Covered in Darkness

by Heather Sunseri

  “Of course she is. She waitressed her way through community college and has dealt with customers her entire adult life. She’s a hard worker.”

  “And a quick learner. Once we’ve worked through this case, I’m going to nominate her for a security clearance so she can assist with more than just answering the phones.”

  “That’s a great idea.”

  I turned and waved at Carrie Anne. I didn’t have to tell her what I needed; she was immediately on her way to the table with a mug and a coffee pot.

  “Can I get you something to eat, hon?” she asked.

  “I’ll wait. I’m meeting someone in a few.”

  “You got it. Just wave me down when you want to order.”

  “Thanks, Carrie Anne. How’s the cottage? You and Marti settling in?”

  “Oh, it’s just beautiful! It’s home.” She touched a hand to her heart.

  I loved seeing her smile like that.

  “There is one problem, though.”

  “Oh?” I frowned.

  “I’m afraid that daughter of mine needs more privacy.”

  “Oh. I see.” I looked at Ty, who buried his nose into his coffee mug. “Has she said something?”

  “No, but I’m not an idiot. As much as I was uneasy about that Aidan at first, since he started coming around more and more, he’s kind of grown on me. And Marti? Well, I’m afraid she’s head-over-heels crazy for him.”

  I touched her arm. “Something tells me those two will figure things out. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

  “I know you’re right. I’m just making a mountain out of a molehill.” She waved a hand. “I’ll check on you two in a bit.”

  Ty took a drink of his coffee. “Sounds to me like Carrie Anne might be more ready than her daughter for the privacy.”

  “You think? I saw Aidan and Marti together at the sales event the other night. Those two are getting quite close.”

  “You okay with that?” he asked.

  I stirred cream and sugar into my coffee. “Yes, I am. Aidan is starting to grow on me, too.”

  “Enough that you might let him train your new horse?”

  “We’ll see.” I took a drink of coffee, then set it aside. “Enough of that. I’m meeting Dimitri any minute now.”

  Ty shifted. “For any particular reason?”

  The tone in Ty’s voice made me meet his gaze. “You don’t like Dimitri?”

  “Let’s just say there’s something about him that’s a little hinky. Kind of like you and Aidan.”

  I could understand that. “He’s supposed to be helping me spot Romeo, but he also has knowledge about these Russians.” I lowered my voice as I mentioned the Russians.

  “What kind of knowledge?”

  “Not sure yet. But I’ll take whatever I can get.”

  “Well, Jude called me last night. They know the names of the men at the breakfast yesterday, as well as the companies they belong to. Most of them were CEOs. But they’ve been unable to reach any of them for a conversation.”

  “Well, we’ll work the wall when I get into the office.”

  “Any updates on Sam?” Ty asked.

  I shook my head. “I talked to LMPD at six this morning—no leads on where these Russians might be hiding out. Oh, that reminds me: can you talk to the bomb squad and see what they’ve learned about the bomb that was used yesterday? Maybe there’s a thread we can follow there.”

  “Sure, I’m on it.” Ty’s eyes lifted to stare at someone behind me, and I knew without even turning that it must be Dimitri. “I might not like him, but man, he’s nice to look at.”

  I snapped my fingers to get his attention. “You should also call James on your way to Frankfort.”

  “What?” he asked with a small head shake. “Yeah. You’re right. I do owe him a call. We only talked briefly last night because I was so tired. He’s been working on that trip I promised him.”

  “You’re definitely due. But I know being apart has been rough on you guys. So call him.”

  “I was thinking of taking him to the Caribbean or to Hawaii, but we both feel like maybe we should stay in the continental US this time. We’re thinking about taking a trip to Key West if I can get off of work.”

  “I think that sounds like a great idea. Consider your vacation time granted.” I turned in my seat and waved to Dimitri.

  As he walked toward our table, Ty asked, “Gay or straight?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No, of course not. I’m not even sure I like him, but you can’t blame me for being curious.”

  “Good morning,” I said when Dimitri joined us. “Dimitri, I believe you met Ty—my partner and best friend.”

  “Yes, I did have the pleasure,” Dimitri said in a perfect Midwestern accent.

  I angled my head. He was such an interesting person—able to change his identity on a dime.

  Ty tossed his napkin on the table. “Well, I’m off. I’ll see you in Frankfort.” To Dimitri he added, “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

  Dimitri took Ty’s vacated seat, and I stared at him across the table and grinned. “I hear you got permission to speak with me.”

  He leaned back in the chair and crossed one leg over the opposite knee. “You’ve certainly got a short leash on Declan.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I discussed with Declan the specifics of what I should reveal to you.”

  “Oh yeah? Did you two also discuss things to keep from me?”

  Carrie Anne stopped at our table. “Hi, handsome. Can I get you some coffee?”

  “That would be perfect,” Dimitri answered, still speaking in a perfect Midwestern accent.

  Carrie Anne filled a mug for Dimitri, then turned to me. “Declan called. Instructed me to make sure you ate breakfast. Preferably one that included fruit.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Declan called to tell you what to feed me?”

