by Phil Swann
Ben put his elbows on the table and rubbed his eyes. “I can’t get that cop’s face out of my mind. I need to call Stevie. He’s probably wondering what the hell’s going on.”
“We called Mr. Donnellson,” Grey said. “Still no answer, but we left a message. Listen, you two, this is an FBI case now, everyone knows you’re with me. Everything that can be done is being done to locate the others. I know you’ve been through hell. No one should ever see what you two just saw. So take a few minutes, eat something, and recharge. I need you both sharp. Ben, have some coffee, you look like hell.”
“So it’s Ben now?” Ben shot back. “In all those interrogations, I don’t remember you ever calling me anything other than Mr. Lambros.”
“They were interviews, and I was just doing my job. I hope you can understand that.”
Ben wasn’t in a forgiving mood. “Now what do you want to interview me about? ’Cause I gotta tell ya, your timing is lousy.”
Before Grey could answer, the waitress delivered several plates of food to the table and warmed up each of their coffees. Grey thanked her and she left.
Ben looked at the plate of eggs and was reminded of when he and Paul sat in a diner not too unlike this one. He remembered how hopeful he felt, how he believed things might finally be turning around. That seemed like a lifetime ago.
Grey said, “First, Ben, you need to tell me what’s going on. Who’s Buchanan? Why did he kidnap you and Mrs. Lambros? And how is Dr. Scotes involved in this?”
Ben sat back in the booth and sighed. “No, I don’t think I will.”
“Ben,” Ellie said.
“No, Ellie, I’m sorry. But Agent Pryce has a history of not believing things I tell him. Try to imagine him getting his little brain around the story we have to tell. Besides, I’m not feeling a lot of love for law enforcement these days.”
“Mr. Lambros…Ben, I assure you, I—”
“No, here’s what you’re going to do, Agent Pryce. You’re going to tell me what you know for a change. After that, we’ll see if I feel like reciprocating.”
Grey nodded and took a sip of coffee. He set down his cup and looked Ben in the eye. “Okay, fair enough. Here it is, Ben, short and to the point. Dwayne Jackson was drugged, and I don’t think he knew what he was doing when he killed your brother.”
It took a few seconds before the words sank in. When they did, Ben felt like all the air in his body rushed out. “I don’t understand. Why are you just now—”
“I could give you a lot of excuses but…we just missed it… I missed it.”
Ben’s throat went dry. He reached for his glass of water and took a long drink. Ellie noticed his hand was shaking. “You’re sure?” Ben asked, putting down the glass.
“I am,” Grey replied.
Ben looked at Ellie, his eyes moist. “I knew it. I knew D.J. couldn’t… I just knew it.” He looked back at Grey. “I told you. I told you.”
“Yes, you did. You tried to tell us all, but we didn’t listen. I’m sorry for that.”
Ben dropped his head.
Ellie put her hand on Ben’s back. “What was he given, Agent Pryce?”
“Scopolamine.”
“What’s that?”
“Something very bad.”
Ben looked up. “What can I do?”
“We know Jackson was drugged, but we don’t know how or when.”
“But I don’t know how he—”
“Tests show the drug had metabolized in Jackson’s liver. For that to have occurred, it would have to have been ingested within a very precise window of time before his heart stopped. Ben, that window would have been while he was at your party.”
Grey watched as Ben processed the information. Was Ben Lambros as smart as everyone said he was? Would he catch the problem? Grey didn’t have to wait long for the answer.
Ben said, “But that doesn’t make sense. Why would someone slip D.J. the drug then? He didn’t know until later that night if I could get him an interview with Tom or not.”
Grey nodded. “That’s correct.”
Ben looked at Ellie and then back to Grey.
Grey continued, “Ben, I need you to think back to that night. I need you to remember every moment that occurred leading up to your conversation with Jackson. Can you do that?”
Ben nodded.
“Good, here we go: you’re at the party, in the GIM parking lot, people are everywhere, there’s music, everyone’s having fun. What were you doing just before you saw D.J.?”
Ben closed his eyes and went back.
Paul, great party! Ben, amazing song. It’s going to ride the charts for months.
