Wrath's Storm: A Masters' Admiralty Novel

by Mari Carr

  “What about that list?” Nikolett pointed. “Cross-referenced with Masters’ Admiralty. Who is in that file?”

  “That isn’t important,” Annalise said.

  “How could that not be important? Petro is, was, the mastermind.” Nyx sounded cold, angry.

  “And we know he mentored other killers,” Dimitri added.

  “Thank you for bringing that up. Let us start with the possible partnership between our unsub and Petro.

  “I believe their relationship was not a full partnership. Not in the way of the González sisters, the Hillside Stranglers, or Wolfgang Abel and Marco Furlan. Nor, I think, is the unsub we’re looking for the submissive partner, but I will explain my reasoning for that further in a moment.

  “What we have here is a partnership where, I believe, both parties considered themselves the dominant partner.” Everyone, including Jakob and Walt, looked at her. This was news to them too, because it was part of the profile she hadn’t been able to give at the coffee shop meeting with Eric before they were interrupted.

  “Petro provided resources, and in at least one instance that we know of, identified a victim, using our unknown subject as a weapon.” She very carefully didn’t mention Josephine’s name again.

  “Why would he think he’s in charge if Petro was telling him who to kill?” Walt asked.

  “Have you ever worked in a hospital, a large one?” Annalise asked, deciding it might be easier to explain this by way of analogy.

  “Well, during my residency, yes. And I was in the military, so if you want to talk about large organizations…”

  “And did you have people above you in rank, or with more authority than you, but who were not doctors? They knew less about how to treat a patient, about medicine and taking care of another person, yet had some authority over how you did your job.”

  Jakob’s brows rose and he sat back, a sort of faraway expression in his eyes. He’d figured out not only where this conversation was going, but the implications.

  Her best student.

  Walt nodded. “Okay, Dr. Fischer, I see what you mean.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Hayden.” She didn’t wink. It wouldn’t have been appropriate, but she wanted to. “In the examples Dr. Hayden provided, he is the medical authority, and yet there are people of authority to whom he reports. Both parties have authority, but their authority is inherently different.”

  Nikolett nodded. “So the killer saw Petro as an unskilled supervisor.”

  “That is what I believe. A submissive partner would not have been able to carry out the murders of Josephine and Alicja on their own. Oftentimes in killing partnerships, it is the submissive partner who is forced to commit the worst aspects of the crime, but they are in the direct sphere of influence of the dominant partner—either living with them or maintaining regular contact.”

  “Petro could have done that by phone.”

  Annalise shook her head. “Possible, but highly unlikely. I believe the unsub saw Petro as a patron. Someone who appreciated their work and therefore was willing to provide resources and support.”

  “Ciril, one of the other serial killers, referred to Petro as his ‘friend’,” Nyx said.

  “That supports my theory that Petro’s relationships with the killers were not the same as say that of U.S. killers McClintic and Rafferty.”

  Several people frowned, and Nikolett reached for her phone.

  Annalise cleared her throat. “For your own sakes, I would suggest not doing a search. They murdered a child.”

  Everyone looked grim.

  “So Petro was a patron to this killer. We know Petro appreciated what this person, man, did.” Grigoris sounded harsh, and he made the word “appreciated” into something disgusting with his tone.

  “Patron is, based on what information we have, an informed hypothesis, the most appropriate term,” Annalise agreed.

  “How did you figure out which of the names on that list were killed by the same man who murdered Josephine?” Nikolett gestured at the wall where Alicja’s autopsy report and the list of files were projected.

  Annalise talked them through the difference between defensive and offensive dismemberment—killing and then dismembering, or death as an unintended consequence of the dismemberment, which was the focus of the pathology. She went on, now with Walt’s help, to explain the skill with which the cuts on Alicja had been made. She didn’t talk about Josephine directly, only saying that the decapitation of the Polish woman was nearly identical to the decapitation of the primary victim.

