Secret Scandal (Trinity Masters Book 7)

by Lila Dubois

  Irina kept the gun in her right hand, and trailed her left hand along the corridor wall. It was stone, and it was slimy. Gritting her teeth against the urge to yank her hand away from the nasty texture, she kept going. After twenty steps, the light had grown enough for her to see that she was coming up to a turn.

  Irina crouched, gun once more held in two hands. She counted to three, then whipped around the corner, finger on the trigger.

  This hallway was as deserted as the last, except for a glow stick, which lay forgotten or dropped fifteen feet in front of her. It was a large, heavy-duty tube that emitted a strong green light. It might be a trap, or the gunman had dropped it as he ran.

  She waited for a count of twenty, then crept forward in a crouch. She scooped up the glow stick, suppressing a sob of relief at having a source of light. The problem now was that he’d see her coming. The light would give her away.

  She considered leaving the glow stick, but in the end she couldn’t do it. She was alone underground. She needed the light, for both courage and to see by.

  Irina held on to the light until she reached a junction. The hall she’d been traversing dumped her out into a small round room. A room with five openings coming off of it.

  You’ve got to be kidding me.

  Irina scraped the butt of her gun against the stones at the mouth of the hallways she’d just come out of, leaving herself a bread crumb. Maybe she should turn back. Come back with a team of people and a thousand flashlights.

  Eli and Jasper would love this.

  That thought made her smile. She wasn’t sure why she thought they’d love this creepy tunnel and mysterious network of hallways, but she did. She walked the perimeter of the round room, examining the first few feet of floor in each of the hallways. She didn’t expect to find anything, but there was a small puddle of water in the third corridor, a puddle that had recently been disturbed, as evidence by the darker areas of stone around it where the water had splashed up.

  Damn it.

  Holding the glow stick and gun together in a two-handed grip, Irina started down the corridor. She walked for what felt like hours, occasionally passing an unexplained archway in the stone that created an alcove, or a heavy wooden door with no visible handle. She knew time passed slowly in combat situations, but even allowing for that, she’d been walking for far too long. There was no way she was still under the church. With nothing to guide her, she had no idea where she was.

  Another one-way turn and the corridor dead-ended. Irina suppressed a curse, and was about to go back, when another of those odd archways caught her eye.

  She stepped closer, illuminating the two-foot-deep alcove. This one wasn’t empty. There was a ladder going up, disappearing into a small hole in the ceiling that had been concealed by the arch.

  Irina didn’t even stop to think about it. Up was good. Up meant the surface and light. Gun tucked into her skirt, she snugged the glow stick into the neck of her shirt and started to climb. It wasn’t a long climb, and instead of emerging through a manhole into the middle of one of Boston’s busy streets, which is what she’d imagined, she found herself in yet another corridor.

  This one was made of wood rather than stone, and was drier. It was also smaller, and Irina had to walk in a crouch to stop from hitting her head on the low crossbeams.

  Twenty feet, then thirty. This didn’t seem to be going anywhere, and the hair on the back of Irina’s neck was standing on end. She was about to turn back when the floor under her cracked.

  Irina looked down in time to see the wood below her was black with rot, before it gave way.

  She screamed as she fell, only to be brought up short when her feet hit something. She was waist-deep below the floor, her upper body still in the corridor. Pain zinged through her right ankle and she scrambled to hold on to the wood around her, but it kept crumbling away, into the ever-widening hole.

  She was standing on something frigidly cold and slanted. She’d lost her shoes when she fell, and dug her toes into what felt like stone, but it was hard to get purchase. Every time she thought she’d braced herself, her feet would slide or more of the wood would crumble away, forcing her to shift her upper body, and causing her to lose her footing.

  Irina’s nails dug into the wood braces on the walls as her feet lost their tenuous grip on the slanted surface and she slipped, falling all the way through the corridor’s floor. She landed with a thunk, her cheek cracking against the stone, and started to slide. Her gun and the glow stick were somewhere above her, and she was alone in the dark, sliding farther and farther down, away from the weak light.

