Paradise Crime Thrillers Box Set

by Toby Neal

  “It’s a she,” he said with a grin in his voice. “Ellie Smith. Official badass.”

  “Dad. You sound like you like her.” Over the years, he’d done nothing but grumble about the Secret Service and his intermittent support from them overseas. “Babysitters and nosy as hell,” he used to say.

  “Ellie doesn’t take my crap. And she’s good at what she does. I’m supposed to call her when I get something fishy like a threat or something. I’ll tell you when I get there, some of the stuff she’s gotten me out of.” He rattled off her number. Sophie memorized it.

  “See you soon, Dad. I hope things will have settled down a little around here by then or you won’t be seeing much of me—but Ginger will enjoy having a human around. I have to take her to a doggie daycare now.” She filled him in on how the pet sitter service had contributed to the breach.

  “She’s going to love daycare,” he said. “Maybe you can find one for me, too. With ladies in bikinis.”

  Sophie laughed, but her eyes were still scanning the busy street, the dark corners. Ginger glanced up at the sound, and lolled a doggy grin.

  “See you soon, Dad.” Sophie hung up and focused on getting home. She lengthened her stride. She felt better having talked to him. Stronger. Not so alone. She wasn’t as good at being alone as she used to be.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sophie let the locksmith in. The alarm company operative was already outside her unit, up on a ladder, installing a surveillance cam in the ceiling outside the door.

  She had run backgrounds on the companies and the employees, including calling in separately to check that the person who showed up at her door was really the one who’d been sent by the company, verifying with signatures, IDs and photos.

  “Can’t be too careful these days,” she said to the locksmith, a grizzled Portuguese man who knit his brows in annoyance at her verification process. “I’ve had security problems.”

  “No wonder, pretty girl like you.” The locksmith displayed a mouthful of tobacco stained teeth.

  If only it were that simple.

  She kept an eye on them through the open door of her bedroom as she called Ellie Smith.

  “Special Agent Ellie Smith.” The Secret Service agent answered on the second ring. Her voice was brisk but warm.

  “This is Special Agent Sophie Ang, Ambassador Francis Smithson’s daughter,” Sophie said. “I’m calling to alert you to a recent security breach at our residence in Honolulu, since the Ambassador is visiting in another week.”

  “Thank you for advising me, Agent Ang. Yes, I’m aware of his trip and your position. What can you tell me about the breach?”

  Sophie filled her in on the basic details: that her investigation into Security Solutions had led to a trace back finding the location of her computers. She outlined the steps she was taking to rectify the damage.

  “Seems like work and home should be separate locations,” Smith said mildly. “Especially given your father’s sensitive position. And yours, too.”

  “I assumed too much,” Sophie found herself admitting. “I’m taking every precaution now.”

  “Well, we’ll need to monitor the situation. Maybe there’s something we can do here.”

  “I’m not sure what that would be, but I’ll keep you apprised.” Sophie dragged and dropped the info of her alarm company, building, and Security Solutions via secure cloud site for the other agent to access.

  “We’ll be in touch before your father’s visit.” Ellie Smith hung up.

  Sophie was relieved not to be solely responsible for her father’s safety when he arrived. She turned her attention back to DAVID’s caches. The file on Sheldon Hamilton was not getting any bigger since he’d started the company with his then partner, Todd Remarkian.

  She had more luck with the cross check on Assan and Alika’s shared interests. Assan’s company used the same shipping outfit that Alika used, and the same storage facilities here in Honolulu.

  That could be nothing, or it could be something.

  She needed to find more on Assan. If that led to finding more on Alika, it was better to know now than later.

  After she’d been briefed on her enhanced alarm features and the extra front door deadbolt “rated to withstand 2000 pounds of pressure” and the security services left, she sat down, put on her headphones, and called Marcus Kamuela.

  He answered on the third ring. “I’m off duty, at home with Marcella. This better be good.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you. But I ran a cross check on Alika’s business contacts and the ones of a suspected drug shipper, and I came up with a couple of mutual contacts. Might be worth a drop by search with dogs.”