“Chuck Flowers came up to congratulate me and Paul on the song.”
“Who’s Chuck Flowers?”
“Record producer, old school Music Row type. Kind of a dick.”
“Then what happened?”
“From your mouth to God’s ears, Chuck.”
“I’ll say a prayer it does just that. Praise, Jesus! Paul, I’m producing that brother and sister duo from Orlando. I’d love to have a Ben Lambros song on their record.”
“Will do, Chuck. I’ll call your office and set something up.”
“God bless you, I’ll look forward to it.”
“Flowers left. Paul and I talked a little more until Paul saw somebody he knew.”
“Who’d he see?”
“…Chet from Sony. He passed on your song, I'm going to go rub it in his face.”
“An A & R guy from a record company.”
“Then what did you do?”
“I stood there for a minute, ordered a drink, and that’s when D.J. came up.”
“Congrats, B-boy!”
“Hey, D.J.! What the hell are you doing here? Writing for the gossip page now?”
“Can't a man show up for a friend's celebration?”
“You hate country music. I bet you don't even know who Danny Austin is.”
“Sure I do…he's that singer…the one who wears the ball cap pulled down over his eyes and cuts the sleeves off his flannel shirts and…yeah, I have no idea who he is.”
“You want a drink?”
“No, thank you. I heard they were serving deep fry, and I love my deep fry.”
“Please, D.J., try not to live up to every stereotype.”
“I ordered a drink, and we talked about nothing for a few minutes until he told me about his problem at the paper and asked me to get him an interview with—”
“Wait a minute,” Grey interrupted. “You just ordered a drink before Jackson walked up.”
“Oh, yeah, I forgot. D.J. drank that one.”
Grey sat up a bit straighter.
Ben continued, “It was a running gag we had. When one of us would see the other with a drink, we’d come up, take it out of that person’s hand, and shoot it. We’d been doing it for years, I forgot. I asked D.J. if he wanted a drink. He said, ‘no, thank you,’ then he took the one out of my hand and threw it back.”
Grey looked at Ben but said nothing. Ellie covered her mouth in shock.
It took Ben a moment to connect the pieces, but when he did, it hit him like a locomotive. “The drug was in my drink,” Ben muttered. “It wasn’t meant for D.J., it was meant for me.”
Grey leaned back and nodded. “The bartender must have lost his mind when he saw Jackson drink it and not you. Then he overheard Jackson ask you to get him an interview with the president. They’d have to improvise, but the plan could still go forward.”
Ben’s mind was racing. “So that’s what Buchanan meant when he said…Oh God.”
“Wait, said what?” Grey asked, taking out his cell phone.
“At Sarah’s house, when Buchanan was about to kill us. I asked him why. He said because he needed to correct a mistake. I thought he was talking about missing the shot he took at me by the lake, but he wasn’t. He was talking about D.J. getting drugged and not me. I was supposed to die in that hotel room, not D.J., wasn’t I?”
“Ye
s,” Grey responded bluntly. “I believe that was the plan. You were supposed to drink the scopolamine, they’d control you through the night, and the next day you’d shoot the president. Then, if they were lucky, you’d be killed by Secret Service.”
Ben closed his eyes. “D.J. just needed an interview with Tom to keep his job. It was nothing more than that.”
Grey nodded. “Yeah, wrong time, wrong place. Jackson was the ultimate victim of circumstance.” He pushed the button on his phone and waited. “Bob, it’s Grey. Get somebody to pull the names of the catering staff that worked the Ben Lambros party.” Grey noticed Ben had an odd expression on his face, like he’d just figured something out. “Bob, I need to call you back.” Grey set down his phone. “Ben, what is it? What are you remembering?”
Ben didn’t answer; his eyes danced wildly.
“Ben?” Ellie said, taking his hand.
A face flashed in his mind’s eye. He looked at Ellie. “At the prison, the guy in the ball cap who brought you into the room.”
Ellie nodded. “Yeah, he was supposed to be the director of Buchanan’s movie.”
“I knew I’d seen him before.”
“Where?” Ellie asked.
