The smell of cooking greeted Alex as she stepped through the front door. Dropping her bag by the door, she slipped off her shoes and headed towards the kitchen. Leaning against the doorway, she watched as her roommate opened the oven.
“Hi,” Alex called, out taking a deep breath as the smell of cornbread filled the room.
“Welcome home, stranger,” Karen said.
“Stranger?” Alex echoed. “You have got to be kidding. This from the woman who hold more frequent flyer memberships than anyone alive?” Alex joked.
She watched as Karen turned around and took off her oven mitt. “How are you holding up?” she asked.
“I’m fine.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m worried about you. After you and Brian broke up, you kind of buried yourself in your work or in karate. I know his death hit you pretty hard.”
“His murder,” she wanted to say but held her tongue. “What can I say? I like my kids.” She tried to move away from the topic.
“I know you love your job, but girlfriend, you’re young and single. Life is too short to mess around.”
Alex thought back to Brian’s unexpected death. “You’re right. But isn’t that like the pot calling the kettle black?”
“Nope, I’ve met someone. I’m just biding my time until he comes to his senses.”
Alex closed the fridge after grabbing a soda. “Oh do tell.”
Karen shook her head. “It’s a little touch and go right now. I promised not to tell anyone until after I’ve talked with my mom and dad.”
She whistled. “This sounds serious, roommate. Have I met the guy?”
“I just met him,” Karen answered evasively.
Alex took a drink, allowing the subject to drop and watched as Karen began to hum as she stirred the pot of beans and rice. She smiled a sad smile as she pondered how she could have overlooked the fact that her friend had fallen in love.
“Alex?” Karen asked.
“Hmm.”
“I really think that it’s time you got out more.”
Alex wondered where this conversation was leading. “All right.”
“Seriously.” Karen waved the wooden spoon. “Just have a little fun. Lord knows you deserve it.”
“I agree with you,” Alex replied. She needed some sort of distraction. After leaving Xian at the restaurant, she’d driven home wondering how she’d managed to ruin lunch. She shouldn’t have left but she couldn’t have stayed.
“Great. Then we’re on for eight tomorrow night.”
“What?” she questioned.
“A bunch of us from the office are getting together for drinks. You should come.”
“Oh now I get it. You want to go out and drink and need me to be the designated driver.”
“Not true.” She paused. “Well, I’ll need a ride home.”
Maybe, Alex thought. But she had one other thing she had to do first. “How about I meet you at the club? I’ve got an appointment in the early evening.”
“You’re not just trying to get out of this, are you?”
Alex scooted back in her chair and didn’t have to wait long for the cat to jump into her lap. Gently scratching between Shadow’s ears, she looked at her roommate and smiled. “No, just give me the name and address and I’ll be there dressed to kill.”
* * *
That next evening, Alex didn’t have to lie, cheat, or steal to get into Brian’s apartment building. All she had to do was walk through the door and aim an innocent smile at the concierge as her shoes echoed on the marble floors of the elegantly decorated lobby. The luxury high-rise housed businessmen, foreign dignitaries and wealthy socialites, yet its management ran a security based on appearance. And quite simply, Alex in a tight silver dress that hugged her generous curves looked the part.
When the elevator stopped at the thirty-second floor, she stepped out into the empty hallway with the small leather case of lock picks in her gloved hand.
Her footsteps were muted by the thick Oriental runners that lay over the taupe carpet. She glanced at the mahogany doors lining the cream-colored walls as she stopped in front of Brian’s apartment. She dropped her purse as a precaution.
If anyone came out it would look as though she had dropped her purse and was in the process of gathering her belongings. Taking a quick look back at the elevator bank, Alex unzipped the leather case, took out her lock picks, and set to work. Less than a minute later, she picked up her purse and pushed the door open.
Once she was in the apartment with the door locked behind her, Alex turned on her flashlight, scanned the room, and saw that she was too late. Rugs lay at odd angles, the sofa sat in the middle of the floor, African ornaments layplaced haphazardly on the coffee table, and all the paintings were off center.
Brian had been a perfectionist in work and in his personal life. Whoever had searched the apartment had been less than perfect in disguising their search.
Skirting the furniture, she made her way through the living room and walked down the hallway to the study. A half hour later, she sat on the edge of Brian’s bed staring out the balcony doors. She’d searched the apartment from top to bottom and still had no clues that would help her figure out why he’d been killed. All of his files, computer equipment, anything that could have given insight into his life, were gone. Nothing of Brian remained except for the pictures.
