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Dubai, United Arab Emirates
Tuesday, 26 January, 1:31 p.m.
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A pattern emerged. Not a definitive one, but at least I felt closer to understanding how the victims had met their end. They had something in common, without it being a shared interest for all. I wasn't sure yet how this linked back to the killer. I made another note on the murder board and returned to the laptop. Even though some victims had been deceased for more than a year, their free email accounts lived on. The password cracker Eli created made this easier, and faster, than if I tried to do it myself. Technology has never been my friend.
The door opened to my right, but I kept my focus on the first victim's email account. The victims' social media accounts offered me a door into their worlds. An overwhelming sadness filled me as I trespassed in their lives, the ones they had posted for the world to see. Whether it was real, or the fake lives most people post online, I'll never know. The sad reality – it no longer mattered. Nothing mattered except bringing their killer to justice. Killers?
I released a virtual worm thingy; another of Eli's brilliant creations. I'll never refer to it as a 'thingy' in front of him, but whenever he starts with his geek talk, a part of my brain shuts down. No option to reboot.
"Take off your clothes."
"Do we need to practise for tomorrow night?" I asked Rowan.
He placed running shoes next to my laptop. "We're going for a run."
"Is this your idea of foreplay? Perhaps I'll tutor you in the art of seduction before you meet the love of your life. To ensure she doesn't run away when you mention getting all sweaty is your idea of getting her in the mood."
Rowan laughed. "I assure you, there's nothing wrong with my skills, technique or the level of guaranteed satisfaction a woman has with me."
"Dude, this is disturbing." I shivered. "You're like a brother to me."
"It's not as if you haven't seen his penis before," Aidan said, leaning against the doorframe.
I turned my chair to face him. "For the record, Husband, I didn't see your brother's pee-pee. His tattoo is spectacular, and I might get a similar one to the other one he has. Seeing as I'm now part of the family business. Perhaps, Commander Walker, you and I can get inked together."
Aidan shook his head, but my eyes focused on the SIGs holstered at his thighs. Why is it such a turn-on? "It was stupid of him and Liam to get it, it puts us all at risk."
"Shoot me for trying to bond with the brother who hates me." Rowan shrugged and pointed at the running shoes. "Five minutes, Fin. Clothes off. Clothes on. You and me? We're going to be pounding the tar and sand. Hard."
"As much as I would love to pound stuff with you, I have too much work to do."
Rowan leaned over my shoulder and stared at my laptop's screen. He mumbled something in a language I didn't speak and started typing, his chest pressed to the back of my head. "There, Eli's pet will do the data collection for you. By the time we get back you'll have access to all the victims' emails, text messages and phone calls."
He closed the tab and clicked on another I left open. Rowan rubbed a big hand over my head. "Good girl, I see you're already running a facial recognition detector through their social media accounts. Aidan, I think we might need to keep her. She's a natural."
A grin spread across Aidan's face. "In more ways than one."
My cheeks caught fire, and I pursed my lips. The memory of the first time Aidan and I had showered together pulsed between us. The energy in the room changed. I could only stare at my lover. Despite our current circumstances, I never wanted him more. This seems to be a thing for me. Just when I think I can't be more in love with him, or lust after him, he does something, says something, and then – system failure. An internal error only he can fix. And does the man have his ways. Murders. Focus woman.
"Why don't you join us? I bet you can run circles around Rowan, even though you're much older than him." Six years isn't that much.
"Sorry, dude, perhaps another time. I'm running an entire organisation. This isn't the only operation that requires my full attention. Rowan, I hope you plan to leave the room before my wife undresses."
"I see her as one of us, one of the men." Rowan stood his ground. "It's not like I haven't seen women naked before." He spared me by not saying he had seen me naked; when he cradled me in his arms and carried me out of that bunker. "I can wait until tomorrow night to see what she keeps hidden underneath all her black clothes."
I rolled the chair back and turned to Rowan. "It's a sex party?"
He nodded.
"There's no way in hell another man, or woman, touches me and doesn't lose a hand. How are we going to blend in if I don't participate in the orgy? I can stand back and watch, not that I want to see you have sex with someone, or other people go at it." I've always preferred one-on-one action.
"No one will touch you. You're Rob Granger's date. Everybody knows not to touch what's mine. Except Liam." Rowan shook his head, and I placed my hand on his arm.
"Will they expect the two of you to join in? Is it like Fin said, an orgy?" Aidan asked.
"Sort of. It's very exclusive, you don't even want to know what the annual membership fee is. Some couples join in once the performance is over, the rest find a room. They always hold the parties in mansions, castles or penthouse suites in some of the most luxurious hotels in the world."