  “Actually, he called to place an order for boxed lunches for a meeting today. Said his assistant and receptionist were both out this morning. But while he had me on the phone…” She shrugged.

  “You can just bring me my usual,” I said. Reluctantly I added, “Along with some fruit.”

  “Bagel with peanut butter and honey and a side of fresh fruit coming up. And what about you, sugar?” Carrie Anne asked Dimitri.

  “I’ll have your country breakfast.”

  “Man after my own heart.” Carrie Anne winked.

  When she was gone, Dimitri smiled at me. “You let Declan choose what you eat, yet you don’t need to ask permission to go after a dangerous Russian gang?”

  “Declan doesn’t choose what I eat—” I shook my head. I didn’t need to explain anything to this man. “And he has no say about how I do my job.”

  “None?”

  I wasn’t about to let him bait me into this conversation. “Tell me what you know about this Russian organization,” I said. “Why are they threatening the US power grid?”

  Dimitri glanced around the room, most likely verifying no one was within earshot. When he looked at me again, the features of his face had tightened. “Sergei Charkov is the head of a Russian crime organization called the Kharkiv Bratva.”

  “As in mafia?”

  Dimitri nodded. “He doesn’t need a reason to threaten the United States. But if I had to guess, he wants money. He probably has no problem damaging US infrastructure as a consolation prize. If he can terrorize Americans while he does both, he’ll be ecstatic.”

  “So, money…” I said. “As simple as that?”

  “I can’t say for certain, but I believe so, yes. As soon as the ransomware was on the server and the files were encrypted, they could demand whatever they wanted—but most likely it was money, to be paid in bitcoin or some other untraceable cryptocurrency. Of course, even if a victim pays, there’s no guarantee they’ll get control of their files back. And if they do, they still need to scrub their entire network to make sure the hackers didn’t plant code to
revive the virus at their leisure.”

  “Except the CEO of Louisville Power chose to ignore the demands,” I said. “That’s what we think, anyway. The FBI was supposed to question him last night.”

  “Except they didn’t.”

  My brows lifted. “And you know this how?”

  “The same way you and Ty just know things sometimes.” He took a drink of his coffee—black, the same way Declan liked it. He stood, dragged his chair around the table, and sat again so that we were sitting adjacent to each other. “Look, Brooke.” He leaned in close and spoke softly. “Declan requested I come to Kentucky to help with the Romeo situation. Because I saved your life once already, I feel that I have a vested interest in making sure that my effort wasn’t wasted.”

  I drew back and looked into his eyes. “You honestly think Romeo would kill me?” I still felt Romeo enjoyed toying with me more than anything.

  “I’m not talking about Romeo. I might have come because of Romeo, but I’m staying because of Sergei Charkov. If he thinks you’re a threat to anything he’s doing, he won’t hesitate to eliminate you. And it won’t be in a burning building like the motorcycle gang chose. Sergei won’t give me that much time.”

  “You sound like you know this from experience.”

  “I do. Sergei Charkov even killed his own son—or had him killed—when he went against his commands. This is not a man you want to tangle with.”

  I searched Dimitri’s eyes—eyes that held fear, determination… and something else. “How do you know so much about this organization?” I held up a hand to stop him from answering too quickly. “And why did you need permission from Declan to talk to me about this?”

  His eyes stayed glued to mine. “I have studied these gangsters ever since they caused the death of a young girl that Declan and I were trying to protect.”

  I reared back. “The story he told me about the two of you working together… That was his last job working with you.”

  “That was his last job working in contract intelligence.”

  I thought about that. “The death of that girl must have really affected him for him to leave behind that life.”

  “We were young, but yes, Declan was devastated.” Dimitri took a drink of coffee, breaking eye contact with me.

  “It affected you, as well. Deeply, if I had to guess. That’s why you know so much about these guys.”

  He swallowed hard, set his coffee down, and with a hand to my forearm, pierced me with those hazel eyes. “You said ‘Spider Lightning’ was the name on the computer program. The same name was in the malware used to take down the grid in the Ukraine. I know for certain Charkov was behind that attack. It follows that he is behind this one as well.”

  “But that wasn’t Charkov who took me on that little ride yesterday,” I said. “Or you would have recognized him.”

  “Correct. Charkov is hiding behind his computers in Russia or Eastern Europe, and he’s letting his thugs handle the hands-on dirty work here in the States.”

  “Any advice on how to stop him?”

  “Not sure yet. I’ll keep working my contacts and try to locate Charkov. We don’t want to underestimate him.”

  “I have to get Samantha Clay back,” I said, looking directly into Dimitri’s eyes.

  He squeezed my arm. “You need to understand just how dangerous this organization is. You might not be able to save her. And even if you do break her free from the Kharkiv Bratva, she won’t be the same person.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you? Brooke, Declan wasn’t the same person either, after the girl he was hired to protect ended up killing herself. And after you were nearly killed a few months ago…” He paused. “Just don’t be surprised if he doesn’t want you involved in a case involving Sergei Charkov—or pulls away from you because of it.”

  I walked into my office building at half past nine. My shoulders were tight, and a dull ache festered behind my eyes. I had already ditched the arm sling that immobilized my shoulder, choosing instead to pop four ibuprofen.