  Pain and fear shredded the professional calm she’d been using as a shield. Now she was just alone in the dark, falling, falling.

  Irina screamed, and kept screaming until she hit hard stone. Finally her screams fell silent.

  Eli felt sick with worry. He paced the width of the hall. The grand hall of the library above them was world famous. A smaller version of it was replicated here. Columns supported the double-high arched ceiling, and sound bounced off the walls, echoing from one end to the other, where double doors guarded the entrance to the inner chambers.

  Devon Asher sat on the floor, back against a column, breathing deeply. He’d been hit not by a bullet, but by a tranquilizer dart. The rest of the Grand Master’s counselors were there too—Sebastian, Juliette, and Franco.

  The bags—the three portfolios they still had and the two duffels—lay forgotten on the floor. The elevator door opened—it was the only way into the headquarters. Jasper jogged out. Eli froze, but Jasper shook his head.

  “No sign of her, and I can’t get back into the church. There are cops everywhere.”

  “I’ll start on damage control,” Seb said. There was almost no cell phone service so he took Jasper’s place in the elevator, taking it up to the rare book room.

  Juliette knelt with Devon and Franco. “They attacked us right on our doorstep,” she said softly.

  “Where is the Grand Master?” Eli demanded. “She needs to get the National Guard or the Army or someone to go get Irina.”

  Juliette rose to her feet.

  Jasper tapped Eli’s shoulder. “Uh, Eli, she’s the Grand Master.”

  “No, she’s not.” Eli frowned. “She was there at the same time as the Grand Master.”

  “The second time we saw the Grand Master it was actually a decoy wearing her robe,” Jasper explained coolly.

  Juliette Adams sighed, her face resolving into a lovely but cold mask. “I see there’s no fooling you, Mr. Ferrer.”

  “Well, I’m an idiot,” Eli muttered.

  Jasper squeezed his shoulder. “I suspected, but now it’s fairly obvious. And it’s obvious you’re worried about your husband.” Jasper nodded to Devon. “Well, we’re worried about our wife.”

  Franco jumped to his feet. “I’ll get the map.”

  “Map?” Eli asked.

  “There’s a network of tunnels that connect this,” Juliette gestured around them to the headquarters, “to the subbasements of Trinity Church. Until recently, the purists had the map, and we had no idea the tunnels were there. We thought we’d located all the access points and closed them up, but there must be others that aren’t on the map.”

  Devon raised his head. He still looked a bit drugged. “It’s a maze. We’ll go after her, but we need manpower, equipment…” Devon trailed off.

  “Then we’ll go after her ourselves—” Jasper started.

  Eli slapped Jasper’s shoulder. “Shhh.” He closed his eyes, listening. “Did anyone hear that?”

  Everyone looked at Eli, who was starting to doubt what he’d heard. It had sounded like a scream. Just as the silence stretched too long, it came again. A scream that lasted for nearly half a minute.

  “Irina,” Jasper breathed, fear etching lines into his face.

  Juliette whipped around, hair flying. “Where is it coming from?”

  Devon staggered to his feet. “I need a gun.”

  Fra
nco came back, holding a large sheet of paper. “I’ve got the map.”

  Eli glanced over at the line drawing Franco held, and it clicked.

  Map. It’s a map. A map of here.

  Eli ran for the portfolios. “Please, please,” he muttered.

  “Eli, leave it!” Jasper said, irritation in his voice. “We need to spread out, search.”

  “It’s not a blueprint,” Eli snapped. “It’s a map.”

  They’d lost two of the portfolios to the man with the gun. He’d grabbed one from Jasper, yanking him back by his strap so hard, Jasper fell. Eli had moved in to help, but by bending down he’d made it easier for the guy—who’d been wearing what looked like a fencing mask under his hoodie—to yank a bag away from Eli too.

