CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
The Old Garden
Twickenham
Richmond upon Thames, London
Nicholas absently rubbed the wound on his side as he watched the team work. Mike had patched him up again, disinfected and rebandaged him. The first paramedics to come had taken Gareth to the hospital. They’d recommended Nicholas come as well, but he’d only shaken his head.
Isabella hadn’t said much since Radu died. She’d been silent when the paramedics had removed the tubing from her arm, and applied a pressure bandage. She continued silent as they tended to Radu.
Nicholas knew she was in shock, but he wasn’t concerned until she began shaking uncontrollably. He lightly laid his hand on her shoulder, looked up to see the second responding paramedic watching them. “Go with him to the hospital. They’ll take care of you. We’ll speak later, when you’re ready.”
He and Mike watched her be carried out in the arms of the medic, her head on his shoulder. She was accompanied by two Metropolitan Police officers to stand guard, just in case. Knowing Roman’s resources, Nicholas didn’t doubt he now knew his twin had died. And he would blame them. What would he do?
Nicholas immediately called his father’s mobile, and to his profound relief, Harry answered immediately. “I’m all right, Nicholas, only a bit fried at the edges. You probably know what happened: a drone dropped a bomb on the Range Rover, nearly in front of the Prince Edward Theatre. Barstow is dead, and my driver, Higgins, as well. Before you ask, no, we haven’t yet found Roman Ardelean. Tell me what happened at his house.”
After Nicholas was done, his father was silent for a long time. Finally he said, “A tragic conclusion. But Isabella is safe and on her way to hospital. Now, Barstow told me a great deal more before the bomb. He confessed everything, but only because, I think, he knew Ardelean was going to kill him. I’ll tell you the whole of it later, after you finish going through Ardelean’s house.”
“Father, wait. Why did Ardelean kill Barstow before he’d gotten the money?”
“Ardelean isn’t stupid, he knew it was a trap. But the biggest reason? He had to have found out it was Barstow who ruined Radulav.”
“Others are working, Father. Tell me the rest of it. What did Barstow tell you?”
“He said he used a young man named Caleb Temora. You asked for the list of Radulav’s terminated employees? Well, this man was on the list. He and Ardelean had a falling-out—he was recruited to ISIS. Barstow’s people pulled him out a year ago. Barstow forced him to build the hack that spread the ransomware through MATRIX. I tried talking to Temora, but he isn’t willing to play ball, as your mother likes to say. When you’re free, I want you to question him.”
“Where are you holding him?”
“He’s jailed in a black-ops site in Mayfair. Listen, Nicholas, after all that’s happened, and given Ardelean’s increase in drug use, I can’t imagine he’s all that rational at this point. Revenge was more important to him. Wait.” A moment later, his father said, “That was Adam. Evidently Ardelean stayed overnight at the Savoy. He must have conducted the attack on the theater from there. Ian and a team went to the hotel, spoke to the desk, and facial recognition confirmed. Ardelean was wearing a disguise and used a false name. Ian was told he was already gone. They searched his room, but all the team found were a few feathers—so one or more of his birds was there with him. Unfortunately, he’s disappeared again. We have operatives at every known address, but nothing. He’s gone to ground. Nicholas, I think events are moving too fast. Come now, speak to this hacker Temora.”
“Give me an hour, Father. I’m stripping the computers to take to Adam to analyze, then we need to stop by Thames House. Get me the address, and we’ll meet you there. And, Father?”
“Yes?”
He swallowed, cleared his throat. “I am very glad you’re all right. Mum would have killed me if something happened to you.”
“She very likely might have,” Harry said, laughed, and rang off. “Now you know how I felt when Barstow shot you.”
When Nicholas finished ripping apart the last computer, he joined Mike in the lab suite. “I see a lot of jars and bottles and test tubes. Any idea what it’s all for?”
“This section is for synthetic LSD, I believe. They were manufacturing their own. There are large quantities of ergotamine and lysergic acid.”
Nicholas read some of the labels. “Hydrazine, hydrochloric acid, sodium nitrate—yes, they were manufacturing LSD. All of the components necessary for the epibatidine are here, too.”
“It’s going to take hours to catalog all of this.” She put a hand against his cheek. His face was still smudged with smoke, and his hair had dust and bits of debris in it from the roof. She leaned up and wiped her finger across his nose. “Ah, that’s better. I’ve really smeared it now. Your dad’s truly okay?”
“Yes. Adam found out Ardelean stayed overnight at the Savoy, but he’s gone to ground. You’ll like this—Barstow was apparently using a hacker who worked for Ardelean before they had a falling-out. Barstow used him to try and dismantle Radulav. We’re going to go talk to him—name’s Caleb Temora—as soon as you’re finished.”
“Oh, I’m done. Nothing more I can do here. Just curious why LSD, of all things.” She cocked her head, “The two drugs we know they were making do have something common—they were both tested for mood stabilization and pain relief in the sixties. And microdosing is popular again, small doses stabilize your mood.”
Nicholas said, “Evidently Ardelean was using more and more.”
“From what I’ve read, too much and he’d go off the rails, lose objectivity, lose sight of what was real and what wasn’t. And paranoia, to list only a few things that could happen.”
“Isn’t that all we need? A genius who’s gone crazy.” He waved the hard drives at her. “If you’re done here, let me show you something else interesting—a pilot’s nest for the drone system. Then we’ll go talk to this Caleb Temora.”
Ardelean’s homemade air traffic control center was a room at the end of the long hallway. Nicholas pressed some keys, and huge screens whirred to life—aerial maps, weather forecasts, the flight paths of all of London, lit up in reds and greens. There was a cockpit, as well, facing the screens, with a huge gearshift. He said, “This is how they were flying the drones. Remote access—they can fly one from the other side of the world with this setup. It’s military-grade, like our folks have. At least we know where the drones were being piloted from, and how.”
Mike could only marvel. “To think this was in the hands of a civilian, practically in the middle of London. At least we can feel safe that the drones are grounded.”
Nicholas said, “We can’t know that Ardelean doesn’t have another flight command.” He studied the keyboard, said, “I think their pilot was Radu, and he’s lying dead in the other room. See, all the software is coded to him. Unless Roman pilots them himself, which is obviously possible—” He shrugged. “At least we’ve shut down one level of his operation. Now, let’s get these hard drives to Adam. I’d like a shower and some food. Then we need to go talk to this mystery hacker my father is guarding.”
She followed him, “I want the MI5 physician to check your wound again.”
He shook his head. “Not necessary, don’t you remember? A medic went over me, pronounced me good to go.”
“He did no such thing. He stared at you and shook his head.”
“You know what I really want? A big, juicy American hamburger, maybe with cheddar on top, lots of onions—”
“Oh, be quiet. I know you, you won’t eat or sleep as long as we have a drug-addled genius with a drone army on the loose.”
“Sadly, you’re right.”