by Toby Neal
She stared blankly at the monitor in front of her, trying to make sense of what had happened. How had her security been breached? Through a back trace to her computer’s IP? Then, probably it was a simple matter to ID which FBI agents were working the Security Solutions case. They would have tracked her to the Makanani Building and found out she had a dog, and the rest was history.
Even though the Bureau did everything possible to obscure their agents’ home locations, this was no ordinary unsub.
This was someone as good, maybe better, than she was. He knew where she lived. What she ate. What she was doing on her computer. And that she liked to walk around naked in her home.
Sophie found herself hyperventilating. She got up and fetched her weighted jump rope, going to the corner of the room.
As the rhythm of the rope’s spinning steadied her pulse and respiration, she considered.
It didn’t have to be the pet sitter service that provided an in. She remembered the unknown workman in the elevator the night she and Alika were taking a walk, with his duffel. She would have paid more attention to a stranger like that on the elevator with her if she hadn’t been so bemused by her date with Alika.
In fact, the whole thing with Alika had been a tremendous distraction. She’d missed key pieces of information because her mind and emotions were tangled up with what had happened to him. She’d been distracted and gotten sloppy.
What if Alika’s attack was supposed to do that to her? What if he’d been attacked because of her?
Sophie shook her head and jumped faster, the rope whistling through the air and striking the floor with a sound like a scythe cutting corn.
“No,” she whispered aloud. The cases couldn’t be connected.
But maybe it was Assan, going after Alika—because Sophie cared about Alika. Because they’d kissed in public, on the street, and he’d seen it.
She flashed back to Hong Kong.
She was lying on her back across the black marble island in that showplace kitchen she seldom cooked in, her skirt up around her waist, panties pinioning her ankles. Assan was choking her as he raped her.
He’d come home from some work meeting dark-browed and furious, and her effort to soothe and distract hadn’t worked. The bottle of Grand Marnier she’d been pouring had shattered on the tile floor beside them and filled the room with a sickeningly sweet smell of orange.
She slowly came back to consciousness, her diaphragm reflexively heaving to bring in air, the black she’d disappeared into ebbing to gray, receding in and out with her intermittent air supply. He was still banging away at her, grunting above her. The gray parted, black spots receded, and she gasped for air—but a part of her longed to stay in that black forever. Then she wouldn’t have to keep coming back to the hell that was her life.
Eventually, with a final heave, he finished. Her whole body was numb but she knew every second of this assault, and that it was going to hurt later.
Assan still had one hand clamped around her throat, depressing the nerves, veins and air supply that could so quickly snuff her out. His face, congested with the blood of his recent arousal, was inches from hers. His breath smelled of Grand Marnier, because now he was sipping from the bowl-like glass she’d poured him an endless half hour ago.
“You’ll never be with anyone else. You’re mine, until I’m done with you.”
He’d said it many times. She’d chosen not to remember. Five years of lonely celibacy since she escaped hadn’t put that promise to the test.
Until now—she’d finally found someone she cared about, and she’d kissed him on the street.
In the womblike corner of her beloved IT lab, her stomach lurched with remembered horror. She jumped faster. The rope thwacked down like a whipping. She’d had those, too.
Could Assan have something to do with what Alika had been going through?
“No!” she cried aloud. The rope slammed down and tangled in her legs. She fell forward, hitting the heavy glass window and welcoming the pain.
No one saw in the empty lab. No one knew the terror and grief that constricted her chest.
Assan had to go.
Even if he wasn’t behind the attack on Alika, she couldn’t allow him to continue living—in her mind, in her memories, in this world—and in Hong Kong, torturing a new young bride.
He might even be the one spying on her in her house.
She had to find a way to stop him. Sophie walked around the lab, cooling down, trying to form a plan. If only she could deal with Assan the way that clever saboteur at Security Solutions had dealt with the criminals he had access to.
DAVID was how she’d find a way if there was one. She could cross check the information on the shipping companies Alika dealt with and she might find something tying Assan and Alika together. The world of heroin smugglers couldn’t be that big.
The pneumatic doors slid open and Bateman came in, carrying a little duffel bag and puffing from exertion, his watery eyes bright.
“You have a serious breach going on.” He tossed her the apartment keys. As she caught them, she realized that the pet company had copies, and that weird dog walker could have made his own. She had to get the locks changed and upgrade the security system.
Ginger was going to have to be dealt with some other way than daily incursions by strangers into her apartment. Maybe she should find Ginger a new home. She immediately felt queasy.
“Show me the surveillance units you found,” Sophie demanded.
“Let’s dust them down for prints. We might get lucky.”
She followed Bateman to the print and trace lab and he took three tiny cameras, each the size of a tack, out of an evidence bag. “Nice stuff, here. Got a remote transmitter, totally wireless, tiny renewable battery. State of the art.” Bateman told her things she already knew as soon as she saw the cameras.
He dusted them with fingerprint powder, then hit them with a light. “No dice.”
“No way to tell what location they were transmitting to, is there?” Sophie asked, for form’s sake. She already knew the answer to that.
“Nope.”
“You sure you got them all?”
