Sex, Lies & Black Tie Page 7

  I sat on one of the leather sofas, folding my foot under my body, still trying to comfort myself from the scare, and gestured for Boone to join me in a chair across from me. “What’s this all about?”

  Boone sat, placing his elbows on each thigh to drop his head and hands as if he was about to deliver bad news. “It’s Micah. Micah Reszke.”

  “Mac’s old assistant.” I breathed the words, knowing he was out to dinner with her. “What about her?”

  “Her sister, Frances Reszke is missing. They believe she’s run away or been abducted.”

  “What?” I asked. “How?”

  “She was on a trip with her art class in New York City. Today when the bus was ready to leave, there was no trace of her.”

  “Oh no.” I gasped thinking of everything I now knew about kidnapping and human trafficking. “But,” I said, scratching my head in confusion. “I just spoke with Mac and he didn’t say anything about this.”

  “It’s all happened pretty fast,” Boone said. “My point is, Mac is working the case, and…well…another agent will be here in the morning to work with the advance team. Your husband has his hands full.”

  I could feel the blood rise to my face. My ears were ringing and my hands began to sweat.

  “Are you sure?” My voice trembled with a mixture of anxiety and ire. Had Mac really taken a case—a possibly dangerous assignment at that—without speaking with me? Countless thoughts flew through my head. I knew Mac was restless, but would he really get this involved without discussing it with me?

  Part of me was furious. The other part afraid for Micah’s sister. I knew why Mac was doing this, but at the same time, he was putting his life on the line for Micah and her family, while his own sat back and prayed for his safety. I knew my husband, and he did nothing halfway. If he was taking the lead, he was in—he was in deep.

  “Samantha?” Boone asked, breaking my derailing train of thought.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, bringing my attention back to him. “I was…”

  “No need to explain. I’m sure this is a shock. I just need to make sure in the midst of all this chaos, you’re still willing to host the gala. We’ve already contacted the guests once to make the change from Atlanta to here and—”

  I looked at the enormous tent on the property, no longer hearing the words coming out of Boone’s mouth. We were too far gone to turn back now. Quickly, I calculated in my head what I would need to do in order to finish the party plans, pull off the gala, take care of the children and remain sane while I worried about Mac chasing people with such careless disregard for life, they would buy, sell and murder children without giving it a second thought.

  “Samantha?”

  “No, yes.”

  “I’m confused darlin’,” he drawled.

  Boone hung on the word and my stomach twisted in knots thinking of my own southern man in harm’s way. I feared for his life and what was worse, I’d had to hear about it from someone else.

  “Yes, of course.” I held my breath, worried I couldn’t say the words aloud. “The gala will go on as planned. You have my word.”

  Boone stood and I joined him, still lost in my own thought.

  “Look, I’m not leaving town until the whole shindig is over.” Taking both of my hands in his, he dropped his chin to catch my anxious gaze. “I’m right down the road. I took the suite at the bed and breakfast in downtown Shadeland. You’re not getting rid of me. I promise.”

  I looked up to him and held my tears at bay. This was no time to break down and get weepy. I was Samantha Peterson Callahan and I’d handled worse—much worse. “Thank you. Having you here to make important decisions will help to smooth out any rough edges we might have. I’m sure the party will go off without a hitch—in spite of everything.”

  “I’ll say my farewells for the evening and come back tomorrow.”

  Without thinking, I said the words. “Why don’t you stay at Lone Oak, Boone? I mean, instead of the bed and breakfast. If you’re going to be coming and going for the next couple of days, you might as well set up here.”

  In my head it was the logical thing to do. In my heart, I didn’t know if having another person around the house for the next couple of days was the best idea. At this point, I didn’t know if Mac was coming home or not. The one thing I did know was the bed and breakfast needed every room they had for the group coming into town—we had several guest rooms no one ever used. Logically it was the right thing to do. But logic had never been my forte.

