by C J Matthew
Murdoch’s smartphone vibrated in his pocket. He bent his head forward and toward her, angling the phone she could hear the conversation. “Mr. Rudraige? Alice Washburn, security. We’ve got a problem and Ryan instructed me to call you. My supervisor told me it was nothing to worry about, so I reported it to Ryan, right after your speech.”
“What’s the problem?”
“I noticed a man in an overcoat who appears to be wearing a wetsuit underneath. He’s lugging a soft-sided briefcase, and whatever’s in there, it’s heavy.”
“Do we have metal scanners?”
“Yes, sir, at all entrances. I don’t believe he carried that case in today.”
“Where did Ryan go?”
“Looking for the man on the next dock. Ryan told me to alert you, then call for back up.”
“Good job, Alice. My orders are: give me ten minutes, then call in the cavalry.”
Murdoch hung up and spoke into directly into Annalisa’s ear. “I’m going after Ryan. Next dock. Please stay here. Swear, I’ll call. Love you.”
She gave a quick nod and pulled out her phone. Gripping it, she watched Murdoch’s back until he turned a corner.
* * *
Murdoch
When he was out of sight of the reviewing stands, Murdoch broke into a run. He called the dragon, just short of an actual shift, to search the air and the surface of the docks for any trace of Ryan.
Been here. Not now.
Talk about cryptic. A more detailed answer would help. Halfway down the dock, the dragon heard a groan. Ryan?
Yes. Hurt.
Murdoch sped up, pounding toward the cluster of small temporary structures at the end of the dock.
Blood.
Shit. Despite the warning, he almost tripped over Ryan. His security chief was sitting on the dirty surface of the dock, slumped against a metal storage building. His overcoat was nowhere in sight, his suit jacket half on and half off. The white dress shirt was bloody, the right sleeve torn off and tied around a wound on Ryan’s upper arm.
“Need an ambulance?” Murdoch asked as he crouched to get a better look at Ryan’s face.
“Hell no,” Ryan grunted. “I’m good, just woozy. Bleeding’s stopped. Briefcase guy’s partner jumped me, then the bastard ran.” He struggled to his feet, leaned against the metal siding, and pointed to the end of the dock. “Briefcase guy went into the water off the end of this dock carrying a heavy payload.”
Murdoch pulled off his overcoat and wrapped it around Ryan. “You suspect a bomb?”
“I’d say a bomb like the one at headquarters. What we need now is some serious muscle under water.”
“At your service.” Murdoch handed Ryan his phone and took off, running flat out. When he dove off the end of the dock, he told the dragon, “All yours.”
He shifted after he was completely hidden beneath the dark water. With a whip of his tail, he shot through the water separating the two docks. Racing along the length of the massive vessel, he looked for any signs of a diver, or anything attached to the hull. Zip.
He slipped under the propellers to check the other side. There. The dragon roared his challenge. The bomber turned, started, and dropped something. The explosive device stayed attached to the hull.
Bad. Danger, the dragon insisted.
Go get it, big guy.
The bomber froze, screaming under his mask, too terrified to swim away. The dragon gave a tail-pump and rolled to his side as he approached the bomb. He snagged it with two claws, then chewed it into little pieces with enormous teeth set in his powerful jaws. Explosive parts drifted down through the murky water.
The dragon turned his attention to the bad man.
But the man had torn off his mask and breathing equipment. In his panic, he’d drowned rather than go to the surface.
Dead.
Buck up, big guy. You got to chew the bomb. Forget the man.
The dragon pouted but obeyed. He swam to the end of the new ship’s dock and made a mid-leap shift. When Murdoch climbed the rest of the way up the ladder, only his shoes and socks were wet. And hey, good timing, they were still making speeches. He hurried to the stands and slipped into his seat as the automatic champagne bottle struck the bow of the ship, cracked open, and sprayed bubbly wine.
After the crowds began to thin, Ryan handed back Murdoch’s phone and insisted on returning the coat.
“Only,” Murdoch told him, “if you get that arm checked over at the onsite medi-center. We’ll wait for you. I know you’ll want to hear all about our adventures. And ask somebody to bring you a clean shirt.”
