The Book of Spies

15

JUDD RYDER was puzzled. He walked west down the wide boulevard in front of the Meridien hotel and crossed Piccadilly Place, then Swallow Street, studying traffic. According to his electronic reader, The Book of Spies was in the middle of the boulevard, still moving, but more quickly than the vehicles. How could that be? He checked the altitude--and swore.
The bug was belowground. Sewer lines ran beneath the boulevard. Whoever had The Book of Spies had flushed the bug Tucker had planted on it.
He turned on his heel. It was possible the book was still in the hotel. As he hurried back, he took out his Secure Mobile Environment Portable Electronic Device--an SME-PED handheld computer. With it he could send classified e-mail, access classified networks, and make top-secret phone calls. Created under guidelines from the National Security Agency, it appeared ordinary, like a BlackBerry; and while either on or off secure mode, could be operated like any smart phone with Internet access.
Keeping it in secure mode, he speed-dialed Tucker Andersen's direct line at Catapult headquarters.
"I've been waiting to hear from you, Judd," Tucker said. "What have you learned?"
He crossed Piccadilly Street to where he could watch the hotel's entrance. He settled back into the shadows. "I've got a shocker for you. Charles Sherback didn't die in that car crash. He's still very much alive." He described what had happened in the museum, following Eva Blake from the police station, and witnessing Sherback's attempt to run her down. "The bottom line is planting The Book of Spies worked--we got a bite. But what it means that Sherback is alive I sure as hell don't know yet. There's another big wrinkle--The Book of Spies has been stolen, and the thieves dumped the bug."
Tucker's voice rose. "You don't know where the book is?"
"It may be in the Meridien hotel. The bug was there until a few minutes ago. Sherback was taking photos or making a video of the book in the museum, and the way things are going, it seems likely to me he and the book are together or he knows where it is. According to Blake, he's had cosmetic surgery. As soon as I hang up, I'll e-mail you the video I made at the Rosenwald show. I've keyed it on him. See if his new face is in any of our data banks. And find out who's buried in his grave in L.A. That could lead us to whoever helped him disappear."
"I'll make both priorities."
"You also need to know I had to tell Blake I'm working for you and the connection to Dad and the Library of Gold."
There was a pause. "I understand. What do you think of her?"
"She seems as functional as you or me. She's smart and tough."
"She's also beautiful and athletic. And vulnerable. Just your type. Don't like her too much, Judd."
Ryder said nothing. Tucker had researched him more than he realized.
When Ryder continued, his voice was brusque. "Blake is going to a hotel for the night. Whether I do anything more with her depends on what I find out next."
"With luck you can send her home," Tucker decided. "She did a good job, but I don't like employing amateurs."
Ryder wanted to see her again, but Tucker was right. It would be better for her if he did not. He had a lousy track record for keeping those he cared about alive. As he thought about it, he checked the other bug his reader was tracking--it was moving, too, but not toward Chelsea. It was headed north . . . toward him?