Black List_Black Star Security

by Cynthia Rayne

  “Good to know.” She should push him away, but Lucy savored the warmth of his palm, relishing the small contact.

  “Lucy, I’ve been wondering something…”

  “Yes?” Her stomach clenched.

  “Did the CIA ever compensate you? For your time, I mean?”

  “No. Although, Hussam bought me designer clothes and flashy jewelry.” She hadn’t liked anything he bought her. Lucy wore casual clothing.

  “So, you left empty-handed?”

  She shrugged.” I’m not into fancy duds or gold. And when I escaped, I left it all behind.” Lucy had gotten out of there with the clothes on her back. And she’d then hawked the jewelry she’d been wearing until she could find another employment.

  “How did you get away from him?”

  “We were visiting DC and I seized the opportunity.”

  Lucy knew he was beginning to suspect something. The CIA had captured some of his associates, and Hussam had been furious, thinking someone in his network had betrayed him. Lucy had wanted to run sooner, but if she’d left him in Saudi Arabia or the United Arab Emirates, she would’ve been vulnerable. Women by themselves didn’t fare well there.

  “What the hell was he doing in DC?”

  “Speaking with a senator.”

  He frowned. “Why?”

  “No idea, but it sounded pretty shady to me.” Hussam had never met a law he didn’t break. “Anyway, I saw my opportunity the third day we were in the States. Hussam was staying in the hotel room two doors down with one of his other mistresses, and his guards were in the other room in his suite.”

  Hussam got a larger room, while his mistresses shared smaller ones. The girl she’d been bunking with drifted off early in the evening, thanks to some champagne.

  “So, you skipped out?”

  “Yes, I had a check in with my handler the next morning, and I wanted to be in the wind before they asked me to do anything else.”

  They’d been pressing her for more information. Sooner or later, Hussam would’ve figured it out. Since she’d had nothing left to lose, Lucy had escaped.

  Lucy had gone down the stairs, all twelve floors. When she reached the lobby, Lucy scooted down the first-floor hallway and then out the back door, into the parking lot. After hotwiring a car, she was free.

  And she’d never looked back.

  “I’m glad you got away.”

  “Yeah, me too.” If Lucy hadn’t extricated herself, she’d be in a shallow grave somewhere.

  “I can’t believe the cheap bastards didn’t pay you.”

  “Me either.” It was the final insult. They’d hoodwinked Lucy into helping, and refused to give her a salary, even though she was risking her life every day. “They said I was doing my patriotic duty.” Lucy shivered. “Can we change the subject?” Dwelling on the past made her uncomfortable.

  “Maybe I should talk about the case then.” He ran a hand down his face. “The club footage is a dead end. I was hoping to prove Walker was there on the same nights as the victims. Either he never went to Edge, or he was smart enough to avoid the cameras.”

  “Somehow, I think it was the last one.” Beckett struck her as someone who was deliberate.

  “Me too.”

  “Is he really an attorney?”

  “I confirmed he’s a lawyer, registered with the Kentucky Bar Association. And he lives in the same building as our previous suspect. He wasn’t lying about that either.”

  “Find anything useful we could use? Leverage?”

  “I haven’t found anything dirty.” Storm frowned. “Although, he only has one bank account from what I can tell.”

  “So?” Before she’d been off the grid, Lucy only had one account.

  “There isn’t much in it.”

  “You think he’s hiding his money.” Lucy wasn’t surprised. Some of the wealthiest people stashed their earnings in offshore accounts to avoid taxes.

  “Maybe. Tracking them down’s gonna be hard.” He sighed. “The good news is, I found our ‘in.’” Whenever the agency ran an operation, they looked for an easy point of entry into a person’s life.

  “Fantastic, what is it?”

  “He has maid service every Wednesday afternoon, while he’s at work.”

  “That’s today.” Lucy checked her phone. It was nearly one in the afternoon. “We don’t have any time to lose.”

  “Hold up. We should take more time and organize this op.”

  Lucy thought he was probably right, but she wasn’t willing to back off. Not now.

