Her Silent Shadow: A Gripping Psychological Suspense Collection

by Edwin Dasso

As you do.

  The return of the region to the shamanistic tradition of Tengrism had spelled the end of the brief conversion to Manichaeism. And it had left behind a mystery that lingered since the site’s discovery in the 19th century.

  Until now.

  A new approach to carbon dating the site had led researchers to discover that it was built in 777, which was fascinating all on its own. The date put the structure’s construction during the life and reign of Tengri Bögü Khan—the khan who had forced the region to switch from the traditional shamanistic Tengrism to Manichaeism. Which, inevitably, had led to the Khan being ousted and executed, as the region’s faith was restored to “normal.”

  These details were intriguing and lent volumes of speculation and insight to potential solutions to the enigma of Por-Bajin.

  But the reason the island fortress was currently occupying digital real estate on Kotler’s iPad was because the link to Manichaeism indicated that the layout of the structure may have more meaning than anyone had first assumed. It may have been designed to convey a secret message—one that hinted at a long-lost trove of knowledge, treasure, and wonder.

  Kotler simply loved troves of knowledge, treasure, and wonder.

  He sipped coffee while seated at his usual table, in front of the window facing a busy Manhattan sidewalk. This was a cafe he frequented, just a few blocks from his high-rise apartment. The owners and wait staff knew him by name, and knew that he was prone to long hours spent pondering whatever was on his iPad. They kept his coffee cup full, bless them.

  Kotler hadn’t had the chance to spend much time here lately, thanks to his work with the FBI. There had been months of travel during the latest “case,” and Kotler had found himself sleeping in uncomfortable, sometimes wretched conditions, occasionally dodging bullets or free-climbing his way out of death traps.

  Again, the usual.

  Kotler enjoyed the consulting work, however. Even the death traps. He spent a lot of time traveling, helping to keep nefarious people from doing despicable things, from using out-of-place history as a weapon or a tool for world domination or whatever dark purpose they had in mind. It was good and worthy work, worth the discomfort and the risks.

  He enjoyed all of it all the more, though, because his girlfriend—Dr. Liz Ludlum—happened to be the current Director of Historic Crimes.

  The two of them kept things strictly professional on the job, but just like the research he was studying now, Kotler tended to bring his work home with him. It was good to bring it home to someone who understood it and knew why he was doing it. Someone who understood that risk was part of the job, and that the job was worth doing, for the sake of making the world a safer place. Kotler couldn’t be more appreciative of Liz’s understanding.

  She’d given him the cases, after all.

  Well, him and his partner, Agent Roland Denzel—the FBI agent who had gotten Kotler into this line of work in the first place. And—though Denzel might be reluctant to admit it—Kotler’s best friend in the world.

  Their friendship wasn’t lifelong. They’d only met a few years earlier. But they were bonded by battle, having faced life-threatening challenges together. They knew and trusted each other. And, Kotler believed, there were few who were more loyal, dedicated, and dependable than Agent Roland Denzel.

  As if merely contemplating his name had conjured the man himself, Kotler blinked as he spotted Denzel passing by the coffee shop window. The agent stopped, checked his phone, and then entered the shop. He stood in the doorway, looking around until he spotted Kotler, then joined him at the little table.

  “I figured I’d find you here, when you weren’t at your place,” Denzel said.

  “Why here?” Kotler asked. “Why not the university? The museum?”

  Denzel shrugged. “They don’t like you there as much as people like you here. And Hemingway’s was closed.”

  Hemingway’s was Kotler’s local pub of choice, and he had to admit that if the day had been just a little later, there was a good chance he’d be there. He had his own booth in that place as well. He tended to be a regular when he was in town.

  Kotler smiled and laughed, shaking his head. “Something up?” He sipped from his coffee.

  “You haven’t answered your text messages or your phone calls.”

  Kotler nodded, placing the cup down next to his iPad. “Liz ordered me to turn it all off for a couple of days.” He grinned, leaning back slightly. “I’m not allowed to play with you right now.”

