Secrets of the Dead

by Kylie Brant

  “I didn’t get a chance to finish filling Eve in on all the backstory.” Adam’s chair creaked as he leaned back in it, his gaze on the woman. “Shortly after the foiled kidnapping of my stepson, the Vienna police department caught two men responsible for the murder of a police officer. They were responsible for delaying Eddie’s arrival at the school and so are considered accomplices. However, they aren’t talking. Not a word from either of them. It’s thought that they’re foreigners, but since they won’t answer questions we can’t be sure where they’re from.”

  Declan stretched out his legs and crossed them at the ankle, adding, “No tags in their clothes, no ID in their wallets. They likely had cells. Had to, in order to communicate with the other suspects. But the phones weren’t on them when they were found. Possibly destroyed.”

  The woman next to him leaned forward, seemingly fascinated. “Do you want me to speak to them?”

  Looking from Larrison to Adam, Declan’s words were tinged with surprise. “Why would you do that?”

  “Eve has…a unique skill set. But right now I have other plans for it.”

  Again that bright flash of teeth. And again Declan thought she’d look right at home in a high school cheerleader outfit. She was…perky. The way some people were before life slapped them around a bit and dulled that beatific glow. She certainly didn’t seem like anyone familiar with interrogation techniques. “They’re the FBI’s problem now.”

  “Their photos have been all over the news, but there have been no solid leads about their identity. Although something could still turn up, they’re currently a dead end for us.” Raiker had focused elsewhere, Declan knew. He’d been part of those efforts. With the cop killers in custody, police resources dried up fast, especially since Royce had been returned home safely. “The forensic sketch of the would-be abductors was a tentative match for this man.” Picking up the remote from his desk Adam pointed it in the direction of the screen on the wall. Declan’s interest sharpened. This was news to him. And quite possibly the lead from which Adam’s plan of action had blossomed. “It was Royce’s description of his tattoos that helped us get a hit on the sketch when we ran it through the international databases. The kid’s observant.”

  “Not to mention resourceful,” Eve murmured, staring hard at the picture. “To get away from two of them.”

  The stranger in the photo sported teardrop tattoos beneath his right eye. Even without the markings there was a palpable danger that emanated from the one-dimension likeness. Declan asked, “Does he have a name?”

  “Several, as it happens.” Adam clicked the remote and what looked like a booking sheet was shown. “Lafka Malsovic, Sergei Peterol, Liam Nesche. No match to any of those on incoming airline manifests, so who knows what name he’s using here. He’s Serbian. Wanted in multiple countries for charges including gun running, murder and sex trafficking.”

  It was a sobering list of crimes, but how did it fit with the plot to kidnap Royce? Perhaps the man was a hired hit. The possibility sent a chill through him. But Declan couldn’t figure a reason for going outside the country for wet work when there was plenty of hired killers right here. Nor could he guess why anyone would want a young boy dead. “Doesn’t really help us narrow down motive, does it?” It was the one thing that had stymied the investigation, because there were endless possibilities.

  Declan ticked them off on his fingers from memory. “Money’s still the most likely. Greed’s a powerful motivator. Revenge. You and Jaid have plenty of people lining up to take a swing at you. Or leverage. Maybe by grabbing Royce they expected something of you in return. Or, equally likely Malsovic might have his fingers in pies Interpol knows nothing about, and one of those sidelines is the reason for his appearance here.”

  “Whatever it is would be high stakes, wouldn’t it?” Eve’s voice was tentative. “Four people involved, at a minimum. And to kill a police officer? That guaranteed a massive manhunt.”

  Raiker shot her an approving look and Declan wondered again what the hell she was doing here. A unique skill set? That could mean anything. A martial arts expert. A forensic profiler. Or a contortionist adept at eating with her feet. Although the latter thought was intriguing it didn’t answer the question of where the hell the woman fit in.

