The Crypt Trilogy Bundle

by Bill Thompson

  Suddenly Philippe realized he’d made a crucial error. He’d gone too far; now he was genuinely afraid for his life. He’d been told that Juan Carlos and Slava were murderers, but the Roberto Maas he knew wasn’t like that. He was a businessman, not a cold-blooded killer. For the first time, he saw the other side of his partner. Philippe cringed in his chair as Roberto approached. He shrank back, raising his hands defensively in front of his face.

  “Wait! Don’t hurt me! I’ll tell you! Just stop and I’ll tell you everything!”

  Roberto grabbed the man by the lapels and lifted him easily. Philippe was surprised how strong he was. Roberto threw him back onto the desk and slapped him hard across the face. “Oh, you’re right about that, you goddamned thief! You’ll tell me everything and then I’m going to cut you into pieces and feed you to the fish in the lake!”

  Suddenly the phone on the desk buzzed quietly. It was Elise, the assistant whose desk was just outside the door. She was probably concerned about the noise – she couldn’t have missed hearing something. Roberto answered the phone with one hand, holding Philippe down on the desk with the other.

  Calmly he said, “Everything’s fine, Elise. We’ll be in conference for a while. Just hold our calls and don’t disturb us.”

  “Yes, sir,” the concerned assistant responded, unsure what was happening in the next room. Whatever it was, Mr. Maas certainly was angrier than she’d ever seen him. He’d never even raised his voice – today through the door she could hear muffled shouting.

  Over the next two hours a cowering Philippe Lepescu told his partner everything. He related the visit from two Russians who told a story of a child prostitute turned murderer and blackmailer, a wealthy bartender in Prague who had a penchant for antiquities and doubled as a CIA assassin. The Russians were working for one or more of the people Slava had blackmailed and they were intent on capturing, torturing and eliminating him.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about them earlier?”

  “I was fully prepared to. I was going to call you in Greece – you said you were going on holiday there – remember? Then Edward Russell called and told me you were in London. I asked you about it and you confirmed you’d been lying to me. That’s when it all changed. That’s when I knew I couldn’t trust you and you didn’t give a damn about me. I thought you were my friend. My business partner…” Philippe began to shed tears.

  Usually totally in control of his emotions, Roberto’s rage surprised even him. He shuddered with anger as he interrogated this man he’d trusted. The usually calm, collected assassin had never been this furious. He could barely control the urge to kill Philippe with his bare hands. He slapped him again, harder.

  “You learned that I, your boss who owes you absolutely no obligation to disclose my personal life, misled you about my whereabouts. And that indiscretion made you decide to keep quiet about two men who were out to kill me? Then you implemented a systematic program to steal my assets. Did you plan to help the Russians find me? Was that the plan, so it didn’t matter now if you stole from me or not since I’d be dead?”

  Philippe’s words gushed forth. “You don’t know how hard it was. You were the first real friend I ever had. I thought we were more than boss and employee. You called me your partner. That one word was the most important thing I’d ever heard. Someone wanted me to be his partner. I thought we were good friends. I wanted to share with you, to laugh with you, to have a real friend for the first time in my life. But everything you told me was a lie. I found out from the Russians that your entire life was made up. You aren’t really Roberto Maas at all. You weren’t even really Juan Carlos Sebastian. You’re a teenaged boy whore from Russia who killed someone and blackmailed a lot of others. Are you proud of that, Roberto? Are you proud?”

  Roberto said nothing as Philippe voiced the betrayal he felt. He understood completely – he felt exactly the same way. First it had been Edward. Now it was Philippe. He’d decided years ago to trust no one. Ever. What happened today made him feel even more isolated. Like Philippe, he also never had a friend, nor had he ever felt comfortable and safe enough to let his feelings emerge. And this was precisely why. The hard veneer of Roberto Maas remained solidly in place.

  The last thing he got from Philippe was contact information for the Russians who wanted to kill him. He’d watch security camera footage from their visit to see what the men looked like. And he’d be prepared.

