Power (The Santini Assassins #1)

18. More Truths

18

MORE TRUTHS

LUCIANO

A s Stuart drove him to Baltimore in his bullet-proof Range Rover, while wearing one of Stuart’s Kevlar vests, Luciano’s phone buzzed with a text from Simone.

Thanks for the zhuzhing this morning and for the *strong* urging to contact Peter Hirzog

You’re easy to love, Simone

That text said it all. She was easy to love.

He spent the hour-long car ride on three video meetings regarding his spring clothing lines, he made eight phone calls, participated in a video meeting with his distillery, and fired off too many texts to count. He squeezed every moment out of his workday, in part, because he ran a global empire, but also because downtime gave him time to think about the one who got away.

The killer who shredded my life.

In Baltimore’s Little Italy, Stuart drove past the popular tourist restaurants, and into the heart of the district. Three more turns and Stuart parked in front of an upscale restaurant that served genuine Italian cuisine. More importantly, it was the epicenter for the Garibaldi family, still run by Carlo Sr.

As expected, the front door was locked. He knocked and Benita opened the small window in the old, wooden door.

“Sì?” asked Benita.

“Benita, it’s Luciano Santini and Stuart Fletcher.”

She smiled. “I don’t have my glasses on.” She slammed the little window shut, opened the door. “Good to see you, Lulu.”

He stepped inside and was enveloped in a warm hug. She eyed his chest. “What are you wearing. You got somethin’ on under your suit?”

Luciano glanced over at Stuart. “My security detail insists I wear body armor.”

“What’s that?” Benita asked.

“A bullet-proof vest,” Stuart replied.

“Stuart, you take good care of our Lulu.” She smiled up at him. “And you’re such a good eater.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

In addition to running the restaurant, Benita was Carlo’s wife and gatekeeper. Luciano handed her a Santini gift bag and she peered inside. “Grazie, hon.”

“He’s meeting with someone. Lemme get you boys something to eat.”

If Luciano had just finished a five-course meal, he wouldn’t have refused her. She seated them at a table in the back. A server set down a basket of warm bread. Within minutes, he and Stuart were enjoying bowls of homemade spaghetti, each with a giant meatball. His favorite comfort food. Twenty minutes later, he was ushered into the back room while Stuart waited at the table.

Papà was almost eighty, but he wasn’t ready to relinquish his power to Carlo Jr. After Luciano kissed each of his cheeks, he waited for Carlo to offer him a seat. Sitting without being invited was presumptive and disrespectful. Luciano might not be running the Santini family business anymore, but he still followed the expected customs.

Carlo tapped the chair catty corner. “Sit, Lulu.”

Luciano eased down. “You look good, Papà. You’re wearing the suit I sent you.”

“You make nice things. I appreciate the gifts. I liked the crucifix, but Benita took it. Did you find Frankie?”

“I didn’t find him. I trust you Papà, and I need your help.”

“You did good for yourself, Lulu.”

“Grazie.”

“Di che cosa hai bisogno?” What do you need?

“The main supplier of bomb making materials in the area.”

Papà’s eyes widened. “You gotta let that go, figliolo.”

“It’s not for me.”

Pausing to sip his wine, Papà’s bony hand trembled. “That’s a dirty business.”

“It’s important.”

Carlo smiled, his wrinkled face creasing like an accordion. “You’re a good boy. I’ll help you.”

“Grazie, Papà.” Luciano paused. “Willie Boy ran the business into the ground.”

“è una vergogna.”

“He is a disgrace.” Luciano pulled out his phone, tapped on the photo of Dante that Stuart had taken at Willie Boy’s. “Do you recognize him?”

“No. Who is he?”

“A nobody who wants a mil in boodle.”

“Never trust an outsider. Never .”

“I’ll send you another crucifix,” Luciano said.

Carlo smiled. “Igor Stachko. He’s in Springfield, Virginia.”

“What’s his front?”

“He runs a chemical supply company.” Carlo pulled out his phone, then his glasses.

Though Carlo was painfully slow, Luciano stayed silent.

“My eyes don’t work like they used to.” Carlo handed him his phone. “You find him.”

As Luciano scrolled through his address book, he said, “When was the last time you got your eyes checked?”

“I don’t trust doctors.”

Luciano found Igor’s contact info and sent it to himself, then showed Carlo what he’d done. Another sign of respect.

He set Carlo’s phone on the table. “Grazie, Papà.”

“You should take over your family’s business.”

“Not me.”