“I’m wearing black tie,” Ryan said. “Monkey suit is on the chopper.”
“No prize money for you.”
Before he’d leave, Ryan assigned three bodyguards to protect Vic, Annalisa and Murdoch while they waited for him.
“I suppose I’ll be billed for this, too,” Murdoch grumbled. It seemed worth it when his mate hugged him and whispered in his ear, “My hero.”
Ryan and Alice returned together. “I got him,” Alice announced with obvious pride. “Not the briefcase guy but his partner. The one who sliced Ryan.”
“Good work, Alice,” Murdoch said.
“Turned him over to the police. And we have divers down now making sure the briefcase man didn’t leave a bomb. I’ll call Ryan if we learn anything more tonight.”
On the helicopter flight to the hotel, Murdoch tried to tell his friends and mate all about the dragon’s underwater adventure without yelling.
“He chewed up the bomb, ripped it apart. The bomber saw the beast tearing into his bomb and panicked. The dragon was going to force him to the surface, to surrender to the authorities, but the idiot was screaming, tore off his mask and drowned. The dragon left the body down there.”
Annalisa made a tisk sound. “It’s a miracle we weren’t all blown to bits.”
Murdoch shrugged. “The dragon never claimed to be a bomb expert. Bite, rip and claw, that’s his style.”
Ryan leaned over to Vic, and asked “You already knew about the boss?”
Vic gave him a vague shrug. The two of them stared at each other.
Chapter 21
Murdoch
Sliding his arm around his mate, Murdoch gave up trying to talk over the helicopter’s rotor noise. Instead, he gazed out of his window, watching the lights below change as they flew over towns, villages, highways.
Once the authorities established that the man who’d drowned trying to bomb Muirdris’s newest vessel was the same man who’d succeeded in bombing the parking garage, the direct attack on Muirdris Shipping was over. The dragon did his thing, and that threat was stopped. With the bomber’s partner in custody, they might even get some answers. Like “why?”
He pulled Annalisa closer. Kudos to the beast, but Murdoch’s mission was still in limbo. He had yet to prove himself. His mate had travelled all the way from California to warn him of a potentially devastating electronic threat to Muirdris. One that would have international consequences and affect the entire clan. And he’d accepted the challenge to finally prove to Murphy and the other directors that he was worthy.
So far, the jury was still out.
He needed to think of a way to identify the person who’d sent the emails offering to sell Muirdris port secrets. According to Vic, she was close, but she kept hitting cyber walls. Was there a way to get around those? He couldn’t discuss it here, in mid-flight. He’d pull Vic aside for a private conversation as soon as they landed. They could find a quiet corner in the Muirdris VIP suite provided by the hotel for the four of them to freshen up and dress for the ball.
The chopper landing, setting down on the hotel’s roof helipad, was obviously a thrill for his mate. He held Annalisa’s hand as she stepped off the helicopter and automatically ducked. He led her out of range of the blades and pointed out the 365-degree view of the lights of Boston and the harbor. During their long, deep kiss, he made a silent pledge to her.
I swear, I�
�ll figure out the emails and stop this guy.
The hotel manager came forward, with two bell-people in tow. The silver-haired man introduced himself and greeted each new arrival with a firm handshake. The garment bags and small suitcases were whisked away.
In the service elevator, Murdoch caught Vic’s eye. “You brought your computer?”
“Always.”
“Sweetling?” he turned to Annalisa, “I need a few minutes with Vic. There are two master bedrooms with baths in the suite. Could you—?”
“No problem,” his gorgeous mate said. “I’ll go first. I need more one-on-one time with the blow-dryer.”
“Sure, boss.” Ryan agreed. “But as soon as I’m dressed, I want to check out security in the ballroom. I’ll assign one of our people at the door of the suite until I return.”
Inside the spacious apartment, Murdoch made sure Annalisa had everything she needed and then stepped back into the living room. Vic was sitting at the desk, her computer open in front of her. She glanced up and said, “Cool. I recognize that expression. You have a new idea.”