  Liz Ludlum—Dr. Liz Ludlum—the Director of Historic Crimes, had been pretty busy lately. While still managing to keep the entire operation running, she was working long hours to get the new task force organized and populated with agents from the entire alphabet of US government law enforcement. She also spent most of her days courting experts from nearly every field.

  Historic Crimes was a new division of law enforcement itself—an inter-agency partnership run by a joint civilian and government oversight committee. Which, of course, meant it was a beast to organize and run.

  The agency’s motto was Ad serve historia, praesidio, homnibus.

  To serve history, and protect humanity.

  No small endeavor.

  Denzel had been asked to be her second-in-command for the task force. So far, he’d dragged his feet on accepting, though it seemed a natural fit. Kotler wasn’t sure why his friend was reluctant, and he respected him too much to ask. Denzel was a private person, and until he was ready to share, he wouldn’t. No sense poking around until he was ready.

  “She’s the one who had me find you,” Denzel replied. “Something’s come up. An agent’s gone missing. One of the civilian agents.”

  Kotler considered this. “Missing persons? Not typically my thing.”

  “It’s kind of an all-hands thing,” Denzel shrugged. “But you’ve been requested. There was a text message, and it contains something that made Ludlum think it might be best to bring you in.”

  “Text message?” Kotler asked.

  Denzel took out his phone and showed a screenshot to Kotler. “This was sent to the agent’s boyfriend.”

  Kyle, I need help! Still in Los Lunas. Found the Pit. Decalogue translations plus quantum encrypt totally worked. There’s a man with a face tattoo chasing me. He’s blocking every way out. No signal, so I’m hoping you get this. SEND HELP!

  Kotler looked up from the message, surprised.

  “You recognize it?” Denzel asked. “The deca-what’sit?”

  “The Decalogue stone in Los Lunas?” Kotler replied. He shook his head. “It’s sometimes called the Mystery stone. It’s… well, to be frank, it’s considered by most academics and researchers to be a fraud, perpetrated by Frank Hibbins back in the 30s.”

  Denzel nodded. “And what do you think?”

  Kotler considered this, shaking his head. “I’ve never been sure. Hibbins had a… well, let’s say a bad history. He’d been caught faking data to support his theories. Hibbins and others claimed the writing on the Decalogue stone was Paleo-Hebrew, or maybe Cypriotic Greek. Both languages that should have no place in New Mexico at that time, or any other, really. I’ve seen photos of the stone. The characters could be Phoenician, but again… not something you’d expect to find in New Mexico in the 30s.” He shook his head again. “I’ve never looked that closely at it. Never seen it in person.”

  Denzel nodded. “Well, you’re going to have your chance. Ludlum wants us both on a plane to New Mexico this afternoon.”

  Kotler huffed, blowing a breath out through pursed lips. “I’ll swing by my place and get my gear. Anyone going with us on this one?”

  Denzel scowled and shook his head again. “Yeah,” he said. “This time we’re bringing someone along.”

  Agent Eric Symon was seated in Director Ludlum’s office, looking past her empty desk at the Manhattan skyline. To his left was Agent Julia Mayher.

  The two of them had been partners in the FBI for some time now, brought together on the hunt for Al
ex Kayne—the brilliant creator of an advanced AI that someone in the government wanted badly enough to put nearly every government law enforcement agency on the case.

  Kayne was one of the most wanted fugitives Symon had ever hunted.

  She was also innocent.

  That was what Symon believed, at any rate, after pursuing her for months. He knew her pretty well, by this point. She’d managed to slip through his fingers on more than one occasion. Beyond that, however, he knew that at any time she could disappear off of the face of the planet, wipe any and all records of her existence clean, and be nothing but a memory in a heartbeat—and yet, she stuck around, risking her freedom and her life to help bring justice to the disenfranchised.

  Symon would pursue her, and he would arrest her. He’d do his job, no question. But he couldn’t help believing that she was innocent. It was an instinct. Something about her case didn’t click for him—his sense of fugitives was honed by hundreds of man-hours on hundreds of man-hunts. And there was something about Kayne’s case that didn’t fit.

  He suspected she was being framed.