  “Motive continues to elude us. Malsovic’s trafficking record shows a mid-level player, a grunt who supplies women for large trafficking networks, although the rings have been known to take money to smuggle males out of the country and then sell them into servitude. Same with the guns…he’s strictly a muscle man. Brutality is his trademark.” Raiker’s mouth tightened for a moment, and Declan knew he was considering how close Royce had come to falling into the man’s hands. The moment passed, and he continued, “Whether he’s working on something similar here, or was hired because of his penchant for violence is uncertain. At any rate, a manhunt is underway to find him, but we’ve got no solid leads on his whereabouts at this time.”

  With a click of the remote he brought up another photo. “Unlike the man who called himself Marlin Hobart.”

  Declan’s blood simmered just at the sight of the smiling bastard. If Royce had been a little less resourceful… The IT agents had been able to retrieve the phony ID picture that appeared, then disappeared from the school secretary’s computer. The forensic sketches drawn with the help of Royce and the school secretary had been uncannily accurate. They’d plastered Hobart’s photo all over the news. None of the resulting tips had led to his location. And the cyber trail had fizzled. The computer twice used to infiltrate the school’s server had been in a large WiFi café downtown without security cameras.

  “We dead-ended on finding signs of him anywhere.” Declan lifted a shoulder. “Name’s a fake, of course, but nothing came up in the databases. No match with Homeland Security and Border Customs. We’re still going through airport security and border crossing tapes. At this point we have nothing to suggest they left the country.” He looked at Adam and cocked a brow. Unless…”

  Raiker clicked to another photo and Eve gave a strangled gasp. Declan couldn’t blame her. A close up of a decomposing corpse was off-putting regardless of skill set. “Eight days ago a jogger ventured off a trail in the C&O Canal National Park near Georgetown and went into the woods to relieve himself. He stumbled upon this body partially buried in the leaves. The coroner estimates the victim had been killed within the last ten to twelve weeks. That timeline, and the victim’s general physical description had the homicide detective alerting us.”

  He leaned forward, a thrum of adrenaline in his veins. “Impossible to match a description to the sketch.” The face—what was left of it—was partially mummified, with the areas of it covered by mold and adipocere. Much of the skin had been eaten away.

  “Caitlin Fleming is assisting the coroner’s office and will construct a forensic sculpture that we can compare to the sketch. This is all preliminary until then.” Fleming was one of Raiker’s forensic anthropologists. “But the height and weight fit. Sandy blond hair. Nothing left of the eyes, of course. But these were convincing.” He switched to the next picture.

  Declan paused a beat. “His shoes?”

  There was a flicker of a smile on Raiker’s mouth. “Royce did a good job working with the forensic artist describing the two men. But the boy has uncanny powers of observation when it comes to sneakers. He’s got a closet full, because he wheedles a new pair from his mother every month or so. From his description we were able to nail the style.”

  “Puma GV Specials,” Declan recalled. The information had been impossible to trace. The brand was widely distributed in stores and online. Another dead end. Until, at least, their match had shown up on a dead body.

  “How did he die?”

  It was the first time Eve had spoken since Adam had shown the most recent pictures. “Two shots, center mass. It was a body dump. He wasn’t killed on scene.”

  Looking
at the other man speculatively Declan mused, “Maybe he got the blame for the kidnapping going wrong. Or could be that whoever ordered it just wanted to tidy up loose ends. With the two cop killers in jail, that just leaves Malsovic unaccounted for. He might be responsible for the hit. Or else he took off, figuring he’d be next in line.”

  “The feds are focusing on the two in custody.” Adam shut off the digital screen. For Eve’s benefit he added, “Looking at earlier crime incidents in the surrounding area around that time, we learned that there was an attempted carjacking of a street maintenance truck in Vienna that morning. The driver managed to get away and he ID’d the men as the two who killed the cop.”

  She nodded her understanding. “Their job was one of diversion, and they needed an official vehicle to tie up traffic and delay Royce’s real driver.”

