Secrets of the Dead (8 page)

And it was imperative that she return to her job at the State Department with her cover firmly intact.

The frigid outside was the only thing that could make Eve grateful to reach the shabby apartment. Heat greeted them when they stepped inside, which wasn’t always the case so she didn’t take it for granted. She went directly to the vent next to the couch and stood over it for a couple of minutes, thawing out. Declan went immediately to the closet and withdrew the detection device to begin the same methodical search he enacted each time they returned to the place.

Finally warming enough to take off her gloves, Eve removed them and crossed to hang up her coat. Halted in her tracks when Declan turned toward her, one finger to his lips.

The device in his hand had a small red light that was blinking rapidly. He took a couple of steps toward the bedroom and the flickering slowed. He turned and took a few strides toward the kitchen area and it sped up.

“Bug or camera?” she asked in Scottish Gaelic.

“This device would pick up either, but it’s definitely a bug.” He lowered the instrument to scan the small space with his gaze.

An icy finger traced down her spine. Someone had been busy today while they met with Shuang. Declan had assured her that the security measures taken with the door and windows would ensure that no one could enter without them being alerted. Which made her wonder how a listening device had been planted.

Declan moved toward the ancient stove and peered above it. Going to his side the first thing Eve noticed was the light sprinkling of plaster dust on the appliance. Raising her gaze she saw a small dime sized spot she might have thought was a water hole in the wall a few feet above the stove.

“How did they get in?”

“They didn’t.” She followed him to the door, which he unlocked and they moved into the hallway. Saw the electrical plate screwed into the wall in a spot that would match up with the bug they’d found. White plaster dust on the floor was as telling as a shout.

Declan surprised her by heading back into the apartment. Trailing after him, she shut the door behind her and relocked it. Somehow securing the multiple locks no longer made her feel safe. “Aren’t you going to remove it?”

“Finding it gives us the advantage.” He returned the surveillance detection device to the closet shelf. “It’s doubtful the listener speaks our language, so there’s no danger of us giving anything away. And the detector has jamming capabilities if there’s ever a time we need more privacy.” His grin was just a bit ruthless. “Our new business partner doesn’t trust us, it seems. Which means she’s smart and careful. So are we.”

His words had a familiar adrenaline punching through Eve’s trepidation. The game of cat and mouse had begun. And from the looks of Declan’s smile he was looking forward to the challenge. The recognition had her feeling a sort of affinity with the man. Because she was more than ready start the assignment that would guarantee Royce Raiker’s safety.

_______

The property boasted
two attached garages, each large enough to house half a dozen vehicles. Adam had deliberately left the one on the far end of the house empty, and Jaid had soon learned why when a truck full of lumber had arrived shortly after they had. The mini half pipe ramp had taken less than a day to construct, but she’d often thought the structure had saved her—and Royce’s—sanity numerous times over the past weeks.

She watched him now, her nine-year bundle of energy, doing dazzling spins, Ollies and stall combinations on his skateboard. He wore a helmet and protective pads, although they hadn’t spared him a broken arm when he’d attempted a homemade ramp just over a year ago.

“Nice tail stall!” she called out as he executed a move he’d been practicing for weeks.

“You wanna try one?” came his response as he whizzed by again.

“I’m good on feet. Not necessarily on wheels.” When her cell vibrated in her pocket, she drew it out of her jeans while keeping an eye on her son. Sarah, the tutor they’d brought along, was taking a much-needed break, and Royce was not above trying an aerial move if he thought no one was watching.

“When’s Grandma gonna get here?”

“Soon.” She had to pitch her voice above the sound his board made on the ramp. “A couple more days probably.” Jaid moved away from the source of the noise as she brought the phone to her ear.

“I can tell from the background noise exactly where you’re at.”

“Adam.” There was a quick clutch of pleasure at her husband’s voice, despite the fact that they’d been married nearly a year after their relationship from a decade earlier had been rekindled. Given their history, the man knew her better than anyone else did. Perhaps too well. “You haven’t even been gone six hours. We’re really okay. I’m assuming you’ve made it to Atlanta all right.”