“Ellie, he was the bartender. He’s the one who gave me the drink.”
Grey let out a long breath. “Okay, you two, I need to know everything. Now.”
Ben scooted out of the booth. “Come on. We’ll tell you on the way.”
“To where?” Pryce replied.
“Sarah’s house. I need to look in a safe.”
»»•««
The two middle-aged women on the treadmills didn’t sweat, they perspired; they didn’t drink water, they hydrated; and they didn’t talk, they chatted.
“The word in Paris is that Boris’ fall collection will be startling.”
“Boris seldom disappoints.”
“Milan is anticipating something revolutionary. Will you be attending?”
“Should I?”
“Of course you should, darling. I saw Marta in Cannes, she’s coming.”
“Was she with Victor?”
“No, she was with her ‘personal trainer’ Thor.”
“How lovely for her.”
Both women chuckled.
It was little more than a converted office space with three ancient Nautilus weight machines, a dozen or so free weights, and four treadmills, of which only two were working. Still, it was a fitness room, allowing the Traveler’s Lodge off I-65 south of Nashville to boast the amenity on Hotels.com.
“So, dear, any feelings about the conclave?” whispered the woman wearing black Lululemons, a white tee, and a silver Gucci watch.
“Yes, a feeling we shouldn’t be discussing it,” replied her similarly attired friend.
“I was fine until Isabella’s plane went down. Since then…”
“Honestly, darling, we really shouldn’t be talking about it.”
“Perhaps a new direction wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Heaven knows things couldn’t get much worse. Fredrick lost two billion last quarter alone—three billion the quarter before that.”
“Things could be worse. Things have been worse.”
“Easy for you to say, you live in Hamburg. Those of us around the Mediterranean aren’t fairing as well.”
“No bed of roses for us either, luv.”
“Well, if the rumors are true, a change is coming regardless of what we think.”
“How so?”
“Supposedly, and this is only rumor, but it’s said someone has found the lost daughter.”
The woman with the finely manicured nails and perfectly applied makeup stopped the machine. She looked at the other woman with wide eyes. “Are you sure?”
“That’s the rumor,” her friend replied, never breaking stride.
Chapter Thirty-One
Grey just drove, saying nothing, listening intently as Ben and Ellie told their bizarre story and visualizing the events as they were being described to him. He even took in the information about the Eleusinian Mysteries without responding. He only interrupted twice. Once, to ask Ben for the correct spelling of Timon Baros’ name. Ben wasn’t sure, but Ellie, of course, was. The second time for the spelling of Eleusinian. Again, Ellie came to the rescue. When Ben and Ellie finished talking, both prepared for an onslaught of questions from the FBI man. To their surprise, he simply nodded and said, “Okay.”
Grey steered the black Suburban down the driveway of Sarah Lambros’ house and stopped at the front door. Except for Ben’s Honda and Sarah’s Audi still parked in the driveway where they’d left them, the house looked deserted.
“I thought there’d be police here,” Ellie said, taking in the Lambros estate.
“I pulled everybody out,” Grey replied, opening his door. “I want to keep this from the press as long as I can. They’re sniffing around about what went on at the prison. We’re trying to sell it as a training exercise, but that’s not going to hold up too long.”
Grey looked over at Ben. He seemed transfixed on the sight of his own car. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re going to get them back, Ben.”
Ben only nodded and opened his door.
Everything inside Sarah’s house looked the same. If the police had searched the place, which Ben was sure they had, they were neat. It appeared as if nothing had been disturbed.
“It’s lovely,” Ellie said, looking around the elegant living room.
“Where’s this safe?” Grey asked, scanning the room himself.
Ben opened the table drawer and found the key exactly where Sarah had said it was. Moments later, he was unlocking a door to a room built on the back of the house.
Tom Lambros’ personal study looked very similar to Ben’s studio loft. Dark wood furniture and distressed leather chairs formed the basis of the overall décor. Books filled the tall bookcases lining the two opposing walls, and a large mahogany desk sat in front of a picture window looking out onto a wooded backyard. There were framed photographs sitting around everywhere, and Ben was heartened to see how many pictures he was actually in.