  “We’re doing it today. Come this time next week? I wanna be halfway across the country. I’ll call Johnson Cleaning and cancel the appointment. Then I’ll go instead.”

  “We’ll go,” Storm insisted.

  “No, I’m gonna handle this one. It’s well within my skill set.” Lucy wasn’t afraid to sneak into an empty apartment.

  Storm opened his mouth to protest.

  But Lucy interrupted him. “A male maid is going to call attention to us. You’ll never get by the doorman without being noticed.” Hopefully, the doormen split three eight-hour shifts, so a different one would be there in the afternoon, then the evening.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. This is the twenty-first century. Men can be maids too.”

  “I didn’t say they couldn’t, but it would be unusual, and you’d stand out.”

  “But you shouldn’t go alone.” Evidently, Storm agreed with her, but he clearly wasn’t happy about it.

  “Why?”

  “What if he comes home early?”

  “I’ve got a gun.” Lucy patted it fondly.

  “You’re his victim type. He likes strong women and I hate the way he was watching you yesterday.”

  Her skin prickled with unease. “Yeah, it freaked me out, too.”

  “If he ever got his hands on you…”

  “He won’t.” Lucy would make sure of it. “Look, it won’t be a big deal. I’ll do a little dusting, some snooping, and be on my merry way. He’ll be the none the wiser. And you’ll be in my ear the entire time as my handler.” When the CIA did a mission, one agent worked the case, while another coordinated efforts and information.

  His brows drew together. “You’d trust me to watch your back?”

  “Of course.”

  “And you’re absolutely sure?”

  “Absolutely. Wire me up, Storm, I’m going in.”

  Chapter 10

  “Are you in position?” Storm asked.

  "Yes, I'm in his kitchen.”

  She’d made it past the lobby, without incident.

  Fortunately for her, the maid service Beckett used didn't wear uniforms. Instead, they wore khakis and yellow polo shirts. After a quick trip to Target, she’d found the right outfit, along with a ballcap she’d pulled down low over her eyes, and a bucket of cheap cleaning supplies.

  Unfortunately, she’d have to sell this charade and do some cleaning, or Beckett would get wise to their plan.

  Being a spy is a bitch sometimes. At least she didn’t have to sleep with this one.

  "What's it like?"

  Storm was parked out front of the building in a van he’d rented. He was seated in the back with all of the audio equipment, listening in. Having a familiar voice in her ear was comforting. She’d worked alone for so long, Lucy had forgotten how helpful it was to have a partner, even for moral support.

  Or maybe you’re just happy to have Storm back.

  "Clean and organized. Kinda sterile. It’s much nicer than Tom’s place." From what she could see, Beckett had about twice the space.

  And everything was white—countertops, walls, carpet, and even the furnishings. The smell of bleach hung heavy in the air. Evidently, he’d wiped the place down this morning. As far as she could tell, the place didn’t need to be cleaned.

  So, was he an obsessive compulsive neat freak? Or was Beckett trying to hide evidence?

  “Well, poke around and see what you find.”

  “I’m on it.”r />
  The living room had thick Berber carpet, leather couches, along with a wicker coffee table and a flat screen television.

  Nothing out of the ordinary.

  Lucy also checked the bathroom, but the medicine cabinet was empty, except for some hygiene products and a bottle of aspirin.

  But one room off the main hallway was locked. Evidently, the maid wasn’t supposed to clean in there.

  “Ha. I think I found his hidey hole. The door’s locked.”

  “Ha. Paydirt. Can you pick it?”

  “Of course.”

  Lucy kept a lock-pick kit in her pocket whenever she worked a job. It always came in handy. She knelt in front of the door and methodically raked the internal pins on the lock one by one, until it opened.

  “I’m in.”

  Inside, she found what looked like an office. One was lined with shelves full of books. From what she could tell, most of them were related to the law. There was a desk and a computer as well.

  “Hey, I found his laptop.”

  “Do you have the thumb drive I gave you?”

  “Yes.” She fished for it in her pocket.

