Paradise Crime Series Box Set

by Toby Neal

  Waxman’s phone toned beside Sophie. He stood up and went to a far corner to take it, talking in a low voice.

  “Tell us more that shows you are in real danger,” Gundersohn said. “And evidence that Sheldon Hamilton hasn’t just skipped for his own reasons.”

  “Someone broke into my apartment.”

  “That was Security Solutions under orders from Frank Honing,” Ken said. “And then we searched it too, at their request. They were concerned that you were missing. While searching for you, we found a computer with bundles of multi-national cash hidden in it, which kind of undermines your claim.” Ken smiled, made a deprecating hand gesture. “Not to mention all the cash deposits you’ve been routing to the Cayman Islands. Just wondering what you could tell us about that.”

  Lee turned staring eyes to Bennie Fernandez. “I don’t have any extra cash! I don’t have any Cayman accounts!”

  Bennie patted the young man’s shoulder as Waxman returned and addressed the people in the interview room through the intercom. “I’ve described the situation to the District Attorney. He says there’s no case here that involves us until there’s some evidence of a crime. So we’re going to hold you for twenty-four hours while we check out your claims. If we find anything, we’ll reconvene. If not, you’ll be released pending whatever charges Security Solutions decides to bring against you.”

  Lee’s mouth opened and closed. Bennie patted his shoulder again. “Don’t tell them anything more,” the lawyer said. “Just think of this as a spa day. Rest and recuperate. You’re safe in custody.”

  Sophie couldn’t help smiling as she caught Waxman’s eye—jail as a spa day? The lawyer got up and went out with Lee and Gundersohn as Ken radioed for HPD to take him to the local jail for holding.

  They exited the observation room and met Ken in the hall.

  “I’m going to try to locate Todd Remarkian and see what he has to say. I have his number back at the lab,” Sophie said.

  Ken nodded. “You do that. Start phone and online tracking of Sheldon Hamilton. After we get Lee situated, Gundersohn and I will go search Hamilton’s offices at Security Solutions. And his home, if we have time.”

  “Lee Chan seems really frightened, but I’m not convinced anyone in this scenario is homicidal,” Waxman said. “Corporate espionage, internal blackmail of clients, maybe even catering to criminals—but killers? Not convinced Chan’s on the right track there.”

  “But what about the saboteur?” Sophie argued. “That person’s responsible for at least six deaths if you count up the bodies from the gang leaders shooting each other, and those are only the ones we know about.”

  “Didn’t pull the trigger, though, did he?” Ken said. “Did us all a favor there.”

  “That’s what’s interesting about all the saboteur’s work, and it doesn’t change the fact that someone’s taking advantage of Security Solutions’ intel to play God,” Waxman said. “Which speaks of deadly intent to me. I think Lee knows something, and that’s information worth protecting as long as possible. Move fast. We only have him for twenty-four hours.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Back at her work bay, Sophie called Todd Remarkian’s number.

  “Yes.” This time the affable Aussie’s voice was clipped. “What can I do for the FBI today?”

  “We have located and interviewed Lee Chan, whom we apprehended at the airport,” Sophie said.

  “I should return to the States,” Remarkian said. “But I can’t, with Sheldon missing. And I’d take a good long time deciding to believe Lee. Someone’s selling our client information, and it could well be him.” Frustration tightened his voice.

  “What do you mean? He seems scared for his life.” Sophie thought it was safe to say that much.

  “He’s blowing smoke to cover his ass, because Sheldon and I, before he disappeared, had verified that someone was stealing and selling client information.”

  “The saboteur?”

  “Not necessarily. The saboteur seems to be focusing on manipulating our criminal clients. This is a genuine breach. We found some of our data on some digital forums for sale—access codes to houses, like that.”

  “Could that be what happened to the Addams child? The kidnapping case that brought us to you?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Considering that you’re a security firm, these are really serious issues,” Sophie said. “Now tell me what you know about Sheldon Hamilton going missing.”

  “We had a meeting with some future clients in the morning. We’re trying to set up a satellite office here in Hong Kong, and it went well. We sold several big players’ security packages and were doing some interviews for key staff members for the office we’re putting together. But Sheldon seemed distracted. He was working his phone, really agitated, told me right after the meeting he had some things to do. I said g’bye, and off he went.”

  Sophie frowned, glancing at the little skull spinning. It was having trouble tracing the call today. “And that was the last you saw of him?”

  “Yes. We were supposed to meet this morning, go over the game plan for the day.”

  Just then Sophie’s phone dinged with a text message. Bateman’s number appeared on her phone. “Found three cameras in your place.”

  Sophie’s stomach dropped with a breathless sensation of horror.

  “Where? Check again, make sure you got them all” she texted back, fingers moving jerkily. She glanced up. The trace still hadn’t connected.

  Remarkian’s voice continued in her ear. “Sheldon didn’t show, didn’t call. I went by his hotel room and pounded. No one there. Had the management unlock it and he’d packed up his stuff, no signs of violence. I called hotel security and Hong Kong police anyway, because I know we aren’t wanted here by several firms in the city.”

  Sophie focused with difficulty on the conversation. “So you have concerns about violence from your competition?” she asked.

  “It’s been known to happen.”

  “Well, who else has secure, top level access to your company’s computers and their data? We need to make a list of who the saboteur could be.”

  “Sheldon. Frank Honing. Lee Chan. Myself. Only we have total access to client information and the computer mainframe. Everyone else just has enough for their functions.”

  “Anyone else really knowledgeable about your automated nanny-cam software?”

  “No one comes to mind. We run separate divisions. Lee, Sheldon and I developed the software. Frank is in charge of client operations and human resources. The rest of our core people are just technicians, not programmers.”

  Sophie stroked the surface of her phone, waiting for the next text message, trying to concentrate on what he was saying. “Lee said Sheldon owns the software.”

  “Yes. But I’m on as a co-developer and co-owner. Lee wasn’t listed.”

  “So you inherit the program if Sheldon’s gone?”

  A long silence. “I don’t like where this is going,” Remarkian said.

  “Just asking.”

  “Technically, yes. But we license the software to Security Solutions. Exclusively.”

  “Interesting way to run a company.”

  Todd Remarkian didn’t reply. Once again Sophie had the sense that he was right beside her, breathing in her ear. It was unnerving.

  “Well, is there anything else you think I should know right now?”

  “I hope you look hard at Lee as the saboteur. I told you to check his financials, right?”

  “You did. And they’re suspicious, but not criminally actionable.”

  The phone in her hand lit up again. “There were only three cameras. Locations in kitchen, bedroom and living room. Locking up now. The dog is cute.”

  Sophie’s head swam. Someone could have been watching her as she walked around naked. How long had those cameras been there? The dog walker situation might have tipped her off to look for something, but there was no telling how long she’d actually been bugged.

  �
��Well, listen, Mr. Remarkian, I have to go. Why don’t you try to return to the United States as soon as you can? I’d like to speak with you in person about exactly how a saboteur could use the software, and your boss’s disappearance.”

  “All righty then,” the chipper voice said, and hung up briskly. She took off the headphones and planted them on the charger.

  Her priorities had just shifted from the Security Solutions case to her own personal nightmare. Three cameras in her home, broadcasting her naked. On the phone. Working top security cases on her computers.

  They’d probably been able to stream video of the work session last night. She wanted to vomit with the stress of it. Waxman was right. She should never have taken any FBI work off-site.

  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 comput
ers. 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?”