  He held out his hand and said, “Give me your cell phone.” Philippe handed it over. It belonged to the company anyway and he’d get another this afternoon.

  “Unlock it and give me your passwords.”

  He watched Roberto’s fingers fly first over the phone’s keypad, then the computer on Philippe’s desk.

  “What … what are you doing?”

  “I’m locking you out. No email, no contacts, no anything. It’s over.”

  “You’re treating me like some kind of…”

  “Criminal? Is that the word you’re thinking? Because that’s the word I’m thinking. You son of a bitch! You stole four hundred thousand dollars from me after everything I’ve done for you. You started here with nothing and now you have a lot of money, thanks to me. But that wasn’t enough, was it? You had to steal even more. You’re a damned gypsy – I guess I should have believed what I always heard about you people. Thieves. That’s what everyone called you gypsies. And I guess it’s true, isn’t it? You’re nothing but a gypsy thief just like your father was.”

  The words stung harder than anything Philippe had ever heard. They burned to his heart. Any remorse he might have felt was gone – washed away by the overflowing hatred that now permeated every pore of his body. Roberto had impugned his family – his father’s heritage. A rotten thief – that was what Ciprian Lepescu’s killers had called him – and now Roberto was calling Philippe and his father the same thing.

  Philippe’s face revealed how deeply the words had affected him. It made no difference now to Roberto. The damage was done and the man had been caught red-handed. Whatever semblance of friendship there had been was gone forever.

  “Get out. Keep the damned four hundred thousand dollars you stole from me. Consider it your thirty pieces of silver – your payment for telling me about the Russians. I’d better never lay eyes on you again. You’re truly lucky, Philippe. What you know about me only scratches the surface – I should kill you for what you’ve done, but I’m going to let you live. For now. But listen to me closely – if you mention anything, if I see you, if I hear anything at all about you – you’re a dead man. You’ll never run far enough to escape. And you’ll have to look behind you every minute because I’ll hunt you down and kill you.”

  Philippe was shaking from pent-up rage. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to remain calm.

  “I understand,” he said quietly. “Can I get my personal things …?”

  Roberto slammed his fist into the desk and screamed, “Are you insane? I’m not sitting here while you clean out your desk! Elise can box up whatever I say you can have. She’ll arrange to meet you somewhere to hand it over. Now get out. Get out!”

  Alone in the office he had shared with Philippe, Roberto turned off voice memos on his cell phone. The entire conversation had been recorded – it was as damaging to him as it was to Philippe, but he’d keep it just in case. He walked to his own desk, linked the phone to his computer and downloaded the voicemail to a secure file. Then he erased the recording from his phone.

  The conversation was deleted. Except for TrickTracker.

  The rest of Roberto’s afternoon was spent with the security director for Ciprian Investments. Locks were changed, video footage was reviewed and an astonished Elise was briefed on the departure of her dishonest boss.

  For hours Philippe Lepescu sat alone in his apartment as afternoon turned to night. His hands were clenched, but he kept the seething rage bottled up. Undoubtedly the employees at Ciprian all had been told he was a thief. They had no idea about Roberto’s own secrets. So
mehow, some way, Philippe would correct the injustice. No one shamed a gypsy without retaliation. He would have revenge. For his father and for himself.

  Across the street from Philippe’s house, the man stayed in the shadows, avoiding pools of dim light cast from gas lamps lining the quiet residential street. A pedestrian strolled past now and then, unaware of the figure dressed completely in black who was standing nearby. He watched the two-story house and especially an upstairs apartment he knew well. He’d been to the flat several times; he knew exactly what he was waiting for.

  At 10:30 the lights on the south end of the second floor were extinguished. The man watched a second set of windows – the single bedroom. Its light remained on until nearly eleven, then the flat went totally dark. He maintained his post for an hour just to be sure his quarry was asleep. There was no one on the street at midnight when he walked to the front door of the apartment house, used his trusty lock pick and entered quietly.

