No Place Like Rome Read online

  I drove home and quickly packed a suitcase. Since I didn’t think I’d be going to the opera, I packed mostly jeans, sweaters, nice slacks and a couple of blouses. I tucked my passport in my purse along with my cell phone and charger and I was ready.

  Slash picked me up shortly thereafter and we drove to the airport in his fancy black SUV. Two matching SUV’s trailed close behind us.

  I glanced in the passenger side rear-view mirror. “Who are they?”

  “The FBI.”

  “Bald Eagle?”

  Slash sighed. “I’m sorry I had to leave the opera so unexpectedly, cara. My uncle contacted me from the police station where he was being questioned. He was quite distraught.”

  “Understandably so.”

  “You left me a rose?”

  “You were already sleeping. Soundly.” He glanced sideways at me. “I don’t typically leave a woman unattended when she’s with me.”

  “You didn’t leave me unattended. You sent me Baldy.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  “He was nice even though he wouldn’t tell me if your name is Giovanni or not.”

  “I already told you it’s not.”

  “Okay then, what is it?”

  “Slash.”

  I sighed. “Okay, I get it. You’re not at liberty to tell me. But if I figure it out...”

  He grinned and gunned the engine, causing the FBI to scramble to keep up.

  We didn’t talk for the rest of the way to the airport. Not that I was one for small talk anyway and Slash seemed distracted about his uncle. Luckily for us, it was a companionable silence. We were good together in that way. More than once Slash looked my way and it seemed his face, all hard and chiseled angles, seemed to relax. Maybe he did have a soft spot for me after all.

  It didn’t take us long to arrive at the airport, but we didn’t approach the main terminal, rather a smaller one adjacent to the airfield. Slash had arranged a private jet to take us to Italy. I guess when you are a national treasure the paycheck is pretty darn impressive. As I’d never ridden on a private jet before, I was suitably impressed.

  “What happens to the FBI now? Do they follow in a surveillance plane?”

  Slash laughed. “No, cara. They will not follow me to Italy. There are other ways they can keep track of me.”

  I didn’t know what that meant, and it looked like he wasn’t going to tell me—top secret and all—so I let it drop.

  Slash and I were the only two people on the plane other than the flight crew and two attractive attendants. I felt like a queen as Slash insisted on plying me with champagne, orange juice and a delicious spread of pastries and finger sandwiches.

  “Jeez, this is better than a five-star hotel.” I stuffed my mouth with a tuna ball wrapped in cheese.

  Slash dipped his champagne glass toward the window. “The view is quite spectacular, as well.”

  “Agreed.”

  After I’d eaten my fill, which was most everything, I leaned back in my chair to digest. Slash sipped his champagne and stared out the window. At some point I asked him for more information on his uncle’s situation. He reached into his briefcase and pulled out a totally chic laptop. He fired it up and pulled up a document.

  I scooted over closer, leaning in next to him. I didn’t know what aftershave or soap he used, but he always smelled good.

  Slash tapped a spot on a spreadsheet. “There have been two transfers of funds with my uncle’s so-called approval to an offshore bank in Bali. They happened over a period of twenty-four hours. The two withdrawals were for nine million euros each. Total amount of money missing—eighteen million euros.”

  I whistled. “No red flags went up?”

  “The withdrawals were disguised to look like legit transfers to approved clients with my uncle’s okay. Only they never got the money. It went to the account in Bali. He was lucky he noticed so quickly.”

  “Hmm. What constitutes your uncle’s approval?”

  “Digital codes. Virtual keys. This would be a very intricate hack.”

  “It smacks to me of an inside job.”

  “Agreed. All the more reason we must be discreet.”

  I didn’t want to think about the political or religious fallout of a scandal of this magnitude. Luckily, I was the tech person, so my job was to figure out who did it and how. I’d leave all that other damage control to the experts.

