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“After what you two managed to do to the director’s plane? It’s Air France for you. Enjoy the flight.”
/> When Nicholas hung up, Mike said, “It was a good try.”
“Perhaps I’ll give Penderley a call. We didn’t bung up the prime minister’s plane.”
“What, you’re too good to fly commercial now?”
He grinned back at her. “I really don’t care what we fly, I only want to go home.”
And she thought, New York is home. She rose and stretched. “Time to pack my pathetic go bag.” She leaned down, laid her palm against his cheek, something Nicholas was getting used to, and quite liked. “No stitches to pull this time. That’s good.”
His go bag was sitting beside the door of the suite. He heard her bedroom door shut. He had one more call to make.
His father answered on the first ring, asked immediately, “Are you all right?”
“I am.”
There was a slight pause, then, “What’s wrong, Nicholas?”
How did a parent always know? “Dad, what is your role in the Highest Order?”
“You know this isn’t a conversation to be had over the phone.”
“I need to know. Please, don’t put me off. Tell me.”
“All right. Alfie named me to replace him. It was in his will, a private one, meant for me and the other members of the Order. And I’ve accepted. We’ve lost so many people, and several more are corrupt. I will see to it they are rousted, and the Order’s ranks are filled with men and women who want the best for their countries, who won’t pervert the power given them by wealth and privilege and society.”
“In that case, Dad, I have something for you, something I know the Order didn’t ever want found because no person or government should ever have this sort of power.”
Harry sucked in a breath. “I will send someone for it immediately. As far as the world is concerned, no one will ever know it even existed. Now that you’ve destroyed Havelock, the Order can refocus. Do what’s right for the world. When it’s time, Nicholas, I trust I’ll be able to count on you to do the same.”
“Me?”
“It is a hereditary organization, when possible. Alfie’s eldest grandson will be stepping in when he’s finished his tour of duty. When it is my turn to leave the group, you will take my place.”
Him, part of the Highest Order? “But I have no influence.”
Harry Drummond laughed. “You have more than you know, Nicholas. More than you know.”
EPILOGUE
Two weeks later
New York
Alex Shepherd’s shoulder still pulled and ached. It would be another two weeks, the surgeon told him, before he could consider lifting even a three-pound weight. But he was here, at last, in New York, resigned from MI5, and now exactly where he wanted to be, in Sophie Pearce’s living room. Today was the reading of her father’s will and she wanted him there.
She appeared in the doorway, standing straight once more, her back mostly healed now. She looked absolutely beautiful, her dark hair loose around her face, and she wore not a black dress, but a soft yellow, her father’s favorite color. Alex walked to her, lightly took her arms in his hands, and told her the news. “The Order has asked me to replace your father as the Messenger. I accepted the offer and resigned from MI Five. My cover remains the same. A full-time barkeep and restaurant owner. What do you think?”
She cocked her head to one side and considered. “I think you need a new chef. I really didn’t like my spaghetti the last time I ate there.” And she leaned up and kissed him, whispered in his ear, “Yes, oh, yes, it’s perfect. Dad would have been so pleased.”
They stood awkwardly facing each other, since he was afraid to put his arms around her still-tender back and she was afraid to hug him because of his shoulder. He kissed her again, and sighed. “Actually, it was Agent Drummond’s father, Harry, now the head of the Order, who asked me to continue in your father’s place. Isn’t it a small world?”
“If his father hasn’t already told him, you can tell Nicholas today at the reading. I asked both him and Mike Caine to be there. It seemed only right since they—”
“Yes, since they went through everything with us.”
As they walked out of Sophie’s building into an incredible June day, Sophie saw the forty-two-point headline of the New York Post: Treasure in the Tunnels—the True Story.