He sat beside her and explained his plan to avoid the next cyber wall. “I’m thinking once you established your fake ID and responded to the original email, they were able to program sender-specific walls. Let’s try snooping from a whole new server and use an under-the-wall approach.”
She sat motionless for a moment. Then Vic’s eye grew wide and a broad smile lit up the sharp features of her face. “That combo might just work.”
He moved to the picture window, giving her room to work. When Ryan, resplendent in a custom tuxedo, cautiously opened his bedroom door, Murdoch waved him forward. Ryan tiptoed through the living room and surreptitiously exited the suite. Vic, her fingers dancing over the keyboard, never looked up.
A few moments later, Vic jerked back, her hands gripping the lip of the desk so hard her knuckles turned white.
“Don’t shift,” he ordered. “Do. Not. Shift.” Murdoch’s dragon-alpha-voice commanded.
“Son of a bitch,” she hissed, panting hard.
“Maintain,” he said, adding, “I need you to tell me what you found.”
Her fox claws retracted into furry paws. The paws transformed into long-fingered human hands. Vic released her grip on the desk. “Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing and tell me. Who is it?”
“Darren Weaton. My executive assistant. One of my team is offering top secret Muirdris port protocols for sale to the highest bidder. Oh, Mr. Rudraige, how can I ever…”
“Vic, stop right now. Mr. Rudraige? You haven’t called me that in a decade. You can have your first-ever breakdown later. First, we need to figure out how Darren got his hands on the protocols. Who gave them to him or gave him access? Then—”
“Wait. Now that I know it’s Darren, I’ll search all his accounts, find out when and how he got the secret data.” Her fingers started typing on the keyboard while she spoke.
“Should we confront him here?” Murdoch asked “Tonight? The sooner the better—right?”
“In terms of stopping the auction and releasing an immediate corporate denial, yes. Absolutely, the sooner the better. But how to manage the timing and avoid negative publicity? That’s Ryan’s call.”
When all four of them were dressed, he stood beside Annalisa in his jeans and an MIT sweatshirt, and Vic announced, “Darren didn’t have an accomplice. Thanks to my brilliant training and mentorship, he was able to hack into the protocols. I slammed an electronic lid on that shit, and reprogramed. Hell, I even changed the passcodes.”
“Not your fault,” Ryan whispered to her. “We’ll take Darren down late tonight. Hustle him out of the hotel and into lockdown. Right now, it’s time to get you and that hot dress out on the dancefloor.” He gave Vic, sexy in a tight-fitting beaded ball gown, a hungry look.
* * *
Annalisa
Annalisa’s knees quaked when the orchestra played the first strains of a waltz and Murdoch rose to his feet, extending his hand to her. “Our dance,” he said.
She eyed the empty floor, noting all eyes were on Murdoch. “Alone?”
“I’ll be with you.”
With a steadying breath, she stood, and he escorted her to the middle of the room. Fighting the urge to look down at his feet, she gave him a wan smile and clung to his hand, a tight grip on his shoulder. He started slow, used both his hands to telegraph his next move. Pretty soon they were moving around the center of the floor like old pros. Well, he danced like a professional, and made her look good.
When the music stopped, applause filled the room. Then other couples streamed onto the dancefloor. She raised questioning brows at Murdoch.
“Another waltz,” he said. “Might as well stick with what we know works.”
“Oh really? How could you be sure we—”
“Let’s try covering a little more territory. We’ll add the progressive basic.”
“The what?”
“Relax. Just the opposite of the box we’ve been doing. I’ll lead.” He placed his arm and palm on her upper back and guided her in time to the music.
With the new pattern they worked their way to the outer perimeter and joined several experienced couples circling the floor. “Now, I’m going to exaggerate our turns,” he whispered. “No new steps, just wider.”
“Okay.” After a few turns they’d covered serious ground. “This is fun,” she confided.
“Start saving up for a floor length gown.”
“They look wonderful twirling.”
“And people can’t see you stepping on my toes.”
At the midpoint of the event, the caterer set out an elaborate buffet. The centerpiece was an ice carving of the new ship complete with stacked shipping containers from around the world.
At a signal from the head waiter, Murdoch stood “Gotta lead the way. Can I get you ladies plates, or would you rather come along and select for yourselves?”