  He paused for a moment, doing a double take. “Are you sure that wouldn’t be too much trouble?”

  I shook my head no. “Well, except—”

  “What is it?”

  “Your security detail. I don’t know—I mean with the kids here—”

  “I understand. And there’s no need for them to stay in the house. I’ll make other arrangements for them. But they and a bunch of other Secret Service and FBI are soon going to descend upon Lone Oak. Are you sure you’re okay with that?”

  I nodded. “Listen, at this point the more security we have around here, the better I’ll feel about everything.”

  “Great,” Boone said, flashing his white smile. “I’ll check out of the inn in the morning and come back directly so we can get to work.”

  Opening the front door, a strong breeze caught me off guard, blowing the front of my skirt high above my waist.

  “Shit,” I said before I could think of another word.

  Boone let out a laugh.

  “I’m so sorry. It seems that I’m failing on all fronts tonight.”

  “My lady, I didn’t see a thing.”

  “I apologize for my language…too.”

  “Samantha,” he said, turning on his heels after reaching the bottom of the steps. “If that’s the worst thing either of us says over the next two days, I think we’re doing just dandy.”

  I waved and gave him the best smile I could muster. “Goodnight.”

  “Goodnight.”

  Closing the door, I locked it and turned on all the alarms in the house. I didn’t feel afraid, but I felt alone.

  Rushing to the study, I grabbed my phone and called Mac.

  “Pick up, pick up, pick up,” I whispered.

  His line rang three times and went to voicemail.

  “Mac,” I began. “I don’t know what’s going on, but—” I stopped mid-sentence, the emotion in my voice breaking up my words. “I just need to hear your voice, Mac. Call me. I love you.”

  7

  MAC

  It was nearly ten o’clock when Fuller and I made it to the intelligence analysis management department of the National Security Agency. Lars Iverson was waiting for us.

  “Been a hell of a long time, Callahan.”

  I shook his hand, noticing he’d lost a little more hair on top since the last time I’d seen him. “Lars, thank you for doing this.”

  “Well, for God’s sake, keep it quiet. Let’s fly as low under the radar as we can.”

  I nodded. “What’ve you got?”

  “I pulled everything I could. All the chatter and even remotely accessed the kid’s computer based on the serial number from the store.”

  “How in the hell did you do that?” Fuller asked.

  Lars gave him the look I knew all too well. It was the one that said, I’m smarter than you’ll ever be, so don’t ask questions. “We cross referenced the credit cards in her name with the transaction for the computer. The serial number was attached, blah, blah, blah.”

  “Holy shit,” Fuller mumbled.

  “I thought you were the cyber expert?” I chided, giving Fuller a sour face.

  “I…we… can’t do it as fast as he did.”

  Lars and I locked eyes. I sensed he didn’t have much time for us, and he really didn’t have time for Fuller. “Based on her emails and the texts on her phone that are stored in her cloud, she was meeting someone named Bull. Seems like she’s been chatting with him for a while inside a closed social
media group.”

  “Can you trace the location of Bull?”

  “He’s smarter than Frankie,” Lars said. “He’s covering his tracks, working through Tor software, so no. All I know is this, if she’s been abducted by the group I think it is, this could very well be a dead end. These guys are more intelligent than your average Joe. Someone’s taking good care of them. The website is encrypted, they only use Digicoin, a virtually untraceable form of money exchange, and they’re on the move—all the time.”

  “I know we have a small window,” I confessed.

  “Small?” Lars scoffed. “It might be non-existent.”

  I looked at the screen with everything Lars had for us and sighed.

  “Hey, ah, Fuller is it?” Lars asked.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Do you mind if I have a word with Agent Callahan? No offense.”

  “Sure,” Fuller replied, exiting the room.

  As soon as the door shut, Lars turned to me. “How badly do you need to get this girl back, Mac?”

  “She’s my assistant’s younger sister. She’s…family.”

