No Stone Unturned: A Lexi Carmichael Mystery, Book Eleven Page 4

  “Engaged? Oh, I’m absolutely delighted. Congratulations. Is it with the young woman you were telling me about?”

  “Si. Her name is Lexi.”

  “I look forward to meeting her. When’s the wedding?”

  “We haven’t gotten that far yet, but I’d like you to be there. It would mean a lot to me. To both of us actually.”

  “It would be my honor and privilege to attend. I can’t tell you how glad this news makes me. You deserve every moment of joy that comes your way, Nicolo.”

  “She makes me happy, Father. It’s a rare person who can do that.”

  The father’s laughter boomed through the phone, and Slash removed it from his ear again. “Forgive me for sounding cliché, but God works in mysterious ways. He will reward those who are faithful.”

  Slash slipped the gold cross from beneath his shirt and kissed it. “Thank you.”

  “When do you plan on visiting Italy again?” the priest asked. “Will I get to meet her soon?”

  He hadn’t realized how much he wanted that to happen until this moment. “We haven’t planned a trip in the immediate future, but as you know, things often change. However, there’s an additional reason I called.” Slash caught him up quickly on the situation with Giorgio.

  “That’s quite unusual,” Father Armando said after he’d finished. “What was the reason offered?”

  “That’s the strange part. There was no reasoning for the denial. Just that it came from Rome. Gio has filed a petition, and while I know it’s not your jurisdiction, I wondered if you might be able to find out what’s going on.”

  “Of course. I shall make it a priority.”

  “Thank you, Father. I’d greatly appreciate it.”

  The priest’s voice lowered and softened with affection. “For you, my son, anything.”

  Chapter Nine

  Lexi

  Since Slash wasn’t there when I got home from work, I started dinner. Mondays were my nights to cook anyway, so I pulled out my phone, checked my dinner spreadsheet—the one I always completed Sunday night with attached recipes and exact nutritional value. Slash preferred to eat healthy meals, but since I loved sweets, we’d compromised by always having dessert with dinner. Tonight, the menu called for grilled salmon, asparagus and brown rice. For desert, it was chocolate ice cream with rainbow sprinkles. I fixed myself a small bowl of the ice cream to ensure it would complement the rest of the meal.

  After I licked the bowl clean, I decided it would.

  I marinated the salmon and let it sit a bit while I started the rice. We were low on rice, so I took the grocery list off the refrigerator to jot it down, when I realized Slash had ordered the grocery list all wrong. I was fixing it when he walked in the door.

  He dropped his briefcase and set a package on the table by the door before walking into the kitchen and kissing the back of my head. “How was your day, cara?”

  I turned around, pencil still in my hand. “Not bad. We completed two penetration testings, which convinced clients they needed to hire us, and I finished up an article on fileless attacks for Cybersecurity This Week. The article should be out in two months.”

  “Sounds fascinating, and I want to hear all about it at dinner.” He peered over my shoulder at the grocery list. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m fixing the grocery list.”

  “What’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s not in the same order of where the items are shelved in the grocery store. Trust me, our shopping time will be shortened by at least seventeen percent if we list the items by their placement in the store.”

  He opened his mouth to say something, then shut it. Instead he pressed me against the counter, giving me a long, lingering kiss.

  When he lifted his mouth from mine, I blinked at him a bit dazed. “Wow. What was that for? Grocery lists don’t usually inspire this much affection. Although, if it’s a turn-on for you, I can incorporate it into our everyday routine.” I grabbed the lapels of his black sports coat and pulled him in for another kiss.

  After a moment, he rested a hand on the side of my right cheek, the hard planes of his face softening. “I love you, cara. You know that, right?”

  I knew that, but something in the way he said that set off an inner alarm. I’m not the most intuitive of people in regards to emotions, but I’d come to know Slash fairly well. Something was off, although my brain was still trying to figure out what.

  I studied him carefully. “Slash, is something wrong?”

  He released me, took a step back. “There’s something I want to show you.” Retrieving the package he’d set on the table, he brought it to the counter. The box was already open. Reaching in, he pulled out a small wooden statue and held it up. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

  It was a figure of a man with crossed arms standing on a small wooden base. He wore a headdress and a tunic, and had several nails or spikes stuck into his body at different angles. The statue both fascinated and scared me.

  “What is it?” I asked.

  “It’s a nkondi idol. Folklore holds that the nkondi are the most powerful of the nkisi spirits—spirits which the people of the Congo believed could seek out evil people and destroy them.”

  “Where did you get it?”

  “It came in the mail today. Addressed to you.”

  “Me?” That made absolutely no sense. Surely it was a mistake. “Who sent me a statue like that?”

  “There was no return address.”

  I took a closer look at it, but I was one-hundred percent sure I’d never seen anything like it. I finally lifted my gaze to meet his. “Why would someone send me a statue from the Congo? And, following that train of thought, how did you get it if it was addressed to me?”

  “As part of our new security, our mail is being diverted through a security center and vetted before being sent on to us. It’s still being delivered to our house, but with a safety stop first. Security passed this package on to me this afternoon at the NSA after it had been flagged for not having a return address.”