“Went through three times. These blipped right away.” They used a consistently reliable portable handheld device for bug sweeps. “Any idea how he found you and got in?”
“Yes. But I’m not discussing it.”
“Want me to open a case for you?”
“No. I’m dealing with the breach.” Sophie scooped up the cameras and slid them into a plastic evidence bag. “I’d appreciate you keeping this quiet for the moment. I’ll handle it.”
“One day.” Bateman firmed his jaw. “I’ll stay quiet one day. I know Waxman’s on your ass and he’d want to know about this.”
“One day. Then I’ll tell him myself.”
Sophie walked back out of the lab with the little cameras in her pocket. She had a way to communicate now. She had to get home, run everything through DAVID to see what she could put together. But she couldn’t leave without first trying to find the head of Security Solutions.
Back at her work bay, she ran searches on Sheldon Hamilton and began assembling a dossier. His basic information first: Single. Thirty-eight years old. Interests in classical music and computers. MIT graduate with degrees in software engineering and business. Started company with venture capital he raised. Clips from magazines of articles and news items, anything that would help. She noticed his address was listed as the Pendragon Arches building. She dragged and dropped items, more in a hurry to leave than ever—until she came to a photo.
The CEO leaned against a Corinthian column in a doorway, wearing a well-cut suit. He had expressive brown eyes behind fashionable glasses. Chiseled features. Short dark hair. Broad shoulders. Height was around six feet.
He could easily be Fernando Llamas, the dog walker.
Chapter Seventeen
Sophie’s need to get home throbbed in the pulse points of her neck, where she’d been so recently
reminded of her vulnerability by reliving those moments with Assan. She shut down her workstation and headed for the door.
“You’ll be okay?” Bateman called from his work bay, blue eyes earnest. For once she didn’t resent his intrusiveness.
“Fine. I’m getting the locks changed right now.” Sophie waved as she went through the doors of the lab.
“Sophie! I was just going to call you!” Marcella’s voice was cheerful as she emerged from her office, pinning an errant curl back into the French roll she called the “FBI Twist.” Sophie blew out a breath in surprise and relief to see her friend. “Marcus and I caught a break. We’ve brought in two of the thugs that assaulted Alika. They’re willing to roll on their bosses in the construction trade and it’s looking good that we won’t only get the Boyz who attacked Alika, we’ll get some bigger fish, too.”
“Great news! Need my help for anything?” Sophie could have hugged Marcella, it was so good to hear something positive.
“Nope, we’ve got it rolling. They’re down at HPD station singing like canaries. I just came back to pick up recording equipment.”
“Have you heard anything about Alika’s condition today?”
“No. I’ve been too busy running around like a chicken with its head cut off, trying to get some traction on the case and bring those Boyz in.”
“Okay, I’ll call Alika’s mother. In the meantime, I’ve had some developments I’m really worried about.” Sophie filled her friend in on the situation.
“What the hell? How could this guy be in Hong Kong and at your apartment at the same time? And why?” Marcella threw her hands up in a classic Italian gesture.
“Exactly. I’m wondering if Security Solutions isn’t a whole lot more worried about us following their case than they’re letting on. So Hamilton comes back and goes and puts cameras in my place himself? I mean, it’s too strange.” Sophie found herself breathing too fast and put a hand on her diaphragm to calm herself. “I had the cameras removed but I think I’m going to call him out, try to set up a meet and find out what his game is.”
“Sounds risky.”
“He’s supposedly in Hong Kong, and missing, but I suspect he’s right here in town. Do you have a better idea?”
“Just don’t meet him alone. Call me. Are you getting your place secure again?”
“Yes. Better late than never.” Sophie shivered, and Marcella put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed.
“How long were the cameras up?” her friend asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Oh God. I’m sorry. At least you caught it early, if it was when the pet sitter went in, which seems the logical breach.”
“Right.” Sophie straightened, adjusted the backpack she carried. “Anyway, I just had to get this off my chest. Thanks so much for the good news on Alika’s case. Now if he just wakes up and starts getting better…”
“Exactly. Gotta keep positive,” Marcella said. “At least we’ve got the rat bastards that did it.”
“Thanks for telling me. Keep in touch.” Sophie headed down the hall.
Still walking, she put in her Bluetooth and called Jenns Rudinoff, head of security at her building, alerting him. “Someone’s been in my apartment and planted surveillance equipment. I’ve removed it, but I need a locksmith, someone absolutely trustworthy.”
She cut short Rudinoff’s apologies, got the name, and called in a rush order on a change of locks after doing a quick check on the company via her phone.
Her next call, weaving home through the heavy downtown commute traffic, blind to the sunset and waving palms, was to the alarm company for a full system reset and change of codes. “I’d also like a video surveillance unit put in outside the door with a remote feed to my phone,” she ordered.
The third call was to the dog walking service.
“Aloha Petsitters.”
“Hi. I’m revoking consent to access my apartment,” Sophie said. “Get me your manager.”
Sophie was very controlled as she described to the manager how the company had been used to get into her place. “In view of damages to my security which have necessitated changing my locks and alarms and untold stress because your dog walker substitute was an impostor, I’d like your company to pay for and provide me with a secure location where I can board my dog during the day.”