“What’s Theodore doing?”

“He works for me.”

“Gabriel?”

“He runs the wineries and Santini International in Italy.”

“Have you heard from —”

“Don’t say his name,” Luciano pushed back.

“He’s your brother,” Carlo said. “Lui è famiglia.”

He’s not family to me.

“Papà, grazie. Sempre un piacere.” Always a pleasure.

“I know our families were rivals, but I always liked you, Lulu.”

After kissing Carlo’s craggily cheeks, he left. Luciano had one objective when he went to speak with Carlo. Goal achieved.

On the drive back to DC, he called his assistant, requested another crucifix and a case of Chianti for Carlo. “Include something for Benita.”

“What did you have in mind?” Dominic asked.

“Send her a dress and a cashmere coat from our Ladies collection. What’s the latest work emergency?”

“If I say none, I’m scared I’ll jinx things,” Dominic replied.

“It’s the calm before the storm.” Luciano hung up, slid his focus out the window as they drove south on I-95.

He couldn’t deny that The Bomb Maker was holding all the power. The terrorists were making their way into the country without resistance. Guy Chenkus was dead, at the hand of some mule. Was it the same man who did the money-for-passports trade or someone else?

Luciano had no idea how many people were involved in this deadly operation. What he did know was that he and Simone would get the upper hand… and the shift of power would begin.

That’s when he would strike.

Fast and deadly.

SIMONE

Simone hadn’t slept well, despite how much she loved being in Luciano’s arms. She’d suspected him of being involved in his family’s crime syndicate, but she never imagined he’d been married with young children. Her heart squeezed.

He lost his babies.

She’d been devastated over the loss of her team. Yes, the Ops were like family, but it wasn’t like losing your actual family.

Thirty-minutes later, Simone was sitting at her kitchen island, sipping hot coffee while reading a secure email from Z. He’d fired three from ALPHA while heading up the organization, one of them Peter Hirzog.

Providence called. “How’s it going?”

She thought of Guy Chenkus. “Working it like a boss lady.”

“That’s what we want to hear,” Providence replied. “I sent over a list. Cooper and I fired four ALPHA employees. One—Karen Woodside—is currently serving time. While she hates ALPHA, my gut says she’s not behind these bombings.”

Simone clicked on the email. “Got it.”

“I’m sorry you have to work from home. If you need any help, let me know.”

“I need to use my Joelle James alias,” Simone said. “A man named Guy Chenkus was gunned down in Georgetown last night, and I need to talk with a homicide detective at Metropolitan Police Department.”

“I might be able to help. Hang two seconds.”

While Simone waited, she reviewed Providence’s list of potential suspects. Her attention was diverted when her phone buzzed with a text from Peter Hirzog.

Call me

“Thanks for waiting,” Providence said. “Call Nikki Cardoso. She’s a branch commander in homicide with the MDP. She and Emerson worked together at Arlington Homicide. Emerson’s texting you her number.”

“Perfect. Thanks for your help.” Simone hung up as her phone buzzed with a text from Emerson with Nikki’s number.

Thanks for the help. When I call Nikki, I’m Joelle James, FBI

No worries. I texted her that a LEO I’ve worked with would be following up on a DC homicide

She returned Peter Hirzog’s call, and he answered right away.

“Red, thanks for calling me back. Any chance I can take you to lunch today?”

Though she doubted he was behind the bombings, she had to pursue the lead. Z had fired him. He had a long-standing grudge against Luciano. Did he have one against ALPHA too?

“Sure,” she replied.

He suggested a restaurant, and she agreed to meet him. After hanging up, she called Nikki Cardoso with the Metropolitan Police Department.

“Homicide, Commander Cardoso,” Nikki answered.

“Commander Cardoso, this is Joelle James, FBI.” Simone said.

“Emerson just texted me and told me to be nice.” Nikki laughed. “Please call me Nikki. What can I help with?”

“I’m following up on the murder of Guy Chenkus in Georgetown. I’m hoping there was something your detectives found at the scene.”

“I’m curious,” Nikki said. “What’s the Bureau doing with this?”

“I can’t discuss the case. I’m sorry.”

“Playing hardball.”

Dammit .

“I’m just messing with you,” Nikki said. “My detective doesn’t have much to go on. He was shot in his vehicle leaving the parking lot at Develin and Associates. Mr. Develin can’t disclose the purpose of his visit. There were no eye witnesses. My detective talked to his wife, but I don’t know the details. If we learn anything, I’ll let you know.”