  And he couldn’t help but also suspect that Alex Kayne might be the biggest reason—maybe even the sole reason—that he and Agent Mayher had been offered a slot in Historic Crimes.

  It was no secret that Kayne was the fugitive everyone wanted. Kayne… and QuIEK—the Quantum Integrated Encryption Key. Pronounced “quake” to those in the know, which wasn’t many.

  Dangerous and powerful, QuIEK was on every government’s Christmas wish list. Everyone wanted it. Which meant that everyone wanted Kayne.

  Symon was one of the few people to ever get close enough to Kayne to actually lay hands on her. Of course, she’d escaped—immediately, and in a way that was kind of embarrassing for Symon and his team.

  She’d made her escape, and was in the wind, but still stuck around to help a young amputee recover her prototype prosthetic arm. She’d nearly been caught a dozen times, because of that choice, but had stuck around anyway, eventually setting things right.

  It was the kind of thing Alex Kayne just did. Again and again. Putting herself and her freedom at risk for strangers who had suffered injustice. It made it tough to think of her as being the traitor and murderer she was claimed to be.

  That first encounter with her had told Symon a lot. It had also established a relationship between the two of them that he was sure his superiors would not appreciate.

  She’d been in contact with him ever since they’d met.

  Nothing untoward. Nothing physical, or even romantic. He couldn’t even say they were friends, per se. But she contacted him frequently, shared data with him, sent him leads, sometimes even wrapped bad guys up in a nice, neat package for him to arrest.

  It was a weird sort of relationship. But it had its perks.

  Kayne could be the reason that Symon and Mayher were invited to play in the new sandbox that Historic Crimes had opened up. In fact, it seemed probable. But Symon had his own reasons for joining the team. Reasons he hadn’t yet revealed to anyone, even his partner.

  He glanced at Mayher, who was fidgeting with her suit jacket.

  “Relax,” he smiled. “You’ll love Director Ludlum.”

  “I’ve met her,” Mayher said sourly, then shook her head. “Virtually.”

  “She’s a lot more three-dimensional in person,” Symon said.

  Mayher looked as if she were about to respond when Director Ludlum herself entered the room, smiled as a greeting, and settled into her seat behind the big desk.

  Ludlum always seemed to Symon to be too young for her role. A brilliant, young black woman in her mid-thirties, Ludlum had risen quickly through the ranks of first the NYPD and then the FBI, becoming head of Forensics for each, respectively. She’d worked with the FBI as part of it’s budding new program—Historic Crimes—an offshoot of their White Collar division, with a charter to take on cases involving “out-of-place history” that might threaten the US or even the world.

  The task force had quite a track record. And so did Ludlum. She’d been directly responsible for dozens of saves, keeping the world from being thrown into plagues or war or worse.

  When the former Historic Crimes Director was murdered, Ludlum was elevated to take her place. And it seemed she’d been the best choice for the role. She’d already moved metaphorical mountains to get the new and improved Historic Crimes running like a finely tuned machine.

  Symon had done his due diligence and research into Ludlum. She might seem young, but she’d proven herself to be more than up to the task of leading this fledgling law enforcement agency and task force. She was new, still learning, but she was also as tough and fierce as she was smart. She could handle herself, and she could handle the task force.

  Symon was a fan.

  “Thank you for meeting with me,” Ludlum smiled, taking her seat at the desk. She leaned forward on her elbows. “I know you had to fly in from Chicago.”

  Symon shook his head. “It’s not a problem. We’d run into a dead end there, anyway. The case wrapped up, and Kayne moved on.”

  Ludlum nodded. “Alex Kayne. She’s pretty good at giving everyone the slip.”

  “The best I’ve ever seen,” Symon replied.

  “You sound like you admire her?” Ludlum smiled.

  Symon’s eyes widened slightly. “No, I… I mean, I don’t underestimate her.”

  He glanced quickly at Mayher, who had pursed her lips and was shaking her head slightly.

  Ludlum turned to Mayher next. “And Agent Mayher, it’s good to finally meet in person.”

  “Thank you Director, I feel the same way.”

  Ludlum rolled her eyes. “Please call me Liz. No one does anymore, and I’m starting to miss it.”