  Avoiding an old lift he knew from experience was noisy and creaky, he took the stairs one quiet step at a time. The pick worked again, but when he opened the apartment door, there was a small flimsy chain hooked to the door jamb on the other side. Years of practice taught him ways to do almost any task soundlessly. He pulled a heavy-duty wire cutter from his jacket, made one clip and unhooked the chain. He was inside.

  He walked to the bedroom and through an open door. He pulled a silenced .22 pistol; for close-range work this gun was perfect – a bullet would enter the brain but not exit. Instead, it bounced around doing maximum damage and ensuring the death of the subject.

  His quarry lay in bed, covered by a blanket. The assassin walked quietly to the bed, aimed the pistol and fired two shots.

  The figure didn’t flinch.

  Juan Carlos jerked the blanket back, realizing he’d been the victim of the oldest trick in the book. Pillows were arranged to resemble a body. Before he left, he glanced at the lamps and saw the timers that had automatically switched them off. Obviously his quarry had locked the front door with its security chain and left through a window. The entire time Juan Carlos had stood outside no one had been there.

  Clever, Philippe. You’ve eluded me but not for long. Just watch your back. I’m coming.

  Philippe would be careful. He now knew what to expect. Thanks to a simple nanny camera he’d installed high in one corner of the bedroom, he watched his attempted murder on his smartphone.

  You underestimate me, Juan Carlos. You think I’m weak. That will be your downfall.

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  The recording lasted for more than two hours. Edward sat transfixed and listened to every word of the heated exchange between Roberto and Philippe.

  The longer he eavesdropped on the discussion, the more exciting it got. It started out as an employee caught stealing four hundred thousand dollars, a great deal of money. Edward could hardly wait to find out what was going to happen next. Would Roberto kill him? Maybe! After all, Roberto had killed other people and this was a big deal! That would be exciting – Edward wondered if he’d hear gunshots on the recording.

  Then suddenly everything changed. Edward heard Philippe say, “Put the phone down, Juan Carlos.”

  So Philippe knew about his previous life!

  This was a crazy mystery, like listening to an audiobook novel. He leaned closer to hear Philippe say a Russian name – Slava Sergenko – that obviously made Roberto furious. There had been a scuffle, a hard slap and a phone call from someone named Elise, probably an assistant who heard the noise.

  He listened to Roberto’s life history. He knew everything now. He also knew why Philippe stole from his friend and his boss. Philippe was a partner scorned by a rich man who cared nothing about him.

  It’s exactly the same way Roberto treats me. Maybe he needs to learn to be a little friendlier. Maybe those Russians will teach him a lesson in the social graces! That made Edward smile.

  The dark side weighed in. Maybe I should just kill him.

  Edward chose to ignore that. The bad one seemed to have had more and more input to offer lately, and Edward was afraid to feed his desires too often. The dark side had to stay under Edward’s control.

  Philippe gave a phone number and an email address – contact details for the Russians who wanted to kill Roberto. Edward wrote them down. It would be a lot easier to let these people take care of his enemy than to dirty his own hands. Let the professionals handle everything. It was a simple solution he’d keep in mind for when the time was right.

  Edward deleted the recording and turned off TrickTracker. The money he’d spent on that little program had certainly been worth it. Now I’m the only one with secrets, Roberto, he thought to himself. But not for long. It was show-and-tell time for Edward too. He had to tell Roberto about the two bodies in the crypt.

  After that can we kill him?

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  Since Edward knew everything about Roberto Maas, he should have been very afraid of him. But more often these days Edward’s dark side controlled his twisted mind. The bad one continually reassured Edward he was smarter, wilier and more cunning than the professional killer who was his partner. He created scenarios in Edward’s head on how to eliminate his adversary. But Edward resisted.

  We need him right now. But then we’re going to kill him, right?

  Yes, but not now.

  Roberto was leaving for Moscow on Thursday. As usual he had lied, saying he was going to spend the weekend with friends in the south of France. Also as usual, Edward knew where he really was going. He’d be there himself on Friday.