Simone thanked her, provided her contact info, and hung up.

She spent the next two hours doing a high-level search on Z and Providence’s potential suspects. Of the seven, one had died, three had moved out of state. Former Op Karen Woodside was in prison. That left Nina Roy, a former ALPHA OP now with ATF, and Peter Hirzog.

After spending a few minutes coming up with a believable reason to talk with Nina Roy, she called her.

“Good morning, Nina Roy.”

“Ms. Roy, this is Joelle James, Special Agent, FBI. I got your name from a few agents I know at the Bureau. I’m considering a position with ATF and was hoping you’d have ten minutes for an informational interview.”

“I’ve got a short break between meetings in an hour. Can you call me back then?”

“Any chance we could chat in person?”

“Sure. Call me when you’re in the lobby.”

Simone thanked her and hung up. She slipped her FBI badge into her handbag, shouldered into her jacket, and left through her garage.

The brisk November air meant winter was fast approaching, but she loved the crispness so she opened the sunroof and slid on her shades.

En route to ATF in NE DC, she thought about Luciano. She’d fallen fast and she’d fallen hard. Easy to do with Luciano Santini. But he had a dark side. In his free time, he took out bad actors. The ones that even ALPHA couldn’t touch. But her heart wanted who it wanted, so for now, she’d enjoy the newness of their relationship, try to keep it under wraps, and stay focused on the reason she’d returned to ALPHA.

I can’t believe I’m back.

After searching for street parking and coming up short, she parked in a lot. As she walked toward ATF’s headquarters on New York Ave, her phone buzzed. She lifted it from her jacket pocket and read the text.

I warned you not to take the job. Now, I have to kill you. I will win. I always do. Mass destruction and chaos will be mine

“Fuck you,” she blurted as a chill streaked down her spine.

But she couldn’t operate in a vacuum. She had to tell Luciano.

She hurried into the lobby of ATF. Once through security, she called Nina Roy. A few minutes later, a middle-aged Black woman approached her.

The two shook hands. “Thank you for seeing me,” Simone said.

“We’ll chat in private,” Nina said.

They rode the elevator, and Nina escorted her to a nearby office. After sitting behind her desk, Nina asked, “Why are you thinking of leaving the FBI?”

Simone eased into a guest chair. “A change of pace, new faces, different kind of cases. How long have you worked here?”

“Seven years. I left for four, then returned. I’ve been back a year.”

“Why’d you leave?” Simone asked.

“I was invited to work for an elite top-secret agency, but it wasn’t the right fit,” Nina said. “Plus, I’m too much of an explosives junkie. I’m fascinated with the psychology behind why people like to blow things up.”

Simone nodded. “I get that.”

“When I returned here, I was tasked with helping Scotland Yard implement a new system for tracking terrorists who are explosives experts. It’s been a great project, but it forced me to spend a lot of time away from my family.”

Simone spotted a framed photo of three children. “Are those your kids?”

“Yes, but that’s an outdated picture. My son is in college and my daughters are in high school. I’m blessed that my husband is a very hands-on dad, so they were probably better off without their helicopter mom.” She smiled. “Still, I missed them.”

“Were you out of the country recently?” Simone asked.

“Yes, I spent the last two months finishing up the project in London, so I was gone more than I was home. Today is my second day back.”

“I’m curious, as an ATF agent, what are your thoughts on The Bomb Maker?”

Nina leaned back. “I haven’t heard that name in a few years now. Is he back?”

Unfortunately, yes.

“In doing my research on ATF, some were calling that case an epic fail,” Simone said. “I’m not sure I’d label it as such. Like too many criminals, he was able to outsmart law enforcement.”

“I wasn’t assigned that case, but it fascinated me as well,” Nina replied. “He had a tremendous knowledge of how explosives work along with being able to executive his hits at just the right time.” She shut her office door. “I mentioned I worked for an elite agency. He killed several of their special forces operatives. Rumor has it that he’s back.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I’m not buying that, but some of the agents think he’s planning something big.”

“Why do they think that?”

Nina’s phone rang and she glanced at the screen. “Excuse me, it’s my boss.” She answered. “Nina Roy.” She listened, then said, “I’m wrapping up a meeting. Five minutes.” Nina hung up.

“Nina, why do some of your coworkers think The Bomb Maker is back?”

“I have no idea. Might be conspiracy theorists, could be that someone working a case leaked the info. Everyone needs to feel important and significant.” She shrugged. “I’m just happy that I’m back.” She shifted on the chair. “I hope I’ve been helpful.”