  Lars bit his lip, hanging his hands on his hips. “Well, shit.”

  I gave him a nod, but didn’t say a word.

  “I wish there was more I could do for you,” Lars said, handing me a card from his pocket with the word, Tartarus printed in large letters across the top. There was no phone number or address, only an email that didn’t end in .com, but .onion.

  “Good luck,” Lars said.

  I shook his hand and slipped the card into my pocket. It was getting late, and I was wasting time. “Thank you.”

  Fuller met me by the elevator and I already had my phone out ready to contact, not the email on the card, but the number I’d carried in my wallet for six years. Dialing, I said aloud, “Pick up the phone, Zeroman.”

  Without so much as the sound of a ring, I heard a series of clicks on the other end before his voice. “Agent Callahan?”

  “Elias Warner, how the hell are you?”

  The long pause at the other end gave way to more clicks. “Eli?”

  “I’m here.”

  His voice had deepened since I’d slammed him to the ground and cuffed him in my first FBI raid that turned into a bust. At the time he was only a fifteen-year-old kid. “Where’s here, I need to see you.”

  “Please?” he asked, begging my pardon.

  “You heard me. I’m calling in my favor. I helped you once upon a time, and now it’s your turn. Where are you?”

  “Are you in D.C.? Because I thought you were in Alabama. You know, semi-retired.”

  “I like how you keep up with me, Zeroman.”

  Again silence and more clicks.

  “You’re in D.C.,” he said. “I’ll come to you.”

  “You’re tracing my call?”

  “Meet me at Bob & Edith’s, the diner in—”

  “Columbia Heights,” I said, finishing his sentence. “I know the place.”

  “And come alone.”

  “Fine. I’m on my way now and if you’re not there…” I began.

  Three more clicks rang out. “I’ll be there.”

  Hanging up, I looked to Fuller. “I need to drop you at the office.”

  “What? Why?”

  “I hate to treat you like my son and say this, but, because I said so.”

  “Nice,” Fuller replied.

  “Hey, you can do me a huge favor and hold Micah’s hand. You know, update her. She’s been calling my phone nonstop. I’ve only sent her a text saying to hang tight and we don’t know anything.”

  The scowl left his face. I was right. He did have a thing for Micah. “Just be good to her. She’s scared to death and there’s not much she can do but wait by the phone.”

  “I can do that,” Fuller replied. “Anything else?”

  “Yes. Get Frankie’s computer, find out what they found at the warehouse, and call me as soon as you have anything—and I mean anything.”

  Sliding into one of the booths at the diner, the old bench creaked under my weight and I scanned the joint for any sign of the once gangly teen with acne and braces who would now be in his twenties.

  The aging waitress handed me a menu and waited without saying a word. “Just coffee, please.”

  I looked to my phone and saw that Samantha had called. It was a conversation I dreaded—telling her I was working a case. I lifted the phone to my ear to call her back, and watched a hulking man in a t-shirt that strained against his biceps, jeans and backward baseball cap turn on his stool at the counter and look me in the eye. His shirt read, I can explain it to you, but I can’t understand it for you.

  “Turn off your phone, Callahan.”

  It was him. Elias Warner a.k.a. Zeroman, had grown into a man. I hit end, and stared at him. “How are you Eli?”

  “Not here,” he mumbled, walking to the front door.

  I tossed two dollars on the table and followed him.

  “Where’s your car?” he asked.

  I pointed without speaking.

  “This way.”

  “Now, wait just a minute,” I protested.

  “Do you want my help or not Mr. Callahan?”

  “Yes. And it’s Agent Callahan, kid.”

  “Follow me.” He motioned his hand into his body and walked around the corner of the diner, leaving me alone in the glow of a red neon light that flashed, Open.

  Unlocking my gun from its holster, I felt uneasy as to what I might be walking into. Turning the corner, the circular headlights of an ancient, powder blue and white Volkswagen van illuminated. The grind of the old transmission gave way to the whine of the engine. Sputtering toward me, it stopped. The passenger side window down, Elias shouted, “Get in.”

