“You’ve had threats?”
“Nope. He’s playing me.” Darren sounded trapped. “My parents will be seriously unhappy if they find out what I’ve been doing.”
“If it becomes necessary, I’ll help with your parents.”
“You don’t know my parents. They’re not going to listen to some guy they’ve never met just because he’s a hotshot security agent.”
“Yeah.” Rafe stroked his chin and thought of how Nonno and Nonna would have responded if he’d gotten up to something even vaguely illegal. “I’ll help if I can, and I promise to keep you out of jail. That was the deal when I signed you, right?”
“Right.” Darren took a long breath. “Thanks.”
With his Kyrgyzstan team in mind, Rafe asked, “Has the mystery hacker been intercepting my calls?”
“Listening for sure. Intercepting? I don’t think so. I think he’d rather just listen. He’s learning a lot that way.”
“Hm.” Having the resort’s computer hacked presented too many dangers in a situation changing too rapidly, and Rafe had control over none of it. “Does the hacker know that you know about my phone?”
“He might suspect, but nothing I’ve done has alerted him.”
“Very good.” Rafe almost purred with delight.
When Rafe said nothing more, Darren continued. “I’ve got a friend, Cepheus, who just started working at the resort. He’s got a computer for you. It’s small. It’s in a case made for an e-reader. You can make phone calls on it. It won’t be fun—it’ll be clumsy—but it’s possible. It’s set up the way I want it, impregnable and, since I’ve uploaded a program that’s keeping the hacker busy, undetectable. I want you to keep it on you all the time. The
GPS
will keep track of you and I’ll call you on Brooke’s phone or Noah’s phone or whoever’s phone is nearby.”
“Right.” Rafe’s mind had shuffled through the scenarios, and now he saw an opportunity to end this thing quickly. “Darren. Is there any way you can bring up the map of the wine cellar under the main hotel building? Could you do it without the mystery hacker knowing that you’re doing it?”
“Sure. I’ve got my friend Scuffy running the occasional block for me. I think MH—”
“Mystery hacker?”
“Right. I think MH knows Scuffy is there, but he hasn’t been able to catch him. What do you need?”
“In the wine cellar that’s under the main building, there are a lot of corridors.”
A moment of silence, then—“Whoa. Yeah. Here’s the map. What crazy dude built this?”
“A lot of people. The main cellar was built when the original hotel went up. The halls started winding around as they added on upstairs.”
“What’s this room? It’s reinforced like a bunker.” Darren sounded curious, then excited. “Oh, man, is this a
bomb shelter?”
“A fallout shelter, really, built by my grandfather in the late nineteen fifties during the height of the Cold War.”
“To protect against nuclear radiation. I know. How cool. I didn’t know anyone had a . . . a fallout shelter anymore.” Darren’s enthusiasm was almost palpable.
“We Di Lucas are lucky in a lot of ways,” Rafe said drily. “Are there surveillance cameras in there?”
“None.”
Perfect
. “Is the television feed coming out of there still live?”
“A television feed. In a fallout shelter.
Really
?”
“They had televisions in those days,” Rafe assured him.
“I know. With three whole channels.” Darren’s voice smirked.
“You’re a spoiled brat,” Rafe said mildly. “The TV cable went to the antenna on the roof, right? Although who they thought would be broadcasting if the atomic bomb dropped, I don’t know.”
Darren got serious again. “Okay, I can’t tell if the feed is live. I’d have to have something that worked on both ends of the cable to tell. And if there’s a TV in that fallout shelter, it’s no longer functioning.”
“Probably the tubes are dead.”
“Sure.” Darren obviously didn’t have a clue.
“Where does the wire go up?” Rafe tried to remember the way the shelter sat in relationship to the rooms above. “Up the wall in the fallout shelter and into the . . . ?”
“Into the main electrical center.”
“Perfect.” Rafe’s luck had turned. “I can tap into that easily enough.”
Darren’s voice grew speculative. “Is that why the electrical center is there? Because the shelter is below?”
“More likely the shelter is there because the electrical center was above.” For the first time in this crappy investigation, Rafe had caught a break—and his plan could work.
Still eager, Darren said, “The whole basement is cool. You could hide a body down there.”
“You could hide a lot of things down there.” Which was why the location was ideal. “I want you to check for something else.”