“Absolutely. Thank you again for your time.”

“Who are you interviewing with?”

Simone paused. “His name escapes me. Might be a Joe. Could be a Keith.”

“Well, if you take the position, let me know.” Nina walked her to the elevator.

“Thank you again, Nina.” The doors opened and Simone rode to the lobby.

She’s not guilty of anything. I’ve hit another dead end.

Exiting the elevator, she almost crashed into Jerod De Clerq.

“Red, what a surprise,” Jerod said as he moved away from foot traffic. “What are you doing here?”

“I was talking with Nina Roy,” she replied.

He furrowed his brow. “I don’t know her. Anyways, I was going to text you. My girlfriend, Becca, is coming into town this afternoon. I managed to get a res at Carole Jean’s in Tysons tonight. Am I the luckiest guy or what? They had a cancelation and I snagged it. I want you to join us. Tell me you’re free.”

Simone thought about the case and her lack of progress. She couldn’t afford to spend two hours meeting someone’s girlfriend.

“I’m sorry?—”

“Nope, wrong answer.” He shot her a smile. “Have you ever been to Carole Jean’s?”

“No, but I’ve heard?—”

“It’s Michelin-starred. You have to go. I need you to meet her… you know, for selfish reasons. If you don’t like her, she’s out.”

Simone smiled. “No pressure there.”

“It’s kismet. She decided to fly down. I got a table at Carole Jean’s. I bump into you. C’mon, Red.”

“Fine, but?—”

“Perfect,” he said cutting her off. “Six-thirty.” He grinned. “Don’t be late.”

As she drove toward the restaurant for lunch with Peter, she thought about Nina Roy. She wasn’t in the country when Frederica and her team were killed, and Nina Roy didn’t appear to hold a grudge against ALPHA. She was forthright with information and had no obvious tells. As far as Simone was concerned, Nina Roy was not a person of interest.

Frustration had her white-knuckling the steering wheel. She had no viable leads, not a single suspect, and a dead man who was forced to make passports for terrorists who’d been marching into the country like ants through a pinhole at the kitchen window.

Her phone rang. It was Luciano.

“Hey,” she answered. “Missing me like crazy, huh?”

“You know I am,” he said. “Can you talk?”

“I’m in my car,” she said. “Peter invited me for lunch.”

“That oughta be interesting,” he replied. “Sin thinks he can put the squeeze on Chenkus’s boss’s boss, the exec at State. He set up a meeting today at one. Can you join us?”

It was twelve-fifty. “Not unless I cancel Peter.”

“Where are you meeting him?”

“The restaurant in Hotel Dillinger.”

“That’s Rebel’s hotel,” Luciano said. “Do you think he’s gonna make a move?—”

She laughed. “Thank you, I needed that. No, Peter Hirzog is not going to make a move.” She laughed again. “I have updates for later.”

“All I heard was ‘later’.”

She smiled. “I gotta go, charmer. I hope you and Sin put the squeeze on that jackass.”

Simone parked in the hotel lot, made her way into the luxury boutique hotel near Dupont Circle that bore Rebel’s name. She loved the bohemian-styled hotel with the chill vibe. The lounge caught her eye, and she stopped to admire. Purple microfiber sofas flanked by bright orange chairs filled the room. One entire wall housed cabinets of vinyl records. She sauntered over to check out the album collections. Rebel had every kind of music imaginable.

The bartender said hello. “First time?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m meeting someone for lunch,” Simone replied.

“Bring your lunch in here. You can choose an album to play on the spinner.” She nodded toward the stereo.

“Thanks,” Simone said.

She entered the restaurant and found Peter waiting near the hostess stand. He offered a friendly smile, but instead of a hug, he extended his hand.

As she shook it, he said, “Thanks for meeting me.”

The hostess seated them in a booth, handed them menus, and left. Simone eyed the options, selected something, then set the menu aside. Something needed to go her way so, with a tactic in mind, she shifted her attention to Peter.

The server approached, told them the lunch specials. After they ordered, he scooted off.

“Simone, I invited you to lunch to apologize,” Peter said. “I’m very sorry I asked you to spy on Luciano. It was out of character and I’ve been disappointed with myself ever since.”

She smiled. Not too big, but enough that his shoulders relaxed. “Peter, it’s totally okay. Even you couldn’t keep up a perfect track record?—”

He mimed stabbing himself in the heart. “Ouch.”

“You feel passionate about it and I appreciate that.”

