Hacker Beloved, page 14
CJ and Asher glanced at each other. “What tape recorder? All we saw you with was the folders.”
“Yes, I put the recorder in my back pocket. When I put my clothes back on at the hospital, all my things were there except the tape recorder. Then when I asked where everything was, you said she got it all.”
Asher jumped out of bed and grabbed his phone. “Shit, it’s already ten in the morning. Paolo parked the car underground. I’ll call an Uber and have Paolo meet me at Wreckers. My guess is it fell out when we drove to the medical center. If I don’t find it there, I’ll head to the hospital.”
Wreckers was the company we’d used to rent the surveillance van.
“Wait, why are you going alone?” I asked.
Asher had already slipped his pants on. The top button was still unfastened as he strode over to the bed. He leaned forward and placed a kiss on my lips. “Because you need some sleep. And CJ needs to help the team identify the person.”
An uneasy feeling filled my stomach. I didn’t like us splitting up. CJ wrapped an arm around me. “You can be my sexy assistant while I work.”
“I worry about Asher out alone,” I explained.
“Paolo will be with me. I’ll be fine,” he said. His phone was pressed to his ear as he escaped into the bathroom.
“Can we stop for a second and talk about the fact that the person on the video was a woman?” I asked.
“Or she’s just someone the killer hired.” CJ shot back.
He pulled me out of bed, and we put our clothes on from the night before. My leg muscles groaned as I bent over to grab my shoes. When we stepped out of the room, the hall was silent. The bass from the night before was gone. Asher kissed us both before he walked out the front door. CJ led me to an elevator, where we went down a floor. He hit the unlocked button on the key fob, and we climbed into the vehicle.
I leaned back against the headrest. CJ reached over and squeezed my leg. “We’re getting close,” CJ said.
He rested one hand on the steering wheel and pushed the button to start the car. Soft Jazz filled the speakers, followed by a hissing noise. My eyes blinked opened to see a yellow smoke come through the vents.
“Get out,” CJ yelled, but my door wouldn’t open.
CJ shoved his shoulder against his door, and nothing budged. I pushed the down button on the windows, but they didn’t move.
“What do we do?” I asked between coughs.
“Glove box,” CJ’s words slurred. “Look for something sharp.”
My finger reached for the lever, but my arm wouldn’t move. My entire body went limp, and my head fell forward, connecting with the dash.
16
ASHER
My fingers wrapped around the steering wheel so tight my knuckles turned white. The moment CJ’s phone went to voicemail, I knew something had happened.
I glanced at the family-owned restaurant on the corner of Mulbary and Grand Street. The last time I stepped foot in the Italian eatery, we had left with a threat to our lives.
It took three hours and some threats against the hospital for us to find the damn tape recorder. Which meant the killer could already be out of state with the two people I love.
My heart squeezed at the thought that I loved Zayla. Nothing would stand in the way of me finding them.
The tape recorder had fallen out of Zayla’s pocket when they transferred her between beds at the medical facility. I could only imagine someone had kicked it after it fell to the ground since it slid under the ultrasound equipment on the far wall. I’d almost given up hope, but decided to do one more check. So, I got down on the ground and searched. Dr. Lynn had rolled her eyes, saying it was impossible for the device to still be in the room, because they are cleaned top to bottom between patients. It appeared they’d missed a spot, because it was in the room.
We sprinted out of the hospital, and Paolo expertly weaved us through traffic, heading back to the hotel to play the recorder with CJ and Zayla. But when we arrived, the room was empty, showing no sign that they had been there at all. I pulled up the tracker app that CJ had designed. All employees of AA Security have a small, almost imperceptible tracker implanted in their right arm. When the screen finally loaded on my phone, all I saw on the New York map was my own blue dot. I zoomed out, but it picked up nothing. With a few taps, I went backward to see the last time the device registered. The last location was the Club garage. I tried his phone, and it went directly to voice mail. Paolo and I rushed back across town to find the rented SUV still parked in the garage with the doors wide open and yellow dust covered the seats and dash.
I called the team to determine if they could use the street cameras to search for CJ and Zayla. The damn killer always appeared to be one or two steps ahead of us, and I doubted that they would have allowed CJ or Zayla’s face to show above ground.
Originally, I planned to play the recording with Zayla, but now I hoped it had some clue as to who could have taken her. The team had run the image from the bank through the facial recognition software and it came back with no results.
With no other options, I played the recorder. In the beginning, Zayla’s dad reminisced about the language they’d created together and how much he loved her. She was his bright spot in a very dark world, and he promised if something ever happened to him that Zayla only needed to check the secret compartment on the floor under his desk. He stopped speaking and I thought it was over, but than he spoke again, but this time he talked about a a ten-year-old girl, who would be around thirty-five, now. And if something happened to him, Zayla was to hand over the documents in the safety deposit box to the police, but never the recorder. He went on to say he’d paid a family in Paris to take in the mystery girl. If the Italian or Chinese Syndicate found her, she would be in their grasp until they got what they wanted, and then they would kill her.
The possibility of the secret compartment still being untouched would be slim after so many years. But I hoped this long shot would work and had the team search property records to find the current owner. I was shocked when they reported back that Zayla’s dad still owned the property, and his bank account paid all the bills each month.