  Mayher again glanced at Symon and back to Ludlum. “I… don’t think that would be appropriate, ma’am.”

  Ludlum laughed. “No, I guess not. How about just when we’re behind closed doors?” She watched the both of them and smiled as she continued. “Well, we might as well get down to business. Agent Symon, I have something I’d like you to get to Alex Kayne.”

  Symon nodded. He suspected he might end up being the go-between for Historic Crimes and Kayne. It wasn’t the role he’d signed up for, and he genuinely hoped it wouldn’t be the only thing he was here to do. But he also knew that Ludlum and her superiors saw Kayne as an asset, to the point of granting her status as a Confidential Informant.

  Kayne was still a fugitive. If Symon or any other agent could swing it, she’d be arrested and put in a very deep hole until she surrendered QuIEK to the government. But having her as a CI meant that they could legitimately interact with her without fear of professional or legal repercussions. It was the closest to granting her a pardon as they were going to get, without her turning over QuIEK.

  It would have to do.

  “I’ll do what I can. I don’t exactly have her on speed dial.”

  Ludlum nodded. “I understand. I want you to pass along an email I’m forwarding to you. It contains everything we know about a civilian agent, Dr. Clara Rivers. She went missing a few days ago, and the only lead we have is a pretty cryptic text message she sent to her boyfriend.” Ludlum turned to her computer and tapped a few keys, then nodded to the two agents.

  Symon took out his phone and checked email, as did Mayher. He read the message, then looked up at Ludlum.

  “You can see why I thought of Kayne,” she said.

  “Quantum encrypt?” Symon asked. “As in quantum encryption?”

  “That’s a principal part of Kayne’s AI, isn’t it?” Ludlum asked. “The Q-u-I in QuIEK?”

  “It is,” Symon nodded. “Though it’s not entirely uncommon. It’s something a lot of researchers are working with. An entire field of research, really.”

  “A field that Alex Kayne has already mastered,” Ludlum replied. “And a good enough excuse to get her involved.” She said this last with a glint in her eye.

  “You… are you just trying to
find an excuse to engage her?” Symon asked.

  Ludlum shook her head. “Not entirely. I really did think of her first, when this came up. But we haven’t worked with you or her yet. All of this,” she motioned to the offices around her, the brand new Historic Crimes HQ, in the Danielle Brown Memorial Building. “It’s all new. And right now, I’m not sure how everyone is going to work together. So I need cases. Test cases. And, since Clara Rivers is one of our own agents, this seems like a good enough reason to pull in all the troops. Everyone who isn’t already assigned to a case is being put on this one. Top priority.”

  Symon again looked quickly to Mayher, then back to Ludlum. “Everyone,” he said flatly.

  Ludlum studied him for a moment. “I know you have some… history… with Agent Denzel, and with Dr. Kotler.”

  “I’m sorry,” Symon said. “I know you and Dr. Kotler have a relationship.”

  She nodded. “It can get a little complicated. But the thing is, Dan is the best there is at what he does. There’s a component of this case that involves his specialty. He seems to work best when he has Agent Denzel there to keep him on track. So… they’re involved. I gave them the case this morning, before you arrived. Denzel is running it. And I want you and Agent Mayher to meet with them to New Mexico.”

  Symon blew out a breath. “Yes ma’am,” he said.

  Ludlum shuddered. “I kind of hate being called ma’am, too.”

  “I think protocol is to call you ‘sir,’ if that helps,” Mayher replied, smiling.

  Ludlum made a gagging noise, shaking her head. “Ma’am it is, then. Or Director. But in here, doors closed… it’s Liz.”

  She squinted at Mayher, who laughed lightly, nodding. “Liz it is, then.”

  Ludlum smiled and stood, and Symon and Mayher joined her. “I’ve had flights arranged, and there’s a car waiting for you. You’ll meet Agent Denzel and Dr. Kotler in New Mexico. Between now and then, Agent Symon… if you can get some details to Alex Kayne, I think it could help. I’d like to make her a part of this, somehow.”

  “Does she get a pass?” Symon asked. “If she comes in on this, do we arrest her?”