  We talked a bit more about the case, but since neither of us had enough information yet it was just speculative. Still, there was something relaxing and enjoyable about being able to tech-speak for an hour or two with someone without having to stop for all the explanations. Plus, there was the fact that Slash had casually draped his arm around me. After a while, I began to feel light-headed. Whether it was from the constant stream of champagne or his intoxicating scent, I wasn’t sure.

  I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I know I opened my eyes and realized my head had fallen on his shoulder. Slash was sleeping, too. His mouth, slightly open, rested against my hair, his breath warming my scalp. His arm remained around me, his elegant hacker fingers lightly tangled in my shirt. Someone, probably a flight attendant, had draped a blanket over both of us and discreetly retreated. I tried to move away, but his arm tightened around me and he mumbled against my hair.

  I was saved from doing anything else when he began to stir. As if on cue, the flight attendant magically appeared with fresh fruit and coffee. Slash yawned and stretched and the second he did, I shifted safely away, embarrassed that I had cuddled up with him. Were friends supposed to snuggle? Technically, since nothing had happened (I think), I probably worried over nothing. Slash didn’t appear to be concerned in the slightest, so I took that as a good sign that nothing was the answer.

  I made a quick trip to the bathroom and so did Slash. Afterwards, we sat chatting more about the case while sipping coffee. I also asked a lot of questions about Italy since I’d never been there. Even though I’d be working, I was excited. I’d be in Rome, after all. Slash spoke a lot about Italy, but very little about his family except to say they didn’t live in the city.

  The time passed quickly. Soon we were landing in Rome and then Slash and I were whisked through customs. Slash knew some of the guys because he laughed and chatted with them as they performed a very cursory look at all our equipment. A driver met us as we came out of customs, helped load our luggage and considerable computer equipment into the car, and drove us to our hotel. I craned my neck out the window the entire time, looking at the beautiful scenery and historical buildings.

  The car stopped in front of an old, ornate structure with a sign that read Hotel Atlante Star.

  I climbed out of the car, gazing around in awe. The location was amazing. “Wow. Is that St. Peter’s Basilica over there?”

  “Si, it’s the gateway to the Vatican, cara. We’re right downtown, between San Pietro and the River Tiber.”

  “It’s stunning.”

  “It is.” Slash got out, slipping his laptop case over his shoulder and helping the driver unload the trunk. “We’re just a three-minute walk to the Vatican.”

  I went inside to get a trolley to cart our stuff to the room. Slash checked us in quickly and declined the aid of a bellhop. I didn’t blame him. I wouldn’t trust anyone else to my computer equipment either. We rode the elevator to the fourth floor and Slash opened the doors to a beautiful suite. It had a large living area with ornate furniture and glass doors that opened to a tiny balcony overlooking the street. You could see St. Peter’s Basilica from the window.

  I held the suite doors open while Slash rolled in the trolley with our stuff. “The suite has two similar rooms. I’ll take the one to the right.”

  I grabbed my suitcase and walked to the left-side room. It had a large four-poster bed, a heavy dresser and
desk. Red velvet curtains hung at the window, tapestries adorned the walls, and gold and red bedspread completed the look. I whistled. Seriously nice digs.

  Pulling my suitcase into the room, I dumped most of the contents into a couple of drawers. I hung the few blazers and blouses I’d brought in a fancy wooden wardrobe and tucked the suitcase away beneath the bed.

  I had just visited the attached bathroom when I heard Slash talking to someone out in the common area. Sweeping my hair back into a ponytail, I went to see who’d arrived.

  Slash was setting up our computer equipment on several tables he’d pushed together. He spoke in what sounded like German to a tall, muscular guy with military-cut brown hair, dressed in jeans and a black sweater. I could only see the back of his head.

  Slash glanced over my way. “Come here, Lexi.”

  The stranger turned as I approached them. The first thing I noticed about him is that he had the most beautiful green eyes I’d ever seen.

  “Lexi, meet Tito Blickensderfer. Tito, this is Lexi Carmichael.”

  “Blickensderfer?”