  She went over Alicja’s antemortem injuries, her voice compassionate but firm as she talked about the rape, the lack of DNA, and how the case had gone cold. The way Alicja’s body had been disposed of, the head carefully packed in a small blanket chest, other parts loose in dumpsters.

  She explained the psychology behind a possible medical-invention-based killer, like the Cleveland Torso Murderer, and why they had dismissed it given the geographic diversity. She showed them the file of the victim in Belgium, explained that was the second place they’d considered going, but had decided to go to Krakow since almost all of Alicja Lewandowski’s body had been found.

  Finally she told them what the medical examiner had revealed—the blanket chest, his agreement with Walt’s assessment of the skill, the floral scent that may have been the victim’s perfume.

  Everyone but Nikolett was nodding.

  Grigoris and Dimitri had both been taking notes. Dimitri spoke first. “What do you know about how they were taken?”

  Annalise flipped over to the very last known image of Alicja. A still from a store’s security camera footage. “She was taken while walking down a city street. A route that was part of her normal routine.”

  Grigoris grunted. “He’d watched her.”

  “Yes, I believe the unsub was stalking her for quite some time. Enough to not only know her routine, but to have identified physical locations along her regular walking commute where there were no cameras.”

  “Drove up in a van and grabbed her,” Dimitri said.

  Annalise shook her head. “No van is visible on any of the tapes.”

  “Then how is he getting his victims?” Dimitri asked. “How did he physically move them somewhere where he could kill them?”

  Annalise had been thinking about the case, the profile, on and off for days, even with all the other things that happened. She’d come to some possible conclusions that were both alarming and interesting. “I believe the victims are going willingly with the unsub.”

  Grigoris frowned. “You mean he’s using a gun, knife?”

  Annalise briefly froze, remembering the feel of the knife grazing her skin. Nyx, too, looked stiff.

  “No,” Annalise said slowly. “I think the unsub has more skill, and more subtlety, than that.”

  Nyx shook her head. “I would not follow a strange man no matter what he said. And Josephine, she was kind, generous, but not stupid.”

  Annalise raised one eyebrow, took her time looking around the table. “Who said the unsub was a man?”

  There was a collective shocked inhale.

  Nyx was the first to recover. “You said Alicja was raped.”

  “Which doesn’t actually require a biological penis,” Annalise pointed out. When no one spoke, she went on. “Using a blanket chest, plus the care that was put into wrapping her head…these are both more typically female behaviors, as, anthropologically speaking, it is traditionally women who care for bodies, wash them, tend them.”

  Nyx nodded in agreement.

  “The killer is a woman.” Dimitri sat back, clearly thinking. “Nyx, Admiral, if a woman approached you on the street and asked you for help, would you go with her?”

  “Yes,” they answered in unison.

  “Don’t,” Grigoris said.

  While Dimitri grunted and added, “Not anymore you don’t.”

  Annalise took a moment, considered her next comment before turning toward Nyx. “Even Josephine’s head
…it was deliberately placed in order to shock and horrify, correct?”

  Nyx’s face was smooth and calm, but frozen, a marble bust, the only flaw the line down her cheek. Grigoris just looked grim.

  “But if shock and horror were the end goal, why the basket?” Annalise asked.

  “Putting someone’s head in a basket is horrifying,” Grigoris pointed out. “Or maybe it was about forcing someone to look in the basket.”

  Annalise raised a brow. “Wouldn’t a decapitated head sitting on the table, or placed on some sort of spike, be more horrifying?”

  Nyx closed her eyes. “Yes. Displaying the head would make it more like the aftermath of an execution.”

  “Let us say that Petro asked the unsub to place Josephine’s head in the library where it would be seen. The killer…she compromised by putting it in a basket.” It was getting harder and harder for Annalise to maintain her objectivity. She could sense Nyx’s grief, but the vice admiral was made of sterner stuff. Though the conversation was no doubt painful, she remained in the room, clearly determined to listen and understand.

