Stephanie said, "I don't know. All I have is the location, not the timing."
"Why would they target an arena?" Selena wondered. "It's not a strategic target."
"Neither was the center of Novosibirsk," Nick said.
"People," Lamont said. "If there was a big event, the place would be packed with people. This weapon makes people crazy. There would be a massive riot."
"Like in Novosibirsk," Ronnie said. "Only it would be worse. All those people crammed in together. They would tear each other apart."
"It would be worse than Novosibirsk," Selena said. "London is much more crowded. The government would have to come down hard to stop it."
"They would declare a state of emergency and suspend civil liberties," Elizabeth said.
"But when the riots were over, the restrictions would be lifted. Wouldn't they?" Selena brushed a strand of hair away from her forehead.
"That depends on who is in control," Elizabeth said. "It's a lot easier to keep the lid on once the troops have been called out. You just keep the rhetoric going. You know, terrorist attack, threat to the nation, more attacks planned."
"That's cynical, Elizabeth."
"I prefer to think of it as being realistic," she said.
"What are we going to do about it?" Nick asked.
"We need to know what's happening at that arena. Stephanie, can you call up a schedule for the O2 on the monitor?"
Stephanie entered a few commands and a webpage came up with a list of events that were scheduled.
"Busy," Steph said.
"How many does the arena seat for one of the events?" Selena said.
"According to this, around 20,000," Steph said.
"I don't even want to think about 20,000 people going mad all at once," Nick said. "How do we know which event they're going to target?"
"We don't," Harker said. "We have to assume it could be any of them."
"They'd want to affect as many people as possible," Nick said. "Is anything coming up that's sold out?"
Steph scrolled through the list. "Yes, one. There's a concert this Saturday night featuring a British rock singer. I've seen him on television. He's got that same kind of electric energy Springsteen had when he did
Born to Run
."
"We have to let the Brits know there's a terrorist attack coming," Elizabeth said. "I know the Director of MI5. I'll talk with him. He'll get you inside the arena."
"We need to plan out the mission," Nick said. "I want Lamont in on this one."
Elizabeth looked at Lamont. Burps was still on his lap, with his paws in the air. Lamont was busy scratching his stomach.
"How are you feeling, Lamont?" she said.
"I'm fine, Director."
"You're up for a mission?"
"I'm going nuts sitting around here, Director. I'm okay, really."
"All right. Nick, you'd better get to it. You only have a few days before the concert. I'll book you on a commercial flight to London."
"The people behind this don't like us much," Nick said. "They could be waiting for us to show up."
"They could. I suggest you stay alert."
"That's it? Stay alert?"
"What do you expect me to say? This isn't a deep cover mission. MI5 will meet you in England."
"What about weapons?"
"Leave them here. The Brits have been sticky about Americans carrying guns lately. You'll have to get something from them." Harker paused. "Try not to step on any toes while you're there."
As they were walking out to the parking lot, Nick took Lamont aside.
"You really feeling okay, Shadow?"
"Yeah, I'm good Nick. I threw away those pills and I feel a lot better."
"Pretty soon to come back after a hit like that."
"Really Nick, I'm fine."
Nick looked at his friend and hoped it was true.
CHAPTER 27
The next morning, Nick and Selena sat next to each other on the flight to England. The Atlantic Ocean was a monotonous gray seascape far below. The first class seats were wide and comfortable, covered with cool, gray leather. Selena had upgraded their tickets. She didn't flout her wealth, but she saw no reason why she shouldn't make life easier with it. Lamont and Ronnie were two rows back.
Nick leaned back and closed his eyes.
Beats a C130,
Nick thought. He couldn't remember how many hours he'd spent inside the cold aluminum belly of some droning transport, sitting on a strap bench, weighted down with gear and heading for some godforsaken place where people wanted to kill him.
"Nick," Selena said.
Nick opened his eyes.
Selena said, "I need to tell Elizabeth about that file."
"What brought this on?"
