Worse, I still couldn’t trace the hack. After several lengthy maneuvers that got me exactly nowhere, I sat back to re-think my approach. I had to think like the hacker who’d broken in, not like someone who was trying to find him. After a minute, I started typing again. This time I started making a bit of headway.
After what had to be at least another hour, I muttered under my breath. “You sneaky noob. Where are you?”
It took another hour, maybe two. Finally, I found a thread. I leaned back in my chair and grinned. Once I had a thread, there was no stopping me. True to form, in minutes the entire hack unraveled.
Hot damn! I had him.
My fingers flew over the keyboard, searching the bank database until it led me right to the terminal I needed. I copied the terminal number and then tagged it to find the user.
Bingo. My trace had been perfect except I’d been wrong on one front. The hacker hadn’t been a he. It was a she.
Her name was Serafina Lino and she was the Assistant Comp Controller for European Accounts. I pulled out my cell phone and texted Slash that I’d found our hacker or at least the terminal where the hack had originated. I stood, stretched and got a bottle of water from Bendetteto’s fridge, realizing I was ravenously hungry. My phone beeped and I checked the text. It was from Slash and said Serafina hadn’t shown up for work this morning. I should proceed to her office and he’d have Benedetto clear me to have access to her computer. Still holding the bottle of water, I exited the office and asked one of the secretaries in which direction to head to find the office. I stopped for a bathroom break and wished there was a vending machine handy. Guess the Vatican Bank wasn’t big on Pepsi and processed crackers.
It turned out that Serafina’s office wasn’t an office at all, but a small cubicle. The chair was empty and the computer had been turned off. I poked my head into the next cubicle where a young man studied an impressive spreadsheet on a large color monitor.
“Excuse me. Do you speak English?”
He turned around in his chair and fiddled with the glasses that had slid down his nose. “Oh, yes. I do. Are you the lady with the policia?”
“Uh, not exactly. I’m Lexi Carmichael. Mr. Benedetto was supposed to okay me taking a look at Ms. Lino’s computer.”
He swiveled back to his desk and picked up a small notepad. “Si, Mr. Benedetto just called. He says computer people fix password for you.” He handed me a slip of paper on which was written A62x4P. “Please go ahead and have her computer. Do tell me if you have any road kills or errors.”
He looked so proud of himself for be able to conduct himself in English, I didn’t have the heart to correct him. Besides, it wasn’t like I was even giving Italian a shot.
“Well, thanks. Um, did Miss Lino call in sick today?”
He shrugged. “Don’t know. She no call at all.”
“Is she sick a lot?”
“Oh, no. Serafina a good girl. Work hard.”
“Did you have a power outage or anything like that lately?”
He looked at me puzzled, so I tried again. “No power last night or today?” I went to the outlet and pretended to pull the cord. “No electricity?”
“Oh, no. No problems.”
Something niggled at me. “Do you typically shut down your computer at the end of each day?”
“No. We must leave on for backed up.”
“Interesting. Thanks.”
I sat down in Serafina’s chair and waited while the computer booted up. Her desk was neat with a box of tissues, a little jar of peppermint candies and a photo of a middle-aged couple.
I walked back over to her neighbor. “Sorry to bother you again. Is Serafina a young woman or old?”
“Young?”
“You know, my age?”
“Ah. Yes. She young. No married and no bambinos.”
“Okay, thanks.” That probably meant the picture on her desk was her parents. I studied them, thinking they looked ordinary and happy. Guess they wouldn’t be so thrilled when they heard their daughter had been arrested for hacking into the bank.
By the time I got back, the computer was up and running. I entered Serafina’s user name and password and I was in. I did a cursory look around, checked out the system she was running and the main application software. Then I started a more methodical search. It took me less than a minute to find the program for which I’d been looking. Serafina had openly planted a gateway program allowing remote access to the files inside the system. After she opened and executed the program, she’d provided a wide open door for a hacker or hackers to waltz right in and set up shop.
“What were you thinking, Serafina?” I murmured.
A quick glance through the rest of the system told me several other things. Serafina herself was not a hacker. She’d been either tricked or paid well to plant the program. Someone with far more sophistication had used the gateway to begin a series of spectacular hacks to access and transfer the money from Bendetteto’s account and then hide the trail.
I opened random other files, but not surprisingly most everything was either a spreadsheet or written in Italian. I ran a protocol and discovered three unusual and encrypted files. I copied them and the gateway program onto the flash drive on my key chain and then shut down. There was nothing else for me to find here. Standing, I stretched and asked Serafina’s colleague for her address and phone number. He provided it and I thanked him and stepped to a quiet corner. I texted Slash about what I’d discovered and suggested we stop by Serafina’s apartment to talk to her. A minute later, Slash texted back that he was in a meeting, but would send someone else to take me. He gave me instructions where to wait in front of the bank and then said he’d try to meet me at her apartment as soon as he could.
