No One Lives Twice (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery) (24 page)

“All right but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Slash worked, or perhaps even still works, for Vatican intelligence.”

“What?” I screeched. “No freaking way.”

“Way.”

“You mean to say that the pope has his own intelligence service?”

“In a manner of speaking. Back in the 1800s, the Catholic hierarchy ordered various faithful groups to spy on heretics and report to the Church. In 1909 Pope Pius XII formed a more sophisticated version he called
Sodalitium Pianum.
A lot of people didn’t like knowing the Church was involved in espionage, so in 1921 the Church announced that the group had been officially disbanded. Still, many experts believe that the group remains intact and is one of the most powerful spy networks in the world.”

“You’re saying Slash was, or is, a member of this
Sodalitium Pianum
group?” I said, struggling to contain my disbelief.

“Yes.”

“Okay, I’m having a hard time picturing this.” Slash just seemed too sexy and dangerous to be the religious type. Then I remembered the small gold cross he wore beneath his shirt and reconsidered.

“Did you happen to discover Slash’s real name?” I asked.

“Not really. He has a list of aliases three pages long, all government provided. I’d venture a guess one of them is his real name, but I have no idea how to determine which.”

“You trust your sources on this?”

“Implicitly. Lexi, I don’t know how this plays into everything. It’s just another thing to add to the mix.”

I was hoping the mix would stay just where it was. I was no cook, nor did I have any desire to be promoted to head chef.

“Thanks, Elvis,” I said, flipping the phone shut and sliding it in my pocket. Things were definitely starting to heat up. There would be time to think about Slash working for the pope later.

Going back inside my apartment, I grabbed my tote bag again. I went down to the parking lot, looking around to see if I was being followed. Nothing unusual jumped out at me. On the other hand, it was a beautiful Saturday summer morning and there were lots of people out for a drive and walking around. So I probably wouldn’t have a clue I was being followed unless someone held up a sign reading FBI Here.

I hopped into the Miata, put down the top and drove directly to Anderson’s Karate Academy. The place was packed and I had to wait until Lars finished teaching a group of students with red belts before he finally walked over to see me.

“Hi, Lexi,” he said cheerfully. He didn’t even looked flushed, but his students were sweating and red-faced as though they had run a marathon.

“Hi, Lars,” I said. “Basia is in Sweden.”

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes and then he shrugged. “Lucky for her.”

“No more games with me. She’s in serious danger. I need to find her.”

Lars looked around at the parents who had begun to stare at us and then motioned for me to follow him. Without speaking, he led me to his office and shut the door.

“Why do you think I know where she is?” he said, sitting down.

I remained standing and crossed my arms over my chest. “Don’t give me this crap about her being your student. I’ve known Basia for years and the idea of her taking karate is about as absurd as anything I could possibly imagine.”

“And from that you extrapolate that I know where she is?”

“I know that for some misguided reason you think you’re protecting her. But she’s my best friend. You’ve got to trust me. She just called me and she’s scared.”

“If she just called you, why didn’t she tell you where she was?”

“I wasn’t home. She talked to my machine and didn’t leave a number where I can reach her.”

“Then how do you know she’s in Sweden?”

“I have my ways,” I said rather smugly.

His face hardened. “Good for you. But the bottom line is that I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Look, just so you know, the stakes have been raised considerably. Someone tried to kill me last night. And that’s not counting the two previous times I was accosted at gunpoint by people looking for documents Basia was translating. We are talking significant danger here.”

His face remained impassive. “Then go to the police.”

“It’s not so simple.”

“Sounds simple to me.”

“I think you know better. A lot better. Look, I just need you to get a message to her.”

I leaned forward and snatched a pen and a piece of paper off his desk and scrawled down my new cell phone number. “Have her call me as soon as she can. If I found out she’s in Sweden, others will find her, as well. I have a feeling their intentions toward her will not be as altruistic as mine.”

He stared at me, saying nothing, so I stalked out of his office without a backward glance. I drove home, feeling frustrated and discouraged, constantly peeking in my rearview window for the FBI.

