Buch lesen: «Enticing The Dragon»

Chapter 1

It didn’t matter how many ways Hollie Brennan looked at the information on her laptop screen—the same pattern emerged every time. Only too aware of the problems the evidence posed, she had reviewed it over and over. Her faith in the computer program should have been absolute. She had been the person to devise it, and she had done it with just this sort of scenario in mind. It was used by fire investigators all over the country. Now she was doubting the information it was giving her. Instead of trusting it, she had gone back to basics. As she drank her early-morning coffee, the table in her small apartment was littered with maps, scribbled notes and scrawled diagrams.

She had even woken with a start at three in the morning, tearing herself away from her dreams of enchantment and mystery, before jumping out of bed to double-check one of the locations. But no. She had been right all along...which meant, no matter how crazy it sounded, she had to take this to her boss.

You have to listen to what the data is telling you, even if it appears bizarre. It was part of her introductory talk to trainee fire investigators. On this occasion, she was finding it increasingly difficult to take her own advice.

The streets were clear as she drove toward the office. This was one advantage of being up and about so early. She was half listening to the radio, her mind tuning in and out of the news stories, when the first bars of a rock ballad caught her full attention. It was the latest release from Beast, one of the biggest bands in the world. It was also, on this particular morning, the ultimate irony. After listening for a few moments, Hollie switched the radio off.

On arriving at the office, she was pleased to see her boss’s car was already in its designated parking space. There was a joke among the agents at the Newark Division of the FBI that, since no one ever saw her come or go, Assistant Special Agent-in-Charge Melissa McLain might actually spend the night there.

Hollie didn’t subscribe to the same view as her colleagues. ASAC McLain was a professional, but she wasn’t an automaton. Maybe it was because of Hollie’s unique role within the Bureau, but she had been granted occasional glances beneath the steely mask. They had even, now and then, gone out and gotten mildly tipsy together. No, McLain was human, and she was mightily pissed about their inability to catch one of the most prolific and deadly arsonists to come the Bureau’s way.

On reaching the third floor, Hollie knocked on McLain’s office door and waited for the abrupt instruction to enter.

“I come bearing caffeine.” She held up the carton from her boss’s favorite coffee shop. She knew from experience that stopping on the way into work to purchase the strongest, largest espresso worked well in two ways. It softened McLain’s mood slightly, and it meant she was forced to look up from her desk and focus on Hollie while they talked.

“It’s never good if you have to bribe me.” McLain removed the lid from the carton and closed her eyes as she inhaled.

“Not only is it not good—” Hollie sighed as she sipped her peppermint tea; the coffee had been tempting, but she needed a clear head for this conversation “—it’s so weird I don’t know where to start.”

“How about the beginning?” McLain’s direct gaze didn’t allow for hesitation.

Okay. Deep breath. “You know I like rock music?”

A corner of McLain’s mouth lifted. “I’m more of a classical fan myself, but I won’t hold your musical preferences against you. Is this going anywhere?”

“Bear with me. About a week ago, I was looking at dates, hoping to get a ticket for Beast’s next tour. They’re like gold dust.” The facts. Stick with the facts. “Anyway, there was a sidebar on the webpage, showing all the places they’d toured in the last few years. And it got my attention.”

“Because?”

Hollie reached for her file of paperwork. “Because, in the last four years, the places Beast has toured are the towns the Incinerator has targeted. Our random arsonist is not so random, after all.”

McLain’s brows snapped together. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You’re saying our arsonist set his fires in the same towns that this rock band tours? Does he do it at the same time?”

“Typically, the fires take place the day after a Beast concert. Sometimes two days,” Hollie said. “But there’s more. Once I found the link, I did some checking into Beast’s international tours. Guess what?”

McLain took a gulp of her coffee, some of her customary poise deserting her. “Our guy has a passport?”

“It looks that way. In the four years we have been hunting the Incinerator, Beast has traveled to Europe, Australia and Asia. I checked with the police in each of those countries, and during each Beast tour, there were classic Incinerator fires in every location. Generally, the intervals between the international concerts and the fires were longer. Often they were weeks apart. But they always happened.”

“Damn.”

Hollie took her maps out of her file and placed them on the desk. “There’s a problem.”

“No, don’t give me problems.” McLain groaned. “Not when you’ve just given me the closest thing we’ve ever had to a breakthrough in this damn case.”

Hollie pointed to the two maps. “This is a map showing the location of every Incinerator fire. This one shows every place Beast has toured. The two match up every time...except for recently.” She pulled in a breath. Now for the hard part. “The last three Incinerator fires were set in towns that were not the location of a Beast tour.”