  I shook my head. I knew hackers like Eli were paranoid, but climbing into an old van not knowing where he was taking me was more than a little disconcerting. “Where are we going?”

  “Look, get in or I’m gone.”

  I opened the door. “Stop being a little punk, or I’ll turn your ass in.”

  “Pull the door hard,” he said. “It sticks.”

  “We both know you owe me, so don’t get cute.”

  “You think I’m doing all of this because I think it’s cute? Know this, Callahan. I’m trying to keep both of our asses out of trouble. Now give me your phone. Do you only have the one?”

  “What?”

  “I don’t want to be tracked. Give me your phone.”

  Pulling the phone from my pocket, I held it in my palm. Elias proceeded to take it from me, placing it inside a metal box, then tossing it into the back seat of the van before looking me in the eye for the first time. “It’s a Faraday cage.”

  “I’m aware of what it is. Do you think we’re being tracked?”

  “I take zero chances.”

  “Zero chances taken by the Z-row-man?” I asked sarcastically.

  “Yes. And a word to the wise, you shouldn’t be taking chances either.”

  “I, unlike you, don’t travel with my own grounded box to keep electromagnetic shit out.”

  “You’re not as James Bond as I thought, Agent Callahan.”

  I twisted my face, giving him a long stare.

  “A stainless steel cocktail shaker will do the trick in a pinch,” he said with a sigh.

  “Good to know.”

  We rode in silence and I watched each turn we took, taking mental notes in case I needed to find the place on my own.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Not too far.”

  “I don’t know if I want the answer to this question or not, but what have you been up to since you got out of juvie?”

  Elias shrugged his shoulders. “What can I talk about with you, Agent Callahan?”

  He sarcastically asked the question of himself, but I knew this kid. I knew him well. I was the only person who gave a shit about him when he was picked up. I was the only reason he had a chance to be a productive citizen. Elias Warner wanted
to tell me what he was doing as much as any kid who needed the approval of an adult in his life. He liked me and he was grateful for what I’d done for him. I knew it. He knew it. He just had a difficult time showing it. Emotions were tough for the kid. He never felt like anyone cared for him, at least those were his words when I went to see him in juvenile detention and he’d cried his little teenage heart out to me.

  “I know something I can tell you about,” he said with an edge of excitement to his voice. “I developed and sold a new GPS tracking device for pets. Extremely non-invasive, lasts twenty years, which is longer than most dogs or cats will live and if they do get that old, hopefully aren’t roaming the streets. It’s the size of a grain of rice and is so easy to implant, you can get it under the skin of an animal or even a human, virtually undetected.”

  “Human?”

  “Well,” he said looking at me now that we’d stopped at a red light. “I can neither confirm nor deny that I’m currently tracking my ex-girlfriend.”

  “Seriously?”

  Elias chuckled nervously. “No. Not really. But, you know…. maybe.”

  “Jesus, you grew up and into a certified stalker.”

  “No. No,” Elias said. “It’s not like that.”

  “That’s cool,” I replied. “I’m glad to see you use your powers for good too—at least for the pets I guess. Not so much for your ex.”

  “I’ll give you one for your dog.”

  “I don’t have a dog.”

  “Then you can implant it on whomever you want to track.”

  Three blocks of silence later, Elias pulled into an abandoned bank parking lot, making his way through the drive thru and around the back.

  “This is it?”

  “No, that’s it,” Elias said, pointing to a concrete block building with the words: Doug’s Body Shop and Salvage painted on the side.

  “Looks like a chop shop.”

  “Something like that,” he said reaching for the metal box that held my phone. Slamming the door to his van, he cracked the first smile I’d seen from him—ever.

  I followed him to the side door and after using a normal key to unlock it, I found myself in a cool cell with an electronic key pad that looked as if it could launch a nuclear weapon.