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The analyst found the three drives on a worktable and handed them over with no questions.
Antrim was curious, though. “Did you find anything?”
“I retrieved about sixty files and was working on the password-protected stuff.”
“You read anything?”
The analyst shook his head. “I knew better. I don’t want to know.”
“I’ll make sure the rest of your fee is deposited tomorrow,” he said.
“You know, I could have retrieved the protected stuff.”
That information grabbed his attention.
“You broke through?”
The man yawned. “Not yet. But I think I could have. I broke one of Curry’s passwords and an encryption. I could get the others. Of course, all of us being on the same side made it easier than normal.”
In order to satisfy the Daedalus Society he would have to turn over everything accumulated in the warehouse, along with the hard drives. But a little backup might be welcomed. Especially when dealing with a total unknown like Daedalus. Besides, after a year’s worth of work he wanted to know what, if anything, had been found.
Curry was so excited on the phone that day.
He seemed to have made a significant breakthrough.
“Did you copy the three hard drives?”
The analyst nodded. “Of course. Just in case. You’re going to want those, too, right?”
The man started to retrieve them.
“No. Keep working with the copies. I want to know what those password-protected files say. Call me the second you have them.”
KATHLEEN HAD NEVER BEEN SO GLAD TO SEE A FACE AS THE ONE that had darted before the car, which she’d instantly recognized. She’d hoped Ian Dunne had not come alone and was relieved when Cotton Malone appeared. Now they were blocks over, just outside a closed souvenir shop. Ian carried a pocketknife, which was used to cut her plastic restraints.
“Why did you do that?” she asked Malone.
“You looked like you needed help. What did Thomas Mathews want with you?”
“So you know the good knight.”
“He and I have met. In a past life.”
“He told me you were an ex-agent. CIA?”
Malone shook his head. “Justice Department. An international investigative unit, for twelve years.”
“Now retired.”
“That’s what I keep telling myself. Unfortunately, I don’t seem to be listening. What’s Mathews’ interest here?”
“He wants me dead.”
“Me too,” Ian said.
She faced the boy. “That so?”
“He killed a man in Oxford Circus, then he wanted to kill me.” She glanced at Malone, who nodded and said, “He’s telling the truth.”
Then she faced the boy. “You took a chance walking in front of that car. I owe you.”
Ian shrugged. “I’ve done it before.”
“Really? Is it a habit of yours?”
“He’s a street pro,” Malone said, adding a smile. “One of them would stop the car and pretend he was hurt, another would steal whatever he could from inside. You were saying? Mathews wants you dead?”
She nodded. “I have apparently outlived my usefulness.”
“Could it have been a bluff?”
“Maybe. But I didn’t want to stay there and find out.”
“How about we trade what we know. Maybe, among the three of us, we’ll actually begin to make some sense out of all this.”
Which they did.
She told Malone everything that happened, since yesterday, at Windsor and Oxford, adding her suspicions about Eva Pazan and what Mathews had told her in the car. Malone recounted his past twenty-four hours, which seemed about as chaotic as hers. Ian Dunne filled in what occurred a month ago at Oxford Circus.
She omitted only three things.
Her current state of SOCA suspension, her past connection to Blake Antrim, and the fact that she’d been led to the Inns of Court specifically to see Antrim. None of that seemed necessary to reveal.
At least not yet.
“How did you find us at the bookstore?” Malone asked.
“Mathews sent me. He knew you’d be there.”
“He say how he knew that?”
She shook her head. “He’s not the most forthcoming individual.”
Malone smiled “What’s a SOCA agent doing working with MI6?”
“I was specially assigned.”
Which was true.
To a point.
MALONE WASN’T ENTIRELY SATISFIED WITH KATHLEEN RICHARDS’ explanations. But they were strangers, so he couldn’t expect her to provide everything at once. Still, she’d said enough for him to make a few decisions. The first involved Ian. He needed him out of the line of fire, back with Antrim and Gary, but he realized that maneuvering the boy to leave would be tough.
“I’m concerned about Miss Mary.”
He explained to Richards that she was the older woman in the bookstore, then said, “Those men could come back, and we left her there.”
“The Met are no help,” Richards said. “They’re working with Mathews.”
He stared at Ian. “I need you to look after her.”
“You said you would do that.”
“I will, by getting both you and her to where Gary is.”
“I want to go with you.”
“Who says I’m going somewhere?”
“You are.”
This kid was bright, but that didn’t mean he would get his way. “Miss Mary looks after you when you need it. Now it’s your turn for her.”
Ian nodded. “I can do that.”
“I’m going to contact Antrim and have him come get both you and her.”
“And where are you going?” Richards asked.
“To get some answers.”
The slip of paper Miss Mary had given him with the phone number was still in his pocket. My sister. I spoke to her a little while ago. She’ll take your call in the morning.
“You going to let me tag along?” Richards asked.
r /> “I’m assuming that you wouldn’t take no for an answer.”
“Hardly. But my SOCA badge could prove helpful.”
That it could. Especially for toting weapons.
He handed her one of the guns he’d snatched.
“I have to make a call to Antrim and check on my son,” he said. “Then I’m going to get a few hours’ sleep.”
“I’d offer my flat,” Richards said. “But I’m afraid that’s the first place they’re going to look for me.”
He agreed. “A hotel is better.”
Thirty-five
SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 22
8:00 AM
MALONE FINISHED OFF SOME CEREAL AND FRUIT FOR BREAKFAST. He and Kathleen Richards had spent a few hours at the Churchill, he on the pullout sofa bed, she in the bedroom. They’d arrived after midnight and a suite was all the hotel had to offer. Jet lag from the flight over had finally caught up to him and he’d fallen asleep almost immediately after lying down. But not before calling Antrim and making sure Ian and Miss Mary had arrived and that Gary was okay. Richards had told him that they still needed to have a chat, and asked him to keep her identity between themselves until after they talked. So he’d honored that request and not mentioned her to Antrim.
“I was sent by Mathews because of Blake Antrim,” Richards said to him from across the table.
The Churchill’s restaurant opened off the main lobby with a wall of windows that overlooked busy Portman Square.
“He and I were once involved. Ten years ago,” she said. “Mathews wanted me to use that relationship and make contact.”
“Is Antrim a problem?”
He needed to know, since Gary was in his custody.
She shook her head. “Not that way. Not at all. Your son is fine with him. Now, if he were a girlfriend breaking up with Antrim.” She paused. “Different story.”
He thought he understood. “Doesn’t let go gracefully?”
“Something like that. Let’s just say our parting was memorable.”
“And you agreed to reconnect with him?”
“Antrim is apparently into something that threatens our national security.”
That grabbed his attention.
“Unfortunately, Mathews did not say how.”