I retrieved my coat and exited the bank, grateful to have a moment of fresh air and sunshine. I marveled at the historic beauty of the architecture around me and then sat on a bench near the fountain Slash had indicated. Pigeons were everywhere. It was crazy. People were feeding them pieces of bread and other things. They strolled right up to me, unafraid, but didn’t stick around long when they realized I didn’t have any food.
After a few minutes an extremely small dark blue Fiat drove up and honked at me. I stood, walking toward the car. Tito had somehow squeezed behind the wheel.
“Hey, Tito.” I climbed in. “Thanks for coming.”
“No problem.”
“Don’t you have guard duties? Protecting the Pope and all that?”
“It’s my day off.”
“You know, I’d really like to see you in those colorful guard pantaloons some time.”
He looked sideways at me. “That’s our dress uniform. We don’t wear it all that often.”
“I’m still hopeful I’ll see it.”
“Being hopeful is a godly pursuit.”
“Good to know.”
I rattled off Serafina’s address and he punched it into his GPS. “Did Slash fill you in?”
“Yah. He says she may know something about his uncle’s troubles.”
“She may be the source of his uncle’s trouble.”
He gave me a grin. “You work fast. I see why Nico likes you.”
“It’s just a first step. By the way, why do you call him Nico?”
Tito shrugged. “It’s better than calling him idiot.”
Guess he had a point.
Tito drove slowly and we looked at the building numbers until we found Serafina’s. It was a three-story stone building next to a lovely white brick church with a black spire and grassy courtyard.
Tito pulled up on the sidewalk and shut off the ignition.
“Is this a legal parking spot?”
He got out of the car. Shrugging, I followed suit. An elderly lady carrying two plastic bags was just coming out the front do
or to the building. Tito caught the door for her, holding it open. She went out and we went in.
I dug in my pocket to find the scrap of paper where I’d written her address. “She’s in apartment number 302.”
We climbed the stairs to the third floor and down the short hall until we came to room 302. The door was ajar.
“Serafina Lino?” Tito knocked and then pushed the door open wider with his elbow.
There was no answer.
I glanced at Tito. “I’m going out on a limb here and say this isn’t a good sign.”
Tito stepped inside, motioning for me to follow. There was a small kitchen to the right and a living area straight ahead. He took a quick peek into both but shook his head. He motioned down a small corridor where presumably the bedroom was located.
I took one step into the corridor after him and knew there was trouble.
The smell nearly knocked me over.
Tito knew it, too, because he grabbed my hand and squeezed it.
Tito called out again, but even I knew it was pointless. We crept down the small corridor for what seemed like forever, past a tiny bathroom and into the bedroom.
That’s where we found Serafina lying on the bed.
She was very, very dead.
Chapter Five
I felt the gorge rise in my throat. Her throat had been slashed and there was blood everywhere.
I pressed a hand against my mouth as Tito grabbed my arm and pulled me out of the bedroom.
“Mio Dio. We have to call Nico at once.”
“Are you completely nuts? We have to call the police. That’s a dead body in there.”
Tito shook his head. “Nico first. We have to handle this carefully.”
The gorge rose again and I battled it back. “Tito, it’s not like I want to alarm you, but we’ve moved way past careful.”
Footsteps sounded behind us and I jumped. Slash put a hand on my shoulder.
“Tito is right, cara. We must be careful. Next time, close the door behind you, my friends.”
“Slash. Oh, my God. Serafina. She’s dead.”
Slash stepped into the bedroom, took a quick look, and then came back out again. He pulled us toward the kitchen. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
I started hyperventilating. “What is wrong with you guys? We are talking about a dead body. We’ve got to call the police. Someone murdered her.”
“Si, but it wasn’t us. Did you touch anything?”
Tito and I shook our heads.
“Good. We’ll call the police, cara. Anonymously. The red tape of being involved in an international homicide investigation would tie us up unnecessarily. You’ve got to trust me. If we figure out what she was into, we’ll catch her murderer. But not if we are hampered by the policia.” Slash looked around. “We aren’t going to find anything left of use here anyway.”
I followed his gaze and for the first time realized that the place was trashed. Someone, perhaps the person who had killed Serafina, had been looking for something. Drawers were emptied, books, papers, and knick-knacks littered the floor. Couch and chair cushions had been ripped open and stuffing strewn across the floor.
I kept remembering how Serafina looked lying on her bed with her throat slit and the blood all over the white bedspread and I felt my stomach heave again.
Maybe Slash sensed I was about to hurl because he took my arm and we exited the apartment, followed closely by Tito, who closed the door and wiped the knob clean. Luckily the hallway was empty, but we hadn’t been careful when we arrived. There was no telling who had seen us, in addition to the elderly lady for whom Tito had held the door. My stomach still felt queasy and I’m pretty sure my face resembled Casper the Ghost’s. I felt significantly better once we were out on the sidewalk having a breath of fresh air.