The minute I got to my apartment, the phone rang. Stepping into the kitchen, I picked it up.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sis, it’s Rock. I’ve got some of that info you requested.”

“Great. Where are you?”

“At home. Why?”

“Don’t go anywhere. I’ll call you right back.”

“Well, make it quick. I’m on my way out.”

Maybe it was paranoia or maybe I just didn’t want the government to know everything damn thing I was doing, but I reached for the cell phone Finn had given me, intending to use it instead. To my shock it started to ring just as I grabbed it, and I dropped it like a hot potato. I didn’t have time to talk to Finn at this exact moment, so I left it on my couch where it kept ringing. Dashing next door, I rang Jan’s bell and prayed she was home.

After a moment, the door flew open and Jan Walton’s seven-year-old son, Jamie, stood there staring at me without saying anything.

“Hi, Jamie,” I said. “Is your mom home?”

He looked at me, blinking rapidly, and then said, “Did you know the red spot on Jupiter is really a raging, burning storm?”

“Yep. I knew that.”

Just then Jan came to the door, looking relieved to see me there. “Sorry, I was in the bathroom. Jamie, you know you’re not supposed to open the door without me.”

“Did you know that Jupiter is four hundred eighty-three and a half million miles from the sun,” he said as if he hadn’t heard her. “If you traveled at one hundred miles per hour, twenty-four hours a day, it would take five hundred and fifty-two years to reach the sun.”

It took me several seconds to calculate that in my head, and damned if he wasn’t right. “Amazing,” I said. “How about Saturn?”

“Eight hundred and eighty-seven million miles from the sun,” he answered promptly. “If you traveled at one hundred miles per hour, twenty-four hours a day, it would take you one thousand and twelve years to reach the sun.”

“I love this kid,” I said.

“It’s mutual,” she said and then patted Jamie affectionately on the shoulder. “All right, buster. Go play on the computer.”

Jamie darted away without a word and Jan ushered me inside. “Glad to see you, Lexi. I was beginning to think you had fallen off the face of the earth. What’s up?”

“This is going to sound like a strange request, but can I use your phone?”

“What’s wrong with yours?”

“It’s a long story,” I said. “It’s kind of urgent.”

“Of course,” she said, looking puzzled. “You can use the one in the kitchen.”

I went into the kitchen, sat down at the table and dialed Rock’s number. He answered on the first ring.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” he demanded.

“Not right now. What do you have for me?”

“You were right about Bright Horizons almost going bankrupt a year ago. But they miraculously turned it around.”

“How miraculous are we talking?”

“Forty million dollars worth.”

I whistled. “Wow, some miracle.”

“It smells fishy to me,” said Rock. He has a pretty damn good nose for fish.

“My thoughts exactly,” I said.

“Anyway, I emailed you a couple of articles from some business publications with a bit of background info on the company and press about the company’s rejuvenation. You might find it useful. Check it out when you get a chance.”

“Thanks, I will,” I replied. “Any idea where the dough came from? I mean, is the infertility business really that profitable?”

“Profitable, yeah, but not to the tune of forty million. I think you may be on to something, Lexi.”

If he only knew.

I suddenly had a thought. “Hey, Rock, does the word
Acheron
mean anything to you?”

He paused for a moment, thinking. “No. Should it?”

“If I were to tell you it might be connected to Greek mythology, would that ring any bells?”

“No. What in the hell are you talking about?”

“I’m not sure. I think the word or a certain meaning of Acheron might have some connection in all of this.”

I could hear the scratch of his pencil as he wrote it down. “Just what have you got yourself into?”

“Well, that’s the thousand dollar question these days,” I said as lightly as I could manage. “Look, Rock, Acheron is supposedly a mythical river in the Underworld. Do me a favor and see what else you can come up with.”

I could tell he had more questions to ask, but he knew me well enough to know I wasn’t going to answer them. “Okay, I’m on it,” he said. I knew if anyone could dig up something useful, it would be him.

I hung up and Jan walked into the kitchen, looking at me in concern. “Are you all right, Lexi?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Is this a matter of national security or something?”