Aiming the narrow beam on the bedside table, she reached over and ran her leather-covered fingers over the glass frame which housed a photo of the two of them on the beach. In his left hand was a beach ball and his right arm was wrapped around her waist. They both were laughing into the camera.
Frustrated, she gathered her things and just as she stood up from the bed, she heard the sound of a door opening. Letting out a whispered curse that would have done her ex-DELTA commander proud, Alex killed the flashlight, grabbed her small purse, and then slipped quietly out onto the empty balcony. Taking care to close the glass door, she moved to the side of the wall and pressed her back against the cool concrete.
In the silence of the night, she slowed her breathing and concentrated on the shimmering lights of the San Francisco Bay area. If she turned her head to the left, she could see the Bay Bridge in the distance. Suddenly the bedroom light was turned on and light spilled onto the balcony.
As the search moved to the bedside table closest to the balcony doors, she caught bits and pieces of a one-sided conversation. Although she could see nothing but the bottom of the man’s pants legs, she recognized the uniform FBI leather shoes. Her jaw tightened as she sought a plausible explanation for her presence should the visitor decide to step out onto the balcony. It didn’t happen.
After waiting outside in the cool night air for over half hour, she cautiously entered the darkened bedroom. The lingering smell of aftershave hung in the room. Crouched on the side of the bed, she listened. Hearing no sounds, she turned on her penlight and aimed it about the room.
The floor was littered with clothes and the contents of the drawers. Yet it was what she didn’t see that caught her attention: The framed photos on Brian’s bedside tables were gone. Removing her shoes, she took her small dagger out of her purse before moving into the hallway.
Using the narrow beam of the flashlight, Alex threaded her way through the scattered pillows and broken knickknacks to the front door.
After slipping on her shoes and running her fingers through her thick hair, Alex listened at the door before stepping into the hallway and shutting the door firmly behind her. She took off her gloves and stuffed them back into her purse.
A chance stop by the police, a shoot-out leaving two people dead, two unidentified suspects, an FBI investigation, and two separate searches of Brian’s apartment. She shook her head. Things just didn’t add up.
It was obvious they were looking for something. As she pressed the elevator button, Alex spared one last look at the empty hallway. Whatever Brian was involved in had gotten him killed. Now all she had to do was find out what that something was and why someone had killed for it.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, Alex and Karen stood inside Envy, one of the city’s trendiest dance clubs. The new owners had renovated an old office building so that there were three floors with a circular stairway connecting each level. The main dance section on the first floor was the size of a basketball court but now it stood half-empty. After making their way up the stairway, Alex and Karen found an empty table in the second floor lounge.
Studio lights pulsed to the music and Alex watched the deejay booth from their table by the railing.
“I’ll grab the first round of drinks,” Karen said before leaving the table. A few minutes later, her roommate returned with drinks in hand. “What’s this?” Alex sniffed the brown beverage.
“Mine’s a diet Coke. I got you a Long Island iced tea. The bartender told me it’s his personal specialty.” She grinned mysteriously.
Alex eyed the full glass before taking a sip. She found the taste fruity and sweet and it warmed her throat on the way down.
“Do you like it?” Karen asked.
“Tastes good.”
They sat chatting about the weather until a nice looking black man approached the table and asked Karen for a dance.
“Go,” Alex urged.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, I’ll finish my drink and join you downstairs.”
“Okay.”
“Have fun!” she called out to Karen’s departing back.
She returned to sipping the tea, glad to have a moment alone. About three-fourths of the way through the glass, she felt more mellow and relaxed.
“Would you like to dance?” came a slightly accented Latin voice.
Startled, Alex looked up. He was gorgeous. His straight black hair was beginning to lighten with silver. His chiseled face was smooth and colored by a natural tan. He reminded her of Rafé except this man’s eyes were open and admiring. She lifted her hand and rose to accompany him downstairs.
He placed his hand on her hip and then leaned in close to her ear.
“My name’s Omar.”
“I’m Alex.”
“Alex, what a beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”
“Thank you,” she replied graciously. Charm seemed to ooze out of his pores, but she wouldn’t fall under its spell. When she felt his fingers massage the nape of her neck, she barely suppressed the urge to pull away. She was relieved when the tempo of the music sped up. Pulling back, she put distance between herself and her dance partner. She caught sight of her roommate dancing with a new admirer as she looked around.