McLain muttered a curse under her breath. “Why have you brought me this if you’ve already disproved your own theory?”

“Because there is another link.” Hollie drew her electronic tablet from its case. “I reasoned that the Beast link was too strong to be overlooked.” She brought an image of the band up on the screen. “This guy is the lead singer, Khan. He got married recently and the birth of his baby daughter twelve months ago coincided with the band’s decision to take a break from touring. During that time, the other members of the group have done some solo projects.”

Sensing McLain’s impatience, she played a brief recording of the group. On the screen, dense smoke rolled like fog from the stage. Within it, colored strobe lights danced in time with the drumbeat. Giant LED screens at the rear of the stage projected alternating images of roaring fire, close-ups of snarling animals and Beast’s logo, a stylized symbol resembling three entwined number sixes. At the side of the stage, explosions went off at random intervals, shooting orange flames high into the night sky.

Beast was a fire-storming force of nature, but McLain appeared unimpressed. “Why do I need to see this?”

“I want you to look at this guy.” Hollie zoomed in on the front of the stage. Tall and muscular with his dark red hair drawn back into a ponytail, the man she indicated was all burning drama and flickering movement. Even on a screen, it was clear that the air around him sizzled into life as he timed the sweeping arc of his hand on the guitar to the explosions at the side of the stage. As they watched, he gestured in the manner of a conjurer, igniting a flickering blue blaze along the front of the stage.

“Looks like he enjoys playing with fire. Who is he?”

Hollie ended the recording. “Torque. Lead guitar.”

The reason I wanted that Beast ticket. It was hard to explain her feelings about a man she had never met. Luckily, she didn’t think McLain would require the additional information.

“You can match him to the other three Incinerator locations?”

Hollie nodded, withdrawing a third map from her file. “I tracked each individual member of Beast to find out what they have been doing during the past twelve months. Torque did a solo tour of small venues around the Midwest. We wondered why the Incinerator had changed his targets from big cities to small towns? It’s because Torque did.”

McLain leaned back in her chair, gazing at the ceiling for a moment or two. “You know what this means?”

Hollie nodded miserably. She was one step ahead of McLain. She’d already made the connection her boss was about to voice.

“We either have a crazed fan who is setting these fires as a tribute to his favorite, fiery rock star...”

“Or Torque is the Incinerator.”

* * *

There were things Torque missed about touring with Beast. He enjoyed traveling. Since distance was meaningless to him, he particularly relished journeying across continents and oceans, although he found conventional means of reaching his destination restrictive. After twelve months of seeing his bandmates only occasionally, he could honestly say he was missing them. Even though they could collectively, and individually, bring him to a point where it felt like his head was about to explode, they were his friends. Too much alpha-maleness in one place was usually the problem. On their tour bus Beast was a cocktail of testosterone and shifter genes that meant one wrong look, or a word out of place, and the vehicle was in a constant state of near combustion.

Strangely, it was Torque, the fieriest member of the group when performing, who often acted as the peacemaker offstage. Alongside Ged Taverner, their manager, Torque could defuse a situation with his calm manner and quiet good humor. When Khan, the lead singer, and Diablo, the drummer, were engaged in one of their snarling exchanges, most people stood back. Torque was the one who got between them and made them back down. That was probably something to do with shifter hierarchy.

There were plenty of things he didn’t miss about being on the road. Torque hated being at the mercy of someone else’s schedule, and touring felt like the ultimate restriction on his freedom. Food was always a problem when the band was on tour, both in terms of quality and quantity. Torque ate meat, and plenty of it. Well-done red meat. Everywhere he went, it was the same story. It didn’t matter what country he was in, or what the establishment was. There was always an assumption that he would want salad, or bread, or some other trimming. The only accompaniment he wanted with his meat was more meat. Flame-grilled until it was black. No one ever understood that.

The other disadvantage to touring was the lack of privacy. There had been a time in the past when confidentiality wasn’t an issue, when finding wide-open spaces away from prying eyes was easier. Now, of course, technology presented its own set of problems, taking surveillance to a whole new level. It meant he had to constantly stay one step ahead. But Torque was an expert at keeping secrets. He had been doing it for a very long time.

Unlike some of his bandmates, Torque had no problem with the rock-star lifestyle. Late nights? Parties? Groupies? He could handle anything fame threw his way. Yes, there were aspects of his life he didn’t care to share with his fans, but he had learned how to strike a balance. And having billions of dollars at his disposal...well, that helped him maintain the life he wanted. It helped a lot.