“Just left the briefing.” It had taken her days to convince him to accept the job consulting on a case for the Georgia Bureau of Investigation. He could fly back and forth as he wished, doing much of the work from this estate. There was no reason for both of them to stay here around the clock. Regardless of the luxury of the surroundings, being holed up for weeks on end was like being trapped in a state of suspended animation. Jaid eyed her son. Which was very close to the state Royce was attempting on the ramp. “Warning one,” she called out to him. He shot her an irrepressible grin, but did a quick kick turn and began to coast.

“It sounds like an intriguing case.” There was a black widow killer at work in Georgia, who had already left behind a trail of six dead men in her wake. From the little he’d told her about the case she’d predicted two women might be working as a team. She could admit, at least to herself, how much she missed the constant mental stimulation of working intriguing investigations, even though there was none as critical as the one that kept her glued to her son’s side.

“You may be correct about a pair of killers. There was something in the case files I’ll have to dig deeper into. But that’s not why I called.”

A layer of ice sheeted her stomach. “Gallagher made contact?”

“He did, yes. Their meeting was with a female. Xie Shuang. Chinese, according to Eve, although at this point there’s no way to know whom she may be working for. I was able to run the photos two of my people took through the international databases. No matches. Prints might be a better bet, but that may come later when Eve and Declan actually begin working with the woman.”

Jaid considered the information. Tiny steps toward the plan they’d put in place. It was likely only her imagination that progress was being made in infinitesimal increments. She throttled back her impatience. She wanted her son safe. Their lives back. Before she’d get either, they needed to catch the people who would put him at risk.

“Well, at least things are moving forward. Thanks for the update.” Her tone was wry. “It’s a special kind of hell to have to hear about the progress from afar.”

“There should be more to report in the next few days. With any luck they’ll try to move on the compound within a couple weeks.”

She heard something in his hesitation then that had her all her instincts alerting. “What else?”

“Nothing about the case. I did hear from Stephen Mulder today.”

“The man who owns this property.” Adam had rescued Mulder’s daughter from kidnappers not once, but twice in the past several years. Little wonder that all the man’s homes had been turned into fortresses. “Don’t tell me he has a hankering for the ocean?” Mulder’s Virginia Beach property had been put at their disposal. It was located on a secluded wooded peninsula with a private beach. Its large helicopter pad allowed Adam the freedom to move between here and the agency compound. Or further, as was the case this morning.

“I don’t want to alarm you. But he’s received some intelligence regarding a threat against his family that he’s taking quite seriously. He has no idea at this point in what manner it might present itself, but he’s upping his security on all his properties. He advised me to take precautions.”

She gave a humorless laugh. “It would be difficult to imagine this place with more security.”

“Even so. Your mother will be joining you there soon, and that will free up a couple more team members to join the security. It’s a distant possibility, but I’m already looking into alternate sites to evacuate to if it becomes necessary.”

The words hit her with the force of a left jab. “It all just keeps getting more complex.” She couldn’t prevent the bleakness from sounding in her words. Her mother could be difficult under the best of circumstances, but the trials she’d been having with a hip replacement, then a subsequent fall and follow up surgery would try anyone’s patience. Patricia Marlowe’s recovery and necessary therapy had caused constant delays in reuniting the woman with the rest of the family here. And her presence on the property would also complicate a rapid response in case they were compelled to leave this compound quickly.

“Jaid.” His voice softened a fraction. “At this point it’s merely a safeguard.”

“Just another few weeks,” she murmured, her gaze on her son. “Maybe three. We’re so close.”

“Keep thinking that way. And Stephen will update me as new intelligence comes in. If we need to clear out, we have options.”

Of course they did. They said their goodbyes, and she tucked the cell back in her pocket. But they’d spent a great deal of time discussing it and thought
this
property was the best option available. Royce slowed, and jumped off his skateboard. “I’m thirsty. Can I get a Gatorade?”