"Where's the party tomorrow night?" I had an arsenal of other questions. One being why Rowan had an annual membership. For Liam it made sense, but not Rowan.
"A week before the party we're informed of the city, the date, and time. On the day of the event, I receive a text message an hour before it starts with the address."
"It's a security measure," Aidan said and stepped into the room. "How can we keep Finley untouched, if we can't do a recon of the property?"
Rowan laughed, the sound ominous. "First party I ever attended, a fellow member may have flirted with my date. I broke his neck. After that, no one has ever dared to even look at my dates."
"Quinn went as your date, and she flirted on purpose. Rob Granger is feared for a very good reason. Whose neck did you break?" Over the past few days Rowan turned into a bit of an enigma. I had only ever seen his soft side, the typical gentle giant. One most women would kill to get in their bed, even if for just one night. He's my brother-in-law, but a handsome man is still a handsome man.
"CEO of a Fortune 500 company by day, one of the biggest distributors of violent footage of children being raped by night. Kiddie porn is the worst term ever coined." Rowan glanced down at me. "I take the smile on your face as approval."
My head bobbed up and down. "If there's anyone there tomorrow night you want me to take out, just say the word. It's been far too long since I last annihilated a predator." I stared down at the orca tattoo on my left wrist. "Let's go for that run, you need to talk me through what to expect tomorrow night."
"One thing you need to understand going in, the organiser expects everyone to have sex."
Aidan cursed, Rowan and I both turned to him. "Ro, I get it. The information you gather at these parties is invaluable. Sorry, but there's no way I'll allow the two of you to have sex. Finley is my wife. Not a fellow operative. There are lines we must never cross, and this is as big as they get."
"Perhaps you skipped that part, as your teenage years weren't like ours, dry-humping might do."
I burst out laughing and then got an idea. "Who organises the parties?"
Rowan turned before he reached Aidan. "That, my dear sister, is the million dirham question. No one knows."
––––––––
Dubai, United Arab Emirates
Tuesday, 26 January, 3:10 p.m.
––––––––
A ten kilometre run, and a shower with Aidan later, I felt energised enough to see what Eli's thingy uncovered in my absence. Aidan sent Liam to buy groceries and prepare lunch. In part, I suspected, as punishment for the mess he created in Vienna. Part he was the only one not bringing anything to the table. Not that I brought enough to deserve a pat on the back.
Rowan placed a plate next to my hand and pulled out a chair across the table.
"The parties, were any of them held in the same cities, or around the time as the murders?"
Rowan wiped his mouth and placed the napkin on the table. He turned to the map Aidan had stuck to the wall. Red dots indicated the locations of the murders. "Some of the same countries, but not at the time of the murders."
He walked around the table and stared at my murder board. "For instance, the murders in Paris were last July, they held a party in Marseille in February. The murder in Croatia was in Split last August, but a party was held in Dubrovnik before the first murder in Mexico. Off the top of my head, those are the only connections I can think of. Then again, I've only been a member for two years." Rowan returned to his food.
"Do you think Biggie is involved with the parties and the murders?" I stared at the chicken and salad on the plate next to my hand.
"If he is who I suspect, he's a sixty-something mercenary. Whoever pays his asking price will get his services."
"Would someone that old be capable of moving coffins and steel drums around?" I dug into my food and waited for Rowan to answer.
He laughed and drank a sip of orange juice. "Please ask Dad that. He's sixty-five and I've seen what he's still capable of. He trains with the new recruits, and he often beats the younger ones on the obstacle course."
"Okay, so it's plausible that even though Biggie is older, he's still capable of helping our killer."
We finished the rest of our meal in silence, and when I returned from the kitchen, I dialled Eli's number. He answered before I even heard the ringtone. "Rowan asked me to look for footage of the mystery behemoth in the cities he listed. As soon as I find something concrete, you'll be my first call."
"Thank you, but I need you to verify something for me. Don Peo, the male victim murdered in Santiago, I suspect I found something interesting in his emails. He received an email from a certain Alejandro Sanchez, but the email was deleted from his inbox the day after his murder. Only that email, nothing else. It wasn't in his trash, but that thing you created found it. Why would a choreographer's email be deleted? After Don Peo's death? The police found his body on Tuesday, and Wednesday someone accessed his emails and deleted it."
"What did the email say?"
"Just a standard 'You've been selected to audition', with the date and time he had to be at the given location. I checked, and Don Peo's cellphone was in the vicinity of that building, but at the time it stood vacant. Someone lured him there."