  A short silence. “Don’t recall asking you to work this case. In fact, I recall that you were specifically excluded. And what’s this cross check program? Not that rogue software, was it?”

  Sophie chewed her lip. “Boils on the devil’s backside,” she muttered.

  “What was that?”

  “Just a little Thai. I’m keeping in practice. Can you put Marcella on?”

  “No.” Marcus was no softie, and that bite she’d come to know was in his voice. “If you recall, this is my case. The FBI is just providing support as appropriate. And this doesn’t seem appropriate.”

  “I’m sorry.” She realized that made two apologies so she restrained herself from a third. “I just thought you might like to check out this lead. It could be something, expose a part of the smuggling ring.”

  “I need probable cause,” Kamuela said.

  “I can’t help you with that part.”

  “Okay then. Lay it on me.”

  She told him the company names, addresses. “There’s one for shipping, one for storage.”

  “Who’s this known drug dealer?”

  This was where it got really challenging, because she didn’t actually know Assan was smuggling. Maybe she should go to the docks and search herself.

  “You know what? Never mind,” she said. “Forget I called.”

  “No. Spill. Tell me who.”

  “No, I’ll just go check it out myself.”

  “Just tell me, for God’s sake.”

  “Assan Ang.”

  A long pause. “Relative?”

  “My ex.”

  “Oh. Crap.” Marcus’s voice held a combination of sympathy and chagrin.

  Sophie swallowed, and finally spoke. “The thing is, I don’t know for sure he’s smuggling. But I strongly suspect it. He had unsavory characters over to our place in Hong Kong all the time, and really too much money for just a medium sized import-export business. I wonder if there’s any way to go…you know, just look around?” She bit her lip.

  Another long pause. “You mean an illegal search?”

  “I bet you could come up with a legitimate reason to be on the docks, with Alika’s case and all. And if you find anything, you could call in a raid.”

  “This is pretty thin.”

  Sophie heard Marcella’s voice in the background. “Let me talk to her.”

  “No. She called me.” Marcus had a note of satisfaction in his voice. “Sophie, at least, knows who’s in charge here.” Sophie heard a smacking sound and knew that Marcella had slapped the big detective’s shoulder.

  “Assan needs to be stopped.” Sophie was in no mood for joking around. “He’s an abusive sadist and likely a drug wholesaler.”

  “Well, I’ll take all this under advisement and get back to you. Now, here’s Marcella.” He handed the phone over to Marcella.

  “Girlfriend. What shit pot are you stirring now with that program of yours?”

  “I think this is a real lead.” Sophie repeated the crossover information. “Just promise you’ll take me if you guys go investigate.”

  “I’ll promise no such thing. Your presence could taint any case we might have, involved as you are with both the suspects,” Marcella said.

  “Please. I don’t need to be anywhere around when you make arrests.”

&n
bsp; “Marcus is on the phone right now with the vice task force that has the K-9 drug dogs. Wait, and we’ll call you back.”

  Sophie hung up and, too nervous to settle, dressed in her FBI clothes and athletic shoes. Putting the second part of her idea into motion, she took out one of the surveillance cameras and turned it on by depressing a tiny button on the back. She pointed the camera at her face.

  “This is Special Agent Sophie Ang. You violated my privacy by planting surveillance equipment in my apartment. I suspect you’re involved with Security Solutions and I want to speak with you. I’m going to give you a secure encrypted email address. Send me a link to a chat room of your choice and a time to be there, and let’s talk. I respect your abilities.” She gave a flirty smile, batted her eyes—but not too much, it couldn’t be overplayed. “It’s not often I’m outmaneuvered at my own game. No risk to you, just a chat. You pick the location. Here’s my secure email.” She rattled off the email address. “Hope I hear from you.”

  She turned the camera off, with a feeling like she’d just pointed a radio signal at outer space with little hope that an answer would come back.

  She was stowing the evidence-bagged cameras in her small safe when her phone rang.