  “It was never about the Rodin,” Eli cursed, ripping open the zipper on the first bag. The box with the Nolde. He tossed it to the side. “It was about the map.”

  Jasper sucked in a breath as he realized what Eli had figured out. He ripped the paper from Franco and dropped down beside Eli. He slammed the flat of his hand against the floor. The sound rang like a crack. “If we lost it…”

  The second bag had one of Irina’s paintings. Eli shoved it aside also.

  “Please, please,” he whispered. The zipper stuck, so Eli grabbed the edges of the portfolio and ripped.

  The edge of a gold frame winked at him. Gold—not the brassy, glossy look of gold paint, but the rich glow of real gold. If you had to smuggle both art and gold, why not use the gold to make a frame? Eli paused for less than a second to digest that thought, then pulled the map out, scattering shards of glass. At some point the glass had shattered and was now just a spiderweb. Eli shook the glass out and laid the heavy frame flat on the floor. Franco knelt beside them, taking the map he’d brought for Jasper and laying it beside the frame.

  “There’s twice as many passages on this one.” Franco sounded both excited and horrified.

  “They’re secret tunnels?” Jasper asked.

  Franco nodded.

  “Are there any that open up near here?”

  Franco studied the map. “I…I can’t tell. There’s too much going on.”

  Juliette walked to the middle of the hall, cleared her throat, then yelled, “Irina!”

  The acoustics of the hall made the single word bounce and echo. They waited, waited.

  Then there was a reply. A thin, reedy cry.

  “Spread out,” the Grand Master barked.

  Sebastian returned in time to help them with the search. The acoustics that made a single word carry also made it impossible to pinpoint the source of a sound. Eli walked along the edge of the hall, in the corridor created by the columns on one side and the actual wall on the other. Someone called Irina’s name, and in the silence that followed, Eli heard her cry, more distinctly than before.

  “Over here!” he yelled.

  The six of them spread out near Eli’s position, running their hands over the wall and floor. It was Jasper who found the door. The trigger was a small, decorative stone on the floor carved with the triquetra. Jasper cleared the seams around the stone by blowing on it, then pushed down. With a puff of dust, a door-sized section of wall opened up. The door swung in, revealing another wall, less than a foot away.

  “What the hell?” Jasper asked.

  Eli stuck his head into the darkness. “Irina!”

  “Eli? Eli?!” Her voice was distinct and clear. She was somewhere in the thin envelope of space.

  “We’re here, baby! We’re coming,” he yelled. Eli felt light-headed with relief that they’d found her.

  The only reply was a sob.

  Franco appeared with heavy flashlights. It took a few minutes of investigation before they figured out what was going on. The arched roof of the hallway helped hold up the weight of the public building above them, but in order to construct the arch, the original builders had created a chamber within a chamber. The arched hallway was constructed inside a larger rectangular box, and the door was essentially a construction access point. At ground level, the wall of the outer shell and the wall of the hall itself nearly met, but ten feet up, where the arch caused the roof of the hall to curve in, the space opened up.

  “Move, let me see.” Juliette elbowed the men out of the way. She whipped a small headlamp out of Franco’s hand and put it on.

  “Juliette, don’t—” Devon was too late. Juliette braced herself in the narrow space between the outside of the arch and the other wall and climbed in with the ease of a scrambler. She was the only one small enough to do it.

  “Toss me in some light,” she called back.

  Devon ran his fingers through his hair and looked aggravated. Franco looked worried.

  Sebastian handed in a flashlight. “Don’t die,” he told her cheerfully.

  Less than a minute later there was a cry from Irina, followed by the sound of voices.

  “Irina!” Jasper called. He and Eli were crowded in the opening.

  “Got her,” the Grand Master called back.

  A few minutes later, legs appeared. Eli reached up and took hold of Irina. They must have crawled along at a higher point, then come straight down to the door opening. Irina was dirty and dusty. There was blood smeared on her face, hands, and feet. She was shaking.

  Eli retreated a few feet, dropping to his knees. “We’ve got you, we’ve got you,” he chanted.

