* * *

Ian listened as the four adults talked. Malone had finished his call and told them that his former boss, a woman named Stephanie Nelle, had confirmed that Antrim was focused on Northern Ireland — he’d listened to the history — and on some Arab terrorist who was about to be released from a Scottish jail. The Americans wanted the British to stop the release, and to get them to do that they intended on finding evidence that Elizabeth I was not what she appeared, calling into question her entire reign, throwing into doubt the legitimacy of Northern Ireland itself.

“What a reckless scheme,” Malone said.

“And a dangerous one,” Richards said. “I can see why Mathews is concerned. It would not take much to reignite massive amounts of violence within Northern Ireland. Periodically, there are attacks here and there from both sides. The fight is definitely not over. It’s just simmering, each waiting for a good reason to start killing the other.”

“The peace was made,” Tanya said, “because at the time it was the only course. The British are there, in Northern Ireland. They aren’t leaving. And killing people wasn’t accomplishing anything.”

“Think what would happen if the truth were known,” Miss Mary quietly said. “If Elizabeth I was indeed a fraud. That means everything done during that reign was fraudulent. Void. Illegal.”

“Including every acre of land seized and every land grant made in Northern Ireland,” Malone said. “Not one would have any legal effect. The six counties that form the country were all seized by Elizabeth.”

“Would it matter?” Tanya asked. “After five hundred years?”

“Definitely,” Malone said. “It’s like if I sold you my house and you live there for decades. Then one day someone shows up with proof that the deed I gave you is a fraud. I didn’t have the power to actually convey title to you in the first place. It’s elementary real property law that the deed would be void. Of no legal effect. Any court here, or in America, would have to respect the true title to that land, not the fraudulent act of my transfer.”

“A battle that would be fought in court,” Richards said.

“But one the Irish would win,” Malone added.

“Worse, though,” Richards said. “The truth alone would be more than enough for Unionists and Nationalists to restart the Troubles. Only this time they’d actually have a legal reason to fight. You can almost hear the Irish Nationalists. They’ve been trying to get the British to leave for 500 years. Now they’d scream, Your fake queen invaded our country and stole our land. The least you can do is give it back and leave. But that wouldn’t happen. London would resist. It would have to. They’ve never abandoned the Unionists in Northern Ireland, and they won’t start now. There are billions of pounds invested there. London would have to stand and fight. Whether that’s in court or in the streets. It would be an all-out war. Neither side would bend.”

“Of course,” Malone said to her, “if your government would simply stop Edinburgh from handing a murderer back to Libya, there wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I don’t like that any more than you do. But that doesn’t excuse this foolhardy tactic. Do you know how many thousands of people could die from this?”

“Which is why I’m going to give the flash drive to Mathews,” Malone said.

“And what about Ian?” Richards asked.

“Good question. What about me?”

Malone faced him. “You know that Mathews wants you dead.”

He nodded.

“The question is,” Malone said, “how far is he willing to go to clean up this mess? Especially now that a lot more people know about it. He has more than one loose end. So I’ll take care of that, too.”

Malone looked at Richards.

“We have to go.”

“Sir Thomas never mentioned me coming.”

“I need your help.”

“I’m going, too,” Ian said.

“Like hell. Mathews never mentioned you on the phone. That means one of two things. He doesn’t know where you are, or he’s waiting for us to leave to make a move. I’d say the former. Too much happened too fast for him to know anything. If he did, he’d have acted already. Also, I need you out of the way so I can bargain for your safety. If he has you I have no bargaining power.”

Malone faced the twin sisters.

“Stay put here, with Ian, until you hear from me.”

“And what happens if we never hear from you?” Miss Mary asked.

“You will.”

Fifty-seven

Antrim approached the construction site, Gary walking with him. The old Blackfriars tube station had been demolished, replaced by a shiny, glass-fronted building that seemed about half complete. A plywood wall separated the work site from the sidewalk, the Thames within sight less than a hundred yards away. A newly reconstructed Victorian rail bridge now spanned the river, upon which was being built a modern railway station. He’d read somewhere that this was London’s first transportation center ever built over water.