Lauren Lamb FBI 05-Something to Hide, page 1
part #5 of Lauren Lamb FBI Series
S O M E T H I N G
T O
H I D E
(A Lauren Lamb Mystery—Book 5)
K a t e B o l d
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
EPILOGUE
PROLOGUE
Baris carefully climbed the rocks that formed a loose pile in front of the ridge that formed the northern border of Helvaci, Turkey. The ridge had no name. The locals simply referred to it as tepe, the Turkish word for ridge. When Dr. Hastings, the American (of course) head of the archaeological expedition asked what the ridge was called, the locals had told him it was a tepe. The brilliant doctor had immediately christened this the Tepe Ridge dig.
Baris chuckled. Americans meant well, but they were so wrapped up in their own world that they were often oblivious to what was right in front of them. Still, this naivete meant Baris was able to charge ten times what he would ordinarily charge, so he didn’t mind it.
He stepped over a pile of scree, then decided there was no way the archaeologists were going to make it up this way. He would have to take them the long way around, up the forest trail. Well, that was all right. It was only an extra hour.
He backed down the scree and started up the trail. In low light, the trail was terrifying, the branches of the plane trees jutting like bones from their massive, stony trunks. In the daylight, it was a picturesque and scenic walk. Baris often took his children on outings here. He wondered if he’d still be able to do that now that the valley on the other side of the ridge was going to be, according to Dr. Hastings, “the biggest archaeological find since the Dead Sea Scrolls.”
A sound carried across the air, a soft, wailing noise. Baris frowned and pulled out the can of bear spray he always carried in the forest. It had been decades since a brown bear was seen anywhere nearby, but wolves had begun to return to Izmir, and bear spray worked just fine on them. Baris had only had to use it once on a sick animal who had been separated from his pack and lacked the strength to go after the deer or wild boar wolves typically preyed on.
A second cry came to him, still soft, but more of a guttural shriek than a wail. Baris’s lips thinned, and he hesitated a moment. Bear spray would work on wolves, but when a wild boar charged, nothing could stop it but a bullet. Usually several bullets.
Baris didn’t carry a gun.
He listened for the cry again, standing still for several minutes, sifting through the chitters and squeaks and rustling whispers of the forest for any sign of that cry. When several minutes went by and he heard no more, he decided that whatever had made the noise had moved on. He proceeded forward but kept the spray in his hands and decided he would have to invest in a gun. He hated firearms, but he hated getting ripped to pieces by a three-hundred-pound pig more, so he’d have to compromise.
Well, he’d be all right tomorrow. The Americans would almost certainly be accompanied by Police armed with assault rifles. If he survived today, then everything would be well.
He began to whistle, his momentary fear dissipated. He had lived in this forest his entire life. There was nothing out there for him to be afraid of. Still, he stopped whistling for a moment as he passed the small cave—magara cave, he thought with a wry smile—that marked the halfway point of this trail. A hundred yards ahead, the road bent and angled upward, and the trees cleared. Two more minutes of walking, and he would be free of—
A branch snapped behind him. He whirled around, brandishing the bear spray like a knife.
“Go away!” he shouted, waving his arms above his head to make himself look bigger. “Go away! I’m bigger than you! You don’t want to mess with me!”
Silence.
He took a breath and started to turn around when he heard a soft twang followed by an even softer splash. He froze halfway around and tried to convince himself to keep walking.
There’s nothing behind you, he told himself. And if there is, you don’t want to see it. You don’t want to know about it. Just keep walking.
But there exists within humans a compulsion to slake our curiosity, and sometimes that compulsion overrides even the fear of death. Baris was as subject to that compulsion as any, and so, though his mind screamed at him to move on, his body slowly turned and started back toward the cave.
He lifted the bear spray, utterly aware of how useless it would be if he came across a predator in the middle of eating a kill, but unable to stop himself. That’ll be a good epithet, he thought grimly. Here lies Baris, who died because he couldn’t help it.
He rounded the boulder that jutted into the path, bringing the cave into view. A middle-aged man stood in the entrance to the cave. His head was bowed low and his right arm was lifted into the air, the wrist slack.
Baris recognized him. That was Mehmet, his neighbor. “Mehmet?” Baris called, lowering the bear spray. “What are you doing out here? Why are you standing like that?”
Mehmet didn’t answer. A tendril of fear slithered up Baris’s spine. He drew closer and called again, “Mehmet?”
Something dripped from Mehmet’s face to the ground. Baris’s eyes slowly fell as more tendrils of fear crawled up his spine. When he saw the pool of blood underneath Mehmet and realized what was dripping from his face, those tendrils hardened into steel rods.
A loud twang cracked across the air and Mehmet flew into the air, arms and legs stretching out like a starfish. Baris fell back with a cry as Mehmet stopped about eight feet off the ground, swaying up and down slowly. Wires pulled his limbs taut, suspending him above the ground. Blood sprayed, some of it landing on Baris.