"At first I thought that if Elizabeth knew about my father she'd want me off the team. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized you were right."
"About what?"
"When you said that I wasn't my father and that I was being biblical if I thought she would judge me because of what he was supposed to have done."
"So why do you want to tell her about it now?" Nick asked.
"I want to know who killed my family, if he's still alive. There isn't any way I can find that out on my own. I need help to get into the KGB files. Elizabeth has to okay that. Besides, it doesn't feel right to keep hiding this from her. What if someone discovers that my father is supposed to have sold secrets to the Russians? It could all come back on her."
"Adam told me that file is the only copy," Nick said.
"It may be the only copy Langley had but there must be something in the Russian files. They're even more obsessive about paperwork than we are. Even if it is the only copy, someone else may know what's in it."
Nick considered what she had said. "I suppose it's possible. It would be difficult to prove without hard evidence."
"All it would take is the accusation," Selena said. "It could make a lot of trouble for Elizabeth."
"What will you do if you find out that the assassin is still around?" Nick asked.
"I don't know. I'll figure that out when I need to."
Three hours later they landed at Heathrow.
Harker's MI5 contact was waiting for them. He was about 40 years old and looked like something out of a TV series made for PBS. He was dressed in a tailored blue suit with pinstripes. His white shirt gleamed. His tie was made of silk and probably told someone who understood the pattern what exclusive school he had attended.
"George Wigland," he said. "I'm your minder while you're visiting, Mister Carter. Let's hope your journey here is uneventful. Did you bring weapons?"
"No."
"Good. Then that's not a problem. We really don't want you going around armed, do we? I'm sure they won't be necessary."
"We were told you would provide them," Nick said. "We've had authorization to carry weapons in England before."
"It's not negotiable, I'm afraid. You won't need them. We'll take care of that."
"I hope you're right, Mister Wigland."
Ronnie lifted an eyebrow. Nick decided to keep his thoughts to himself. If Wigland thought this was going to be a walk in the park that was his business.
"Why don't you fill me in on the way to your hotel?" Wigland said. "We have a car waiting."
Nick briefed him during the ride in from the airport. Wigland didn't seem very interested in what Nick had to say. It was early evening. They agreed to meet in the morning. Wigland dropped them in front of the hotel and drove away. They watched him go.
"He doesn't seem too concerned about someone turning London into a kill zone," Lamont said.
"No," Nick said, "he doesn't."
"No weapons?" Ronnie said. "I know someone here who could help us out."
"I don't want to piss off the Brits. It would get Harker in trouble and she has enough on her plate right now. Maybe Wigland is right and we won't need them."
"Yeah, maybe. Maybe I'll win the lotto next time I buy a ticket."
"I'll talk to Harker. She might be able to get him to change his mind. Let's check in."
The hotel was a famous, exclusive landmark in the heart of London, overlooking Trafalgar Square. Selena had reserved a suite on the top floor.
The door to their room closed behind the bellhop. Nick eyed the perfect carpet and cream-colored furniture. No one could accuse the management of cutting corners when it came to providing for the luxury of its guests. The room was like something out of a designer magazine.
Nick gestured at the carpet. "Are we allowed to walk on this? And look at that furniture. I'm almost afraid to sit down."
Selena laughed. "Nice, isn't it? It would be hard to live with, though. You can't take care of something like this without an army of maids."
Five minutes later there was a light knock on the door. Nick opened it for Ronnie and Lamont. Ronnie took one look and whistled.
"Nice digs. And I thought my room was something." He looked out the window at the square and a tall column with a statue on top. "Who's the guy on the pillar?"
"Admiral Lord Nelson," Selena said. "England's greatest naval hero. He defeated a superior French fleet at the Battle of Trafalgar and saved England. He was killed in the battle."
"The heroes always are," Lamont said. "Most of them don't get statues."
"Let's get down to business," Nick said. He sat on the couch with Selena. Ronnie and Lamont took chairs. Nick spread out plans of the O2 arena on a low table in front of the couch.