The manager didn’t argue, instead arranging for Ginger to be a regular at Doggie Daycare, a location with a big fenced yard where Ginger could socialize with other dogs and staffers during the day.
Sophie’s tight chest had begun to loosen by the time she was pulling into her parking place at her building. She probably should have taken Ginger somewhere like that in the first place.
The doors of the elevator slid open in the garage and she entered. She leaned against the wall as it ascended. She had a flash of memory: leaning against Alika in the elevator. Happy. Relaxed.
It seemed like a year ago and it’d only been a few days.
The elevator doors slid open in front of her penthouse apartment. She got out and stood looking at the shiny red lacquered door. Her feelings about coming home had changed now that she’d had a hostile in her place. She could hear Ginger whining and the clatter of her toenails on the other side of the door.
“Son of a snake with two penises,” she muttered in Thai. “Everything is fine. I’m handling it.” Sophie unlocked the beautiful door.
All was normal. Inside, the apartment was pristinely clean and looked exactly the way she’d left it that morning, so long ago. Sunset was beginning, and the dying day blazed in the bank of windows, bisected by the iconic silhouette of Diamond Head and the necklace of skyscrapers along Waikiki.
“Hi, girl,” she greeted Ginger, rubbing the dog’s chest and behind her ears. Ginger wriggled in an ecstasy of happiness.
The locksmith was on his way, so she turned a chair and propped it under the door handle after relocking it. She took the bug-detection wand out of her backpack. Ignoring Ginger’s bids for attention, she walked methodically through the apartment and swept for any new devices.
It was clean.
Sophie went into the bedroom. Her rigs were on, but locked down. She’d programmed them remotely that way, and now she activated the screens with her fob.
The spyware scan showed No Threats. Finally, some good news.
Sophie sat down at her rigs. Her fingers rattled on the keys as she pulled the file she’d started on Sheldon Hamilton into DAVID and expanded the background search on him. She then pulled down the file on Assan that she’d started and re-hacked into Alika’s FBI/HPD case. She set DAVID to searching for commonalities in companies and contacts between the two.
That was enough for the computer to chew on for a while. Ginger was trotting in little circles by the door, clearly needing to go out and not wanting to use the puppy pads.
Sophie changed quickly into her running clothes and put her Bluetooth in, loading her pepper spray, keys and phone into her pockets. She wanted to take her weapon too, but didn’t want to deal with the holster and windbreaker for keeping it covered up. She put it away in the bedside drawer.
Sophie waited until she was on the sidewalk and Ginger was blissfully piddling on a scrap of lawn to call Lehua Wolcott.
“I thought I might see you here at the hospital today,” Alika’s mother said without preamble.
Sophie pushed past a stab of guilt. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t make it. A lot was happening at work today, and, it turns out, on Alika’s case. But first, how’s he doing?”
“No change.” Lehua’s voice sounded leaden with something like hopelessness. “They say the swelling’s going down in his brain but he still isn’t waking up. Nothing but the most basic reflexes.” She rallied with an effort. “We just have to keep praying. We’ve all been taking turns reading to him. I wondered if you were coming.”
“I don’t think I can.” Sophie had to distance herself. Can’t afford to care too much, become too entangled with this family. “I just th
ought I’d check in, and let you know there have been some positive developments with Alika’s case. You can check with Detective Kamuela for more information. I’ll be in touch.” And she hung up, softly, but firmly.
Until she knew who was really behind the attack on Alika, it was best if she kept her distance. She wasn’t safe. For him, or anyone. Maybe when Assan was dealt with, and she’d laid a few more demons to rest.
Sophie broke into a jog and took Ginger all the way to the beach again. On the way back, she bought a laulau for herself and one for the dog from a sidewalk vendor. As she was crumpling the wrapper and dropping it in a corner trashcan, her phone rang.
Her heart sank a little when she saw it was her father. More guilt.
“Hello Dad.” She walked rapidly, her eyes scanning the street as the Bluetooth piped in his deep reassuring voice. She never held her phone to her ear when walking; it was too much of a distraction when in the open and vulnerable. She wondered at all the people who seemed to think their phones made a cone of oblivion around them, when the opposite was true. Phones made them vulnerable: to theft, assault, or worse.
“Sophie. You never called to check on your mother.”
“There’s been a lot going on. We had a security breach in the apartment. I’ve had to change the locks and codes. I’m still sorting it out. And a good friend was attacked.”
“What’s going on?”
She sketched the basics, not wanting to alarm him. “I’m taking care of it all, but I’ve been seriously distracted.”
“Well, then.” He harrumphed. “Perhaps I should put off my visit. I’m coming in next week.”
Sophie’s mind zipped through the various scenarios. Her father didn’t have his own Secret Service agent, but he was under their protection and jurisdiction as needed. Perhaps an extra security layer was a good idea right now.
“No, Dad, come. Keep your plans. I’d welcome the company.” She got his travel details and then asked for the number of the agent assigned to monitor him. “I want to bring him up to speed.”