Then Baris saw his face. What was left of it anyway.
He dropped the bear spray and screamed, the sound driving off the carrion crows that had already begun to gather for the coming feast.
CHAPTER ONE
Lauren put on a sultry smile and leaned forward so her cleavage was on full display. This was probably the grossest thing she had ever done, but if it got her what she needed, then it would be worth it. She would shower twice tonight and call her boyfriend, Enrico, to feel better about herself.
Well, it’s not like she was doing anything. She wasn’t actually going to sleep with the bartender. She just needed him to think she might.
The bartender looked to be about seven or eight years younger than Lauren, but that wasn’t a problem. Lauren’s life, first as an FBI agent and now as an investigator for the Vatican, forced her to remain in excellent shape, and she had been blessed with her mother’s dark hair and enviable figure. Combined with the red lipstick and the plunging neckline, the bartender wouldn’t have a chance.
And he didn’t. He took one look at her, and his eyes widened. Three patrons called for drinks on his way over to her, but he took no notice of them as he smiled and asked, “What can I get for you, Bella?”
Lauren widened her smile and said, “I’ll take a vodka cranberry please, just a splash of soda.”
“Of course, bella. I will even give you a discount.”
“For me?” Lauren teased playfully. “But why?”
The bartender’s grin widened. “Why not? A beautiful woman such as yourself deserves only the best in life.”
She giggled and said, “Well, thank you very much. So what do I owe you then for this drink?”
“Only your name, tesora.”
“Hmm,” she said, tilting her head and turning her body so he could see the curve of her figure. “But there’s so much in a name. I don’t know if that really is a discount.” She met his eyes. “It sounds like a premium.”
“Well, then,” he said. “I’ll throw in my name. Then we shall be even. Actually, you’ll still owe me for the drink.”
“Hmm,” she said, turning to face him and narrowing her eyes in playful suspicion. “I’m not sure if I should allow myself to owe you anything. What if you take advantage of me?”
His eyes narrowed slightly, but it was lust and not suspicion that motivated him. “I suppose you’ll have to reward me in kind.”
“Hmm,” she said again. After a brief pause, she extended her hand and said, “I’m Isabella.”
His smile widened in triumph, and she almost felt sorry for him. He took her hand and, of course, brought it to his lips. When he pulled it away, he said, "I'm Giacomo.”
“Giacomo,” she said, letting the name roll off of her tongue. “It’s lovely to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine, tesora.”
“Hey! You think we can get a drink tonight?” a voice called.
The owner of that voice was a barrel-chested, middle-aged man wearing a button-down shirt opened at the top with a gold chain encircling his neck and a cross pendant nestled in a thick mane of wiry gray chest hair. Lauren recognized him as a minor
“Of course, Signor Perdomo,” Giacomo called. “I’ll be right there.”
He turned to Lauren. “I’ll be right back with your drink, tesora.”
“Why don’t you take care of Signor Perdomo first?” she suggested. “And you can make up for the delay by pouring yourself a drink to share with me.”
He grinned and bowed. “Your wish is my command.”
She smiled at him as he walked away, then turned and scanned the club. As clubs went, it was fairly average. The music appeared to be a hideous mash of twenty-year-old dance tunes and the lights seemed to have been lifted right out of a 1970s discotheque. The patrons were just as average for the most part, dressed in outfits and makeup that brought them from average to mildly revolting.
The exceptions were the private booths that occupied the mezzanine. Within these booths were immaculately dressed men surrounded by utterly breathtaking women. The men wore serious expressions and seemed oblivious to the groveling of the half-nude starlets around them. They had business to tend to.
Lauren focused on one table in particular. The man in that table wore a three-piece Armani suit rather than the robes he wore at work, but his pudgy face and shrewd, beady eyes were recognizable anywhere.
For shame, Your Excellency, Lauren thought wryly.
Bishop Matteo Grigorio worked by day as a member of the Holy See’s Council on Church Bylaws. By night—and sometimes by day as well, Lauren had learned—he was a member of the Giamatti Family, a powerful criminal organization based in Rome.
Lauren knew that the bishop acted as a clandestine agent within the Church, primarily informing the Family of any Church actions that could threaten the Family. There were others who handled the task of persuading, manipulating, or otherwise influencing the Church away from those actions. Within the family, therefore, Bishop Grigorio was a rather minor informant.
But he was running his own game. What it was, Lauren didn’t yet know, but the bishop was leveraging his positions in the Church and the Family for his own personal gain.
Not that it mattered to her what that gain might be. She had long since learned to accept that there was more evil in the world than she could handle herself, and she would have to pick and choose her battles.
The battle she had chosen was a personal one and related directly to Bishop Grigorio. Her late fiancé, Kevin, had sent three hundred dollars every month to Bishop Grigorio’s private account for the four years leading up to his death. Not once had he ever so much as mentioned the bishop’s name to Lauren.