“Something,” I said honestly. I had never officially confirmed it, but Jan pretty much knew I worked at the NSA like half of the population in Jessup. It didn’t take a brain surgeon to figure that out.

“Is that why you can’t use your phone? It’s being tapped?”

“Yeah,” I admitted. “Look, I don’t want to say anything more so that if you’re asked, you can honestly say you don’t know diddly squat.”

“I
don’t
know diddly squat,” she said in exasperation.

“Good. That worked for Ronald Reagan and Bill Clinton and it should work for you. Keep up the good work. I promise you the full story later.”

I left her apartment and returned to mine. The cell phone Finn had given me was ringing nonstop where I had left it on the couch.

I picked it up and pushed the talk button. “Hello?”

“Where in the hell have you been?” Slash yelled.

My brain froze for a minute in confusion. “Hey, how did you get this number? I just got the phone about an hour ago from Finn.” This was really starting to get annoying.

“Need you really ask,
cara?
”

“Jeez, is nothing sacred in America any more?”

“Not when it potentially involves terrorism.”

I sighed. “Why are you calling?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“So, talk.”

“Come downstairs.”

“What?”

“Look out your window,” he said.

I went to the balcony and looked out. Slash sat there in his big black SUV, waving at me out the open window.

“I have no life,” I muttered and hung up the cell phone, tossing it back on the couch.

I climbed down the stairs and out to the parking lot. Slash stood leaning against the car, crossing his arms against his chest. He wore jeans, a white muscle shirt and the darkest pair of mirror shades I’d ever seen. Remembering what Elvis had told me about Slash and his supposed connection to Vatican intelligence, I peered closer and saw the tiny gold cross tucked beneath his shirt. It made sense in this context, but could it really be true? A guy as sexy and dangerous as Slash seemed more destined to be on the dark side of things. Then again, when had I ever accurately read people?

“So, what’s up?” I asked.

“We’ve got a big problem,” he said grimly.

“Jeez, how much bigger can this problem possibly get?”

“Come,” he ordered, leading me to a nearby tree that provided some welcome shade. He sat down on the grass, crossing his legs in a yoga-like position. I sat down beside him, with my legs straight out, knobby knees and all. They were still sore from all the pretzel sits I had done in karate and there was no way I was crossing them again.

“So?” I prompted after a few minutes had gone by and he hadn’t said anything. He sat as still as a statue, calm and serene, almost like he was meditating. Since I couldn’t see his eyes behind those shades, I had no idea if he was even awake or cared that I sat there.

“Dead,” he finally said.

“Excuse me?”

“Six of the girls impregnated by Al-Asan have turned up dead. Murdered.”

“Murdered?” I repeated in shock. “Oh, my God. How were they murdered?”

“Executed. One shot to the back of the skull each. No clues left. They were professional hits.”

I felt sick. “The babies?”

Slash shook his head.

My stomach heaved and I swallowed hard. “What about Judyta?” I asked, my voice shaky. “Did you find her…too?”

“No. But I don’t have to emphasize that she’s in grave peril.”

“But why would someone kill them?”

Slash pushed his fingers through his dark hair. His voice sounded tired and his cheeks sported a five o’clock shadow. “I don’t know. But we have what could be a lead on the assassinations of Al-Asan’s bodyguards in Italy.”

“What kind of lead?”

“I reviewed the crime report this morning, including an interview with Al-Asan. According to the report, at approximately ten o’clock in the morning on December 17, Al-Asan’s two bodyguards left the
Hotel Mediterraneé
en route for the Bright Horizons clinic. Al-Asan told investigators he was in Italy to undergo a medical procedure, but not surprisingly, didn’t offer any more information. Apparently the weather was particularly bad. It was snowing hard and the visibility was poor. According to two employees at Bright Horizons, the bodyguards arrived at approximately ten-fifty, dropped off the briefcase and left the clinic. They were in the building for less than five minutes.”

“How far is the clinic from the hotel?”

“About ten minutes.”

“Even in poor weather?”