She danced until she began to feel the soft buzz of the alcohol wearing off, leaving her sleepy. After three more songs, she bid her partner good-bye. As she turned to leave the dance floor, a hand clamped down on her shoulder.
“Excuse me,” she said, turning. The man was tall and muscular with his white blonde hair cut short and square. Alex looked unto his eyes and tensed. Blue, they were cold as ice, reminding her of her first sergeant in Bosnia.
“I would like to talk with you.”
She heard his heavily accented voice over the music. When she tried to pull away, he refused to let go of her arm.
“Take your hand off my arm,” she said slowly.
Either he ignored her or didn’t hear her. It didn’t matter to her. Taking her right hand, Alex grabbed his left pinkie finger and bent backward with all her strength. At the same time, she swung her knee to get in a swift hard jab to the groin area.
Alex moved out of the way as the man dropped to the floor groaning. From her peripheral vision, she could see the bouncers moving in from the outside of the dance floor.
“What happened?”
She turned to see Karen’s worried face. “He wouldn’t take no for an answer.” Her voice was matter-of-fact.
“You want to go home?”
“Yes.”
“Alright, let’s go,” Karen said. Walking towards the exit, Alex took one last look over her shoulder at the bouncers as they carried the moaning man away.
* * *
The sight of the unfamiliar car parked in front of the house set off alarm bells in her head.
“Do you recognize that car?” she asked Karen.
“No.” Karen paused. “And I don’t recognize him either.”
Alex tensed as their car came to a stop. A man stood up from the stairs of her front porch and moved towards the street. She breathed a sigh of relief as his face came into view.
“Who is he?” Karen hesitated before unlocking the car doors.
“Brian’s brother, Tony,” Alex answered.
She stepped out of the car and moved towards the house, keeping her face deliberately blank as she locked eyes with the tall, well-dressed man.
“Tony, what are you doing here?”
“Hoping you’d live up to your promise,” he responded. “But I can see that you’ve got more important things to do than find out why my baby brother was killed.”
His eyes raked over her from head to toe.
Alex held his eyes, unaffected by the scorn she saw in their depths. Under the yellow glow of the street lamps, she could see Brian in Tony’s face: anger and betrayal.
Karen moved between the two of them. “Back off! She’s suffered just like you, damn it. I forced Alex to go out with me tonight.”
Alex stared at her roommate in amazement. She’d never heard her raise her voice. Her soft-spoken best friend seemed to have lost her laid-back, rhythmic Caribbean accent.
“Karen, it’s okay,” she said firmly, then took a breath of cool air. The scent of damp grass blanketed her senses. “Tony’s just emotional right now.”
It was a plausible excuse, but she knew that it was only half the truth. As she stood facing Tony, she saw the gleam in his eyes. The promise he’d accused her of breaking was only part of his anger; jealousy was the other.
“Why don’t we go inside? I could use some coffee,” she suggested with a casualness she didn’t feel.
Tony had loved Brian more than she’d thought it possible to love a sibling. She knew by the set of his shoulders and the outline of the gun she saw on his back that Tony didn’t just want information, he wanted payback. A verse sprang to her mind: Vengeance is mine so saith the Lord. She just hoped she could convince Tony of that.
* * *
The next afternoon as Alex’s last class settled down and silently read the first chapter of their homework assignment, someone tapped on the door. She looked up from her work and saw Assistant Principal Monroe’s face through the glass panel.
“Excuse me. I have to step out for a minute. Please continue your reading.”
She left the room but kept the door slightly ajar just in case.
Alex noticed Assistant Principal Monroe’s wrinkled brow and pinched mouth. The fifty-year-old woman never seemed to smile and treated school more like a military training camp than an elementary school.
“Ms. Thompson, these gentlemen would like to speak with you.” Her tone dripped with irritation.
Alex had seen the two suit clad men standing near the lockers immediately upon entering the hallway. Out of the corner of her eye, she’d checked them out. Black leather shoes and dark gray suits. It took her only a half a second to recognize the preferred dress of the FBI.
Keeping her face blank, she turned to greet them. “Hello. What can I do for you?” she smiled.
“Ms. Thompson, I’m agent Phillip Murray and my partner here is Bill Patterson. We’re with the FBI.” They flashed their badges.
Alex allowed a curious expression to creep over her face.
“Ms. Thompson, do you recognize this man?”
