No Woman Left Behind: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Six

by Julie Moffett

  “I’m surprised they didn’t do a rectal exam,” I joked. Slash looked straight ahead, pressing his badge to the elevator pad and not even cracking a smile.

  We went to the ninth floor and I followed him down a hallway to a conference room. I counted six men in suits sitting at a long, rectangular table. They had laptops and papers spread out in front of them and were talking animatedly when we walked in. As soon as they saw us, they fell silent. After a moment, a large man with brown hair and glasses, wearing a black suit, stood up and came to greet us.

  “Hello, Ms. Carmichael. I’m Dex Woodward, Director of Cybersecurity Operations at the CIA. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  I didn’t know what was so pleasurable about meeting me under these circumstances, but he stuck out a hand, so I shook it. No one else in the room made a move to introduce themselves, so I sat without saying a word in the chair Woodward pulled out for me. For some reason, Slash didn’t sit next to me, but moved to stand in the back of the room, still not meeting my gaze. He knew something I didn’t, and whatever it was, I had a feeling I wasn’t going to like it.

  “We appreciate your cooperation in coming,” Woodward said. “We have identified the man who shot at you from the blood sample we were able to obtain at your parents’ house.”

  “Who is he?”

  “His name is Abri Pentz.” Woodward paused. He and everyone else in the room stared at me.

  I looked around the room and then back at Woodward. “Okay. Is that name supposed to mean something to me?”

  “I don’t know. That’s why I asked.”

  “I’ve never heard of him.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I have a photographic memory. I’m sure.”

  “Well, Abri Pentz is one of the world’s best snipers. He had one hundred and seventy-seven official confirmed kills in various Middle Eastern conflicts while serving in the British army. But the number is probably higher.”

  “Snipers keep count of their kills?” It seemed a bit gruesome, but what did I know about the military?

  “They do. I assure you, he is a sniper of extraordinary skill. However, at some point during his military service, he lost it. Mowed down a bunch of innocents and was served with a dishonorable discharge. Now he kills for hire. He’s currently a suspect in twelve high-profile political assassinations around the world.”

  “He sounds like bad news.”

  “He is.”

  Woodward stopped talking and just looked at me. I glanced over at Slash, who had started pacing and hadn’t stopped the entire time Woodward was talking.

  I folded my hands on the table. “I think it’s painfully clear I don’t have a clue who this guy is or why he was shooting up my parents’ house. But for one of the world’s best snipers, he has pretty lousy aim. If he were aiming at me, he would have had a perfectly clear target. The house was lit up like a Christmas tree and the drapes were wide open. But he missed. Now that I think about it, when he came inside the house, instead of shooting at any of us, he shot at the chandelier. How odd is that?”

  “Not odd at all. He didn’t miss. He didn’t hit you on purpose.”

  “You’re implying I was the intended target.”

  It was a statement, not a question, but Woodward glanced at a man who sat two chairs down. The man nodded and Woodward looked back at me. “Yes. You were the intended target.”

  “Me? Why? If this guy is an experienced sniper, why even shoot at me in the first place if he never intended to hit me? You aren’t making sense. None of this is making sense.”

  Slash spoke for the first time since we’d entered the room. “He wanted you alive.”

  “Why would he even want me dead? I don’t know who he is.”

  Woodward leaned forward. “He wants you alive for a game of cat and mouse.”

  “What game of cat and mouse? Look, I’ve never even heard of Abri Pentz. What is going on? Slash?”

  Slash walked over to Woodward and slammed his palm on the table. “I told you she doesn’t know him. Damn it. Move on.”

  Woodward jumped at the vehemence in Slash’s voice. “Fine. We can move on. Why don’t you assist me.”

  Slash pulled a chair over next to me. He sat down. “This isn’t about Pentz, cara. He’s secondary in all of this. His job was to send you a message, which is exactly what he did.”

  “Me? A message? Who would want to send me a message via a high profile assassin?”

  “That’s a very good question,” Woodward said. “It might have taken us a long time to figure that out except apparently part of Pentz’s assignment was to personally hand-deliver a message. If it hadn’t been for Slash at your parent’s house, he might have figured a more macabre way to do it.”

  Slash frowned and shook his head slightly, stopping Woodward from whatever he might have said next.

  I shivered. “Can we just cut to the bottom line, please?”

  Woodward took a drink of his coffee, regarding me thoughtfully. “The bottom line is that once we realized we were dealing with Pentz, our agents were able to piece together his activities for the past three days.”

  “And?”

  “He’s been travelling under the alias of Roman Krusky. Five days ago, he spent twenty-four hours in Tanzania, in the city of Mwanza, where we think he met his client.”

  “The client? The one who hired him to send me the so-called message?”

  “Yes. Roman Krusky entered the US via Miami two days ago.”

  “Okay, so what’s the message? Why is he so interested in me?”

  Woodward held up a plain white thumb drive. “We found this in your parents’ kitchen.”

  “He left a thumb drive in their kitchen?”

  “Yes. It’s addressed to you.”

  My stomach clenched. “What’s on it?”