He thought about that as he stood at the edge of his private beach, looking out across Pleasant Bay. When they weren’t touring, the other members of Beast were based in New York, close to their recording studio. Torque owned an apartment in Manhattan, but this was his home. It had nothing to do with the celebrity lifestyle and everything to do with his personal needs. He didn’t want glamour. This tucked-away, luxury Maine property had a perfect addition for anyone seeking the sort of isolation Torque needed. From where he was standing now, he could just about see the outline of his own secluded island.

Maybe it was thinking about his bandmates that had done it, but he was feeling restless. Having his own retreat was all very well. It was here when he needed it, but on this particular evening, his need for company was stronger than the desire for solitude. It was a short walk into the town of Addison, and the regulars in the Pleasant Bay Bar didn’t get starstruck by the presence of one of the world’s most famous men. A few were fans and asked about tours and forthcoming albums. Others clearly had no idea who he was...and didn’t care. Torque found this as refreshing as the beer.

The route from his house into town was one of his favorite walks. The dramatic coastline, with its craggy rocks and wild waves, was on one side and soaring pine forests on the other. It was a landscape from another time, making Torque think of days gone by. Of knights and maidens and heroic deeds. When humans looked beyond the veil of possibility and believed in magic.

It was still early and the Pleasant Bay Bar was quiet. The contrast as he walked from sunlight into shade made him blink. His eyes were extraordinarily sensitive, but they took a moment to adjust. The background music was a country ballad—definitely not one of ours—that suited his mood. Yes, this had been a good idea.

A couple of regulars were engrossed in a card game and didn’t look up as Torque approached the bar. Another guy, whose name he couldn’t remember, nodded a greeting. A few others didn’t even turn their heads. Since there was no sign of Doug, the bartender, Torque leaned on the bar, content to enjoy the atmosphere. It was the complete opposite of many of the places he visited with Beast, lacking the crowds, the noise level, the darkened corners and gimmicks. Torque’s moods were mercurial, but right now laid-back and quaint was what suited him.

Doug appeared from the storeroom at the back. “That’s about it.” The words were addressed over his shoulder to the woman who followed him.

As she emerged fully from the room and Torque got a good look at her, he had the feeling of time standing still. Dressed casually in jeans and a white linen blouse, she was of average height and slender build...and everything about her took his breath away. She had thick golden hair that bounced on her shoulders, an impudent, button nose and full ruby-red lips. Aware that he was staring, and that his interest was being returned by a pair of huge emerald-green eyes, he roused himself from his trance.

“Hi, Doug.” He winced at a greeting that felt lame, mainly because he hadn’t withdrawn his gaze from the bartender’s companion.

Doug didn’t seem to notice. “The usual?” He held up a tankard and Torque nodded. “Did I tell you I’m finally taking that leave of absence so I can go traveling? This is my replacement...”

The woman at Doug’s side gave Torque a shy smile. It made him want to leap across the bar to get closer to her.

“Hi, I’m Hollie Br...” She caught her breath, bringing a hand up to her throat with a nervous laugh. “I’m sorry. I’ve been a fan of yours forever. That’s why I can’t even remember my own name. I’m Hollie Brown.”

* * *

That’s why I can’t even remember my own name? Ten minutes later and Hollie could still feel the blush burning her cheeks. How to blow her cover before she even got started. One look from Torque’s unusual eyes and she had almost blurted out her real name. Not that he appeared to have noticed. He was still glancing her way every now and then, but the looks he was giving her didn’t seem suspicious.

He seemed... Now that she gave it some thought, she wasn’t sure how he seemed. Bemused? That might explain the tiny crease at the corner of his mouth when he stared at her. Nervous? How was that even possible? This was a man used to performing before thousands, even tens of thousands, of adoring fans. What was there about this situation that could possibly make him experience the same fumbling awkwardness she was feeling? Even so, his hand shook ever so slightly as he raised his glass to his lips. Most of all, Torque’s expression was that of a man about to step over a boundary into the unknown. It was fear and excitement in equal measures.

Was it possible she was projecting her own emotions at this first meeting on to him? When she told him she had been a fan forever, it was the truth. Her love of Beast had always centered on Torque. For someone as grounded as Hollie, her adoration of a rock star had always been a slight annoyance to her. It almost felt out of character, like something she should have been above. And that starstruck sensation when she had gone to their concerts and seen him onstage? So not me. Even though he had been a speck in the distance, the pull of attraction had been so strong it had brought tears to her eyes.