  “We’re going down to the docks with dogs,” Marcus Kamuela said. “Meet us at Pier 28. Wear Kevlar and a helmet if you have one, so no one recognizes you. And you owe me. Big time.”

  “I owe you. Yes.” Her heart gave a welcome bump of excitement and dread. “That’s fine. I’ll see you there.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  The Drug Enforcement Agency personnel, with three working dogs, had spread out along the warehouses of the dilapidated docks of Honolulu’s industrial shipping area. Marcella, gorgeous even dressed in FBI black body armor, strode toward Sophie, who gave her friend a shoulder bump in greeting.

  “I know you’re responsible for Marcus letting me come. Thank you.”

  “You owe me,” Marcella said.

  “I’m getting used to that. What’s the plan?”

  “The dogs are just working around the company’s buildings you put us on to. This is all perfectly legal. We’re hoping to get some probable cause, and then we can go in for a full search.”

  As if on cue, one of the dogs, a huge German Shepherd, let out a short, sharp bark in front of one of the steel-fronted doors. The other handlers brought their dogs, and when all three signaled, the agents brought a door cannon and three blows later, the DEA team and Marcus were flowing into the darkened warehouse.

  “You know this could end up implicating Alika,” Marcella whispered as they moved along the edge of the building toward the dark well of the door.

  “Better to know,” Sophie said. “No matter what we find.”

  Marcella gave a nod, and they stepped inside, weapons in ready position.

  Bright lights exploded in their retinas.

  Sophie crouched against the wall, blinking. The lights coming on had been so overwhelming it felt like an explosion—but they were just huge overhead arc lights in the cavernous building, glaring down in hot bowls of radiance on stacks of crates and piles of storage. Marcus Kamuela was nearby on his phone. The dog handlers and DEA agents had spread out through the warehouse.

  “So this is one of the companies Alika uses?” Marcella asked.

  “Yes. And my ex, Assan.”

  “That piece of shit. You’ll pardon me if I’m hoping it’s him we get.”

  “That’s why I’m here.” Sophie grinned at her friend behind her helmet, but Marcella couldn’t see it, too busy tracking the action as the team searched the warehouse, pulling out random cartons and boxes and letting the dogs sniff them.

  Suddenly, the German Shepherd sounded at a big steel container. One of the agents brought a pair of bolt cutters and in moments the lock was off and the door was opened. Rows and rows of decorative ceramic boxes filled the container, padded with bubble wrap. One of the agents, gloved hands moving fast and expert, unwrapped one of the boxes and took the lid off.

  A bag of powder fell out with a faint thud onto the floor.

  “We got ’em!” he yelled. The shepherd sat, looking proud, its ears pricked.

  “Who’s that container registered to?” Sophie hustled forward, snatching the clipboard with the inventory on it and running a gloved finger down until she came to the numbered steel container.

  “Ang Enterprises,” she read aloud, with satisfaction.

  The search went on. Now that they’d found something, the agents went through every box, crate, pallet, and barrel in the warehouse and came back with several more containers full of drugs, some even nested inside bags of scented potpourri, which had been the most difficult for the dogs to detect.

  Marcus Kamuela clapped Sophie on the shoulder. “Nice lead, Agent Ang. Glad you had it in for your ex.” He grinned broadly.

  “It’s not a laughing matter,” Sophie said, with dignity.

  He wiped the smile off his face. “You’re right. That was out of line. But the good news is, we haven’t found anything tracing back to Alika Wolcott. Working with this storage company could be how he ran into the Boyz, though—if he didn’t want to play with them in this sandbox, they didn’t want him around.”

  “I’m glad we haven’t found anything from Alika’s company.” Marcella joined them. “I wonder what’s going to happen to it with him in the hospital.”

  Sophie stayed silent. She didn’t want to get involved any further. “What’s going to happen about Assan?”

