“Sure, it’s ace when you’re watching James Bond. It’s not-so-ace when it’s pointed at you.”
“True. Tell me about this file.”
I told him everything I could think of, including all the approaches Slash and I had already employed to crack it.
“Slash wants us there?”
“He thinks we’ll get the fastest results that way. He intends to reimburse you for your time and will handle all travel via a cool private jet. You can bring whatever equipment you think you’ll need. I don’t know if it’s a good time for you, though.”
“Actually, it’s a very good time. Xavier and I are due for a couple of days off anyway.”
“So, you’ll come?”
“Tell Slash to send a car for us. We should be ready within the hour.”
“You’re the best. Thanks so much.”
“Save those thanks until we crack the file, okay?”
“Okay.”
I hung up and started to head back up the stairs when Nonna stepped directly into my path.
“Lexi?”
Uh, oh. I didn’t like the way she looked at me. My cheeks burned, but I tried to act nonchalant, like I got caught every day rolling around on the floor with guys. No big deal. “Si, Nonna?”
She said something in Italian and then to my horror pointed at my privates, and said, “Lexi want bambino?”
My mouth dropped open and I pointed at myself. “Me? What? No, no. Oh. My. God. You’ve so got the wrong idea about Slash and me.” I frantically made a scissor gesture in front of my stomach. “Me. Slash. No bambino. Lexi, no, no, no, with Slash.”
She frowned and made a gesture to indicate a protruding stomach. I recoiled.
“Jeez. No, Nonna, no. Seriously? Oh, God, I’m really not having this conversation.”
I laughed like a maniacal woman and rushed past her and up the stairs.
I bolted into the room just as Slash walked away from the printer holding up a photo of Alex Rogolli. “We’ve got him.”
I forgot all about my encounter with Nonna. “You did? Who is he?”
“James Arthur Rutgon, age twenty-seven, unmarried and no children. U.S. citizen with a last known residence in San Diego, California.”
“San Diego? Know anything else?”
“Shortly.” He sat down at one of the laptops and began typing. Minutes later he sat back.
“He graduated with a BA in Chemistry at UC San Diego and then attended the Skaggs School of Pharmacy and Pharmaceutical Sciences.”
“Pharmaceutical Sciences?”
“Current data says he’s employed by the pharmaceutical giant, Maisto.”
“Never heard of them. Who are they?”
Slash read from the screen. “A global leader in the research, development and distribution of chemically-derived pharmaceuticals.” He turned and looked at me over his shoulder. “They’re an Italian firm.”
“Well, that adds an interesting dimension.”
“They have an office in San Diego, but their headquarters are in Rome.”
“Rome?” Even more interesting. “How do they play into all this if at all?”
Slash shrugged. “Too early to say. Let’s keep digging. What did the twins say?”
“Send a car. They’ll be ready within the hour.”
“Good work.” He stood and opened his cell.
I sat down in his still-warm chair. “I’m going to take a deeper look at James Rutgon.”
“Knock yourself out.”
He stepped out in the hall to make travel plans for the twins while I dug around in Rutgon’s life.
When Slash came back into the room, I motioned for him to sit. “James Rutgon is a lot more than just a chemistry student.”
Slash raised an eyebrow.
“He’s a hacker. A good one. He’s got a rap sheet.”
Slash frowned. “He was arrested?”
“At least once. But released for lack of evidence. Guess where he was hacking?”
“A bank?”
“Bingo.”
Slash picked up his coffee mug and drank what was certainly stone cold liquid by this point. To his credit, he didn’t flinch. “Do you have a current location?”
“Negative. Not yet. But I’m going to check him out. I want to take a look at his past hacks. See if I can trace his signature to the one at the Vatican Bank.”
“Good. I want to know how he ended up working for Maisto and what does he do.”