Paolo and I sped across town to access the condo. When we pulled up to the curb of the building, Paolo cursed. He went on to explain that Russo used condos in this building for his organization. That’s when I spotted at least five guards out on the street. With Paolo joining us, he wouldn’t be able to waltz through the doors. And I didn’t have time to scale the building or sneak in. My only option was to get Russo’s help.
I figured he wanted the tape recorder, and in return, I wanted access to the apartment.
Paolo cleared his throat and pulled me from my thoughts.
“You will sign that woman’s death warrant the moment you give that tape over,” Paolo stated.
“I doubt she is still in Paris. Plus, he never mentioned her name. Once CJ and Zayla are safe, we will search for the woman and find her before Russo even figures out her name,” I explained. Deep down, I knew my idea would still put the woman in danger.
“This idea is a long shot.”
“If I wasn’t so concerned about time, I would scale the fucking building and break a window. Antonio said the team was able to get a camera shot through the window. The place was never emptied and is still furnished, but someone definitely searched the place. Whatever is under the floorboards might have an answer for us.”
“Except if we find anything with the code, we don’t have a way to read it.” Paolo reached into his jacket and pulled out his cigarettes.
“Xavier, a friend of mine. Has a former employee who is in a relationship with an absolute genius. There hasn’t been a code Willa can’t crack. She might be one of the strangest people I’ve met, but I trust her ability.”
Willa lived with her partners Thane and Lucas outside of London.
“When I spoke with Kat, she said Vincenzo owes her after Antonio and her helped find their missing children,” Paolo said.
I slid out of the passenger side door and headed for the entrance of the restaurant. Paolo was a step behind me.
Every table was filled at the front of the restaurant. The smell of freshly baked bread filled my nose as I headed straight for the back rooms. Just before I stepped through the employee entrance, a photo caught my attention. Not sure how I zeroed in on that one when the walls were covered with family portraits, but the woman looked so much like Zayla. I could only imagine it was her mother, with Zayla in her arms. I stared at the photo for a second before turning and heading down the hall that led to the back room. Vincenzo’s men blocked my path. Just before I demanded they move, Paolo pulled out his gun and leveled it at the guard on the right. “You won’t shoot us, Paolo. We are family.” The one blocking him stated.
Paolo didn’t answer. Instead, a loud bang filled the room, and the man dropped to the floor, clutching his leg. “Well, I guess I shot family.”
I glanced to my right. Paolo shrugged and stepped over the screaming man. We continued down the hall until we reached the end, and Paolo busted the door open.
Vincenzo had his gun pulled, and two men flanked his sides.
“Vincenzo, I’m calling in the favor you owe my family,” I announced.
“The fuck you are. You just shot one of my men. I’m pretty sure you just started a war between our families.”
I shook my head. “It was a flesh wound. Now are we going to talk about this favor…or do I need to give these two matching wounds?”
Vincenzo's jaw tightened, and the room filled with tension before he nodded toward the table.
“CJ and Zayla were taken this morning by the killer. I need your help accessing...” I paused. For a moment, a thought crossed my mind. It was a shot in the dark, but I wanted to try. I tapped my phone and found the screenshot I had taken of the video from the bank. “Do you know who this is?”
“Can’t be,” Vincenzo whispered. “She looks different, but I recognize the birthmark on the side of her neck. That’s Jasmin, Zayla’s sister. But that’s impossible because when we found her body, we had dental records checked.”
“Unless someone swapped out the information in the system. If Jasmin was to kidnap and kill someone, where in New York would she go?” I asked.
Paolo pulled the phone from my hand. “I can’t believe I didn’t notice that. Fuck, I know where she’d keep them. In Brooklyn, there’s an abandoned tunnel that leads to her father’s secret hideout.”
“Let’s go.” I waved toward the door.
I only hoped we weren’t too late.
CJ
I blinked against the haze clouding my vision, struggling to bring my surroundings into focus. After a moment, I realized I was staring at the ceiling, covered with a labyrinth of cobwebs. The few fluorescent bulbs that worked hummed.
Glancing to my right, I noticed a derelict ticketing window, its glass shattered, and graffiti sprawled over the once pristine white subway tiles. It dawned on me then that I might be in an underground subway station.
The musty odor of dampness and decay, coupled with the stale, unmoving air, confirmed my suspicions about my location. This place was a tomb of public transit, long since abandoned and forgotten. When I shifted the leather bindings cut into my wrists when I tried to move. I didn’t know how long I was out, but my muscles ached in protest from the position I was currently in. The hard cold table didn’t help the situation either. The events right before I passed out came crashing down as I remembered the SUV had filled with yellow smoke.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zayla’s fingers move. I swiveled my head and could see her strapped to a medical bed next to me. Her brown eyes fluttered open and locked with mine. Pure panic washed over her face. I whispered for her to stay quiet. She gave me a quick nod as tears streamed down her face.
Surveying the room, I spotted two silhouettes hunched over a table, engrossed in a stack of papers. Adjacent to their makeshift card table was a desk, on which a computer hummed quietly. A long black cord hung from the ceiling, snaking down to connect to the computer. The two figures seemed entirely absorbed in their work. I knew I had to seize this chance to escape.