“I don’t see it,” Grey said, walking around the perimeter of the study.
“Me either,” Ellie added.
“Okay, we give, where is it?” Grey asked, looking back at Ben.
“No idea,” Ben answered. “I’ve never actually been in here before.”
Grey sighed. “Okay, you take the desk. I’ll look over here. Dr. Scotes, you take—”
“Found it!” Ellie announced, removing a fake panel of books from the shelf.
“Well done, Doctor,” Grey said, quickly crossing the room.
“I find things, it’s what I do.”
The safe was a foot and a half wide and not much more in height. It was brushed black steel with a chrome dial and handle. It had obviously been professionally built into the wall and concealed by the façade of book spines. Ben pushed past Grey to get to the safe. The moment he put his hand on the dial, he was taken back to the hotel room. He saw Tom’s face and felt his trembling hand squeezing his own.
“It's okay, Tommy. Don't try to speak. You're going to be fine.”
“Fifteen, forty-five, fifty-five, eleven.”
“Tom, don't try to speak. You're going to be okay.”
“Fifteen, forty-five, fifty-five, eleven.”
Grey said, “It’s a four combination safe, remember to reset it to—”
“I know,” Ben replied, spinning the dial to zero. “Okay, Tommy, what did you want me to find?” Ben turned the dial to fifteen and paused. He turned it to forty-five and paused again. Fifty-five, pause, and then eleven. He heard a soft metallic click. He looked at Ellie. She nodded. He turned the handle and opened the safe.
»»•««
Grey sat in a leather chair looking at his cell phone; a document rested on his lap. Ellie sat cross-legged on the floor picking through a pile of papers, and Ben sat at the desk with his face buried in his hands.
They’d been at it for over an hour.
“Sarah was right, there’s nothing here,” Ben spoke into is hands.
“You want to trade again?” Ellie asked, dropping a passport onto the pile.
“No,” Grey said, tossing the document from his lap onto the desk. “There’s nothing unusual about the Lambros’ will, nor the passports, nor the birth certificates, nor the marriage license, savings bonds, or mortgage papers.”
“I don’t understand,” Ben said. “Why would Tom give me the combination to this safe if there was nothing in it?”
“Maybe this isn’t the safe,” Ellie said. “Or maybe somebody got to it first.”
“Or maybe we’re being played.” Grey got up from the chair and walked to the back of the study. “Our objective needs to stay focused on finding Mrs. Lambros, Mr. Baros, Ms. Whitt, and Mr. MacDougall.”
Ben said, “I thought if we found the song, it might—”
“I’ve been reading about this Eleusinian Mysteries thing,” Grey interrupted, holding up his phone. “So there were two families in charge, right, Doctor?”
“Yes. The Eumolpidae and the Kerykes.”
“Tell me about them.”
Ellie got up and moved to the chair Grey vacated. “The two families were put in charge of the Mysteries when Athens took control of them in 300 BC. It’s believed the Eumolpidae are descendants of Eumolpus, one of the first priests of Demeter. Therefore, all Eumolpidae are in turn also related to Poseidon and Hermes. As for the Kerykes, Linear B tablets from the Late Bronze Age claim they’re all descended from Keryx, commander of all armed forces. It’s ancient mythology, so facts are very—”
“Got it. So to be clear, both families were in charge, but the Eumolpidae were more in charge than the Kerykes, is that right?”
“That’s correct…as far we know,” Ellie answered. “Why are you—”
“I’m just trying to understand the Eleusinian Mysteries better, that’s all.”
Ellie looked at Ben.
Grey picked up on it. “Okay, as I understand it, here’s the thinking. Eighteen months ago the president of the United States was killed by a secret cult as part of a purification rite—a cult, by the way, I’ve never heard of. Wait, I forgot, it’s super secret. Furthermore, if I understand the rules correctly, he was killed because he had revealed, or was about to reveal, something about this cult. Ben, you seem to think it has something to do with a song. A song this cult refers to as the lost daughter. Your brother led you to believe it was here in this safe. Correct?”