Forbidden Legacy Page 10

  Sometimes silence spoke louder than words.

  *****

  The young man stood in the dark hallway, watching Jonathan as he bent over his desk. He’d done it. He’d broken the man, fooled him. It had taken very little to convince the older man his intentions were good, that he wanted to forge a relationship.

  Jonathan looked almost happy as he perused some documents from work, humming to himself as he read them. He’d knocked on the door earlier and introduced himself as Jonathan’s son. Once he’d shown the foolish old man the picture of his mother holding him when he was just a baby, Jonathan had invited him in and accepted his story at face value. Jonathan had even remarked about how much the young man looked like his mother. It had taken all of his strength to school his features and not kill the man for that insult.

  But he’d held steady, stuck to the plan. He’d told his father about his desire to pursue a career in computers, shared how he’d landed a prestigious internship working with Damon Corzo. About his acceptance into Harvard and how the letter had come from Harrison Adams, even though he hadn’t applied to the school.

  His father’s eyes had lit up as he’d continued to drop names and then Jonathan had given him everything. The means to destroy his enemy, to vanquish them all.

  The Trinity Masters. The name echoed over and over in his head, along with all the other details. Triads. The Boston Public Library. Power. Prestige. Money. And Harrison Adams was at the helm of it all, the Grand Master.

  Jonathan’s grief had weakened him, left him ripe fruit for the picking. He suspected his father would never have revealed so many details about the secret society if he hadn’t been so depressed and lonely. Jonathan was convinced that the Trinity Masters was obviously meant to be his legacy and he rejoiced over having a son, someone to share the rest of his life with.

  Jonathan insisted that he would be welcomed into the membership with open arms.

  The young man smiled. Victory was at hand. All the players were in place and the secret was his.

  Time to tip the first domino and watch them all fall down.

  Chapter Seven

  Harrison rubbed his forehead, trying to ward off the coming headache as he perused the pages before him. For several months, he’d wondered if the identity of the villain after him and the Trinity Masters could be found in the file of undecipherable messages left behind by his father. Harrison had spent countless hours trying with very little success to read the shaky writing. Some of it looked like nothing more than the scribbles of a toddler. He’d been tempted to show the papers to Michael, in hopes his friend could work out some of the words defeating him, but given the sensitive nature of the documents, he’d resisted.

  His perseverance as he’d tried to chisel through the mysteries held within the file had paid off to some extent. When Harrison had first started working on the file, it had contained nearly fifty pages. Now, there were less than a dozen. And some of those were partially decoded.

  In fact, he’d acted on a few of the things required of the Grand Master even though he didn’t know why he was doing so. He’d given a substantial sum of money to an orphanage in Brazil, he’d worked to disbar a judge in San Diego and he’d offered a full ride to Harvard to a teenager in Los Angeles. All because he’d been able to read those tasks on the pages in the file. What he couldn’t read was why he was doing those things. It was frustrating, maddening.

  And what bothered him most was wondering if there were other duties that needed to be performed he didn’t know about. What if someone needed what he was unintentionally withholding?

  He glanced up from the paperwork when he heard the knock on his door. Tasha Kasharin was punctual as always.

  “Enter.”

  Tasha strode into his office and took the seat across from him. She was an exception amongst the Trinity Masters because she knew his true identity, understood his role as Grand Master even though she wasn’t a senior member. The daughter of Russian spies, Tasha had turned herself in at the age of twelve to the CIA and spent her high school years as a double agent, reporting on her own parents’ activities. She’d been instrumental in helping him squash the blackmailing scheme involving Damon and Marco.

  It bothered Harrison to have to call on her for assistance once again because he’d hoped to allow her a chance at a normal life with her new husbands.

  “Did you have a chance to look at the accident scene?”

  Tasha nodded. “I did. I also obtained the Boston PD’s accident report. If you have control over the police department, demand that they improve the quality of their reports. The officer on this case provided only a sparse number of details. And misspelled six words.”

  Harrison grinned. “I’ll speak to someone about that.”

  Tasha appeared satisfied. “Unfortunately, police impound is overfull, so the car has already been disposed of. It’s nothing but scrap metal now. It would have made my job easier if I could have seen it too.”

  “But you said on the phone you had important information.”

  Tasha had always been lean and trim, but she held a sort of easy confidence that was new. Before being matched with her trinity, she’d been like a caged animal. But now passersby on the street would look at her and recognize her strength, her confidence—and possibly her face since she was a fashion model, a role she’d taken as cover while working on the blackmail case, which she’d had to make permanent. “Jonathan is correct. The frame of the car is designed to withstand tremendous force, but this one was torn apart. Damage to the tree and surrounding area indicates that the fire burned very, very hot.”

  “I assume an exploding car would be hot.”

  “Cars don’t explode when they crash into trees. At least not high-end cars like that one. They catch fire, but the fire is usually contained to the engine.”

  “So why did this one explode? And why did the fire spread and get so hot?”

  “Water boils at one hundred degrees Celsius, a candle is anywhere from seven-fifty to a thousand. Napalm burns at over five thousand and would explain the localized burned areas around the car.”