Two hours later we had compiled probably everything there was to know about James Rutgon. Most of it wasn’t good. He was a handsome and brilliant student, but with anti-social behaviors bordering on psychotic. He’d been arrested not once, but four times for hacking, twice into banks and twice into a company’s account where his ex-girlfriend worked. He’d got off all four times for lack of evidence. He spoke fluent Italian and French and held a black belt in karate. He’d been recruited by Maisto about a year ago. Neither Slash nor I could account for his employment for the two years previous to that. His hacking skills were good. Really good. He had talent and flair. But he was also arrogant and careless. We were better, and with the Zimmerman twins on board, he didn’t have a chance. As long as he didn’t get lucky. That was statistically improbable, but unfortunately, not impossible.
Slash handed me a plate loaded with croissants, diced ham and cheese. “Courtesy of Nonna.”
“Yeah, about that. I meant to tell you. I don’t think she likes me.”
“She adores you.”
“No, I really don’t think so.”
Before he could say anything more, we heard a loud noise and some voices downstairs. Slash pulled his gun from his holster and headed out in the hallway. I followed. We crept into the kitchen where Nonna was talking in an animated fashion to someone. Slash holstered his gun and stepped into the kitchen with me on his heels.
“Bianca?” he said.
Chapter Nine
Bianca turned and gave Slash a melting smile with her big pouty lips. She was dressed in black ankles boots, black leather pants and a tight white sweater. If she moved funny, she might just pop out of the whole outfit.
“Angelico.” She tossed her hair back, strode across the floor and practically devoured his mouth. Somehow I had a feeling the show was for me, and I was woman enough to say I didn’t like it much. At least it looked like Nonna liked it even less.
Slash disengaged and began speaking to her rapidly in Italian. I don’t think she liked much what he said as she argued with him, gesturing and stomping her feet.
Nonna held on to every word of the unfolding drama, whatever she’d been baking completely forgotten. After a few minutes, Bianca softened her tone with Slash, almost pleading. He leaned against the counter, listening, but barely saying anything. When it was clear Bianca wouldn’t get whatever it was she wanted, she whirled on her feet and stormed out, tossing a fierce glare my way. Either Italian women had a universal lock on this drama thing or I brought out the worst in them.
After the door slammed, Nonna launched into her own tirade with Slash. He sighed, pulled her close and kissed her on the cheek. That seemed to mollify her because she clucked her tongue and went back to baking.
Slash glanced over at me. “The SIMSI sent Bianca. They got word of what’s going on. They want in.”
“In where?”
Slash smiled. “Exactly. At this stage there can only be a few players. Bianca is understandably upset, but she’ll stay out of it for now as long as we keep her, and them, appraised.”
“Will we?”
Slash shook his head. “Probably not. But if she knows we’re here, so does everyone else. We’re going to move to a hotel, where I can take better security precautions. Besides, with the twins and Basia comin
g, it’s going to be too crowded for us here anyway. I’ll reserve a couple of suites for us at the Hotel Corallo.”
I stared at him. “Basia is coming?”
“Sorry, cara, I forgot to tell you. I asked Finn to send her. She speaks fluent Italian and it might be beneficial to have her around in case I’m otherwise preoccupied.”
I didn’t know what else he’d be preoccupied with, but I was beyond thrilled Basia would be coming. She was my eyes and ears in social situations and the way things were headed with Slash, I was desperate for her guidance.
I threw my arms around his neck and gave him a hug. “That’s great news, Slash. It’s a really, really good idea.”
He smiled. “Glad I could be accommodating. Now, let me talk to Nonna. She’s not going to be happy our visit was so short.”
“Okay. I’ll start packing up our stuff.”
I headed upstairs and re-packed the few items I’d taken out of my suitcase. I headed back into the sewing room. Slash was already there, unplugging the computers.
“That was a short talk.”
“She’s disappointed, but she understands it’s to help Bendetetto.”