  Tito stuck out a hand and I shook it. “It’s a Swiss name.”

  “You’re from Switzerland?”

  Slash crawled out from beneath the table. “He’s a member of the Swiss Guard.”

  “You mean the Pope’s bodyguards at the Vatican?”

  “Si. Tito and I go way back.”

  I noticed the gold chain that hung from Tito’s neck and knew that Slash had a similar one tucked beneath his shirt. I wondered about the origins of their friendship, but didn’t have the social wherewithal to ask.

  “Were you speaking German?” I asked instead.

  Tito nodded. “Yah. I speak Italian, too, but Nico is pretty good with the mother tongue.”

  I glanced at Slash. “Nico?”

  Slash shrugged.

  Tito handed Slash another cable and asked, “When do you see your uncle?”

  “In a couple of hours. Lexi and I need to finish setting up our equipment and maybe take a nap, so we’re fresh.”

  Tito gave me a strange look and my cheeks heated. I realized the nap comment sounded intimate, like we’d be taking it together. Jeez.

  “Yah, okay. I’ll come back later. Good luck and keep me posted.”

  Slash came out from behind the computers and shook his hand before the two guys gave each other a hard hug.

  Tito spoke to Slash in German. “Sicher sein.”

  Slash nodded. After Tito left I asked Slash what he’d said.

  “He told me to be safe.”

  “Are you in danger?”

  Slash smiled. “With you around, always.”

  I wasn’t sure if it was a joke or not, so I didn’t laugh.

  He patted me on the arm. “Let’s finish setting up, cara, and then we can have a bit of downtime to relax. I want us to be clear-headed when we meet my uncle.”

  He didn’t mention anything about napping together so I breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps Tito had warned Slash to be safe, but every time he was around me, my senses went on high alert.

  The more pressing question was: Who was in danger from whom?

  Chapter Four

  We met Slash’s uncle, Bendetetto De Luca, in the afternoon after both Slash and I had taken a good three-hour nap. I still felt weirded out, jet lagged and had a bit of a stomachache, but I played the good trooper. A bank worker dressed in a three-piece suit led us to a large office adorned with heavy antique pieces of furniture, including an enormous, ornate desk. The walls were paneled in wood and the carpet felt plush beneath my tennis shoes. When we entered, a tall dark-haired man with a mustache and a worried expression rose from behind the desk and came around to greet us.

  “Stefano.” He gave Slash a big hug and then a kiss on each cheek. He murmured something in Italian to which Slash replied by nodding and patting his arm. Slash turned his uncle toward me.

  “This is Lexi Carmichael. She is working for X-Corp, the company I hired to help with your situation. She’s a good person to have on our side and is a personal friend as well.”

  There it was—we were friends. Personal friends even.

  Bendetetto turned his gaze on me, a dark eyebrow lifting as he mentally assessed whether I was up to the challenge.

  “If you are a friend of Stefano’s, then you are family while you are here. I am grateful for your assistance”

  “Ah, no problem.” I hoped this was the right response.

  “Sit down, please.”

  Slash helped me out of my coat as Bendetetto went to a small refrigerator and opened it. “May I offer you water, coffee or something else to drink?”

  “Water would be great.” I glanced over at Slash. “Would you like some, too, Stefano?”

  Slash smiled and took a bottle. We sat, ready to hear his story. It was little different from what Slash had already learned except that Bendetetto had discovered the fraudulent transfers about forty-eight hours earlier and about seven hours before the police arrived at the bank. The money had been transferred to the same account in Bali and had been cleaned out less than two hours later. All the transfers had been made from Bendetetto’s account, which was tightly protected.

  Bendetetto leaned back in his chair. “I assure you, it wasn’t me who made those transfers.”

  I nodded. “I believe you. But you’re under suspicion, nonetheless.”

  “Si.”

  “It has to be someone who has access to your account information.” I took a sip of water. “Your secretary or personal assistant, perhaps?”