“Sure. I’ve got the map right here.” Darren’s enthusiasm was contagious.
Rafe felt his hopes rising. “Most of the corridors terminate in a bare wall, but the one with the fallout shelter on one extremity terminates with a locked door on the other.”
“Right. Behind that is a big square room.” Darren was typing. “I’m giving Scuffy the heads-up.”
“That room,” Rafe said, “is where the family hid their wines during Prohibition.”
“Cool.” Darren sounded pleased to know that the Di Lucas, too, had flouted the law.
“I need to know if there are security cameras in that area, and if they’re compromised.”
“All the cameras are compromised. But wait a second; I’m having Scuffy check—yes! You’ve got a nice array there. He’s sending me the feed, and if I’m looking at the right place, there are wine racks but not many bottles stashed there. Mostly there are some really big-ass old wine barrels. I mean really big.”
“That’s the place.” Rafe went to sit on the back porch steps. “Are there microphones in there?”
“No. No microphones down below at all.”
“Better and better. That’s what I needed. Thanks, Darren.” Rafe started to hang up, then remembered and asked, “Have you had any luck regaining control of the security program?”
“I’ve got twenty-four hours,” Darren reminded him.
“Don’t worry. We’ll wrap this up tonight.” Rafe hung up, dug out his own phone, and called Noah. “Hey, bro.”
“Bro?” Noah snorted. “Since when do you call me—”
“I’m worried about that special bottle we were talking about.” Rafe figured Noah was going to catch on fast. “Is it still in the same place?”
“That special bottle . . .” Rafe heard the moment Noah snapped to attention. “As far as I know, it is. You worried about it? You think they found it?”
This
conversation should command MH’s attention. Rafe hoped his eyes were bugging out of his ugly, treacherous head.
“I’m up at Nonna’s now,” Rafe said. “I’m coming down, and we need to check on it.”
“Right. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”
“I’ll be there right away.” Rafe hung up, satisfied for the first time in days.
Eli had demanded the situation be fixed by the time he came back.
Rafe had the matter well in hand.
He entered the kitchen, calling for Nonna and Brooke.
Brooke rushed down the hall toward him, her finger on her lips. “She’s asleep.”
In dismay, he said, “I’ve got to go back.”
“More problems?” Brooke’s blue eyes grew wide.
“The problems we have are enough, don’t you think?” It wasn’t an answer.
But she didn’t notice. “Is there anything I can help with?”
God forbid.
“Not this time, Brooke. As Eli pointed out, I made the mess. I had better clean it up.” He touched her cheek with his fingertip. When this was over, the two of them were going to have a long talk about the past, the present, the future. . . .The thought of long talks, especially with Brooke, made him queasy. But not talking damned sure wasn’t working either, and Mrs. Petersson’s biting criticism echoed in his mind.
What kind of relationship do you have that you don’t talk to her about your job? About what matters to you? About your plans?
So he’d bite the bullet and have a conversation . . . later.
For now, he needed to tell her one important fact. “The reason Darren called on your phone is because mine has been hacked.”
“What?” She glared at him as if she blamed him. “Hacked? How?”
“The same way the security cameras were hacked. So listen carefully. If you need me in the next few hours, I’m meeting with Noah. Call him—and be careful what you say.”
“Right. Sure. Because your phone is hacked.” She sounded incredulous.
“Exactly. I’m going to send Bao out here to join you.” He made the call on her phone. “If you see a guy lurking outside, it’s the guard I set on the house. His name’s Alden. He’s got brown hair and he looks like he had a good time at the beach, because he’s got one hell of a sunburn. Until Bao arrives, if you see anyone else—
anyone else—
hanging around, you call nine-one-one and scream your head off.”
“I will,” she promised.
“If at any point in the rest of the day you’re in trouble or think you’re in trouble or smell trouble, call nine-one-one.”
“And scream my head off?”
“Yes.”
She glanced toward the bedroom where Nonna was sleeping. “Rafe, you’re scaring me. I mean . . . scaring me more.”
“I don’t think you need to be scared. I think you need to be cautious.” He pulled the keys out of his pocket. “Hang on. In the next few hours there’ll be some big changes and this will all be over.” He gestured toward the front door. “When Nonna wakes up, get a car from the resort.”
“I’ll make sure she gets back to rehab . . . although not on time for her next session. I’ll call them and cancel all her appointments.” Brooke removed her phone from his hand.