Slash put an arm around me, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. “Are you all right, cara?”
“Not exactly.”
“I’m sorry. It was a bad idea to permit you to visit her.”
“It was my idea, so don’t blame yourself.”
Tito ran his fingers through his hair. “What have you stumbled onto, my friend?”
Slash frowned. “I’m not certain. Yet.”
We walked around the corner and Slash took out his cell phone. He spoke rapidly into the phone for a moment and then hung up.
“Policia?” Tito asked.
“Someone will call them.” Slash returned the phone to his pocket.
Before I could ask him to whom he referred, I heard a voice from behind us.
“Angelico?”
Slash and I turned as a unit and my mouth fell open as the most beautiful woman I had ever seen approached us. She had jet black hair and it fell in a curtain down to her waist. She wore a tight red dress that hugged every inch of her body and a short fur coat. She let off a stream of Italian from a pair of Angelica Jolie-inspired lips and then threw herself into Slash’s arms. Seeing as how one of those arms was still around me, I ended up with her pressed against me, too, and pieces of her hair floating into my open mouth.
Sputtering, I disentangled myself. I was getting pretty darn sick of being smashed by women who threw themselves at Slash.
The two of them began a rapid conversation in Italian while I stood next to Tito and watched. The woman spoke in a very animated fashion with her hands waving around while Slash listened, slightly amused, his arms crossed against his chest. Finally, he put a hand on her arm and pulled her over to us.
“Lexi, meet Bianca. She’s an old friend of mine.”
I lifted an eyebrow. “You have a lot of friends for a guy who doesn’t have many friends.”
Slash smiled, while Bianca gave me a head-to-toe perusal. “Lexi? That’s an interesting name.”
The way she said it implied that she didn’t think it was interesting at all, but somehow distasteful.
She linked arms with Slash. “So, Lexi, how do you know our Angelico?”
I narrowed my eyes at Slash. This was the second time in as many days as I had been asked this question and I didn’t like how it had turned out the last time. This time, I chose my words carefully and kept my distance.
“Um, Angelico and I are friends from work. Sort of.”
Apparently considering me less than worthy of her attention, she dismissed me and turned to Tito, her expression warming. “Ciao, Tito.” She held out a hand to him and he lifted it to his mouth and kissed it.
I thought back to my first meeting with Tito. He’d shaken my hand, not kissed my knuckles. Why didn’t I rate a kiss on the hand? What was wrong with my knuckles?
Police cars suddenly screamed up the street and Slash said something in Italian to Bianca. She looked over her shoulder and after a quick peck on his cheek, took off.
Slash turned to me and took my arm. “Time to go, cara. We’ll take my car. Tito can come back later and retrieve his.” He steered me toward a black sedan parked a few blocks away. I climbed into the front passenger seat and Tito in the back. Slash did a U-turn and we headed back to the hotel.
I sat in the car with my arms crossed against my chest. I felt drained, sick and grumpy. “Did you tell Bianca about...Serafina?” I asked Slash.
He shook his head. “No, cara. That’s our secret. She knows only that I’m trying to help my uncle. She heard I was in town. In was coincidental that we ran into each other.”
I wasn’t a big believer in coincidence, but I held my tongue. “Lucky us. So, what’s next, A
ngelico?”
Tito laughed from the back seat. “Ah, Lexi. His name isn’t Angelico either. He always gives women a different name. Makes it easier to love them and leave them.”
“Ha, ha. Very funny. Doesn’t it bother you that you don’t know his real name?”
Tito shrugged. “Not really. But I have to call him something, yah? Nico works fine.”
Slash’s mouth twitched with a smile.
Tito stretched his legs out, his knees pressing against the back of my seat. “So, my friend of many names, have you seen Bianca since SISMI?”
Slash shook his head slightly.
“What’s SISMI?” I asked.
Tito leaned forward. “The Italian version of the CIA.”
My eyebrow shot up. “Bianca was in the CIA?”
Tito snorted. “She’s still in as far as I know. She’s a secret weapon of her own making. I’m sure the Motherland owes her a great debt.”
Slash’s lips twitched again and for some reason that made me crankier. Didn’t anyone care we’d just found a dead body? Maybe this was an everyday occurrence for these guys, but it was pretty darn awful for me. I just stared out the window until we reached the hotel.
As soon as we were inside, I went to take a shower. I threw my clothes in the trash. I would never, ever wear them again. They would always remind me of Serafina Lino. Just thinking about her made my stomach queasy. I sat on the top of the toilet seat until I was sure I wouldn’t hurl. Finally I ran the water as hot as I could stand and scrubbed every inch of my body. It didn’t really help. I kept seeing her lying there on the bed and wondered if I’d ever get past it.
No Place Like Rome Page 5
