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Mike said, “You were right, Ben, about Sophie Pearce. She flat-out lied to us, and, of course, so did Adam. Now, why is she hiding her relationship with him? And why did he show up out of the blue hours after his father was killed?”
Ben said, “Maybe he wanted to see his family, maybe he thought we’d be off his scent. I’ll admit, though, the timing is certainly coincidental.”
Mike said, “Is there a special meaning for Eternal Patrol?”
Nicholas said, “It’s an old naval term, actually. For a lost ship. There are hundreds of ships and submarines that have been lost in the various wars. Traditionally, when they go down and no one knows where, they call it being on eternal patrol.”
“Well, that makes sense, at least. His dad was a naval history buff. Ben, put out a BOLO for Adam Pearce, and we need to go talk to Sophie again. Find out if this was all she was keeping from us.”
Ben said, “Already did. We also need to look at what Adam Pearce has been into lately as EP. If he crossed the wrong people, perhaps his father was killed in retaliation, or to draw him out. If that’s the case, Sophie isn’t safe, either.”
“She’s safe enough,” Mike said. “We’ve got eyes on her. No one’s going to get close to her. Have them pick her up, Ben, we’ll see if she knows where her brother’s hiding. Nicholas, we’re outta here.”
When Mike had cleared the garage doors and turned the Crown Vic onto Worth Street, Nicholas said, “I have something to tell you.”
She knew that tone, he’d decided to tell her something that he’d thought to hold back. Good, it meant he trusted her, at least every once in a while.
She looked over at him. “Your dad told you something super-secret, and you’re not supposed to say anything?”
Nicholas had to laugh. “You’re too smart for your own good. Yes, he told me something very disturbing. The Home Office believes Alfie Stanford was murdered.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me. I thought he was old enough to die on his own?”
“Yes, he was, but he wasn’t ill. One of the medics found a needle mark on his neck.”
“That’s not good. Do they have a suspect?”
“If they do, he didn’t tell me. I don’t believe in coincidences, Mike, and here we are, hit in the face with a huge one. Alfie Stanford and Jonathan Pearce have clear ties, and they’re both murdered on the same day?”
She didn’t believe in coincidence, either. “And Adam Pearce is an über-hacker, and his sister lied to us. But how is it all related?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Ah, here we are, your inaugural FBI autopsy. Let’s hope Dr. Janovich found the poison pill.”
25
Office of the Chief Medical Examiner (OCME)
2:20 p.m.
Dr. Janovich was waiting for them in his office, dressed in stained scrubs, his eyes shining brightly with excitement. He tapped his watch face when he saw them, but without rancor.
“Finally, you’re here. I didn’t want to wait, so I started without you. Come on. I have something to show you.”
They stood over Mr. Olympic’s naked and partially autopsied body. Janovich spoke quickly, pointing to a nasty scrape on the man’s shoulder. “Did quite a job on him, didn’t you, Drummond?”
“I believe the tarmac was responsible for that particular mark.”
“Ah. Well, this isn’t the interesting part.” He pointed at the wall, where X-rays hung on a light box. “Look closely. Do you see the foreign object in his skull? I went digging in his brain, and I found this.”
He used a small set of calipers and showed them a tiny bit of metal, no larger than a thumbnail, thin as paper.
Mike said, “It looks like shrapnel.”
Nicholas’s heart rate jumped, adrenaline poured into his bloodstream. “No, not shrapnel, Mike. Dr. Janovich, can I see it under the microscope?”
Janovich beamed at Nicholas. “Good, good.” He set the rectangle of metal on a clear glass slide. “Try it at one-hundred-times power. It’s quite illuminating.”