It was far too early to assume that Kevin’s death at the hands of a madman had anything to do with his connection to Bishop Grigorio. In fact, Lauren’s initial assumption—that the serial killer Fiero had killed Kevin out of frustration at being unable to get to her—was more likely based on the information Lauren had.
And that was why she was trying to find more information. Fiero was still at large, and if, by some chance, she could find a connection between the bishop and the murderer, she might have a better chance of finding Fiero and bringing him to justice.
“My apologies for keeping you waiting for so long, tesora.”
Lauren turned back to Giacomo and pouted. “You did keep me waiting,” she teased. “I thought you’d forgotten about me.”
“Never, Bella, never. A man could not see you and possibly forget you.”
“Still, I waited so long.”
He smiled at her. “Please tell me how I can make it up to you, Bella. Anything in my power, I will do.”
She tilted her head and let her eyes travel slowly up and down his body. His smile grew almost desperate, and she stifled a laugh. After a moment, she made a face and said, “It’s loud here. Do you have anywhere quiet we can go?”
His eyes popped open comically, and Lauren stifled another laugh as he quickly said, “Of course, Bella. Mario!”
A young man of maybe twenty-one or -two glanced up from behind the bar’s island where he was busily washing glasses.
“Take over for me a moment!”
Mario’s face paled. He looked around at the clamoring crowd and swallowed. Lauren felt a touch of guilt at the pain she was about to put this young man through by taking Giacomo away, but it had to be done.
Mario knew better than to refuse. He forced a smile and nodded, and Giacomo turned back to Lauren, grinning like a fool. “Follow me, bella.”
He extended his hand, and Lauren took it, allowing him to lead her from the bar to a small door labeled EMPLOYEES ONLY,
“Giacomo,” she teased. “Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see, Bella,” he said. He led her up a flight of stairs, and Lauren’s heartbeat quickened when he opened a small office door to reveal a desk with a computer and several monitors, most showing security camera footage of the club.
One monitor was a simple desktop background with several folders. It was a long shot, she supposed, that she would learn everything she needed from one office computer at a club, but if she could find anything that would help her learn about the Bishop’s connections with the family, then Lauren would consider it a success.
Giacomo led her to the desk and lifted her, setting her down on top of it.
His hands rested on her waist, and he pushed his hips in between her legs. Lauren’s skin crawled, but she forced herself to open her thighs and snake her arms behind his neck. She needed the act to be believable to avoid suspicion. Still, she didn’t actually want to sleep with him, so she thought quickly, giggling and turning her head away from his kiss.
She pushed him away lightly, and frustration and rage crossed his face for a brief instant before he returned to calm. “What is the trouble, amorina?” he said. “I thought you wanted this.”
Her stomach twisted at his use of Enrico’s name for her, but she kept her teasing smile and said, “Well, if I had another drink in me, I would owe you a little more, wouldn’t I?”
She licked her lips softly, and Giacomo’s jaw went slack with desire. “Of course, amorina,” he said, backing away. “Wait here for me, and I will bring you enough alcohol to do anything your heart desires.”
I’ll bet you will, she thought drily.
She brought her thighs slowly back together and rubbed them softly against each other. “Don’t be too long,” she said.
His eyes widened as he stared at her a moment longer. Then he bolted out the door.
Lauren’s smile disappeared. She hopped off the desk and decided she didn’t need her heels anymore. She kicked them off and sat in front of the desk. She reached inside a small pocket she had sewn inside the dress’s bust and pulled out a thin flash key.
She put the key into the computer’s USB port and opened the folder marked ASSETS.
As expected, the folder opened with a laundry list of quite mundane assets like equipment lists and liquid cash. She scrolled down, looking for a sign of anything that might lead to the more private assets.
She found a folder labeled PERSONNEL and hesitated. It seemed strange that they would label a file like that so bluntly, but then again, who would be using this computer but the people who worked for the club and by extension the Family?
She clicked the folder, and, of course, it was password protected.
“All right,” Lauren said, “here goes.”
She pressed the button on the front of the flash key, and it began to blink red. At the same time, a blur of popup screens and dialog boxes flitted across the monitor as the key began searching the PC’s BIOS image for the encryption code that contained the password she needed. In her experience, this process took only a minute or two for commercially available personal computers. She should have enough time to get the information she needed and close the files she had opened before Giacomo returned.
Dealing with him would be slightly touchier. He was fully expecting sex with her. She would have to think fast on her feet. Maybe she could manufacture an emergency phone call. That was an oldie but a goodie. In the worst case, she could incapacitate him, but she would prefer to avoid that if at all possible. There would be no way for him to dismiss a beautiful woman who lured him to an office with the promise of sex only to choke him out and leave with no warning.