  Slash put a hand on my back and began rubbing in small circles. “You need to steel yourself, cara. I don’t... I don’t know how to prepare you.”

  I felt his hand actually tremble through my sweater. He was scaring me way more than whatever was on that drive.

  “Slash, just tell me.” My voice wavered.

  He closed his eyes and then let out a breath. His hand tightened on my shoulder. “It’s Broodryk.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Broodryk?”

  Johannes Broodryk was a cyber mercenary from South Africa. He had his fingers in a wide range of cybercrimes for hire including human trafficking, drugs, money laundering and assassinations. He’d work for the highest bidder regardless of politics or ideology. We’d had an exchange of wits on my last case and I’d come out the victor. While he hadn’t been caught, I’d put a huge crimp in his worldwide cybercrime operations. I’d exposed him and now he was the number-one target of most intelligence and cyber agents all over the world. He had a big bone to chew and apparently wasn’t going to let me have the last word.

  Fear changed to anger. “What’s his deal? He put a hit on me with some bigwig assassin and then had the guy miss? On purpose? Help me out here, because I totally don’t get what he’s after.”

  Slash reached forward and pulled a laptop close to him. He opened it, typed in a password, then plugged the thumb drive in.

  The message was a video.

  He pushed play and a roaring sound filled my ears. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think.

  The first image that filled the screen was one of a brown-haired man gagged and bound to a chair.

  It was Elvis Zimmerman.

  Chapter Eight

  A long time ago, when I was still a neophyte on the computer, I had dreams of controlling the world from my keyboard. I would be able to reach anyone, anywhere. Although I know better about my cyber capabilities and limitations now, at this moment, I wanted nothing more than to have the capa
city to reach through the computer screen and bring Elvis to safety.

  I don’t know how long I sat there staring at the video. Someone on the screen was talking—Broodryk, maybe—but I couldn’t hear a word. I could only see Elvis strapped to that chair.

  Slash was saying something as well, but I couldn’t hear him either. I couldn’t hear or feel anything, only stare at the video flashing in front of me, tears pooling in my eyes and dripping down my cheeks.

  Finally, mercifully, Slash closed the laptop. He turned my chair toward him, gathered me in his arms and held me. I sat stiff as a board. He kept saying something, but I still couldn’t hear him.

  At some point, he cupped my cheeks, made me look at him. I tried to focus on his brown eyes to bring myself back to the room, to the ugly reality I had to face. I couldn’t help Elvis if I were a basket case. I had to gain control, to think. Elvis needed me to be logical right now, and crying wasn’t going to do either of us any good.

  “Slash?”

  My voice sounded strange, like it was coming from a great distance. I blinked once and tried again. “Slash.” Now it sounded more like a croak than a word.

  He nodded, brushed a tear from my cheek. “I’m here, cara. Just breathe, okay?”

  I took a breath, blinked and looked around the room. It was empty.

  “Where did everyone go?” I asked.

  “I told them to give us a minute.”

  “Broodryk...it’s him? He has Elvis? Where’s Xavier?”

  Slash swallowed. “Xavier is in the hospital in Greece. They were attacked and Elvis was taken. Xavier’s alive, but he’s been badly injured.”

  “Oh my God.” My voice couldn’t seem to go above a whisper. “Why?”

  Slash kneaded the back of his neck, stood and started pacing again. “Broodryk wanted Elvis. Just like he wants you. I presume it’s revenge for how you stopped him at the high school on your last case. His entire cyber operation is in serious jeopardy now. He’s an internationally hunted man, and he’s looking for payback.”

  “Elvis...” I could barely say his name without a shaft of pain spearing through my stomach. “Is he...still alive?”

  “As far as we know. Do you want me to play Broodryk’s message again?”

  I blinked back more tears. “No. Please. I can’t, Slash. Not yet. Can you just tell me what it says? I couldn’t hear him. Sum it up, okay?”

  He sat down again, fixed the chairs so we were face-to-face. He took both of my hands in his and held them tightly. His expression was so strained I could see new lines near the corners of his eyes.

  “Bottom line is Broodryk thinks he can get you to come after Elvis.”

  I pressed a hand to my heart, as if trying to hold the pieces of it together. After a moment I asked, “Will he keep Elvis alive until I decide what to do?”

  “There’s no decision to be made. You can’t possibly go after Elvis. It would be a suicide mission. He’d kill you both—most likely in some horrible fashion—as soon as you were out of the States. Then he’d use you as some kind of grotesque example of what he does to people who cross him.”

  He muttered something in Italian, rose to his feet and started pacing again. I’d never seen him so upset.

  I watched him, tried to get my mind around the situation. “What are my options?”

  Slash stopped in front of me. “There are no options yet. We have a digital forensics team going over every inch of the video. Broodryk makes a brief appearance, but he’s masked. We’ll likely be able to match his voice characteristics to the ones we captured from the school incident. It worries me that Broodryk didn’t make an effort to change his voice. He wants you and everyone else in the world to be sure it’s him.”

  “What’s the significance of that?”

  “It means he wants the world to witness his game.”

  “Are you certain it’s Elvis on the video? Maybe it’s just someone who looks like him.” I knew I was grasping at straws, but I had to ask.