  Marti was sitting at her desk outside my office. She looked up when she heard my approach.

  “Oh good, you’re here.” She looked down the hallway, then leaned in and whispered, “Ryan Saltzman is in the fusion center conference room. And—”

  “He’s here?” I interrupted. “Why?”

  “I don’t know, but also—”

  “Hi, Brooke,” a woman said behind me.

  I spun around to find Erica Marshall standing in the doorway of my office.

  “And Agent Marshall with the FBI is in your office,” Marti finished. She mouthed the word, Sorry.

  “Where’s Ty?” I asked.

  “He’s in the conference room,” Marti answered, her voice barely above a whisper. “Want me to get him?”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  I faced Agent Marshall. Smiled. “Special Agent Marshall, nice of you to drop in.”

  “Cut the shit, Brooke,” she said. “We need to talk.”

  “Oh.” I let the smile fade. “Okay. Hold my calls, Marti.” I gestured for the agent to reenter my office, then followed her in and closed the door. “I’m assuming you need something really important for you to come all the way here—when you should be working the bombing and finding Samantha Clay.”

  Marshall’s eyes narrowed. “I’ve been instructed to come here and personally warn you that if you’re even thinking about investigating this case, don’t. If the FBI thinks even for a second that you’re trying to find these hackers—”

  “Terrorists,” I interrupted. “Russian mafia, to be more specific.”

  Agent Marshall stood directly in front of my desk. “What?”

  “Well, if you came all this way here to threaten me and order me not to interject myself in ‘your’ case, we might as well be honest about what you’re threatening me about.”

  “Fine, you obviously have good contacts. But we’re already way ahead of you. We’ve determined that the Kharkiv Bratva are behind the takedown of Louisville Power.”

  “I’m glad to hear it—especially since the FBI has nearly twenty thousand field agents and even more analysts. Surely you can investigate faster than my office of six. Is that why you came here?”

  “I came to tell you that if you get involved in this case, you will be arrested.”

  I suppressed a smile. It certainly wasn’t the first time I’d been ordered to stay away from a case. “Have a seat, Erica.”

  She narrowed her eyes at the use of her first name, but sat in one of my guest chairs. I figured she disrespected me; turnabout is fair play.

  I leaned against my desk, placing my hands flat against the wood and looking down on her. “Do you even know what you’re investigating?”

  “Of course. And your father already gave us your assessment, so we know your analysis.”

  “Great. So you came all the way here to threaten me with… what? Jail time? If I go near your case?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Where have I heard this before?” I looked up, pretending to think. “Oh yeah. Mike Donaldson threatened me just before my father begged me to help with the bioterrorism case that took several lives, including the lieutenant governor’s before the Bluegrass Derby. I solved that case,” I reminded her. “And I already know more about this case than you do. So let’s go ahead and assume that either you or my father will be begging me to share information in the very near future. Which I will do, because my job as director of Kentucky’s Office of Homeland Security is to help agencies share information in order to keep Kentuckians safe. That includes the Bureau.”

  “Are you withholding evidence now, Brooke? I can put you in jail for obstruction just for that.”

  “And I will tell every media outlet in the United States that your office was responsible for the collapse of the electric grid for the entire Eastern Seaboard.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I take it you haven’t spoken to Ryan Saltz
man or any of the people in that dining room yesterday.”

  She shifted in her seat, uncrossed her legs, then crossed them again in the opposite direction. “We’ve been unable to as of yet.”

  “Well, if the only reason you came here was to tell me not to interfere in your case—a power trip—then fine. Message delivered. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have my own work to do—work the governor of this fine commonwealth has instructed me to do. And neither you nor any other federal agent has a right to redirect my efforts.”

  Agent Marshall stood and walked toward the door. She had her hand on the doorknob when she turned back to me. “Why did you leave the FBI?”

  I blinked a couple of times, surprised at the abrupt subject change. “Many reasons. All of them are none of your business. But my philosophy about the work the Bureau does, and my philosophy about what I’m doing here, remains unchanged.”

  She lifted her brows in question.

  “As I’ve already said: I believe everyone in law enforcement should collaborate and combine resources to save lives. If you and your agents ever realize we can provide valuable input to your case, I’m here. But I hope it doesn’t take you too long. According to the Russian who kidnapped me yesterday—and who is still holding Samantha Clay hostage—you have until Thursday before they strike next.”

  “And what do you think that means? Why Thursday?”

  “Oh, you want my help already?” I didn’t give her time to answer. “I don’t know what’s special about Thursday. But like I told Director Waller yesterday, I would start with Ryan Saltzman.”

  She nodded and started to turn again.

  “And Erica? If something happens to Samantha Clay, I won’t even give you or my father the courtesy of a preemptive threat.”

  “Before you’ll do what?”

  “Before I make it known that the FBI refused to work nicely with other law enforcement in order to secure Sam’s safe return.”

  “You wouldn’t tarnish the reputation of the FBI.”

  “Do I look like someone who makes empty threats?”

  She turned and left. And I still wasn’t sure what her real reason for coming was.