  Declan was impressed anew with the truck driver’s deed. From what they’d managed to piece together, it had been less than a half hour later that the pair had managed to somehow overpower the policeman.

  “And now we come to the part that involves you both.” It was always a bit uncomfortable being pinned by Adam’s laser blue gaze, summoning distant memories of Declan’s misspent youth in elementary school. Although even Sister Juanita’s penetrating stare paled in comparison to that of the man before him. “After two and a half months we’re no closer to discovering why Royce was kidnapped, much less the identity of those in charge. Which means we have to consider that he’s still a target. Still in danger.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Safe.” Adam’s response to Eve’s question was clipped.

  Undeterred, she gave him an understanding look. “Keeping a ten-year-old boy corralled indefinitely under high security can’t be easy.”

  He grimaced. “You have no idea. Jaid has taken a leave of absence from the bureau so she’s with him around the clock, but he wants his life back. His friends, his freedom, his school, and he wants it sooner rather than later. That’s where you two come in. Your cover will necessarily be part truth, part fabrication.”

  Eve’s earlier words began to make sense to Declan now. “As a married couple.”

  Adam gave a nod. “Exactly.” There was a flicker of amusement in his expression for an instant before it vanished. “Meet the future Mrs. Gallagher. You got married in Scotland, which alleviates the need to falsify records here. Your names appear on a piece of property, a house the two of you own.”

  “I’m sure we have excellent taste.”

  Declan slanted the woman at his side a quelling look. Undercover work wasn’t a damn lark. And he wasn’t all that anxious to go into deep cover with someone by his side that he didn’t know. Had no reason to trust.

  “As it happens it’s quite nice.” There was a note in his employer’s voice that made Declan think the man was enjoying this. “Too expensive for you now, though, since Gallagher got himself fired from Raiker Forensics, so you’re renting it out while you live in a much cheaper place in downtown DC. Cheap being the operative word.”

  Forgetting his trepidation for a moment, Declan said, “So I’m a disgruntled ex-employee with an ax to grind? Hope you aren’t type casting.”

  Raiker ignored the comment. “I have an extensive web of contacts on the street and for the past couple of weeks we’ve been seeding them with your phony backstory while you wrapped up your last case. There’s definitely been interest. The story has it that you were canned four months ago, which should be safe enough since you were working in Vancouver at that time. You’ve been turned down by every agency you’ve applied for employment at, and you blame me for that. I figure the botched snatching had to involve more than the four men we know of. They probably planted a kid in Royce’s school so everything about our routine could be noted. And they have someone with the skills to hack the school’s computer so they could copy our ID and insert Hobart’s picture there. If there are accomplices who haven’t scattered, they’ll try again, and with your background you’ll present an irresistible opportunity. I’m betting they’ll reach out to you.”

  The pieces were falling into place. “So I got fired, I’m pissed, and looking for payback.” Declan hooked an ankle over a knee, intrigued at the prospect. “What exactly do I bring to the table?”

  “You have extensive knowledge of my security systems and routines.”

  He snorted. Like Raiker would ever be that careless. No one person, hell, no one company possessed more than a splinter of that knowledge. It’d be nearly impossible to piece together the elements that had gone into the layers that protected his agency and home. “Believing that means they’re capable of grossly underestimating you.”

  The man’s grin was feral. “They already have if they don’t think I’ll come after them with everything I’ve got.”

  “Okay.” He was more comfortable now that he had a blueprint of the plan. “So I’m going to give them information that will lead them into a trap?”

  “In a nutshell. All the while providing us with inside evidence about who’s behind this whole thing and what they want. After you provide them with the phony details we’ll do the rest of the investigation from afar. And we’ll be ready for them when they act.”

  “That sounds like something I can do on my own. No offense to Ms. Larrison…”

  “…none taken.” Amusement laced her voice.

  “…but I’ve done deep cover before.” He went on as if she hadn’t spoken, his attention on Adam. “I’m not sure what Eve can add to the op.”

