“You got a bathroom?” Nick asked.
The bartender hesitated, then said, “Loo’s back there.”
Nick went down the narrow hallway, found the empty men’s room and an empty women’s room that was probably never used. He pushed open the third door and scanned the small kitchen. Nobody was here.
He pushed open the back door and glanced up and down the filthy alley. Nick was about to go back inside, then stopped himself and looked up at the second-story windows. How do you get up there?
Nick came back down the hallway, into the bar.
“All set, mate?” the bartender said.
“How about one quick pint,” Nick said, sitting on one of the stools.
“We’ll be closing soon.”
“Just one. Then I’ll be on my way.”
The bartender tilted a glass and filled it, put it in front of Nick, then walked to the other end of the bar to watch the match. So much for Nick stalling, making conversation, or anything else that might help him figure out where his father had gone.
A minute later, another man walked in. He was wearing an old tweed jacket and a bow tie, but otherwise he looked just as uncomfortable and just as out of place as Nick. “I’m Professor Lewis,” he said to the bartender. “I believe they’re expecting me?”
The bartender put his rag down. “Right this way, Professor.”
He led Professor Lewis to the hallway. Nick leaned back to watch what was happening, but lost sight of them as they turned the corner. The bartender returned a few seconds later, alone.
“Thank you, sir,” Nick said. “You have a great evening.” He threw a few pound notes on the bar and walked out.
When he was at the end of the block, he made a right turn, worked his way back to the alley, and found the back door of the pub. He opened it quietly. This time, as he made his way up the hallway, he felt along the surface of the ancient wooden wall.
His fingers hit a vertical seam. He kept going until he hit another seam. This could be a hidden door, he thought. He tapped lightly. It sounded hollow. He pressed against one side of the panel, then the other side.
From the bar, he heard footsteps approaching the hallway. The bartender’s coming back here, Nick thought.
Nick pushed on the wall again, higher, then lower. The footsteps were getting closer. He pushed one more time and felt it give, then the panel slid all the way open and he stepped inside, closing the panel behind him.
* * *
Kate tailed Nick to Whitechapel Road and watched him go into the little pub with no name. She still couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched herself.
She was about to approach the pub when Nick came back out. She ducked into a doorway, holding her breath as he walked by. A few seconds passed. She poked her head back out, looked down the street. He was gone. Damn, I can’t lose him, she thought. Kate hurried down to the end of the block, but still didn’t see him.
She guessed to the right, went in that direction, came to the alley, and spotted Nick. She darted back just in time to avoid being made. When she peeked around the corner, he had disappeared again. Kate went down the alley and found the back door to the pub. He must have gone in here, she thought. But why? He just walked out the front door a minute ago.
She cracked open the door, in time to see the bartender leaving the men’s room. Moving down the hallway, she stopped for one moment, pushed the men’s door open. The bathroom was empty.
Kate continued into the bar. The bartender was wiping down some glasses and looked over at her like, what the hell?
“Where is he?” she asked him.
“Where’s who, luv?”
“The man who came in here.”
“He wasn’t here more than a minute,” the bartender said. “Then he was on his way.”
Kate came closer to the bar, took out her FBI badge. With no official jurisdiction, no official reason for this guy to give her the time of day, she knew she’d have to really sell this next part. “I’m going to ask you again,” she said, flashing the shield. “Where is he?”
The bartender looked at the badge, his world clearly not rocked one tiny bit. “I think we’ve already covered it, luv. Your man came in and left.”
“He snuck around to the alley and came in the back door. He’s not in the bathroom. So where is he?”
The bartender stopped smiling. “Bloody hell,” he said, throwing down his bar rag and moving quickly to the hallway.
* * *
Nick stood motionless inside the doorway. He waited for the sound of footsteps to end, let out his breath, and turned toward the stairs behind him. A dim glow of light was coming from somewhere above. He heard voices. Nick couldn’t quite make out what they were saying. He took a step on the old boards, winced at the squeak, then kept going.
“Auf dem Turm, Deutschland Siegt Auf Allen Fronten,” he heard one voice say. It sounded like the professor who had just come in.
“On the tower, Germany is victorious on all fronts,” the man said. “Which makes sense, because those were the exact words hanging on the tower. They cut the cables, you know, so that nobody could use the lift. They didn’t want someone to sneak up and cut the banner down.”
“Are you saying that’s where the treasure is?” It was Nick’s father’s voice. “That’s impossible.”
“I’m just telling you what I see here,” Lewis said. “These runes in the center section, they call them the Elder Futhark. They go back to the eighth century. It’s a code, very common for the Nazis. Hitler was obsessed with the occult, with astrology, ancient symbols, omens.”
Nick stayed frozen where he was, listening intently.
“Can you decipher the code?” his father asked.
“I need to see more of it. Are there other documents?”
Before Nick could hear another word, the hidden door opened behind him. He turned to see the bartender, with Kate standing beside him. Nick didn’t have more than one second to react when he heard a riot of heavy footsteps coming through the front door of the pub. Kate pushed the bartender toward the back door, pulled the Glock from her belt, and aimed it down the hallway. A bullet passed over her head and dug into the doorway. She returned fire.
“Move!” she said, coming up toward Nick.
As Nick hit the top of the stairs, the three men in the room were already in motion. Duckworth had his own semiautomatic drawn and Quentin Fox was rolling up the map, while the professor just looked like he was deciding which window to jump out of. Quentin pushed open another secret door on the far wall, grabbed the professor by his tweed coat, and pulled him through.
Duckworth aimed his barrel at Nick. “Don’t move,” he said. “I’ll put one right through your eye hole!”
“Captain, it’s me,” Nick said, raising his hands. “I’m Quentin’s son.”
Duckworth froze, trying to understand what he was hearing.
Kate flew into the room, firing back down the staircase. “Get down!” she said.
Nick took cover behind the upended table, but Duckworth was an old SAS man and there was only one thing he knew how to do. He joined Kate at the stop of the stairs and fired down at the intruders.