“Jerod was so angry with me. That never happens, so I knew I’d really messed up.”

The server delivered their beverages and left.

After sipping her iced tea, Simone said, “Are you happy with Lucy?”

“Very,” he replied.

“I’ve never been married, so I can’t begin to know how you felt, but I am sorry about what happened with your first wife.”

His rueful smile told Simone that he probably still had feelings for his ex. “I don’t care about Santini, but Jerod’s right. If I’d paid my first wife more attention, she might not have gone looking elsewhere.”

Simone wanted to tell him that Luciano Santini was a man that most women probably wouldn’t refuse… her included. But that was not the plan she’d laid out for their meeting. Instead, she leaned forward. “I completely forgive you. It’s all behind us now.”

This time, his smile touched his eyes. “Thank you.”

“So, since we’re having a heart-to-heart, I wanted to confide something to you.” She cleared her throat. “You were right, I was with ALPHA.”

His eyebrows jutted up. “You have the best poker face of anyone I have ever met.”

“Thank you.” She sipped her drink.

“Are you still with them?”

“No, I really did leave five years ago. I was only with ALPHA for a year.” She looked around, pretending to check if anyone was eavesdropping. “I was the lead Op on The Bomb Maker case. Everyone on my team got killed. I got PTSD, left the group, and went into private industry.”

She was studying his reactions, like he was under a microscope.

Empathy filled his eyes. “I’m sorry. That must’ve been rough for you.”

“It was awful. I’m better now, so that’s good.”

“Do you miss the group?”

“I miss the closeness we had. It was like the team you built under your leadership.”

“That’s nice of you to say.” After taking a swig of soda, he said, “I worked for ALPHA.”

Elated that he’d shared that, she smiled. “I’m disappointed our paths didn’t cross there as well. Why did you leave?”

“I was Philip Skye’s first hire. Did you know he goes by Z now?”

“No,” she lied, “I lost touch after I left.”

“I worked there for a year. Philip hired me to manage the newly-formed Ops team. I got along fine with Luther, but Philip and I, we didn’t mix. He let me go and I returned to the Bureau. They’ve grown a lot since I left. You wouldn’t believe it’s the same organization.”

“If it’s still top-secret, how do you know?”

He blinked in slow motion, as if closing his eyes to shut her out. Then, he paused to drink.

He’s buying time to come up with an answer.

He pinched his nostrils together, then wiped his nose. “I keep in touch with a few.”

You’re lying.

“Anyone I’d know?”

“I don’t think so.” Peter forced a laugh. “But I couldn’t tell you who they are anyway.”

“No, I guess not.”

The server returned with their lunches, topped off their beverages, and left.

“Do you hold a grudge against Philip like you do against Luciano Santini?” Simone asked before digging into her Nicoise salad.

“I did. It worked out in the end for me, but I would have liked to make a career there. It’s very cutting-edge.”

He’s talking about it in the present. How does he know what’s going on with ALPHA?

“Like what?”

“I can’t say,” he replied. “In fact, we shouldn’t even be talking about them now, but I appreciate that you told me the truth.”

She forced a smile. “Same, Peter.”

“I’m going to throw something out there,” he said. “Don’t dismiss it. Promise me you’ll think about it.”

“Sure.”

“Come back to work for me.”

“I’ll consider it,” she replied.

As they ate, she asked about his wife, Lucy, and the conversation moved on. She couldn’t help wonder who, at ALPHA, would be leaking information to him… and was any of this related to The Bomb Maker?

After lunch, she and Peter said goodbye in the hotel lobby. He asked her to consider his work offer, then headed toward the exit. Rather than leave, she retreated into the lounge. She wanted to jot notes from the meeting on her phone. While sitting in an oversized orange chair, she glanced into the hotel lobby, and her brain stuttered. Instead of leaving, Peter strode over to the elevator bank and waited. An elevator door opened, and he vanished inside.

He must’ve parked in the underground garage.

She walked over to the front desk. “Excuse me,” she asked a clerk. “Is there parking underground?”

“No,” the employee replied. “We have the lot next to the building, and there’s street parking.”

After shouldering into her jacket, she made her way through the lobby. As she approached the exit, someone entered through the revolving door. She glanced over, did a double take, then turned away.

Ohmygod.

Keeping her head down, she reversed direction, then lasered-in on her target. Jerod strode to the elevators, tapped the up button. Elevator doors opened and he vanished inside.

As the elevator ascended, Simone murmured, “What the fucking fuck.”