"Big," Ronnie said.
Nick nodded. "Besides the arena, there are restaurants, shops and a movie theater. There are a million places where someone could hide something."
"Bad odds," Lamont said.
"Best we've got."
"We can't search that whole complex," Lamont said.
"We don't have to. Wigland and his boys will have a team going through the place looking for anything suspicious. Our job is to watch the crowd, in case someone brings it in with them."
"You don't think they'd plant it ahead of time?" Ronnie said.
"They might, but the opposition probably knows we're on to them. If they place it ahead of time, it could be found. I think they'll wait until the last minute."
Selena said, "If this weapon makes people crazy, why would they have their agent in place when it goes off?"
"He won't know what he's carrying," Nick said. "The man who placed the receiver in Russia is dead. He was just a patsy."
Everyone had seen the video of the murderous riots in Novosibirsk, the images of rage and fear. No one mentioned the fact that if they failed to stop the attack, they would be affected like everyone else.
"How big is this thing?" Ronnie asked.
"Hard to tell from what the Russians found. Maybe the size of a camera or a portable radio."
"You don't see those anymore," Lamont said. "Now everybody listens to their phone."
"Nobody is going to be listening to a radio at a rock concert," Selena said. "Or their phone either."
"Yeah, but they'll all be taking pictures with their phones." Ronnie scratched his nose. "We'd better hope this thing doesn't look like one of those."
"How do we pick one person out of 20,000?" Selena said. "The more we look at this, the more impossible it seems."
Nick tugged on his ear. "Let's narrow things down. Brainstorm it with a few assumptions."
"Where do you want to start?" Ronnie said.
"Think like the opposition. How do I get the maximum effect I want?"
"Well," Selena said, "if I'm sending someone in and I don't want them to know that they're about to get killed, I need them to feel comfortable. Safe. I need to distract them until I activate the device."
"Okay," Nick said. "It's a rock concert. How does anyone get comfortable at a rock concert?"
"You need a really good seat," Ronnie said. "Somewhere near the band, where you can see everything. If you're up in the bleachers, it's like watching ants from a distance. If I wanted someone to be thinking about anything except the package they were carrying, I'd get them the best seat in the house."
"That would be right up near the stage. Do they have seats there?"
Selena pointed at the seating diagram. "There's stadium seating on three sides of the arena and the stage on the fourth, then this big flat space in front of the stage. They probably fill that up with people standing. They might run a walkway out from the stage into the crowd."
"You see that a lot at a big concert," Lamont said.
"So," Nick said, "no seats right in front of the stage but they do have them on the sides. Big standing crowd in front. "
"The floor will be a mob scene," Ronnie said. "I don't want to be in the middle of that if that thing goes off."
"Then I guess we'd better make damn sure it doesn't," Nick said, "since there's a good chance that's exactly where we'll be."
"How is our patsy going to get a package through security?" Selena asked. "There's bound to be security. There always is at a big event. Don't they have metal detectors?"
"I don't know what their security looks like. I'll ask Wigland."
Later, they went down to the hotel restaurant. The room gleamed with Italian marble. Glittering crystal chandeliers hung from a ceiling far above. Nick wondered how they reached all those dangling facets to keep them dust free. The lighting was subdued. The tables were covered with white linen. The diners were elegantly dressed, some in formal evening clothes. It was if he had stepped back into an earlier time, into an England that no longer existed.
Later, Selena and Nick left Ronnie and Lamont at their floor and continued up another two stories in the elevator. The bed had been turned down. Mints had been left on the pillow.
Selena showered first. When Nick came out of the bathroom, she was already under the covers. He got in and turned toward her.
"This bed is too good to pass up," he said. "I'm not tossing around like I did. I don't think I'm likely to hit you in my sleep."
"I don't care if you toss around," she said. "But if you hit me while you're asleep I'm going to hit you back, so don't say I didn't give you fair warning."
Nick reached across and touched her face.