grunt, then a thump as heads slapped hard stone.
Both men were stunned and groggy.
Gary sprang to his feet.
ANTRIM REALIZED WHAT HAD HAPPENED.
As one of the men crumpled down, a hand slipped from beneath his jacket, holding a gun. The grip was released when the man’s head pounded the cobbles.
He rushed forward and snatched up the weapon, his eyes meeting Gary’s. “We have to leave.”
“I know. I saw that woman back there.”
He wondered how Gary would have any idea as to Denise’s identity, but now was not the time to inquire.
His finger curled onto the trigger.
He turned and aimed the weapon straight at Denise. Someone yelled, “Gun.” It took an instant for the scene to register with the people pouring in and out of the gate. Two Beefeaters flanked either side and both fled their posts, racing toward him.
Denise dove toward a patch of grass to her left, beyond the walk.
He followed her leap with the gun and ticked off one round.
The retort sent the people engulfing him into a frenzy, which blocked the Beefeaters from reaching him. He turned, saw Gary, and motioned for them to leave, slipping the gun into his pant pocket. Everything happened in a matter of seconds, the next few critical, so he told himself to calm down, blend in, use the chaos to his advantage.
He gently grabbed Gary’s arm. “Nice and slow. Draw no attention.”
Gary nodded and they turned right at the Thames and followed the concrete walk away from the Tower. Loud voices and congestion loomed behind them. A sea of excited people acted like a moat, guarding their flank.
His heart raced.
They kept moving back toward the busy street, where Antrim flagged a taxi.
They climbed in and sped away.
He caught the driver’s attention. “Take us to any tube station a few blocks from here.”
The Underground was the fastest and safest way back to the warehouse. A station was located less than half a mile away from it. Though Daedalus knew its location, there were things he needed.
Like Cecil’s journal.
If he was quick, he could stay ahead of them.
“That was brave, what you did,” he said.
“You needed help. That woman was behind you.”
“How did you know about her?”
“I went into the Jewel House and saw you talking to her.”
How much else had he seen or heard? Could not have been much. No one had been nearby when he spoke to Denise. And he hadn’t seen Gary inside.
Let it go.
He gently grabbed Gary by the shoulders. “You saved my hide.”
The boy smiled. “You would have done the same for me.”
Fifty-one
KATHLEEN STAYED LOW AND MADE HER WAY TO A DOOR THAT opened from the viewing booth into the tennis court. Her gaze alternated between the scene before her and what might be behind her. She doubted the two from the break room would be awake anytime soon. Both were going to need a doctor. A familiar surge of adrenaline charged her nerves. One she liked. Or at least that’s what the therapist had told her and she’d not disagreed. Right now the rush helped her think, making decisions that her life may depend on.
But she liked it that way.
Relying on herself.
Cotton Malone was in a tight spot. Thomas Mathews had him corralled. And though Malone held a weapon, it would do him little good.
“What now?” Malone asked, his eyes locked on the two armed men standing ten meters away.
Mathews stood to Malone’s left, between him and where Kathleen was hiding.
“It would seem,” Mathews said, “that two of you will be shot and a third will walk away.”
The old man was right. The best Malone could hope for was to take down one.
“What’s the point of this?” Malone asked, still staring at his problem.
“This is not personal, Cotton. Strictly business. That, you surely understand.”
“All I care about is making sure my boy is okay. The rest of this is your mess, not mine.”
“Are you aware that Blake Antrim performed a DNA test on himself and your son?”