I twisted my hand in the leather straps and didn’t care as it bit into my skin. The stakes were too high, and the only thing that mattered was to get Zayla out alive.
Asher had made me go through hours of training with Kat. I swore she used training techniques that weren’t probably sanctioned by any type of survival coach. When I’d called her out on it, she told me I would thank her one day. I bit the inside of my cheek as I pulled my wrist so hard that the metal buckle of the strap cut through my hand. I could feel blood as it trickled down my wrist. Kat had said during training, a little blood loss to get out of a situation is better than losing all your blood when they cut off your head. At the time, I’d thought she was a little dramatic.
My fingers started to slip through the cuff, and I let out a small sigh as I freed my hand. Once my hand was free, I slipped out of the rest of my restraints. I slid off the table and was next to Zayla in two steps. I freed her hand and her second. She sat up and unlatched her right foot while I worked on her other one. When the last strap was off, I pulled her into my arms and off the table.
“We have to go by them to escape. No matter what, I want you to run. Don’t look back even if you think I’m hurt. Get to Asher,” I whispered.
Zayla shook her head. “I’m not leaving you. We leave together.”
We had no time to argue. She entwined our fingers together and took a step toward the door.
The figure on the left spun around. “You're up,” the man’s voice was raspy.
“Oh, it looks like they think they can escape,” the woman next to him added.
“It’s two against two. I’m willing to take those odds,” Zayla countered.
The woman tossed her head back and laughed. “You can try to walk out that door. But dear sister, your boyfriend won’t live to see the light of day.”
I held Zayla’s hand tight and flexed my arm. I felt a twinge of pain and noticed smeared blood on my bicep and stitches. The location was the same place my tracker had been implanted years ago. Asher wouldn’t be able to find our location. “Zayla, all that matters is you. Get out of here.”
She felt out ignored my comment and stared down the two people in the room. “Sorry, I’m at a disadvantage. We didn’t exchange names last time we met,” Zayla growled.
The women had long brown hair and was dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. She stepped closer to us, her eyes rolling. “Sister—Sister, don't play dumb. I know you figured out I was your half-sister. Now you are going to give me what is rightfully mine.”
“Well, I’m not sure what that is?” Zayla paused. “You know most sisters or brothers find each other again using online DNA sites. Once the DNA is confirmed most normal people reach out and then have lunch. I don’t understand what all the killing was for?”
“You think you could move to Raleigh, and I wouldn’t put everything together. It's where it all started. For years Papa and I tracked you…and waited. Then you moved to Raleigh. Within a few weeks, I found connections to seven of the ten doctors.” Jasmin grabbed a folder on the desk. “I’m not sure how you figured out the deaths.”
Zayla pointed at her sister. “You’re insane. I didn’t even know my father died, because of my mom’s affair until recently. I have no clue what the hell you are talking about with ‘putting things together.’ The only reason I moved to Raleigh was dad told me stories about his time at UNC. I wanted to be closer to feel closer to him.”
“You really don’t know?” Jasmin asked. “But then…how did you put the murders together?”
“I received emails from a listener in the Raleigh area. They told me to look into certain deaths and the incisions on their arms. That’s what started my investigation.”
“Impossible!” Jasmin screamed. “You’re lying!”
The man next to her coughed and pressed a handkerchief to his mouth. “Jas, I wanted us to speed up the research. We have to find that girl. She is the key to what I need. You were taking too long. So, I took control and pushed the information to Zayla.”
Jasmin spun to her side and pulled out a gun. “You were supposed to wait and follow my lead. For years you promised I could seek my revenge against the woman responsible for my mother’s death.”
He started to cough really hard again, and when he pulled the handkerchief from his mouth, drops of blood showed on the white cloth. “Except you keep taking your sweet time. This sickness is going to take my life soon. And I never stopped you from killing her. She’s right there and in time you can do whatever you want to her.”
“This isn’t all about you.” Jasmin’s eyes flared. “I have what I need, and this is what you get for betraying me.” The pop of the gun echoed through the underground room, and Jasmin’s father fell to the ground.
Zayla’s sister was irrational.
“Can you explain what the hell is going on?” Zayla asked.
“To start with dear sister, your dad was jealous of my father. Mom always loved me and Papa better than you. Papa told me that he had everything set up to whisk mom and me away. His plan was perfect. Papa planted evidence to make it look like your dad had crossed the Syndicate. The night Mom and Papa planned to leave…everything fell apart. Papa went to make sure the key to his future was locked away, but she’d escaped. Papa searched for the girl who would secure our future together. While he searched the streets of New York, your bastard father killed my mother...” Her lips curled up as she spat each word out like it was venom.
“If that’s the case, how is Zayla responsible for your mother’s death?” I asked.
“Because her dad killed our mom. Papa was supposed to kill you and your father that night, but he showed up to the condo late. He found your father over the top of Mom. Then Papa killed your dad. We lost Mom…but what was worse was Papa’s friend had turned on him, and Vincenzo father showed up at our condo and saved you.”