  “Just plug it in, and it should copy all the files in a few seconds.”

  “I’m on it.” After she inserted the drive, Lucy started snooping through his desk, pulling out drawers. For the most part, it was boring. There were office supplies, some file folders for bills and receipts.

  Then Lucy found one she couldn’t open.

  “Hey, there’s a locked drawer on the desk, too.”

  “When will people learn?” He sighed. “Locks draw attention to your secrets.”

  Lucy picked it open, too.

  “What did you find?” Storm’s line crackled a little and she adjusted the bud in her ear.

  “A box of syringes and a couple unmarked bottles of a solution.” The glass bottles were small, about the size of her thumb and contained a clear liquid. They’d easily fit in someone’s pocket, along with a syringe.

  “Weird. I thought for sure he put something in their drinks.”

  “Was there any evidence the women had been injected?” Lucy asked.

  “No. Do you think the chemical could be administered orally and intravenously?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Has to be.” She rifled through the drawer and came up with a bottle. “Okay, I found pills, too.”

  “Also unmarked?”

  “Yes, I’m going to a test a theory and see if they dissolve in liquid.”

  Lucy marched to the bathroom and filled a paper cup with liquid and dropped a pill in. Sure enough, it started to dissolve in a matter of seconds.

  “Okay,” Storm said. “Maybe this is the same drug, administered two different ways. Take a sample of all of them.”

  “Where can we get it analyzed?” She filled two syringes, one with each solution, and then popped one of the pills into a plastic bag. She tucked them all into her pocket.

  “King’s our medic. I’m sure he knows a guy. I’ll text him and get back to you.”

  “Thanks.” Lucy put everything back and locked the room up once more. “Something’s bothering me. Why do you think there were two bottles of liquid but only one container of pills?”

  “No clue. Maybe King can get to the bottom of it. What are you doing now?”

  “Being nosey and cleaning at the same time. Frankly, this place is spotless. How could he even tell I did anything?”

  Maybe Beckett was one of those guys who tested surfaces with a pair of white gloves. She used a fabric spray to make the place smell clean, since nothing needed to be wiped down.

  After a few minutes Storm spoke up. “Hey, I heard from King. We’ll drop the samples off at the university on the way home. He knows somebody in the chem lab.”

  “Excellent. I’m gonna check one more room, and then I’m out of here.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  When she got to the bedroom, Lucy sucked in a breath. Creepy.

  The room was dominated by a large bed covered in gauzy curtains. An enormous wooden trunk sat at the footboard. And on the white walls, were a series of framed pictures.

  “What’s wrong?” Storm sounded alarmed.

  “Uh, he’s got graphic art on the walls.”

  “Okkkkay. The kind you find in comic books?”

  “Only this is some twisted shit.” Lucy grimaced.

  “Describe it.”

  “Trust me, you don’t want these images in your head.” Lucy would have a hard time forgetting them.

  “Too bad. I’ve gotta know.”

  “Alright. Here goes and hold onto your lunch.”

  Lucy described every detail. A young woman was chained to a pipe. It looked like she was in a basement, or some other industrial space. Her dress was torn, and her breasts were exposed. A man stood over her, although his face was unseen. Only his legs and hands were visible. It’s clear he was a stand-in for the men viewing this “art.”

  The images were drawn to showcase the woman’s fear and anxiety. There was a sadistic sexual overtone to the little word bubbles. He talked about her being things—a toy, a work of art.

  The very last image depicted the woman hung on a wall with bolts through her skin. Her eyes were closed, her face slack, and lifeless. And the man commented on how angelic she looked, how peaceful. She was displayed in a showroom, along with dozens of other dead women.

  It made her skin crawl.

  Storm made a nose in the back of his throat. “You need to get the fuck out of there.”

  “Yeah, big time.”

  And that’s when the front door swung open.

  Lucy jumped back against the wall. She was on the sixth floor so jumping out of the window wasn’t an option. There was only one way out of this apartment, through the front door.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Somebody’s here,” Lucy whispered.