Truthfully, I was relieved to be leaving Nonna’s house. I was pretty sure she didn’t like me and thought I was leading Slash down the road of perdition (like I even knew where it was located), the cat peed on the floor when I came around, and if I stayed, I’d weight two-hundred pounds in under a week, and that was a conservative estimate.
We’d become adept at setting up and packing our equipment, so it didn’t take us that long to get everything ready to go. Slash went to retrieve his things and I carried my suitcase downstairs. Nonna was cooking something in the kitchen and it smelled really good.
She waved me over and held up a breaded roll with something inside. I went to take it, but realized my hands were dirty from all the packing. “Just a minute. Momento.”
I dashed over to the bathroom to wash my hands. I’d just turned on the water when a meow sounded from beneath the sink.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” I peered under the sink and saw Principessa standing next to the litter box, cleaning a paw.
“You’d better not even think about peeing on the floor again. I didn’t even do anything to you and now everyone thinks I’m a cat terrorizer.”
Principessa stalked out from under the sink, circled twice in front of the toilet and peed on the floor.
I stared at the cat in shock. “No way. Really?”
There was no way in hell I was going to tell Nonna that her perfect cat peed again on the floor, so I unrolled the toilet paper and started mopping up the pee. I dropped the soggy mess in the toilet and flushed, but it still stunk like urine in the bathroom.
“Crap.” I looked around the bathroom for bleach or something equivalent to an air freshener. All I saw was what looked like a bottle of perfume. I picked it up, sniffed it, and then coughed. Jeez. It reeked like some flowers or something. But there was no question it would definitely cover up the urine smell. I sprayed it around the toilet and on the floor. In moments, the bathroom stunk so badly, I couldn’t breathe. I realized all the clothes drying in the bathroom would probably stink, too. Crappola. Holding my breath, I put the perfume back, washed my hands, and went out of the bathroom leaving the door open for ventilation purposes.
I went to the kitchen, cheerfully picked up the breaded roll and popped it in my mouth. It melted on my tongue. That’s when I realized Nonna was staring at me.
I stopped chewing. “What?”
She sniffed the air and I realized I probably reeked like the perfume. I waved my hand around. “Um, I thought it was air freshener.”
Slash stepped into the kitchen and wrinkled his nose. “What the hell is that smell?”
“Um, perfume. I found it in the bathroom.”
Slash raised an eyebrow and I stared back with my best I’m-totally-not-guilty-of-whatever-you’re-thinking look.
Nonna darted off to the bathroom and I closed my eyes. Jeez, I would never, ever go to the bathroom in her house again. When she came back, she held the bottle of perfume. I hoped to God it didn’t have some priceless or sentimental value and I had just sprayed it on cat pee. It would so totally be my luck.
She held it up and asked me something in Italian.
Slash translated. “She wants to know if this is the perfume you used.”
“Only if it doesn’t cost a million dollars or have special sentimental value.”
Slash said something to his grandmother and she pressed it into my hands.
I glanced over at Slash. “Huh?”
Slash smiled. “She wants you to have it. She’s honored that you like the scent.”
“Like it?” I looked down at the bottle. “Ah, jeez, that’s really nice, but I couldn’t possibly accept a present like this.” I shoved the bottle back at her. “Thank you, but you keep it. Really.”
Nonna pushed it back at me. Slash crossed his arms against his chest. He was trying not to laugh. Again.
“She insists, cara. Take it. You’ll hurt her feelings.”
I sighed, took the bottle and pretended to take a sniff. I almost gagged, but managed a smile. “Lovely. Thanks, Nonna. Grazie. I’ll treasure it.”
She beamed at me. I stuffed the bottle in the front pocket of my jeans as Nonna pressed my face between her hands and kissed both my cheeks. I turned bright red.
Jeez.
Slash walked up beside me acting all normal, but I could tell he was holding his breath. “See, I told you she likes you.”
“Right.”
“The cat peed on the floor again?”
I looked at him in surprise. “You knew?”