  But now it was time to get rid of the two bodies buried beneath the floor in the crypt.

  On Saturday afternoon he and Roberto sat in the back room as Edward prepared for confession. He’d run this conversation in his head a dozen times. First he’d ask Roberto some questions – things Roberto didn’t realize Edward already knew. He wanted the man to be invested in the secrets between them before he told him everything about the bodies.

  “I have something to tell you, something involving the crypt that I hinted at once before. This is difficult for me; I need to reveal something very confidential. First I want to ask you something. When I tied you up in the crypt, you said you’d killed people. Were you telling the truth, or were you just trying to get me to cut you loose?”

  Roberto answered smoothly, “I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. I worked for a governmental agency – one you’ve heard of – but I can’t say more than that. I’ve killed more than once. Why are you asking about that now?”

  “Very soon we have to involve the antiquities people in the discoveries we’ve made, don’t you agree? This is all becoming too big to keep quiet. At first it was less complicated. We had a fifth-century body in the basement. Now we have the diaries of the wife of King Arthur himself, the possibility their bodies are also buried here, and a Roman passageway dating back almost to the time of Christ. As much as I wish it didn’t have to happen, I don’t see how we can keep this to ourselves any longer.”

  “I totally agree. I’ve been thinking the same thing; every diary entry you translate makes me more and more sure. What’s down there is unprecedented – earthshaking from a historical standpoint – and there’s no way to keep it under wraps much longer. What are you thinking?”

  “I have to know I can trust you. I know there are things both of us did that created mistrust, and I understand that. Secrets are secrets and everyone’s got them. But now I need some help and I have to tell you a big secret. Do you swear to keep this to yourself?”

  Roberto assured Edward the secret would remain sacrosanct.

  “I’m thinking…” He paused for effect – Roberto could see the gleam in his eye. The demented bastard was obviously enjoying the mystery of all this.

  Edward took a breath and continued. “All right. I’m thinking I need your help to move some things in the crypt. Remember the things the radar picked up in the floor? The, uh … the bodies? I shouldn’t have bu
ried them there.”

  “No problem,” Roberto said reassuringly. He knew where this conversation was headed. If there were bodies, they had to go before the archaeologists arrived. By now they both were convinced the crypt had to be examined by professionals. Roberto was certain he could work things out so the items in the crypt remained theirs. Money talked, even with the authorities. Archaeologists were always underfunded. A few million dollars would keep things on the right track.

  Roberto answered, “I’m willing to help. I just want to know something. How many bodies are down there, and who are they?”

  Edward told him. Roberto knew the name Curtis Pemberly – he’d spoken with the man before Edward killed him. The assistant shopkeeper was a surprise, but the deaths only reinforced the fact that Edward was psychotic and couldn’t be trusted for a moment.

  To gauge his reaction, Roberto casually said, “So you’ve got a couple of kills under your belt.”

  Edward didn’t respond. In order to move two dead bodies, his dark side would have to emerge for a while. That one didn’t like Roberto laughing at him. He did have these two kills, but also there was the matter of Edward’s grandparents. He’d suppressed that whole episode so far back in his brain it rarely surfaced anymore. His bad side assured him it didn’t matter. What he’d done to his grandparents was part of the plan. Anyway, they were old and sick. Everyone died sometime. He’d just helped them along.

  Edward’s “Dr. Jekyll” side didn’t like thinking about that. He’d loved his grandparents and they’d been good to him.

  But neither of his personalities liked Roberto, the cocky bastard. His dark side spoke quietly in Edward’s psychotic mind.

  He’ll be dead soon. We’re going to kill him slowly, make him suffer. I can’t wait!

  By the time they quit for the day, they’d lugged fifteen bags of topsoil to the basement. At dawn Sunday they began to dig. It had been years since the two bodies were buried. Edward hoped this wouldn’t be a smelly, nasty operation; he told Roberto that he’d put them in heavy-duty zippered plastic bags, the kind used for construction debris, and he hoped those bags remained intact.