The King's Deception

Miss Mary took it from his grasp. “Perhaps we should answer.” She studied the screen. “It’s only an email alert, not a call.”

“You’re good with that thing.”

She smiled. “I do a respectable business in book sales from the Internet.”

He watched as she punched the screen a few times.

“It’s from a gentleman who says he was successful in opening the files on the drive. Attached is the password-protected file, as requested.”

Ian knew exactly what that meant. “There were three files on the drive I lifted. One could not be opened without a password. Malone said experts could get around that.”

“That they can,” Miss Mary said. “I think I will forward this email to my own account.”

He smiled. “That way we can read it?”

“I certainly hope so.”

She punched the screen and waited a few moments. “There. It’s gone. Now to delete the fact that I sent something from this phone. That should give us a little cover from Mr. Antrim noticing.”

She handed the phone back to him.

“Place it in the office. On the desk. He can wonder how it found its way there.”

“He’ll never believe that.”

“Maybe not. But we won’t be anywhere around.”

* * *

Antrim followed a cortege into the Royal Jewel House, located within the walls of the Tower of London. The voice on the phone from Daedalus had proposed a safe location, and no better one could have been chosen. Security was everywhere, from armed guards, metal detectors, and cameras, to motion sensors. The hall was packed with tourists, all eager to view the British royal regalia of crowns, scepters, orbs, and swords proudly displayed behind wafers of bulletproof glass. No way to bring a weapon in here and little chance existed of anything bad happening since the entrance and exit were both heavily protected.

He felt a little better, but not much.

He wondered why this meeting was necessary.

He listened to one of the tour guides explaining how the Crown Jewels were, during World War II, moved from the nearby Wakefield Tower to an underground chamber beneath the Waterloo Barracks for secure keeping. There, a magnificent star-shaped case had been constructed and elaborately lit to showcase one of the last set of crown jewels left in the world. But the swarm of visitors that flocked each year to view them had proven too much for the cramped chamber and this larger location, back at ground level, was built.

Bright sunshine from outside was replaced by a cool semidarkness. A wide corridor led forward, equipped with a conveyor-belt walkway designed to keep viewers moving. The cases themselves were illuminated with a combination of halogen floods and miniature lasers. The effect was magical. Another impressive British display.

Gary was outside, wandering the tower grounds. He’d told him not to leave the walled enclosure and that he would not be long inside.

“This is quite a spectacle,” a female voice said from behind.

He turned.

And was shocked by who he saw.

Denise Gérard.

* * *

Gary roamed the grounds outside the Jewel House. He stopped at a sign that identified the magnificent White Tower, which dominated the enclosure. He’d already examined the Tower Green, near the spot where, one of the uniformed Beefeaters had explained, executions once took place. Two of Henry VIII’s wives lost their heads there, as had Lady Jane Grey, a seventeen-year-old who ruled for nine days as queen until Mary, Henry VIII’s first daughter, chopped her head off, too.

His gaze focused on the White Tower and he read the sign. Its hundred-foot walls of stone formed an uneven quadrilateral, defended on the corners by three square towers and one round one. Once the exterior had been whitewashed, giving the building its name, but now its stone glistened a golden brown. High above, the Union Jack fluttered in a light breeze. He knew that this ancient citadel was one of the symbols of England, like the Statue of Liberty was to America.

He wondered what they were doing here. They hadn’t spoken much on the taxi ride over. Antrim had simply said that there were a few loose ends he had to deal with, which shouldn’t take long, then they’d return to the warehouse and wait for his dad to call. He’d asked about speaking to his mother and Antrim had assured him that they would do that, too.

She needs to hear from you, Antrim had said. Then I need to speak with her again, too. But we should talk to your dad first.

He agreed.

That should be first.

The day was bright and sunny, the sky a deep blue. Lots of people were visiting the site. Antrim had bought them both tickets to the grounds, which he noticed also included access to the Jewel House, where Antrim had gone.

What was happening inside?

Why were they here?

He decided to find out.

* * *

Antrim was in shock. “What are you doing here?”

Denise looked gorgeous, wearing a pale blue bouclé skirt with a stylish jacket.

“I’m what they wanted you to see.”

He was confused and cautious.