  “Where we would find it, but no one would see Josephine unless they looked inside,” Nyx murmured.

  Annalise nodded, then gave everyone—Nyx and Grigoris most of all—a few moments to process before clearing her throat. “Another point we haven’t discussed in detail yet—”

  “There is more? Ebatʹ,” Dimitri spat.

  “—is that our three victims, Josephine, Alicja, and the woman from Belgium, are all from places that are either English speaking, or where the majority of the population is bilingual, with English as the second language.”

  “So we start there,” Grigoris said.

  “There is more work to be done analyzing the last video we have of Alicja,” Jakob said. Then, to Annalise’s delight, he continued talking. “It is possible the killer is on that tape, though their meeting isn’t, as nowhere on the footage does Alicja stop to talk to anyone.”

  “Were you checking for women?” Nikolett asked.

  Jakob nodded, but slowly. “I need to check again.”

  “We,” Nikolett said firmly. “Not just you, Ritter.”

  “And Josephine?” Nyx asked.

  Annalise took over once more. “According to the case file, she was with her brother and left to get dinner. She was going to a restaurant she frequented, so though that was not something she did every day at that time, it was a somewhat predictable activity.”

  Dimitri shook his head. “There is too much information in play. Simplify it, please.”

  Jakob glanced at Annalise, his lips tipping up in a small smile. “Make it actionable.”

  Annalise squared her shoulders, taking a moment to glance around the room.

  It was time to give the profile.

  “The unsub is most likely a woman between the ages of twenty-five and forty-five. She is a native English speaker, though is bilingual and well-traveled enough that she doesn’t stand out by the fact that she only speaks English. She appears non-threatening. This means, most likely, she does not have any visible tattoos or piercings beyond her ears. She also would not be taller than average, and may even be on the shorter end of the female height spectrum.

  “She has either studied or worked in a medical setting, but does not have a full-time, steady job in that field. She may currently have a job that involves either butchering animals, or something to do with hunting, but that is not where she learned how to dismember. Her knowledge of human anatomy shows a skill that indicates training and practice. We should look not just at doctors and nurses, but medical examiners, possibly morticians or those who might have had access to human cadavers to practice on.

  “The unsub will rely on the compassion and trust of her victims. She approaches them by asking for some sort of help that requires the victims to either walk with her or direct her. This action diverts them from their previous course or path and brings them into a place where she is able to incapacitate them, most likely using something with an instantaneous effect, such as a stun gun.

  “It is unlikely that the investigators of our victims’ disappearances had contact with her, and in contrast to many killers, she may move on to another place, another victim, relatively quickly. She is organized, with logical, careful pre- and post- behaviors. The crime scenes, if they were found, would most likely be not just cleaned as a countermeasure, but tidy.”

  Annalise stopped there, looking around the table.

  Almost as one, Dimitri, Grigoris, and Jakob all leaned in, Dimitri and Grigoris peppering her with questions. Annalise took what paper copies she had of photos and reports and passed them out. They divided up the task of reviewing footage, focusing on other female pedestrians. Notes and plans were made, digital files copied, and…

  And the admiral of Hungary was frowning, and had been for quite some time.

  “Question, Admiral?” Annalise asked.

  “You no longer work for the German police, correct?” Nikolett asked.

  Uh-oh.

  “That’s correct. I’m a professor at Heidelberg University. I left my position due to the issue with my stalker.” She hoped that would divert attention, but given that no one seemed surprised, she guessed Dimitri or Nikolett had briefed the others about what had happened yesterday.

  Nikolett raised one brow. “Then why are you looking into these killings? If our killer is crossing borders, Interpol should be handling the investigation.”

  Shit.

  Annalise smiled to hide her pounding heart. “You’re right, and though I’m no longer working directly for the police, I have consulted with Interpol in the past. I’ve also engaged in research on various abnormal psychology topics.” Maybe they would assume she’d figured all this out as research. She didn’t want to outright lie.