  “Oh.” I had to digest that for a minute. It was weird to think there were agents pawing through my mail. Even if I hardly received anything by snail mail these days, it was still disconcerting that if I ordered something online, secret service agents would review it before I got my hands on it. That kind of creeped me out. “So, we don’t know who sent it?”

  “No. There was no return address on the box. But the postmark was Rome.”

  “I don’t get it.” I racked my brain, but nothing came up. “Do you?”

  He avoided eye contact with me, putting the statue back in his briefcase. “Si. I know.”

  “So, what is it?” Why was he avoiding me like this? I put my hand on his arm. “Slash, what does it mean?”

  “It means I’m going to Rome.”

  “What?” I took a step back. He hadn’t included me in the decision process, which couldn’t be a good sign. I needed him to talk to me, and he was closing himself off. “Why?”

  “Something’s going down, cara, and I need to be there.”

  “You said you could handle it from here.”

  “I thought I could. But apparently, I’m going to need to get a bit closer.”

  “What exactly does the statue represent? Slash, you need to talk to me.” Fierce, protective anger rose inside me. I wanted to help, to stand with him against whoever was putting that look on his face, but right now, it seemed like he wanted to be anywhere except in our kitchen with me.

  He sighed. “The statue is said to contain the nkondi, spirits who root out evil and enforce an oath or a promise made. Legend says the nails activate the spirits inside the statue. Those nails have been recently added.” He pulled one out and held it up. He was right. The nail was new and mostly unblemished.

  I looked between the nail and
him. “An oath? Why do you know so much about this? What does it symbolize?”

  He placed his hands on my shoulders, looked me in the eye. “You are going to have to have faith in me, cara. I don’t like that your name was on the package. I’m going to go to Rome for a short time to check things out and have a few conversations.”

  What? He was going to Rome after he’d told me he wasn’t? I didn’t understand what was going on. I’d thought we were past all this. He’d always been respectful, as had I, that we both had potentially dangerous jobs and we’d worked through our issues on that front, or at least I’d thought so. But now—without warning or discussion—he was shutting me out. Something deeper was going on, something ominous, and he wasn’t sharing. I wanted to be calm and logical in my response, but the lack of trust hurt. A lot.

  Still, my brain raced to find the right words to argue effectively. “You do realize that by going to Rome, you’ll be doing exactly what they want—whoever they is. You’ll be walking right into whatever trap or scenario they’ve created for you.”

  He calmly opened the refrigerator and took out a chilled bottle of water. Twisting off the top, he took a long drink. “I realize that and I will not go in blind. But they are escalating this. If I don’t go now, it’s only a matter of time before they do something else to get my attention. I’m not waiting until that happens.”

  “You’re doing this to protect me.” The expression on his face proved it clear as day.

  “No. I’m doing this to protect us.”

  “This is crazy.” I threw up my hands, desperation setting in. “So, you’ve already decided to go?”

  He set the bottle on the counter and took two steps toward me. “The statue decided it for me. I’m going to Rome to find out what’s going on. That’s all.”

  My stomach churned uncomfortably as I tried to get him to see clearly. “You’re not thinking logically. How can you be sure I’m even in danger? Firecrackers, statues and notes. Those are hardly death-defying. Can’t you see? They’re manipulating you—escalating things to get you to do what they want.”

  “I know.” His voice remained calm, agitating me even more. “I’ll be careful, but I’ve got to take care of it. Trust me, okay?”

  Every word heightened my anxiety. Why hadn’t he discussed this with me before making his decision? We were a team and now, suddenly...we weren’t. But I wasn’t giving in so easy. “What about your work at IAD?”

  “As far as they are concerned, I’m taking a short vacation to resolve a family matter. Charlie will manage things for me while I’m gone.”

  “How can they just agree to that? What about your security detail? Are they going with you, too?”

  “Not this time. The department is actually facing severe budget cuts. We may even lose our constant tails as a result of it. They’re discussing the possibility of relying solely on this for most of us.” He held up his left wrist where a tracker had been implanted. It was both a GPS and medical alert so the people who were watching it could monitor his every heartbeat. Although he’d never acknowledge it, I also knew it could provide an electric shock that would stop his heart if he fell into the wrong hands. That’s how important he was. His knowledge of the architecture of America’s most sensitive networks, as well as his extensive insight to a great deal of US cyber vulnerabilities, made him a priceless commodity to American national security. The fact that he might be walking straight into danger despite that upset me more than I cared to admit.

  “Cara, I’m going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine.”

  I tried to swallow, but my mouth was dry. Why wasn’t he listening to me? He always listened to me.

  “The embassy in Rome has already been notified of my arrival,” he continued. “I’ll have any resources I need through them. It will be okay.”

  But it wasn’t okay, and yet, it was a done deal. I could see it in his eyes, in the hard set of his jaw. He’d informed his work, the embassy and now me. He wouldn’t back down no matter what I said.

  I closed my eyes. I wanted to believe this conversation wasn’t taking place, but it was. “When do you leave?”

