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Sophie nodded. “So you understand, then. It’s such a small field. He had rivals, certainly. But enemies? No. Not my dad. No way.” She sat straighter. “Now tell me again how he was killed. You said a man stabbed him?”
Rather than answer her, Nicholas asked her again, “Tell us who EP is.”
He was looking closely this time and he saw it again, a flash of knowledge in her pale eyes, then it was gone. She didn’t look at them, didn’t say anything, simply shook her head.
Mike said, “Your father was stabbed on the street after an argument with another man. As he died, your father said to the man who stabbed him, ‘The key is in the lock.’ Does that mean anything to you?”
“The what?”
“The key is in the lock.”
“No, I don’t know.” Nicholas saw nothing in her eyes, no clue to give away that she knew what this meant.
“Could it have been a robbery?”
Nicholas said, “No, Miss Pearce—”
“Sophie, please.”
“Sophie. No, he wasn’t mugged. He had his phone and his wallet on him when he was found, and nothing appears to be missing.”
Quick as a whip, she faced them again. “You said you found something on my father’s computer. What was it?”
14
This was interesting. Nicholas gestured toward the office. “I’ll show you, and you can tell me what you think your father may have been involved in.”
He walked down the hall to the library, Sophie behind him. She hesitated for a moment at the door. He could have sworn she scanned the doorjamb. Why was that?
“Everything all right?” he asked.
She gave a s
hort jerk of her head.
“What do you do, Sophie?”
“I’m a translator at the UN. I specialize in Asian policy and economics,” she said, as she stepped into her father’s office. He watched her look around, swallow, then cross her arms over her chest, steeling herself. “Show me.”
Nicholas thought, Be careful now, no reason to give it all to her, since for whatever reason she’s not being straightforward with us. He leaned down and hit a couple keys and brought up the schematic of a satellite.
“Do you know what this is?”
“It looks like a satellite.”
“Correct. The problem is, this isn’t just any satellite. This is a high-tech LEO-synchronous spy satellite, one the military will be using. Not to mention it bolsters the NSA’s ability to listen in to pretty much any conversation it wants in the Northern Hemisphere.”
“Um, English, please, Agent Drummond?”
“LEO, short for low-earth orbit. It’s where most spy satellites are placed.” He clicked a few times. The image was of another satellite, similar to the first, but with a few changes.
“This particular satellite hasn’t been launched yet; it’s still under development. Classified development, on a classified military project, on a classified server owned by a very big aerospace firm, who will be quite displeased when they find out the plans for their super-secret spy satellite are residing in the computer of an antiquarian in Manhattan.”
He stood straighter, to intimidate, and said very quietly, the threat clear in his voice, “Would you like to tell me what your father is doing with classified material on this SD card?”
Sophie Pearce smiled for the first time, not much of one, but still a smile. “It’s not what you think, Agent Drummond. My father’s not a criminal, he’s an expert in military history. He has friends who perhaps share things they shouldn’t, because he’s known for his discretion. He could write a book with all the stuff people send him.”
“You’re telling me his friends send him classified material that could be used against the United States if it were to be discovered by the wrong people?”