He laughed. “You have such little faith in my deductive skills. It wounds me. Come, cara, let’s get the stuff loaded.”
Sighing, I helped him load the equipment back into the car. It seemed I’d been doing a lot of this lately. Once we were packed, Slash and I said our good-byes to Nonna, who looked ready to cry.
She handed me a covered plate that was still warm. I peeked underneath the foil and saw a cake that looked like it was covered with whipped cream, black cherries and candied fruit. It smelled beyond delicious.
I forgot all about hackers, secret archives and bank thieves and just stared at the food. “Oh, my God. What is it? It looks incredible and smells even better.”
Slash lifted the foil and smiled. “Sicilian cassata. One of my favorites.”
I just stared at it. “It’s amazing. No, it’s beyond amazing. Nonna should get an honorary medal of Italy or something. How can she cook like this? It’s unnatural—perhaps supernatural even.”
Slash put his hand in the small of my back, pushing me toward the car. “She’s Italian.”
I looked at him. “Is it genetic? Can you can cook like this?”
He laughed. “Not like this. But I’m not half bad. I will show you sometime, cara. You’d be amazed what I can do with whipped cream.”
“Excellent. I love whipped cream.”
He chuckled and held the cake while I climbed into the car and buckled my seatbelt. He climbed in, opened all the windows, and off we drove.
We drove to the hotel and Slash checked us in. People were avoiding me. Slash again declined staff assistance with our equipment, for which I’m sure the bellboy was eternally grateful, and we hauled it up using a trolley. Slash had reserved a three-bedroom suite with a large common room and a gorgeous balcony that faced the sea. I opened the balcony door and stood at the rail, smelling the ocean.
“It’s beautiful. I hope we get to spend more than just a few hours here.”
He came and stood beside me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “I can always bring you back sometime when we aren’t working.”
“I wouldn’t mind seei
ng Tiberius’s Grotto.”
“It can be arranged.”
“Right. But first things first.”
“Absolutely. You take a shower while I set up. You stink.”
“Hey, that’s not what I meant.”
“Trust me, it’s not open for negotiation.” He steered me toward the bathroom.
I sniffed my arm. I almost didn’t smell it anymore. “Do I really smell that bad?”
“Worse.”
“Jeez.”
I took a shower, washed my hair, and changed clothes. When I came out, Slash had finished setting up the equipment and was just starting to re-initiate the protocols to crack the big file. I watched as he modified the protocol a bit and wondered whether it would help.
I sighed. “We really need to make some headway on that file.”
“Agreed. Let’s get something to eat and then we attack it simultaneously. I’ve got a few new ideas.”
“Ace. Sounds like a plan.”
Slash ordered tacchino al latte, a roasted turkey breast cooked in milk, with a side of insalata caprese—freshly sliced tomatoes with mozzarella cheese and basil leaves from room service. I absolutely could not stop from stuffing my face. It was delicious. However, Nonna had spoiled me to some degree. While it was delicious, it didn’t taste quite as amazing as her homemade cooking. So, for dessert, we ate Nonna’s cake. I had two slices and my life was complete. Seriously, I could’ve died a happy person with a full stomach. Go ahead. Bring on the poison darts.
Slash also ordered a bottle of wonderful Italian wine, but I held to my promise of having no more than one glass. There was no way I wanted a repeat of my impaired thinking from the night before. Well, truthfully, I wanted it, but I was too chicken to admit it and too scared where it might lead. Besides, Basia would be coming soon and I really needed her interpretation of events and advice on what to do next.
After dinner, Slash and I each sat in front of a laptop and started our concentrated attack. Now that we knew we were dealing with deniable encryption, at least we had an angle. It didn’t mean it would be easy or even work.
We concentrated our efforts for several hours when we heard an unexpected knock on the door. Slash and I exchanged glances. He approached the door with his hand on his gun and looked through the peephole.
No Place Like Rome Page 11