  Jasper wrapped his arms around both of them. They stayed that way, huddled together, until Irina stopped shaking.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “And the Trinity Masters are going to be Irina’s patron of the arts.”

  “Jasper…” Irina said tiredly. She was huddled in a chair wearing a pair of Juliette’s leggings and a “Boston Strong” T-shirt.

  “Anything else?” Juliette asked mildly.

  Eli and Jasper looked at each other. They matched, in that they both looked exhausted. Their eyes were sunken, jaws scratchy with the need to shave. Neither looked as bad as Irina, who, even with the blood washed off, looked like she’d been beaten with a stick.

  Juliette made sure she took note of every bump and bruise. She needed to know what they’d been through. Needed to understand the ramifications of her own actions. She’d given them what should have been a no-danger task. It had ended with fifteen people dead, Eli Wexler’s life in ruins, and severe damage to the trust between her and someone who had been one of her brother’s closest advisers.

  It was midafternoon now. She’d kept these three in headquarters, not wanting to risk them being spotted and identified by any witnesses from this morning. Sebastian was working damage control with the cops.

  After some food and rest, Eli and Jasper had confronted her with their list of demands. Jasper required her help and support to fix Eli’s reputation—Jasper had an elaborate, daring plan that involved spinning a tale of adventure, intrigue, and art theft that would paint Eli as the gallant hero. It was so crazy it might work, but it would take the power of the Trinity Masters to keep people from asking too many questions. Juliette was happy to help.

  Additionally, Eli wanted first crack at studying the art they’d brought back. Irina would no longer work for Bennett Securities. And finally, the Trinity Masters had to find Irina a patron to support her as she pursued her art full time.

  “No, Grand Master,” Jasper said. “That’s it.”

  Juliette looked at the painting that they’d propped up on a chair. Not the Nolde painting, which was beautiful, but the painting Irina had done. Apparently there had been others, besides this rather heartbreaking self-portrait, but this morning’s attacker had mistakenly grabbed two of Irina’s paintings, instead of the map.

  “It is good to remember that this is part of what we are meant to do. We’re meant to nurture scholars and artists.” She didn’t add that it was especially good to be reminded of that at a time like this.

  After this past week, there could be no doubt: they were at war.

  Franco got Eli, Jasper, and Irin
a settled in one of the smaller meeting rooms—one that had been hidden until the discovery of the original version of the tunnels’ map. The trinity was arguing about something—something Caden had said to Jasper. Whatever it was, the discussion included Jasper grinning devilishly, Irina looking both irritated and intrigued, and Eli shaking his head.

  Sebastian appeared, reporting that since there had been no damage besides that done by the car crash, and there were no victims, the cops were already moving on to more pressing issues.

  Franco and Devon joined Sebastian at the conference table, while Juliette stayed at her desk. Her computer chimed and she opened the message, praying it wasn’t bad news of some kind. There was no “from” address, which wasn’t unusual. The people who had this particular email address were mostly those in the inner circle of the Trinity Masters. People who would know to take precautions.

  Once it had been decrypted, she found herself looking at an image of a group of people on the beach. Frowning, she ran that image through the decryption software, but nothing happened. That meant either there was something wrong with the decryption or the image itself was the message. She carried her laptop over to the table.

  “I just got this.”

  She turned the screen so everyone could see. They looked as befuddled as she felt.

  “Maybe the encryption is new and your software can’t read it?” Franco suggested.

  Sebastian narrowed his eyes, pointing. “Wait. Is that Bryan Cobb?”

  Juliette peered at the image. An older man with a straw hat, loud Bermuda shorts, and smears of sunscreen on his arms was building a sandcastle with a little boy.

  It looked like Bryan Cobb. Juliette had spent a lot of time staring at photos of the man, alternately angry with him, and sorry for him and his family. Mr. Cobb had a strong, recognizable face and profile, as did the man in this photo. That same profile was shared by many of the people in the photo.