"Alejandro Sanchez is a choreographer. It wouldn't raise any red flags for a dancer to receive an email like this."
"My point exactly, but why delete it? I need to locate Alejandro Sanchez." I leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes.
"Done, he's in Madrid, Spain. Moved there December two years ago."
"Hold on." I started typing close to the speed at which Eli's fingers fly over a keyboard. Rowan came to stand behind me but said nothing. "The female victim in Majorca was also a dancer. I accessed her mobile phone records."
"I will run a search and see if any of the numbers link to a dance studio or dance production company." The familiar sound of Eli pounding away at his keyboard filled the ensuing silence.
I waited. My stomach lodged in my throat. This could be something. Or nothing.
"Well done, Mrs Walker. Alejandro Sanchez owns one of the biggest dance theatres in Spain. The day before Catalina Garcia disappeared, she received a call from Sanchez's office in Madrid."
"He links to two of our victims, on different continents. It's time I chat with Señor Sanchez." I downed the orange juice Rowan had brought me and placed the glass down a bit too hard. "How does Sanchez go from being in Chile, to owning one of the biggest dance production companies in Spain, in a little more than a year?" I pushed my chair back and bumped into Rowan's legs. I apologised and started pacing around the office. The marble tiles cool beneath my feet.
"You have muscle helping you get rid of the bodies and staging them. Are people finding victims for you?" The killer didn't answer, so I continued, "I need to find any other potential links between the victims. Eli, I might need your help on this. We don't know how long before he kills again, he might have his next victim already." I don't like asking for help, but to save lives, I'll swallow my pride and vanquish it to the darkest corners of my soul.
Aidan stormed into the office, excitement visible in his eyes. "He screwed up. The medical examiner found a used condom inside the Zurich victim's mouth."
I gagged, and then realisation bitch-slapped me so hard I almost lost my footing. "He didn't screw up; it was done on purpose. Why are we only hearing about it now?"
"Seems after news broke of our minor incident on the A51, the detective in charge of the investigation realised there might be more to the murder than just a random act of violence. It appears Hans, our operative in Switzerland, made himself a new friend."
Not a single piece of evidence had been found on any of the previous victims. The original crime scenes never found, except for the murders in Edinburgh, London and Paris. The houses had been scrubbed down. Better than some crime scene cleaning crews can do it. In those three cities our killer hadn't left the victims in parks, or isolated areas. No, he left them in the houses he had rented, with fake credit cards of course. Eli tried to trace their origins, but at that point in time hadn't found a legitimate name, or company, connected to any of the three used. The Perspex boxes which served as glass coffins didn't have as much as a fingerprint smudge on the outside. The 200 litre drums untraceable. The coffins? Standard issue for your larger individuals – big enough for two victims. The fingerprints, hair and DNA found belonged to the victims.
The medical examiners found proof that the female victims had sexual intercourse before death. None showed any of the signs you might expect if the rapes had been violent. Not that it meant the women weren't raped.
None of the victims showed any restraint marks, indicating they weren't tied up at any point. The day after they had last been seen, their bodies were found.
Aidan spoke as I still stared at the murder board. "What is it?"
"The time he spends with them, before killing them, isn't part of the fantasy. It's all about the act of killing, and the staging. Like you said, the story he tells."
I stared at the photos of the victims. Their deaths had been excruciating, except perhaps the ones who might've been killed with insulin. "Aidan, if the killer used insulin, would death be painless? Do the victims fall into a coma and die?"
"Maybe. If the insulin was administered before they went to bed, they might not have woken up when their bodies went into hypoglycaemia. If the victims were awake, they might've experienced confusion, heart palpitations, anxiety, trouble talking, seizures, clumsiness, sweating or shakiness. Only the killer can tell us what happened."
"He watched them die, except the victims who were buried alive."
Aidan told me what happens to the human body when organophosphate poison is ingested. The women had died inside their Perspex coffins. Their handprints the only ones found on the inside of the boxes. I couldn't bring myself to imagine what death must've been like for them. When death comes for me, I hope it will be quick.
"He hacked off the hands of the victim in Edinburgh. How did the forensics team not find a single drop of blood inside the house? Even if the killer used bleach to clean up the blood, luminol would've reacted to the haemoglobin. She didn't die inside that house. The houses form part of the staging. That's why the forensic teams found nothing in the houses in Edinburgh, London or Paris. He didn't sleep there, neither did the victims. This is all one big game." I hate playing games. Unless I make the rules.