To come face-to-face with her idol in these circumstances was the ultimate irony. To feel that same attraction up close, while under pressure to do her job...no wonder she was having trouble thinking straight. As she performed the routine tasks behind the bar under Doug’s supervision, her stomach was churning and her hands were clammy.

Hollie had never worked undercover, and once McLain had decided to place Torque under surveillance, things had moved fast. Checking out the area around his home, local agents had come back with information that the owner of Torque’s favorite bar was a former cop. If they could get someone in there, right up close to their target, just for a few days... Someone who could observe a celebrity rock star without arousing his suspicion...

“Have you ever worked in a bar?” McLain’s sharp eyes had narrowed as she studied Hollie’s face.

“I had a summer job when I was studying...” She had caught the trend of her chief’s thoughts and trailed off. “No way.” Blatant insubordination was not her style, but this was out-and-out crazy. “You need an experienced undercover agent.”

“I need someone who knows the Incinerator. You’ve worked this case from the start, Hollie.” Things were serious when McLain used her first name. “You understand everything about our fire starter.” McLain had flipped over a sheet of paper. “This John ‘Torque’ Jones. You also know about him. This is highly sensitive. If we screw this up, the press will be screaming harassment of a superstar and the Incinerator case will become public property. No one else can replicate your intuition about this. I want you to get up close to Torque and find out if there’s a chance he’s our guy.”

Get up close to Torque? Hollie was twenty-eight years old, but that instruction still made her heart rate soar as if she were nineteen and attending her first Beast concert. She told herself those words had nothing to do with why she was here. She was a professional. Catching the deadly arsonist whose trail of destruction had led to billions of dollars’ worth of damage and more than twenty deaths was all that mattered. That was why she had agreed to McLain’s request. For the next few weeks, she wasn’t Agent Hollie Brennan, Chief Fire Investigator. Instead, she was Hollie Brown, bartender.

As she felt Torque’s eyes following her, she thought back to her eighteen-year-old self. How often had she gazed at the image on the cover of Fire and Fury, Beast’s most successful album? It depicted the band in evening dress, all of them looking glamorous as hell and slightly debauched, as though the shot had been taken the morning after a heavy night. While the others were pictured leaning against a whitewashed wall, bow ties hanging loose and hands thrust into dinner jacket pockets, it was always Torque who drew her gaze.

In the picture, he was apart from his bandmates, half sitting, half lying on a set of stone steps. With his flame-red hair tossed over one shoulder, bronzed skin tones and long legs encased in daringly tight black pants, he could have been a fashion model. The black top hat he wore was tilted low, its shadow concealing the upper part of his face, but his beautiful mouth and chiseled jaw were visible. His hands were raised as though his long fingers were strumming an invisible guitar. It was a stunning, iconic image.

The man who tilted his empty glass toward her now with a raised brow wore torn, faded jeans and work boots. His black T-shirt clung lovingly to his biceps and emphasized his dramatic coloring. Even in everyday clothing, Torque was breathtaking. Even with his features that looked like they had been lovingly carved by the hand of a master sculptor, it was still his eyes that drew her attention. Just when they appeared a nondescript gray, the light caught the multicolored moonstone flecks in their depths, making them shimmer like opals in sunlight.

Those eyes watched her again from beneath heavy lids as she refilled his glass. “What brings you to Addison?”

Keep it simple. That was what the veteran undercover agent who had given her an intense induction course had told her. Vince King had coached her in every aspect of the role, going over and over what she needed to know until she was word perfect. Stick to a short, basic story and don’t elaborate.

“I like Maine. I thought it would be a nice place to spend the summer.” She smiled. “Don’t worry. Although I’m a fan, I’m not a stalker.”

She’d seen his smile on her TV and laptop, on the pages of magazines, on the huge LED screens at the back of the stage at concerts. Now she was experiencing its full force across a distance of a few feet. As her knees turned to Jell-O, she gripped the edge of the bar to keep herself upright.

“Good. I don’t want any more of those.”

So Torque had a stalker. His words implied there was more than one. Could the Incinerator be an obsessive fan? Torque was well-known for his fiery onstage antics. Were the arson attacks a sick tribute?

Or was Hollie, already a Torque fan herself, now feeling the hit of his attractiveness close up, reluctant to accept that he could be the man they were looking for? Whatever the truth turned out to be, she needed to take care. She had come here to unmask a fire-wielding killer. After only minutes in Torque’s company, she was already in danger of getting burned.