“I’m going to powder my nose,” Vic said. “Ryan, I’m counting on you to bring back red meat.” Ryan snapped a salute.
“I’m with Vic,” Annalisa announced. “And I’ll eat anything, thanks.”
Giddy with the excitement of dancing with Murdoch and the splendor of the ball, she followed Vic, seemingly an expert at weaving her way through a crowd. They exited the ballroom and strode down the hall.
As they approached the entrance, Vic literally ran into a dark-haired young man in a tux. “Darren,” she gasped, a mixture of revulsion and fear on her face.
Annalisa moved forward to stand beside her. This was Vic’s personal assistant. The one she’d avoided on her visit to Muirdris headquarters. She’d overheard him talking to Ji but never got a good look at his face.
Here, Darren’s expressive face told its own story. His surprise turned to shock and then morphed into pure hatred. Annalisa almost stepped back again, but Vic held her ground, so she did too. Darren jutted his red face closer.
“So, you finally figured it out?” he spat. “You act so smart, so superior to the rest of us, but you’re nothing more than a stupid, over-paid bitch.”
“What—” Annalisa began.
“Darren is the one auctioning off Muirdris secrets,” Vic said in an undertone.
“And,” he snarled, “we can’t have either one of you repeating that bit of information.” He pulled a deadly looking gun from under his tux jacket. “Move, now. Past the restrooms, into the supply closet.”
The sign on the door read: ‘Authorized employees only’ but the door was unlocked. Inside, floor to ceiling shelves were loaded with bathroom supplies and hotel equipment. Near the back corner, a pipe ran floor to ceiling
“I plan for every contingency,” he said. Standing them beside the pipe, he zip-tied their hands behind their backs, and around the pipe. Shoving them down to sit on the tile floor, he tied their ankles with extension cords.
Shaking out linen napkins, he fashioned gags. “One more box to check, then I’ll be back. What’ll
it be, whores? Death by stabbing? I have a butcher knife. Or should I bring the sound suppresser for this gun?”
Re-holstering the weapon, he peeked out into the hallway. “All clear. While I’m gone, you two take a vote. Decide how you want to die.”
Chapter 22
Annalisa
The lock on the storage closet door clicked. Annalisa closed her eyes and dug deep for a memory. Last year, in a weak moment of tipsy bravado, three of her beach volleyball buddies had challenged the remaining three to a timed contest, escaping from zip-ties. Based solely on U-tube videos, the challengers swore it could be done. She remembered some of the steps and a big caution. It didn’t work on ties designed to tighten with pressure.
“Don’t worry, it’ll be okay,” a soft voice said beside her. Vic? Annalisa’s eyes flew open. Vic gave her a toothy grin, the napkin gag shredded in her lap.
“Hough loo uh at?”
Vic smiled. “Hold still and I’ll get your gag off, with my teeth.”
Her teeth? She stared down at the shredded napkin.
“Hold still,” Vic said, “and trust me.”
Annalisa froze and closed her eyes for good measure. The knot at the back of her neck released. Her napkin, now with several puncture marks, settled on the front of her sweatshirt.
“Thank you, much better,” Annalisa said, licking her lips. “I think I remember how to get out of zip-ties. Let me try it for a few seconds. If it doesn’t work, be thinking how to at least get the electric cords untied.” She began moving her hands behind her back.
“I need to tell you something,” Vic said, “in case it might help in planning our escape.”
“I’ll keep working on my ties. You talk.”
“Um, I’m an Arctic fox. I bit—”
“Oh my God,” Annalisa breathed, “that’s wonderful. You can rescue us.”
“No, sadly, I can’t. Not the way the bastard has us positioned. Annalisa, keep working on your restraints while I explain what I can and can’t do. I can call on my fox’s teeth and strength to chew off napkins. I could chew through the electric wire if either one of us was a contortionist and could get her ankles to my mouth. Same with the zip ties. I can’t get to them and besides, I suspect that result would be bloody. Our number one priority and our biggest obstacles are the ties and the pipe. Also, I can’t fully shift with my hands tied around a pipe.”