  Harrison reared back. “Napalm.”

  Tasha shrugged. “It’s not what I would have used, but it’s easy to make, and a good idea for a car because if it was placed right it would ignite on impact, no need for an ignition device.”

  Harrison was pissed off at himself for not thinking to look into the car accident right after it occurred. At the time, he’d had no reason to believe it was anything more than an unfortunate incident. However, given everything that had happened in the past year, he should have suspected more. He was letting too many clues, too many details slip by unnoticed. “So you think someone rigged it so that the car would catch fire upon impact? Even if that’s true, there’s no indication there was another vehicle on the road.”

  “There are more devices connected to the Internet than there are people on the planet.”

  Harrison rubbed his jaw wearily. He’d been averaging four or five restless hours of sleep a night for months. It had him on edge and his patience was at an all-time low. “Is there some point to this lecture on modern-day technology, Ms. Kasharin?”

  Tasha uncrossed her legs and placed her hands on the armrests, going from relaxed to dangerous in less than a breath. “I thought you wanted this information, Grand Master.”

  He raised his hand. “I apologize. Please continue.”

  Tasha hesitated for only a moment. “I think someone remotely disabled the car’s computer. They were going around a corner.” She shrugged again. “They fly off the road, hit the tree and the bomb in the engine compartment goes off.”

  “Is that possible?”

  “In theory, yes. Practically, I would have said no. However, the only thing in the police report that was actually useful was the notation the officer made about the skid marks. There weren’t any.”

  Harrison was confused. “What do you mean?”

  “If I’m right and someone managed to co
mpletely shut down the car’s control system, the driver wouldn’t have been able to brake or steer. That would explain why there are no skid marks. Normal people jerk the wheel and brake if they see that they’re about to veer off the road. It’s the wrong response, but nine times out of ten, that’s what drivers do. There was no indication on the road or in the grass leading up to where they struck the tree that they ever braked or turned the wheel. It was as if both of those features failed.”

  “It could indicate mechanical failure. And again, make it an accident.”

  “Except for the fire,” Tasha interjected. “And this.”

  Tasha opened a folder she’d carried in with her and laid it on Harrison’s desk.

  He sucked in a breath, astonished. “Where did you get this?”

  “I took this picture yesterday. When I was at the accident site.”

  There, chiseled on the charred bark of the damaged tree, was a perfect replica of the Trinity Masters’ symbol. Three ornate triangles interspersed with a Celtic knot had been painstakingly carved on the tree. Harrison had seen it far too many times in the past few months. The red flag had been waved and the bull was charging.

  Jonathan was right. Janet and Sylvia had been killed.

  “Maybe Jonathan went back after the accident and chiseled it there as a tribute,” Tasha suggested. “You said he’s grief stricken. Maybe he wasn’t thinking clearly and he thought—”

  Harrison shook his head. Price had arranged for a couple of men from his security team to watch Jonathan since the funeral. Harrison had been given a daily accounting of the man’s whereabouts. Jonathan hadn’t been back to the accident site. “No. I don’t believe Jonathan did that.”

  “Then who?” Tasha asked. The second the question passed her lips, a light of recognition dawned. “He’s back?”

  Harrison had allowed her to believe that the blackmailer had given up. Had told her the man had been silent since his scheme to destroy Damon and Marco had failed. As far as Tasha knew, the blackmailer had vanished, tucked his tail between his legs when his plan backfired and scampered off into the night.

  Harrison had lied to her because he knew her. If Tasha thought the Trinity Masters was in serious danger, she would put herself between the whole organization and the villain, taking the bullet for them. “You’ve done well, Tasha. Thank you. I hope I didn’t drag you away from anything important at home.”

  Tasha narrowed her eyes, unhappy with his refusal to answer her. “Marco is playing with the Boston Symphony this weekend. He set his tour dates to coincide with the Trinity Masters’ gala. Damon is coming out to join us under the guise of attending the show. I have time and will look into—”

  “That won’t be necessary, Tasha. I have other people in place who are ready to handle this. I’m not putting you in the line of fire again.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. You’ve performed the task I assigned you beautifully. I don’t need anything else from you.”

  Tasha sighed and stood. “If that situation changes, if anything happens and you need help…”

  “You’re the first person I’ll call.” Harrison hoped he didn’t have to follow through on that reassurance. Tasha had spent too much of her life wallowing in death and misery. He wanted her to have a life away from all of that.

  He walked her to the door and shook her hand as she turned to leave. “I’ll see you at the gala.”

  She nodded. “If you want tickets to the symphony, tell me, though I hear last time Marco Polin played here there was a tragedy in the lobby afterward.” She winked.

  He smiled and they said their goodbyes. Harrison closed the door, his mind whirling over the implications of Tasha’s find.

  He returned to his desk and picked up his cell, clicking on his contacts until he found Price’s number.

  Price answered the phone on the first ring. “Grand Master.”

  “Price, I need you and Gunner to head over to the church and look around.”

  “What are we looking for?”