  “They have my account information, but not my passwords.”

  “Sorry for asking, but what would happen if you got hit by a bus? Who would be able to get access to your account?”

  “The passwords are locked in the bank vault, accessible only to the Bank President, Donatello Ferrari.”

  I glanced at Slash. “Ferrari? Like the car?”

  Slash shrugged. “It’s a popular surname in Italy.”

  “What about the IT team?”

  Bendetetto looked puzzled. Slash said something quickly in Italian and Bendetetto shook his head. “No, no. They could re-set the system, but I would be informed and new passwords would have to be instituted by me. I got no such notification and I did not create new passwords. It is a mystery.”

  I thought for a moment. “It’s got to be from the inside. We’re going to have to hack the hacker.”

  Slash didn’t look surprised, but Bendetetto looked to Slash for a translation. Slash obliged and Bendetetto put his head in his hands.

  “Buo dia, what do you mean by that?”

  “If we are going to find out who hacked into your account, I’m going to have to hack in as well and see if I can run a trace. You should know that whatever I discover, if anything, would be inadmissible in court. What I’m doing isn’t exactly legal either, so it has to remain hush-hush. If it’s an inside job, which is where I’m leaning, then all we can do is use the information to trip up or trap the hacker in another, more legal way.”

  Bendetetto sighed and said something to Slash in Italian. They spoke for a minute before Bendetetto stood. I glanced at Slash.

  “He agrees, but says the fewer details he knows the better. Especially the questionable ones.”

  “Understood.”

  Bendetetto handed me a sheet of paper and then motioned me to his chair. Rising, I went around the desk and sat in his nice leather swivel. He said something else to Slash and then left the office.

  I looked down at the paper and realized he had given me his passwords. “We’re going to have to change them ASAP.”

  “That’s a given.” Slash came up behind me and rested his hands on my shoulders.

  “So, your real name is Ste
fano.”

  “No.”

  “Your uncle called you Stefano.”

  “It’s a running joke in my family. He always got me mixed up with my older brother, Stefano. So, he calls us both Stefano.”

  “You have an older brother named Stefano?”

  “And a younger one, too.”

  “You have two brothers named Stefano?”

  “No, cara, the younger brother is Giorgio.”

  “So, your name is not Stefano.”

  “No.”

  “It’s not Giorgio?”

  “No.”

  “I really hate that you’re enjoying this.”

  Sighing, I put my fingers on the keyboard and then logged in. Leaning back, I took a few minutes to check out the system, the software and the security. Slash watched me for a moment and then leaned down and kissed the top of my head.

  “I’m going to let you take a solo crack at this for now. I’ve arranged to meet with some old friends who will be able to fill me in on the police investigation so far. After that, I’m going to talk to the bank IT team, see what I can learn about the system from the inside. I’ll be back in a bit to help you. You’ll be okay?”

  “Of course. Thanks for letting me, I mean X-Corp, have first crack. I appreciate it.”

  He patted my shoulder and left. Taking a deep breath, I sipped my water, flexed my fingers and got to work.

  I loved this part, despite the fact that my stomach was jangling. Hacking into the Vatican’s Bank from the inside was certainly an once-in-a-lifetime experience. Something to tell the grandkids, I suppose, that is if I ever managed to have sex more than once, let alone kids.

  After the first hour I lost track of time. Whoever had hacked Bendetetto’s account was good. Very good. I couldn’t find a trace signature anywhere. Yet something bothered me. It was spectacular, innovative hack, but...flashy. It drew attention. Bendetetto knew nothing about hacking and even he’d been able to discover it quickly. There were a hundred different things I would have done to better disguise the hack. Simple things. Yet, he’d left it out in the open. He’d done a damn good job hiding the trail, so why the heck send a blinking neon light advertising the hack in the first place? Technically I guess it didn’t matter. The hack had served its purpose and the money was gone. Still, something felt off. My hacker senses were tingling. I just couldn’t put my fingers on it, literally or figuratively.