  He sighed. “It’s him, cara. Elvis spoke on the video, so I was able to personally identify the voice match. I assure you, I reviewed the video multiple times.”

  “Okay.” My head hurt and I had started to shake uncontrollably.

  Slash sat beside me and put an arm around me. “We’ll think of a way to extract Elvis.”

  “D-does Basia know?”

  “Not yet. We’ve already alerted the police in Hollywood and she’s got a covert detail on her, but she doesn’t know yet. I’m trying to figure the best way to tell her and keep her safe.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Also, I have a friend who’s a doctor in Rome. He’s on his way to Greece now to personally keep tabs on Xavier. He’ll check on his medical progress and report directly to me. I’ve arranged for a private room at the hospital and a couple of specialists who are willing to consult. All I know at this point is that Xavier is stable, but not out of the woods yet. You do understand we can’t let Basia go see him? It’s too dangerous for her to travel abroad. She’d be at risk, too. We’ll get him home as soon as he’s stable enough to travel. Until then, he’s under police guard.”

  I nodded, my teeth chattering. “I understand. My parents, brothers, grandparents—are they in danger?”

  “I won’t lie to you. It’s possible. Your parents have been permitted to leave the hotel and go home, but they remain under police protection. Your brothers are both there now with them. Both sets of your grandparents and your aunts, uncles and other assorted family have been made aware of the events.”

  “Oh my God. What about Wally, Piper and Brandon?” They were the kids at the high school who had helped Elvis and me defeat Broodryk.

  “For now, all of them, including Bonnie, will have a police presence around the clock.”

  Bonnie was the headmistress of the high school Broodryk and the terrorists had attacked. Elvis had just started dating her a few weeks ago.

  “There is a bit of good news, cara. We’re pretty sure Abri Pentz has left the States.”

  “What? How can you be sure?”

  “We’ve had dozens of international agencies all over this, trying to piece together his activities. Pentz is nearly as hunted as Broodryk. We got lucky and found a match with one of Pentz’s known aliases going out of Jean Lesage International Airport in Quebec about twelve hours ago.”

  I thought about it a moment. My head still hurt, but I had to focus, so I pushed aside the pain.

  “You said Elvis spoke on the video. What did he say?”

  He brushed a strand of hair from my shoulder. “Why don’t you take some time to think over what we’ve already talked about and then we’ll go over the video together in more detail. Okay? You need a breather. You’re in shock.”

  “No.” My voice firmed. “No, Slash. I don’t want to wait. Elvis needs us. I want to know. What did he say?”

  “I don’t think—”

  “I can handle it. Please, just tell me.”

  Slash caught my hand in his and squeezed. “Elvis told you not to come for him. He told you not to do what Broodryk wants. And then...” He closed his eyes.

  “And then what?”

  “And then Broodryk beat him.”

  Chapter Nine

  I bolted from the chair and ran to the door, wrenching it open. I barely made it to the ladies room before I threw up, heaving until there was nothing left in my stomach.

  I don’t know when he came in, but at some point Slash was there with me, holding my hair back, whispering soothing words, pressing a paper towel to my forehead. When I finished, he helped me wash up, then led me out. I saw Woodward and a few of the others in the hallway, watching. Slash said something to them, led me down the hallway, picked up our things at the lobby and then went to his car.

  He drove me bac
k to the hotel and tucked me in bed like I was a little girl.

  “Close your eyes, cara. Rest. I’m here. I won’t leave you.”

  He stepped away for a moment and returned, handing me a glass of water and a pill. “Take it,” he said. “Trust me.”

  Without a word, I took the pill and swallowed it. He sat with me, holding my hand and murmuring words in Italian until I drifted off. When I woke, Slash was sitting in a chair he’d pulled next to the bed, watching me.

  I sat up. “How long was I out?”

  He sat on the bed next to me, taking my hand and offering human comfort. “An hour, maybe fifty minutes. Not nearly long enough.”

  “What did you give me?”

  “A mild tranquilizer. Apparently it wasn’t strong enough. You were on overload.”

  “I shut down. I’m sorry.”

  He stroked my hand. “It’s understandable.”

  “I shouldn’t have. You didn’t have to stay with me. You could have been figuring things out, doing something else.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know what to do. I’m in a bit of shock myself. And, I feel guilty.”

  “Why?”

  “I should have anticipated that Broodryk might do something like this. That he might seek revenge. Elvis and Xavier, they were out of the country, unprotected.”

  “I don’t understand. Broodryk didn’t even know about Elvis, that he was there at the school, too, working against him.”

  “He found out somehow. He knows you, so by extension everyone you know is at risk. Think about it. I found you through the Zimmermans. Broodryk could have easily found them through you. That’s on me. I made an error in judgment. I thought Broodryk would go deep underground and lay low. Instead, he did exactly the opposite. He went big, flashy and obvious. He’s thinking with his ego because you humiliated him. It’s stupid and damn risky for him. The problem is that Elvis is the unknown variable in this. I can’t see any way, yet, that this can play out where we get Elvis out safely.”