  Harrison studied the picture of the Trinity Masters’ symbol in the tree. “Anything that might tie the Trinity Masters to the fire.”

  Price hesitated. “Tie us to it? What am I looking for?”

  “You’ll know when you see it.” Harrison realized his directions were vague at best, but he didn’t want to alarm Price about the symbol on the tree or the others that had been left around town for Harrison to find. He almost hoped Tasha had been correct and someone with the organization had chosen an ill-advised way to pay tribute to Janet and Sylvia.

  Price grumbled about Harrison’s obscure request, but he said they would go immediately.

  “Thank you, Price. Call me if you find anything.”

  Price’s noncommittal, “Mmm hmm,” told Harrison his friend didn’t anticipate finding a damn thing. Harrison hoped that was true.

  Harrison clicked end and put the phone down. He reached once more for Tasha’s photo and picked up another file from his desk. Opening it, he flipped through the pages, studying all the information he’d worked to gather over the past year. Everything he knew in regards to the blackmailer was contained in the file, and sadly it held precious little.

  He added the photo of the tree and closed it. A glance at the clock told him he needed to head out soon if he was going to be on time for his date with Alexis and Michael.

  He shut down his computer and then set the silent alarm in his office.

  Sighing heavily, he picked up his phone and car keys. Somehow he needed to find a way to switch off his anxiety before he reached the restaurant. Otherwise Michael and Alexis would pick up on it and he’d be faced with too many questions he couldn’t answer.

  *****

  Michael escorted Alexis to their table. He hadn’t spoken to her today at work, both of them bogged down with too many tasks. They’d left her car at the hospital and traveled to the restaurant together.

  Harrison had just texted to say he was running a few minutes late and they should go ahead and order drinks without him. The text was the only contact he’d had with Harrison since their meeting yesterday morning. Michael was still angry, despite Alexis’s reassurance that Harrison would call on him for help if he needed it.

  The waiter appeared after they’d taken their seats. Alexis ordered a white wine and Michael asked for two Grey Goose Vodka tonics—one for him and one for Harrison.

  Alexis rubbed her neck, trying to work out the kinks.

  “Rough day?”

  She lifted one shoulder. “I’ve had better. I had to tell a mother that her daughter has a brain tumor. Molly is only three years old.”

  Michael shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it day after day.”

  She gave him a tired grin. “I’m a glutton for punishment.”

  “No. That’s not it. You’re an amazing doctor. You not only know how to heal the human body, you’re compassionate and kind. Sometimes I think you comfort your patients with your reassuring words as much as your hands.”

  Alexis closed her eyes briefly, trying to hide how much she was hurting. “I wish that were the case. I appreciate your faith in me, but the truth is I’m at the mercy of modern medicine. Sometimes it’s not enough.”

  It took all the willpower Michael possessed not to lean forward and kiss her, wishing there was some way he could erase the pain in her eyes. Though they were out of the hospital, they’d both agreed discretion was important. They hadn’t delved into what would happen at the end of the month, though Michael suspected that conversation needed to occur sooner rather than later. If Alexis agreed to join the Trinity Masters, they would have to figure out how to live as a triad while creating the illusion of a couple with a good friend.

  Given his position as her boss, Michael suspected he would be the plus one, and he was fine with that. He’d grown up surrounded by well-adjusted, happy threesomes. He understood the story projected to the world was a far cry from what happened behind closed doors.

 
He and Harrison had actually been working toward their happy ending for several years, even though neither of them had come out and said as much. Harrison had purchased a penthouse apartment in a high security building in the heart of the city nearly a decade earlier. Visitors had to be buzzed up or know the elevator code to reach his floor.

  When the other penthouse on his floor had become available a couple of years ago, Harrison had suggested Michael purchase it. Since then, they’d lived as neighbors, but Michael knew the doors between their apartments would remain open once they took a wife. The two spacious apartments would make a safe, happy home for their family.

  Harrison arrived just as the waiter put their drinks on the table. “I hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  Alexis shook her head. “Nope. We’ve only been here a few minutes.” She leaned forward and accepted the quick kiss Harrison placed on her cheek.

  Harrison smiled at her. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”

  Alexis studied Harrison’s face, and Michael knew she was seeing the same thing he was. Though Harrison was putting on a good front, there were tight lines by his eyes and mouth that betrayed stress. “Are you okay?”

  Harrison nodded, feigning nonchalance as he picked up the menu. “Of course I am. Just spent the day in mind-numbing meetings at the university. It’s good to be out of the dreary conference room and back in the real world.”

  Michael let the lie pass unchallenged even though he knew Harrison had spent at least part of the afternoon at the Trinity Masters’ headquarters. He’d seen Harrison’s car parked outside the Boston Public Library during his lunch break. It had still been there an hour later when Michael had returned to the hospital.

  They exchanged pleasantries after the waiter took their order, sharing little stories about their day. Michael was surprised by how easily the conversation flowed between them given the undeniable undercurrents of Harrison’s secrecy, the stress of where this relationship was leading and even the sexual tension.