Jaid forced a smile. “You may.”

“Sweet.” He unstrapped his helmet and set it on the board. “By the time I get all this gear off, I’ll probably need two.”

“By two I assume you mean a Gatorade and a water.” She trailed behind him as they entered the house. Surely the property could be secured for the next few weeks. Because as much as she was coming to hate the constant confinement, she was just as reluctant to change hiding places when this ordeal was so close to coming to an end.

_______

“There’s been an
incident.”

Xie Shuang looked up from the computer she was using to communicate with Gallagher. Like most men, he believed that his assistance was worth far more than what she was willing to pay. She pressed send to email her latest offer before focusing on Malsovic.

“Now what?”

“You need to come quickly.” He stepped aside as she got up and rounded the desk, checking the clock on the wall. It was past twelve. If his tone hadn’t been enough of a warning, the time would be. In her experience nothing good happened in a hotel after midnight.

“Where are we going?” She spoke in English, her voice snappish. She followed him to the employee elevator, which was reserved for cargo.

“Eleventh floor. Room 1107.” He stabbed the appropriate button impatiently with a forefinger. “It’s Dajana. She’s dead.”

Xie said nothing more, even when the elevator doors closed behind them and they were assured of privacy. There was nothing to say. She’d assess the situation, and then she’d take action. It was what she had done for more than twenty years. Fix other people’s messes. It was a job she’d become quite adept at, although it was frequently wearisome.

When they arrived at room 1107 she turned to the man next to her. “Film everything.” She had to knock several times before the door was opened by Khalid, one of the assistant managers. “You must take care of this.” He yanked her into the room with a hand on her arm. Malsovic followed them inside the room silently, pulling out his cell phone. “It is a police matter. The publicity. Very bad.”

Ignoring him, Shuang looked at the overweight man sitting on the small couch, his robe revealing far more than she wanted to see of his nudity beneath. He held his head in his hands, and another man sat nearby, murmuring to him in urgent tones.

She crossed toward the bed, tilting her head to survey the scene with clinical detachment. Dajana was most certainly dead. She lay on the floor next to the bed, on her back, wearing only a wisp of black panties. Her arms and legs were splayed, her neck twisted at an odd angle. Crouching next to the body Shuang could see the tiny, ruptured capillaries in her wide staring eyes. Strangled.

Rising, she turned to approach the man on the couch. One of the Germans, she recalled suddenly. He and his friends had been in the dining room this morning. “English?”

The man who’d killed Dajana didn’t look up. His friend did. “
Ja.
Yes.”

“Your friend has done a bad thing. This girl…” She waved a hand toward the body on the floor. “Her family is very powerful. They will be angry. There will be police. Jail time.”

“It was an accident. The girl…she liked to play rough. Begged for it. Hans would not hurt anyone on purpose.”

Shuang’s lip curled. But she only said, “It is a tragedy for all. I would like to help, but only money helps in situations like this. Silence is expensive.”

Hans finally raised his head. He had thick lips set in a fleshy face. His thinning hair stood on end. “You can silence the family?”

Easy enough to promise since Dajana’s people were halfway across the world. “For a price. And then there’s this mess to clean up.” She gave a wave of her hand. “But it can be done if you are willing.”

“That man.” The friend pointed at Malsovic, who was doing as she’d ordered and filming the scene. “What is he doing?”

“Protecting all of us. This agreement we have—it is an agreement, yes? Both sides are vulnerable. The one who killed the girl and the one who offers to cover it up.” After a long moment the other German nodded and looked away.

Stupidity. It was all Shuang could do not to shout at the man. Of course when they were done with the recording, she would be cut from the frames. And all that would be left was the damning shots of the dead girl and her obese killer begging for a cover up.

“How much?” This from Hans. Tears tracked down one pudgy cheek. Since they’d been absent until now Shuang could only guess that it was the thought of parting with his money, and not the dead girl that saddened him. “How much to make this all go away?”