  Nikolett’s brow rose higher. “You weren’t hired by the admiral of England to consult on this.”

  “No, you’re correct.” Annalise looked at Jakob, wondering if things were about to go very bad. If the admiral thought she, Jakob, and Walt were lying in order to hide something, there would be consequences.

  “Then why are you looking into this?” Nikolett demanded.

  “Josephine deserves justice,” Annalise said, hoping that would end the conversation.

  “You care enough about Josephine to try to find her killer, but you didn’t know her well enough to have been told that she was placed in a trinity, posthumously, with Nyx and Grigoris?”

  Nikolett wasn’t going to let this go. Annalise settled for smiling vaguely.

  “And those lists of names, the files…you didn’t get those yourself. Not without help from someone at Interpol, someone who had access. And I just checked,” she held up her phone, “there’s no record of you requesting these files from Interpol.”

  “I have other resources,” Annalise murmured, hoping Nikolett couldn’t hear how loudly her heart was pounding.

  “I’m sure you do. But not enough to have compiled all this without having to tell someone what you were doing. And so far, no one I’ve messaged had any idea a psychologist from Germany was looking into a potential serial killer. Not Rome, England, certainly not here in Hungary.”

  Dimitri stiffened. “Annalise is the killer.”

  The room exploded, nearly everyone coming up out of their chairs. Walt yanked Annalise back across the room away from the others, while Jakob stepped around the table, coming between her and Dimitri, who was now holding a gun that hadn’t been there the moment before.

  Demands were flying—Dimitri demanding Jakob step aside. Jakob demanding Dimitri drop the gun. Grigoris demanding that Nikolett and Nyx—who were still seated—get out of the way, and when his wife didn’t move in time, Grigoris dragged Nyx, chair and all, away from the table. Vadisk had moved to the admiral, putting his hands on the back of her chair, as if planning to copy Grigoris and haul both her and the chair out if needed.

  Annalise wanted to laugh. The situation would be funny if it wasn’t so
ridiculous. If she hadn’t just been beaten and terrorized by her stalker yesterday, she might have even been scared. But that emotion appeared to be dormant at the moment.

  “Enough.” Nikolett stood, her voice ringing with authority. “Dimitri, I don’t think she’s the killer.”

  He hesitated. “Admiral, if she’s not the killer—”

  “Where did she get all the files and who told her to investigate?” Nikolett stepped closer, so close that Jakob wasn’t between them anymore. Annalise felt the weight of the other woman’s attention, her utter focus and resolve. She was a force of nature, the kind of woman who would have ridden at the front of her army in custom-made chain mail rather than stay safe in the castle.

  And Annalise couldn’t answer her question. Eric had forbidden it.

  “I took it on as a project because I am thinking about leaving academia and returning to law enforcement.” That statement was half-lie and half-truth. Because on the helicopter ride here, to keep herself from dwelling on what had happened to her, she had been thinking about going back to the Kripo.

  “Please do not lie to me. Who gave you this information, the files? Why are you investigating?” Nikolett was relentless.

  Annalise opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She grabbed the back of Jakob’s shirt, scrunching the fabric in her fist. She’d run out of half-truths and deflections.

  “Ritter,” Nikolett snapped. “Tell me the truth.”

  Jakob did silence much more calmly than Annalise. He was composed and resolute as he quietly stared down the admiral.

  “I want to believe your intentions are good, but there are too many secrets within our society, and those secrets have left people dead.” Nikolett looked grim.

  Enough was enough. “If I could tell you, I would, Admiral,” Annalise said with a resigned sigh. This answer was the truth, but the sort of statement that only led to more questions, which was why she’d avoided saying it before now.

  “And if I could ignore what you’re doing, if I could afford not to question it, I would.” Nikolett stepped back. “Dimitri, take them into custody.”

  “Sweet baby Jesus, y’all are too dramatic.” Walt, who’d had his hands on her hips, moved, pulling Annalise back another step and then putting himself between her, Jakob, and the rest of the room.