  “It’s not just your undercover experience that will come in handy on this case. I’m hoping you’ll get a chance to use your computer know-how, as well, if the opportunity presents itself. As for Eve… Malsovic’s network includes a number of central European and Asian organizations, so we’re not quite sure where this will lead. He’s Serbian. We haven’t yet determined the nationalities of the two accomplices downtown. But there may be more foreigners involved. You’re bi-lingual and your second language is somewhat obscure. You and Eve will be able to converse freely without fear of being understood.”

  Declan’s mouth quirked up. “So you don’t believe the kidnappers will be speaking Scottish Gaelic.”

  “I’m hoping not.” Raiker set the remote on his polished cherry desk. “But Eve does. She speaks several other languages…well.” He corrected himself. “Several is a massive understatement. She’s a hyper-polyglot. How many languages, Eve?”

  “Sixty-seven, including dialects.”

  Stunned, Declan swiveled his head to gape at her. “Fluently?”

  Looking vaguely insulted, she replied tartly, “What would be the point of learning a language if you don’t learn to speak it fluently? Currently I’m able to read and write in about fifty of them. I’m working on improving that.”

  Belatedly aware that his jaw was hanging open, he shut it. Over sixty languages. Yeah, that’d qualify as a special skill set.

  “Eve is on loan to us from the Department of State. She’s uniquely qualified to not only identify the language used by the people who reach out to you, but to translate anything they might say in your presence.” Adam’s voice was satisfied. “You can consider her your secret weapon.”

  _______

  Declan’s secret weapon was currently plowing her way through a plate heaped with an open face hot turkey sandwich, gravy and mashed potatoes. He paused in the midst of eating his hamburger, half in awe at the systematic battle she was waging on the meal. They’d been living their cover for three days, and he still couldn’t get used to her appetite. He gauged her at about five five, a hundred and ten pounds. Where the hell did she put all that food?

  Eve looked up then, fork paused on the way to her mouth. “What?”

  “Nothing.” Resuming eating, he took a bite of the burger. Chewed reflectively. Swallowing, he added, “You should sign up for clinical studies at John Hopkins. I’m
sure they’d jump at the chance to study your metabolism.”

  She shrugged, seeming unabashed. “It’s been a while since we’ve eaten.”

  “Breakfast. Today, not last week.”

  She set down the silverware long enough to sip from her water glass, her gaze unflinching over the rim. “You’re probably used to the kind of women perpetually on a diet who nibble rabbit food and complain about their weight.”

  As it happened, he was. And that trait had long baffled and frustrated him. “I have a large extended family. The only female in it that eats like you is my niece, Sadie. Of course, she’s four.”

  “And headed for a positive body image. Good for her.” She picked up her fork again and resumed eating.

  They spoke in Scottish Gaelic whenever they conversed, at his insistence. It was never too early to take safety precautions. “Assuming the kidnappers’ accomplices eventually make contact, and Adam appears certain they will, we need to finalize our strategy.” He polished off the burger well before she finished her meal.

  She rolled her eyes. “We’ve been over it. Daily, in fact.” Her response was made between bites. “We already memorized the background Adam arranged for us. My job is mostly listening for a foreign language and interpreting what’s said even as I pretend I don’t understand a word they’re saying. I’ve had practice. Don’t worry about it.”

  He was dubious about the type of “practice” she might have gotten, but when he’d tried to probe she always shut him down. Despite living in close quarters with the woman for nearly seventy-two hours, in most ways she was still an enigma.

  Which had all his instincts quivering. She wasn’t a cop or an agent, but she was damn well versed at speaking without giving away anything personal. Normally that wouldn’t bother him, but he didn’t like walking into danger with a partner as much of a question mark as was the situation he was sent to assess. “Deep cover isn’t like the safe surroundings of the State Department. One slip up and we’re both screwed. It isn’t a matter of if this can go bad, it’s how.”