“I’m glad I had people in my office earlier and couldn’t talk, because if you’re correct, and there is an infiltration, I might have given too much away. We acted upon the intelligence you provided me this morning. Your computer genius, Adam, sent us some information as well. Sit down, and I’ll tell you what we know.”
Once settled, Harry said, “First, the drone you shot down, Michaela. I had it removed from Superintendent Penderley at Scotland Yard and brought to our forensic experts. They verified it isn’t registered to any legitimate company we’ve been able to trace. They believe it’s a prototype. Custom-made. Drones with these capabilities, and by that I mean weaponized drones, are a multimillion-dollar investment. Even if there’s only one, whoever’s behind these attacks is well funded.”
Mike said, “Nicholas and I believe there’s more than one drone.”
“I fear you are correct. Now, let me digress a moment. ISIS has more or less stopped recruiting young spies because of the time and cost to groom them. They now focus on the people with decision-making power in a government. They offer promises of money, freedom, power, honor, whatever they believe will work with a particular individual. They strike deals with them to allow their soldiers to cross borders. Italy, Austria, Sweden, Germany. It’s actually counterespionage at its finest.
“They are well funded, some believe by the Russians, others say leftovers from the failed overthrow of Assad. Either way, they’ve been successful, in my opinion, twice that we know of. First, Heinrich Hemmler. I’ve done some digging, found out Hemmler had a private meeting with an ISIS leader in Aleppo. Said leader is no longer with us, thanks to a U.S. drone strike. Obviously, Hemmler can’t confirm, but his secretary has admitted he set up the trip. Hemmler’s bank account was suddenly quite flush, as well.
“I suspect he was trying to stage a quiet coup in the German government. With the chancellor gone, he could easily call for an election, install himself in her place. To what end? If he’s been meeting with ISIS leaders, I think we can agree he was giving them something in return for his new position. No idea what, we’ll need to look closer.
“As for Chapman Donovan, he helped broker the cease-fire in ’98. He was a good man, aboveboard, as far as we know, and so rich I can’t imagine he’d want more. No idea why he would be targeted.”
He looked at each of them. “Worse, we have no idea who killed these two people.”
Harry took a sip of his drink, eyed his son and Michaela. Such a beauty she was and completely unaware of it, not unlike his incredible wife. And, as his father said, she was a right sharp little whip. He couldn’t call her Mike, couldn’t even think of her as Mike, the name of a bullyboy at school who’d once made his life a misery until his father had told him to kick the little blighter’s arse, which he had. He looked to his son. “Nicholas, one more thing. Since someone managed to overhear your conversation this morning, it seems clear we’ve been compromised.”
“Yes, we believe so, sir. And whoever’s infiltrated your systems can read your emails, your notes, listen to your phone calls. The question is, has the intrusion happened from outside, or inside MI5?”
Harry nodded. “Look at all the people around us, those with the money and ability to pull off such a massive intrusion, those with a motive. A drone carrying a poison, shooting it into the victim’s neck, and I wonder, why kill in such a flamboyant manner?”
Everyone thought about this, then Nicholas said, “Would you be willing to let Adam and me have a crack at it?”
Harry said simply, “Yes.”
And there it was, Nicholas realized. His father had complete faith in him and his skills. He prayed neither he nor Adam would fail him.
Nigel came into the room. “Master Nicholas, Master Harry, I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have guests.”
Nicholas said, “Guests? Who? We aren’t expecting anyone. Father?”
“I’m not, no.”
Nigel merely smiled and left. He returned moments later with Agent Ben Houston and Melinda St. Germaine.
He looked at Nicholas. “Shall I have two more places set for dinner?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Nicholas grinned at Ben. “I was wondering when you and Melinda would cross our path. You will stay to dinner, of course. Melinda, you know my father, and this is my partner, Agent Mike Caine, New York FBI.”
Harry hugged Melinda, kissed her cheek. “I am so very sorry about your mother, Melinda. Her death hit us all very hard.”
“Thank you. I—it’s difficult.”
“How ever did you meet an FBI agent from New York?”
“A very long story, sir.”
Harry turned to the young man whose hair was nearly the exact shade of red as Melinda’s. He looked bright, fit, all in all, a nice-looking young man. “I recognized your name. You’re part of my son’s and Michaela’s Covert Eyes, aren’t you?”
Ben nodded. “Yes, but this trip wasn’t business. I’m here on vacation.”
“I hope Melinda is showing you all the tourist sites.”
Ben considered saying he hadn’t come to London to see the Tower of London but to hook up with a member of Parliament, but he thought better of it. “Well, sir, there hasn’t been that much time as of yet and . . .” He stalled.
Melinda grinned, curse her, and said, “Ben is Covert Eyes’ resident art historian, isn’t that right, Ben?”
“Ah, yes, that’s perfectly correct.”
“I’ve been taking him to all the museums this week. This morning we were at the British Museum.” A lie here, the truth there, a little of each.
Ben lit up. “Melinda set it up, without telling me, a big surprise. It was a press conference, given by a cryptologist at the museum who’d happened to find missing pages from the Voynich manuscript buried in among the archives. She said quite a lot—” He looked over at Melinda. “I don’t think my MP here believed she was on the up-and-up entirely.”
“No, I didn’t, but that’s neither here nor there.”
Ben squeezed her shoulder, couldn’t help himself. “Well, Melinda knows the director of the antiquities department, Dr. Wynn-Jones, so we were able to see the discovered quire and the long-lost page seventy-four. It was remarkable.”
Melinda added, “Dr. Wynn-Jones was a teacher of mine. Believe me, he was thrilled to show off this astonishing discovery to Ben, a big honcho FBI agent from New York. Nicholas, why are you frowning?”
“Well, there’s something odd about this. Ben, you were in on the investigation when the Voynich was stolen from the Beinecke last year, right?”
“Yes, I was. We were unable to discover the thief—well, actually, we didn’t find out anything useful. The case, of course, remains open. At the press conference today, the professor who found the missing quire and page seventy-four begged the thief to come forward, to reunite the pages to the manuscript.” Ben added, “Now I think about it, maybe you’re right, Melinda. It is very odd this young cryptologist just happened upon these missing pages. I think I should see where Dr. Isabella Marin was last year when the Voynich was stolen.”
Mike said, “You have a beautifully devious mind, Ben, I’ve always thought so, and to see it in action—”
“Yes,” Melinda said, her voice complacent, “he does have quite an astounding brain, doesn’t he?”
Nicholas said, “Yes, absolutely astounding and I’d like to put it to good use, if you can find the time, Ben. And if you’re willing to do some work on your vacation.”
“We need your help, Ben,” Mike said.
Melinda said, “We come over to say hello, and now you want to work him to the bone on his first vacation in too long a time?”
Ben, whose eyes had already begun to shine, smiled down at her. “Not quite to the bone. Sure, Nicholas, Mike, what’s going on?”
Melinda held up a hand, her mother’s ruby ring on her index finger. “If you want Ben, you have to include me, as well. We are both on vacation, and we are a matched set. No, don’t you dare shake your head, Nicholas. I helped you solve two serious crimes only weeks ago.”
Nicholas’s head was still shaking. “No, Melinda, not this time.”