“Okay.” Pulling her toward him, he held her tightly, relishing her warm vitality. “I don’t want to lose you now.” Letting her go, he walked out to the Mustang and drove away.
W
hen Rafe got back to Bella Terra Resort, he went first to his cottage and picked up the tools he needed, then to the electrical room where he located the antenna cable coming up from the fallout shelter. With a flashlight held between his teeth, he cut the power to the main building—alarms sounded everywhere—and with a few quick slashes he cut and spliced a transmitter onto the cable. He flipped the power back on and scooted out before the on-site electricians arrived to check out the problem.
He hoped to hell the outage had done something awful to Mystery Hacker. Given him a shock to the ass if nothing else.
In the lobby, Rafe found Noah behind the concierge desk, showing someone Rafe did not recognize the tourist maps and literature.
Glancing up, Noah made eye contact with Rafe and gestured him over. He spoke to the concierge-in-training for a few more minutes, then told the well-groomed young man, “If you have any questions, Robert, you can ask the desk staff. They know the drill, too.”
“Thank you, Mr. Di Luca. I’ll do that.”
“Hang on a minute, Rafe. Let me give the floor manager a heads-up that I’m leaving Robert on his own.” Noah walked away.
Robert turned to Rafe. “Excuse me, are you Rafe Di Luca?”
“Yes.”
“Someone left this for you.” Robert handed him a black, scuffed, padded flat case zipped on two sides.
Rafe eyed it in puzzlement.
“I think it’s an e-reader,” Robert said.
“Oh!” Rafe considered Robert.
This young man looked as if he were in college . . . a church college. He wore a dark suit, white shirt, and blue tie, his hair was cut conservatively, and his blue eyes were calm and focused.
“What’s your name again?” Rafe asked.
“You might know me as Cepheus.” Robert didn’t blink. “I hope you enjoy using the e-reader. I certainly enjoy mine. I especially like viewing mystery-feed video on it.”
Robert was Cepheus? He didn’t even wear glasses, and he had a tan, so obviously he spent time outside in the sun.
Wow. A hacker who didn’t live in his parents’ basement. Who knew?
Noah rejoined Rafe and grimly said, “So many guests have checked out, it’s a good time to train a new concierge—especially with Victor sitting in jail.”
Rafe led the way out of the lobby and down the hall toward Noah’s office. “Victor hasn’t confessed, has he?” Rafe asked.
“No, he says he left the bar about fifteen minutes after he went in, but he has no alibi. Nobody believes he did it, though.”
Remembering the distinguished South American, knowing the trust Brooke had put in him, Rafe didn’t believe it, either. “If he had, it would be damned stupid to be the one to report the damage.”
“Right. But why not tell us where he was and what he was doing?”
“I don’t know. It would save everyone a lot of trouble. But nothing about this case has been easy.” Rafe checked his old phone, then unzipped the e-reader case and checked the new one.
C’mon, Team Kyrgyzstan
.
Noah smirked at Rafe. “So,
bro
, what are we doing?”
“Remember when the three of us were kids and played hide-and-seek in the wine cellar?”
“Yeah.” Noah sounded cautious.
“Remember when you hid in the big old wine barrel and we couldn’t find you, so we turned off the lights and locked the door?”
“Remember? How could I forget? You little assholes. I’m still scarred.”
“You were always dumping us to go look up some little girl’s dress. We thought you had sneaked away again.”
“Finding the light switch was the best moment of my life.”
“The best moment? Even including getting laid the first time?”
“Well . . . maybe not the best moment.” Noah opened the door to his office, then blocked the entrance. “Are you just tormenting me, or we headed anywhere with this?”
“Tormenting you for sure. But get the keys and come with me. We’re going down.” Rafe pointed toward the floor.
“The basement? Really?” Noah looked Rafe over, noting the dark sports coat and pressed blue shirt. “You’re kind of snazzy for a visit to the underworld.”
“After last night, I’ve taken to carrying a gun all the time, and I like that holster hidden. Plus, this jacket is tailor-made for me, with a few extra pockets for the equipment I have stashed.”
“You are looking a little lumpy.” Noah dug in his desk drawer and extricated a large, old-fashioned iron key. “But I thought you’d just eaten too many of Chef’s desserts.”