Crown's Vengeance, The (17 page)

They had been taken from Erika Carr’s office less than three hours ago and were now in front of him, a first hand, detailed account of the spy who had discovered their plot to destroy America. Drake had never heard mention of Revere’s presence during the formation of their forefathers’ plan, though the silversmith wasn’t nearly as well known then as he was today. Fortunately, for whatever reason, the documents had remained undelivered for two hundred years.

Spencer punched a code into his videoconferencing system, and a flat-screen monitor slid noiselessly from inside his desk. A secure connection was established with Nigel Stirling, who had been waiting for the call ever since Drake informed him of their successful evening mission in Philadelphia.

Nigel dispensed with any formalities. “What do they say?”

Drake read the text from each letter verbatim. Stirling’s face was a stone mask as he listened, one finger tapping slowly on his own desk. After Drake was finished, Nigel finally spoke.

“Where were these letters located?”

“We liberated them from a professor’s office in Philadelphia, but originally they were found scattered throughout Boston.”

“Do we have any idea how she learned of their existence?”

“No, I’m afraid not. If it weren’t for the intercepted phone call between her boyfriend and my employee, we would not have known about them.”

Nigel’s eyes turned on him with a laser focus. “What is the status of your employee?”

“It wasn’t cheap, but the process has been accelerated. As soon as I hear anything, I’ll pass it along.”

“Suddenly his elimination has taken on some importance, wouldn’t you agree? Right now, the professor and her companion could conceivably uncover our existence with the aid of Mr. Flood.”

The old man must be kidding.

“Surely you don’t think they would be able to follow the trail from these three letters to my office? That’s over two centuries of activity, and all they have, excuse me, all they
had
, were these letters.”

“The connections exist, if only one knows where to look. You know that as well as I.” Nigel was right, but the odds had to be astronomical. It would be like looking for a sunken ship in the ocean without having any idea where it went down. “Simply because their chances are small is no reason to take unnecessary risk. I would advise you to ensure Mr. Flood meets with an untimely end posthaste.”

“Agreed. I’ve also taken the liberty of accessing Parker Chase’s cell phone along with Erika Carr’s. With any luck, Flood’s murder should derail their inquiries.”

“We cannot afford any missteps now. I see that the price of oil is continuing to rise, even as we speak. This bodes well for our operation.”

“It closed at just over eighty dollars per barrel. That’s up twenty percent in the past week.”

“And how are your efforts proceeding with convincing your colleagues to engage in proprietary trading?”

“I don’t have to convince them anymore. All I do is remind them how much money I’ve made while they hesitated, and they dive in headfirst. If they invest their clients’ billions, and at the rate they normally spend, we could be seeing record prices in days, especially once others in the market see the action and follow suit.”

A vengeful tint filled Nigel’s eyes. “You realize what this means, Spencer? That we will finally fulfill our obligation to king and country, putting the wretched Americans in their place.”

The thought warmed Drake’s heart.

“And with that in mind, I suggest that you eliminate any and all threats to our success. Two hundred years of work cannot be undone by a meddlesome teacher.”

Drake had considered the idea himself. “I would have to agree. For the right price, I’m certain our man will handle it.”

“Tell him to make sure those two are never heard from again.”

Chapter 29

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

A red sun was beginning to crest the horizon on a warm summer morning. Even at this hour, traffic was heavy, every main artery in and out of Philadelphia clogged. Fortunately for Erika, her apartment was less than two miles from Penn’s campus, and she went against traffic the whole way. Ten minutes after she last heard Parker snoring in bed, she pulled into her office parking lot.

Last night had been wonderful, an entire evening spent watching movies and eating takeout on her couch with Parker. Not a single moment had been devoted to studying centuries-old writing, a welcome respite from the daily grind that had consumed her since they discovered the letters. Reinvigorated, her batteries recharged for another run at uncovering the evolution of Revere’s discovery.

Keys in hand, her mind was already on the hunt when she pushed the thick wooden office door open. The lights clicked on, her feet moving to the coffee machine of their own accord. She was a creature of habit, and Dr. Erika Carr began every day with the same routine. Coffee on, computer fired up, get to work.

With a steaming cup on her desk, she knelt in front of her office safe, fingers tapping out the code.

Erika’s heart stopped.

Revere’s letters were gone.

She fell to her knees, scraping soft skin across threadbare carpet. This wasn’t possible. She’d put them away yesterday, just like she did every day when she left.

A quick inventory confirmed her fears. The letters were nowhere to be found.

Erika searched again, refusing to accept the truth. She had several thousand in cash stashed in the safe that hadn’t been touched. Her passport and birth certificate were in the fireproof box, but that was it.

She didn’t move until the dull ache in her knees turned to razor sharp pains shooting up each leg. A teary sigh escaped her lips as she stood, her entire body numb.

This wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. She and Parker had worked so hard, had found the priceless artifacts on their own, and now they were gone.

Right now she wanted to cry, wanted to curl up in a ball and scream, but that wouldn’t solve anything. Instead, she decided to take a page out of Parker’s book and get angry. He always said that harnessing his anger was what helped him, focusing the energy to help achieve his goal.

Well, right now she was pissed off to the point she could run through a brick wall.

Parker’s voice was thick with sleep when he answered her call. “Tell me you’re playing hooky today.”

“Parker.”

That was all it took, and he knew it was serious.

“Are you all right?”

“They’re gone.”

“What? What’s gone?”

“The letters. All three of them are gone.”

Silence filled the phone. “It appears Paul Revere was right.”

She related the story of her discovery, of both her office and the safe being locked, letters missing but the money left behind.

“So whoever took it knew what they were looking for. This isn’t good.”

“Of course it’s not good. No one will ever know what we found. I have pictures of the letters, but that won’t mean anything.”

