Page 30 of No Stone Unturned

“Which was?” I stuck my coffee mug in the microwave and nuked it for forty-five seconds.

“Apeloko never signed it, nor made any public statements indicating he would abide by it. The situation dragged on for at least two years before the matter came to an end.”

“What kind of end?”

“Apeloko and his nineteen-year old son were assassinated in a mysterious attack inside the palace. A Vatican priest who was with them nearly died as well.”

I removed my mug from the microwave, carrying it carefully to the counter. “What happened?”

“Apeloko, his son and the priest were poisoned while in his personal study. Two guards who were stationed outside the room heard nothing. No one came in and no one came out of the room. Somehow, the priest who was inside was able to open the door to let security in before collapsing near death. When the guards rushed inside, Apeloko and his son were already dead.”

“They didn’t catch anyone?”

“They did not. But they think the assassin and the son both came in through a previously unknown secret passage into the study. Apeloko’s security apparently knew nothing about it.”

I thought it odd that the security detail knew nothing of the passage, but perhaps it wasn’t so outrageous considering despots were typically unhinged and obsessively paranoid. “Maybe the son wanted to kill the father to take power for himself, so he got help doing so. He opens the hidden passage to a killer to get the job done. Instead, the assassin wants the power for himself or someone who paid him more. So, he takes them both out and the priest is collateral damage.”

Basia looked at me in shock, perhaps concerned I’d so rapidly formed such a morbid scenario. It kind of surprised me, too, but I’d have to wonder about the state of my mind at another, more private, interval.

An intrigued expression on her face, Gray entertained my scenario. “It’s possible, but no one knows for sure. It could have been the assassin kidnaps the son, forces him through the passage into the room, and then poisons everyone once he was in the study.”

“What was the priest’s accounting of what happened?” I asked. “The one who survived.”

“Apparently the priest was permanently injured—mentally incapacitated from the poisoning—and unable to tell investigators anything useful.”

“That’s horrible,” Basia said. She’d pushed aside her food, placed her elbows on the counter. “Seriously.”

“But none of it makes sense from an operational standpoint.” I frowned, working it out in my head. “Why poison them? Why not slit their throats or snap their necks? Do something fast and permanent.”

Basia held up a hand. “Please, Lexi, I just ate.”

Gray, however, seemed interested by my train of thought. “That’s a good question, Lexi. As far as I can see from the open source material, there are no easy answers.”

I sorted through the possibilities. “Okay, then let’s postulate. For example, how did the assassin keep three people quiet while forcing them to take poison?”

“Hard to say.” Gray rolled her shoulders. Not surprisingly, she was much more comfortable discussing assassination methods than Basia. “The prevailing theory is the priest had already been knocked out and the assassin put the poison in his mouth while he was unconscious. Somehow, the priest came to after the assassin had left and was able to raise an alarm before passing out again.”

“That’s just bizarre.”

“Right?” Gray reached into her pocket and pulled out a thumb drive. “But that’s not all I found, Lexi. You need to check this out.” She plugged the drive into the laptop and angled the screen toward me. “By the way, this isn’t classified information. I found it on my own. Just so we’re clear.”

“We’re clear,” I said. “And appreciative. What is it?”

“A BBC video of a news report on the afternoon of September 17, the day of the assassination.”

I leaned over closer to the screen as the video played. It was grainy footage of three priests getting out of a car in front of the palace steps, greeting a man I assumed was Apeloko. The four men talked for a moment with armed security forces ringing them, until Apeloko motioned they were all to enter the palace. Apeloko pulled aside one priest, putting an arm around him, giving him a favored position at his side as they walked first toward the palace. The other two priests followed behind. For a brief moment, the priest at the president’s side glanced over his shoulder, directly at the camera. Gray froze the clip and enlarged the frame by three hundred percent.

“So, this is the interesting part,” she said, tapping her finger against the screen.

My breath caught in my throat. The priest in the photo was Slash.

Chapter Twenty

Slash

Slash wasn’t in the habit of terrifying priests, but today he was in an unusually poor mood.

After they passed security, where he was required to leave his phone and laptop, they walked through the echoing corridors of thePalazzo del Governatorato.Father Koenhein carefully kept his distance. Every time he dared to glance at Slash, he’d cringe at the look he’d receive in return. Once they reached a doorway at the same time, and Slash slapped a hand on the door before opening it. The priest jumped back so violently, he nearly tripped.

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