She focused on the picture of Brian on the cover of Technology Today magazine.
“It’s Brian.”
“What was your relationship with Mr. Scott?”
“We were engaged but things didn’t work out,” she answered.
“Did you stay in touch after the breakup?”
“Yes, we did,” she responded, emphasizing the past tense.
“How long had you known Mr. Scott?”
“Two years.”
“You knew him pretty well then.”
“Is there a point to this? If not, I have a class to teach,” she answered coolly.
“We just have a couple more questions.” The agent looked up from his notes, and then continued. “Did Brian mention anything about an important project he was working on?
“No.”
“Anything about special meetings?”
“No.”
“Did he confide in you about any new business associates?”
Alex shook her head. “Brian disliked talking about his work.”
“Did you notice any changes in Brian’s behavior prior to his death?”
“Not really,” Alex lied as her mind flashed back to the last conversation she’d had with Brian. Only after the fact had she realized that he was planning to leave the country and to go into hiding. “Look Agent…”
“Murray.” He gave her a practiced smile.
“I’m sorry but I can’t help you. Brian never liked to talk about his work.”
“Were you aware that Mr. Scott was planning on resigning from SimTek?”
“Resigning?” she said blankly. Agent Murray’s brow creased and his eyes bore into her face.
“Mr. Scott handed in a letter of resignation the morning of his death.”
Alex frowned. Why would Brian resign? He’d just been promoted. “I was not aware of that.”
“He was leaving the country.”
Having noticed the way the agent studied her face, she schooled her features to show confusion. “What?”
Agent Murphy continued, “The detectives found evidence that he had purchased two tickets to Brazil. We believe one ticket was meant for you. I take it he didn’t happen to mention that he was planning for the two of you to leave the country?”
“No,” she lied easily. “Can I ask you a question, Agent Ramsey?”
“Yes, you may.” He placed the small notebook in the inside pocket of his jacket.
“What happened the night Brian was shot? Why are the FBI and not the police investigating his death?”
“Ms. Thompson, we believe that Mr. Scott may have been the target of an international terrorist group. We also think he was being kidnapped when the police interfered and accidentally shot him.”
Her voice rose with disbelief. “Why would anyone want to kidnap Brian?”
“Your fiancé was not only a very high profile business executive but also a computer genius. There are those who valued his skills highly. What we need to know is if he ever mentioned any special meetings, contacts, or events to you.”
Alex shook her head again and hid her face from the agents. She knew from the ballistics report that the bullet that had killed Brian had not been police issue.
“If you remember anything you think might be of help, please give me a call. Here’s my card.”
Alex pocketed the business card and turned to go into the classroom. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught Agent Ramsey’s searching stare. A niggling sense of unease followed her back into class. Somehow, she had the feeling she would be seeing the agents again.
* * *
Jarick stared out of the tinted car windows of the white Mercedes at the carefree scene. Elementary school students had begun to pour out of the school only moments before.
“Tell me again,” he demanded without taking his eyes off a little blonde girl as she rushed to meet her mother.
“She left the school at 3:30 p.m. and returned to her home. At 7:00 p.m., she entered Mr. Scott’s apartment building. One hour and thirty minutes later, she left the building and proceeded to meet her roommate at a nightclub called Envy.”
“Could she have found the Mirror Code?” he questioned. The disk. The mere thought of it increased the acid churning in his stomach. Usually he didn’t dream but last night, he’d had a vision of his own death.
Gritting his teeth, he turned towards the other occupant of the car. Peder was clad in all black with a leather coat. Even in the mild climate, the Russian seemed to carry the harsh cold of Siberia with him.
“No, if the disk had been in the apartment, either our team or the FBI would have found it.”
“Then why was she in the apartment?” Jarik asked that question more to himself than to his agent. Something about the woman haunted him. Alex Thompson. There was a missing piece somewhere and he had a gut feeling that she was the link to what he needed.
“I do not know. After leaving Scott’s apartment, we followed her to that nightclub. Vlad went inside; I watched from the car. After two hours, she returned home.”
Jarik’s eyes narrowed as his mind raced. “What about Scott’s parents?”
Peder shook his head. “We have not been able to perform a search of the house. It has been under twenty-four hour observation by the FBI.”
Jarik turned back towards the now vacant entrance of the school building. He was running out of time and options. Banovic would be distracted only for a short time. “Work the girl first and if she doesn’t know about the disk, she’ll have to help us find it.”