“No, Erika, I mean this isn’t good for us. Think about it. Someone knows what we found. Other than Ben, who did we tell? I sure didn’t say anything.”

“Neither did I. None of my colleagues knew about it.”

“So that means that either Ben spilled the beans, or we’re being spied on.”

She flashed back to several months ago, to the discovery that her office, the same one from which Revere’s letters had been stolen, was under surveillance by an unknown group. Listening devices had been on her desk phone, her computer, and even on her coat.

Her chest tightened as she spoke.

“How could that be? Why would anyone care about these letters enough to steal them?”

Ever the analytical one, Parker asked, “How much would those be worth on the open market? Would people pay for them?”

“Well, they were signed by Paul Revere and written to Alexander Hamilton, so yes, collectors would be interested. But the type of people who would want those letters aren’t going to burgle my office to get them. My guess is they’d bring around ten thousand at auction, maybe a little more.”

“So not enough to risk a jail sentence over.”

“Not at all. And more to the point, how did anyone even know they existed?”

The sound of sheets rustling came over the phone.

“Erika, I’m on my way over. Hang up, lock your office, and get around other people. I’ll be there soon.”

The hair on her neck stood when he clicked off. Suddenly doubting the security of her professional sanctuary, Erika grabbed her purse and rushed out the door, only pausing to lock it. Outside the building, a steady stream of students and faculty scurried about the manicured grounds, and it was to this comforting assembly that she headed.

Ten minutes later a taxi roared up, tires squealing to a stop. Parker threw several bills at the driver and ran to her.

“Everything all right?” Genuine concern radiated from his eyes.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Show me your office. We need to call the campus police and report a break-in. Does your building have security cameras?”

“I know they have them at the entrances, but I’m not sure about inside. There aren’t many crimes committed in the history building.”

“At least not many that are reported. This is twice in the past year that people have broken into your office.”

Above the main building entrance, Erika spotted the telltale black orbs containing cameras. Inside the hallway, they found nothing.

“Damn. Maybe those things took a picture of whoever did this.”

She picked up her desk phone and dialed zero. A robotic operator answered.

“Directory.”

“I need to speak with the police.”

“Hold please.”

Seconds later a much more serious voice answered.

“University police.”

“Hello, my name is Erika Carr. I’m a professor in the history department, and I need to report a robbery.”

“Is the robbery in progress, Dr. Carr?”

“No, I discovered it this morning when I arrived.”

“When and where did this robbery take place?”

She relayed the details, and the officer promised to send someone over immediately.

“Hey, before the cops get here, is there anything you don’t want them to find?”

What kind of a question was that?

“What do you mean?” She cocked her head to one side and studied him. “Do you think I have something illegal in here?”

“No, that’s not what I’m getting at. The police are going to go over this office with a fine-toothed comb, and I’m just wondering if there’s anything from earlier this year that we should keep to ourselves.”

He actually had a point. One night, several months ago, there had been a large duffel bag filled with automatic weapons, ammunition, and high-tech espionage equipment on her floor.

“No, nothing’s still here. Nick took everything with him when we left for Mt. Vernon.”

The thought of Nicholas Dean’s towering clean-cut visage carried with it a sense of security, and she wondered if it would be prudent to call their friend. He was a CIA agent, after all. If anyone could help, it was him.

“Good. The last thing we need is for the cops to find a loaded weapon in here. We have enough problems as it is.”

Outside of her office door she could see the parking lot, and a University squad car pulled up, lights flashing. Two very serious-looking officers parked on the sidewalk and headed inside.

“I’ll stay quiet. You do the talking, and tell them the truth. If they don’t offer, I’d suggest checking the cameras to see if we can get a look at the burglars.”

A heavy knock sounded on her open door.

“Dr. Erika Carr?”

“Yes, that’s me. Thank you for coming.”

She offered each officer a seat across from her desk, which they declined.

“Would you please tell us what was stolen?”

She launched into a brief description of the artifacts, describing them vaguely as Revolutionary documents. Parker remained quiet the entire time, gaze locked on the uniformed patrolmen.

The younger of the two, broad-shouldered with a square jaw, took notes as she spoke. His senior partner, whose thick mustache brought to mind Burt Reynolds, asked the questions. He inspected the safe intently, questioning her repeatedly about the large amount of cash inside. The fact that it remained obviously puzzled the man.

“Well, Dr. Carr, I think that’s everything we need. My partner will check to see if anything was caught on the surveillance system, and if we identify any possible suspects, I’ll need you to come down and view the footage.”

“Certainly. Thank you for coming.”

“I suggest you put in for a new door lock. The maintenance team can give you an upgrade on this old thing.”

He rattled the lock as they departed.

“Have a nice day. If anything else happens, call us immediately.”

Parker had remained silent the entire time, but as soon as the officers were gone, he shot from the chair like he’d been bitten.

“We should leave. Get everything you’ll need for a few days, anything that might help us figure out what the hell’s going on with those letters, and let’s go.”

His energy flowed through the room, sweeping her back from the valley of self-pity and reinvigorating her spirits. Parker was right. Now wasn’t the time to be afraid. It was time to get angry and do something about it.

“I have some high-resolution pictures of the letters.” Erika flitted about the room, gathering what she needed for the search. “I also have a few ideas about what to look for next. Give me a hand.”

Against police orders, she opened the safe and removed several thousand dollars.

“You never know when we might need it.”

The money went into her purse, along with a thumb drive containing photos of the letters. Her document preservation and inspection tools were shoved into Parker’s arms, and they were ready to roll.

“What do you think about heading back to my place? I need a computer, and my gun is there.”

After they’d nearly been killed a few months ago, Parker had insisted she buy a handgun and learn how to use it. A lifelong sportsman himself, Parker had been impressed with how quickly she had picked up the sport.