  “Impossible. I’ve been watching the front door.”

  “Yeah, and I’m telling you someone’s in the other room.”

  “Hold up.” Lucy could hear Storm typing. “Oh fuck! There’s a parking garage behind the building.”

  “And maybe some of the residents park in there?”

  “Yeah, and then take an elevator up to their apartments.” She heard a distinct thud. Was he pounding a fist on the wall? “This is my fault. I should’ve checked out the garage.”

  “It’s okay. We had a tight timeline. We’ll hash it out later. Right now, I need to get the hell out of here.”

  “Do you think it’s Walker?”

  “The odds are pretty good.”

  “I’m coming upstairs.” Lucy heard the van door open.

  “Don’t you dare,” she hissed. “If he finds out we’re working against him, he’ll destroy all the evidence.”

  “Or disappear. I just know this guy’s stashed money all over the world.”

  “Yeah, well, everybody needs a contingency plan. Speaking of, we should’ve thought up one for me.”

  “Where are you?” Storm asked.

  “In the bedroom. So far, he’s stayed in the kitchen.”

  “What’s he doing?”

  “I think he’s making a late lunch.” Lucy could hear the humming sound of the microwave.

  “We’ll wait him out then. He’ll grab some food, maybe watch some television and then head out.”

  She blew out a breath, trying to relax. “Right. I can do this.” All Lucy had to do was not draw attention to herself for the next twenty minutes or so. So, she stood very still, and closed her eyes, listening intently.

  Easy peasy. I got this.

  And then there were footsteps down the hall.

  Lucy freaked. “I need to hide, he’s coming.”

  “Jump in the closet.”

  “Not an option. There’s just an armoire in here.”

  “Slip under the bed.”

  Lucy crawled underneath the bed and tucked her arms and legs in tight. At least he had a queen-sized bed,
so there was plenty of room underneath it.

  Please God, don’t let him find me.

  Her thoughts went winging to those paintings. And then to Christy, lying on the bed. She clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle a sob.

  I don’t wanna die.

  “I know you’re here.”

  Lucy froze. How had he known? Was he surveilling his own place? She hadn’t seen any cameras.

  His shiny shoes were right beside the bed.

  “Come on out, my dear.”

  Go! Run!

  Slowly, Lucy slid out and then jumped to her feet. Beckett stood on the other side of the bed. He wasn’t angry or afraid. No, there was a sadistic, predatory glee shining in his eyes.

  “Well, hello again. Nice to see you, Lucy. I must say, I’ve never met a maid/FBI agent.”

  “Actually, I just…” Lucy tried to think of a plausible explanation for being in his apartment but came up empty.

  For a second, Lucy considered using the syringes in her pocket, but they needed to test the substance. If Beckett got wind of what they were doing, he’d dump the evidence. She’d only use it as a last resort to save her life.

  “What the fuck are you doing? Run!” Storm shouted.

  She eyed the door.

  “You’ll never make it over there.” Beckett was right. He’d catch her by the time she got over there.

  “Are you listening to me, Lucy?” Storm asked. She could hear the panic in his voice.

  She pasted on a smile. “It’s a lovely day for a walk.”

  “Fuck that.” Storm wasn’t having it. “You’ve gotta go. He’ll kill you.”

  Beckett frowned. “You’re not speaking with me, are you?”

  “No, someone’s listening in.” And it might be her saving grace. “And just so we’re clear, everything we say here today, will be recorded.”

  Storm tried again. “I mean it. If you don’t leave, I’m coming up.”

  “Don’t. Trust me, I’ve got this.” Lucy bit the inside of her cheek.

  He didn’t reply, but Lucy knew they’d be arguing about it later. Assuming there was a “later,” of course.

  “Clever girl.” Beckett chuckled. “So, have you been admiring my artwork?”

  “Lucy?” Storm asked again.

  “Maybe.” Lucy pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and adjusted the volume down on her earpiece. She couldn’t concentrate with Storm speaking into her ear. “Admiring isn’t the word I’d use, but I’ve noticed them, yes.”