  “DEA is going to move on this with HPD support. We’ll seize all his assets here in the States and try to extradite him for trial—but he’s in Hong Kong, and likely to stay there. We have trouble getting criminals over here for trial. So likely, the best we can hope for is to shut him down in the U.S. and send his case to Interpol, see if they can keep him boxed up elsewhere.”

  “It’s a start.” Sophie was still thinking of Assan’s new young bride. She had to find a way to get that girl out. And on the way home, she thought of little girls trapped in closets.

  Chapter Twenty

  It was very late when Sophie finally got home. Unlocking the door, she deactivated the alarm, and once inside, reviewed the new security camera footage of the front door area and swept the apartment for bugs. This would be her new routine every time she entered.

  Once she was sure the apartment was clear, Sophie stripped by the washer as was her habit, and dropped everything down to the skin into the basket. She sponged the Kevlar vest and helmet and hung them to dry on a rack.

  Her body was stiff and exhausted, though she’d done nothing more than observe the raid. It was the adrenaline overload, she decided, and realized she hadn’t gone to the gym since that first day after Alika’s attack.

  She was avoiding Fight Club. Too many reminders of Alika. And now she wasn’t getting enough exercise to feel on top of her game, or to keep her depression under control.

  Alika’s family must think she’d dropped him when he was down. It was too bad if they did. Staying away from him was the safest choice she could make until she knew Assan was out of the way.

  It would be great if the Security Solutions saboteur could hack into Assan’s operation and set him up to be taken out by one of his dealers, Sophie couldn’t help thinking a second time as she sat down to her computers.

  She was already pretty close to being inappropriate by bringing the team down on Assan with nothing more than intuition.

  Intuition which had been right.

  Maybe she and the saboteur had more in common than she’d ever imagined. If she had the software and access he did, she didn’t think she’d be able to resist the temptation to make sure something permanent happened to Assan. Shutting down his drug operation in the U.S. was going to be a blow, but it was probably only a temporary one that he’d not only recover from, but take out on his new child bride. Sophie was all too familiar with how Assan would experience some setback at work, and come home to displace his aggression.r />
  She struggled to suppress a sense of futility. Nothing she did was really going to touch him.

  Sophie clicked on the secure email address she used for Bureau business. A short message with a link attached was waiting from an unlisted source.

  Could this be from the unsub who’d planted the cameras?

  Sophie’s pulse picked up. She clicked on the message.

  “Got your video message. Yes, let’s talk. Meet me at this chat room at 9:00 a.m. tomorrow.”

  Her appeal had worked. She could scarcely believe it. She saved the chat room address, one of those “old school” chat sites where paradoxically, older software used to run them protected users’ anonymity.

  Nothing more to be done on this until 9:00 a.m. tomorrow. It was time to find out what was happening on the Security Solutions and kidnapping case, no matter the hour. She put on her headphones and called Ken Yamada.

  “Yes.” Ken sounded alert and irritable.

  “Hi, Ken. Wondering what’s been happening with the Security Solutions and kidnapping cases? I’ve had a bit of a personal crisis I’ve been dealing with, but I didn’t want to go to bed without checking in with you.”

  “Yes. We searched Sheldon Hamilton’s house and office. Didn’t come up with much. We got some DNA samples; running those as standard procedure but not really expecting it to match anything in the system. What’s most remarkable is how little real presence the man had. His apartment was pristine, a showplace. Apparently has a maid that comes once a month, and she said nothing much changes between her scheduled cleans. She’s never seen Hamilton. Which isn’t in itself unusual; the man is constantly traveling according to Honing, the VP. Still, we found very few personal effects in the apartment or office. Gundersohn and I think we should have found more and had more of a sense of who this man is. I know you were running the online stuff, did you do any better?”

  Sophie clicked open the file on Sheldon Hamilton. “Same thing here. Most everything he has is in the company’s name or given to him as perks. He’s the owner and CEO and effectively uses the company to provide a front and take care of all his personal expenses. I couldn’t find any assets but one bank account in his name where he apparently receives payment or wages. I didn’t want to get into that until we’re sure he’s a missing person; then I’ll take a look at his financials.”