  He pulled me close, rested his cheek against mine. “Tomorrow afternoon, but I’ll be back before you have time to miss me.”

  He didn’t know how wrong he’d be.

  Chapter Ten

  Slash

  What the hell am I doing?

  He shoved his hand through his hair, looking at the empty passenger seats on the jet he’d chartered. He’d violated a sacred relationship rule. He hadn’t accepted any consultation or input from Lexi before he made his decision to return to Rome. They hadn’t come to a mutual agreement, nor had they engaged in a give-and-take discussion. He’d simply dictated to her what he was going to do and left.

  It hadn’t been his finest moment. But it had to be done for her sake.

  As soon as he’d seen the statue from the Congo addressed to her, he’d run a series of comparative risk analyses, exhaustively examined every potential outcome, every tradeoff he’d have to make by returning to Rome, and considered the danger to Lexi, to himself and to their relationship. In the end, he had to select the option that reduced the most risk. That meant he had to go to Rome alone and shut her out temporarily. It was far safer than her discovering what he’d done in the Congo. She didn’t understand how he’d come to this decision, and that it was truly based in logic. But seeing the hurt look on her face hadn’t set well with him. Still, he could manage the problem if he handled it right. He only had to keep his head in the game and approach this situation like all others—analytically and carefully. He couldn’t even contemplate the possibility of failing to solve it or what it might mean to their relationship.

  He looked around the plane, thinking it was strange to be traveling without her. At this moment, he was truly alone. He hadn’t felt that way for some time, not since he’d met Lexi. Now that he’d shut her out and surrounded himself with his habitual cloak of isolation, he felt the loneliness engulf him. At one time, he’d accepted those feelings. Now they choked him.

  He tugged at the collar of his shirt even though he wore no tie and had unbuttoned the top two buttons of his dress shirt.

  The flight to Rome seemed to be taking longer than usual, although it was exactly the same route he always took. He was restless, unable to rest, concentrate on work, or relax. He paced the aisle, drank too many cups of coffee, and thought of Lexi constantly.

  He’d told her he’d be careful, and he meant it. He’d gone from a man with nothing to lose to a man who would do anything to protect the life he’d built. But this was about her. It had become all about her. Whoever had summoned him had marked her. That made him not only pissed, but extremely dangerous.

  He settled into the heavily upholstered seat, his gaze drifting out the window to the dark sky. He couldn’t figure out who was summoning him or why. But the reference to the nkondi and the Congo made it clear that the summons came from high up. Someone who knew things that were closely guarded at the top echelon of the Vatican.

  There were plenty of people who knew of his particular skills, but only a few knew what he’d done in the Congo. Most of his colleagues in the sodalitium pianum had burned out, washed out or simply checked out. A few had become addicted to the danger, adrenaline, and excitement of the hunt. When it ended, they had no idea how to fit back into society again. He’d been lucky to avoid that by having other talents to fall back on, and by having someone shepherd him in another direction.

  Loneliness had become a way of life for most of them, himself included. It was safer and a lot less complicated that way. He’d been lonely for a long time, although never without company if he’d wanted it. Yet he couldn’t escape the irony that while he’d traveled all over the world, he’d never really had a home of his own or anyone waiting for him.

  Until Lexi.

  Until no
w.

  He looked up as the flight attendant asked if she could bring him a drink. His gaze settled on the dazzling glass credenza where an impressive array of alcohol sparkled in crystal decanters. He shook his head, declining the offer. He needed to keep his wits about him, figure out what he could before he landed in Rome. It all came back to the Vatican. Who’d send such a threatening summons, and why? This was a deliberate, provocative and systematic campaign to bring him to Rome. He knew that, understood that, and yet he had no choice but to enter the game. He had too much at stake to do anything else.

  He’d moved the first chess piece on the board, although he had no intention of playing by anyone else’s rules. Besides, he had a few moves of his own. The answers were out there, and he was confident he would get them.

  Soon.

  Slash

  As soon as he landed and cleared customs, Slash picked up his rental car and made a call.

  “Hallo?” The voice was cautious and accented.

  “Tito? It’s me.” Slash spoke in German, Tito’s native tongue.

  “Nico?”

  “Si.”

  “You’re home.” Tito’s voice was delighted. “It’s been a while.”

  “It has. Since I happen to be in town, are you available for lunch?”

  “It’s my day off. Where do you want to meet?”

  “Il Bacaro?” Slash suggested. They’d eaten there before. It was a quiet restaurant, not overly packed with tourists, and had decent food. His stomach grumbled thinking about it, as he’d eaten nothing on the flight.

  “I can be there in one hour. See you soon, my friend.”

  “Ciao.” Slash punched off his phone, leaving it on the dashboard.

  For a moment, he thought about what Tito had said.

  You’re home.

  Was he? It was easy to slide back into his old life, like slipping into a comfortable pair of jeans. As the familiar scenery flashed by and the voice on the radio chatted in his native language, the duality of his life hit him. Even though his heart now belonged in America with the woman he loved, it was impossible to wipe clean the slate that had once been his life here in Italy.