As quickly as the long train of my dress will allow, I scramble off his lap, moving to the seat across from him, my fingers already flying over the phone to dial.
Chapter 24
“Report!” I bark as I barge into my office, Brahms following on my heels.
“The perimeter is secure.” He halts just inside the room and clasps his hands behind his back, standing straighter. “Sir, I’d like to apologize and accept full responsibility for what happened today.”
“You sure as shit are responsible!” I snarl. “But you’re also too fucking valuable for me to snap your neck. I want details.”
“The entire estate has been thoroughly checked. Twice. My team also surveyed the two-mile radius around the grounds. Nothing out of the ordinary was found. No threats. Nevertheless, I’ve doubled the guards and given orders to shoot at will.”
I nod. “Good. Now, tell me what the hell happened at the church.”
“Only guests who were on the preapproved list were in attendance. Invitations were checked at the door. Outside of the don’s team, no other weapons were permitted inside. No suspicious activity was reported in or outside the venue two hours before or during the ceremony.”
Brahms clears his throat, shifting his stance slightly.
“We thoroughly swept the cathedral for explosive devices and unauthorized personnel yesterday evening and then again today. That included a utility room that housed the heating and air-conditioning system that was the cause of today’s incident.”
He looks me straight in the eye, and I know I’m not going to like what he is about to tell me. “Sir, Max, he…uh…his background is in mechanical engineering. He got a good look at what was left of the HVAC system before reporting in. And he believes it was tampered with.”
“Hebelieves?”
“He’s fairly certain. Something about safeguards being disabled, which caused a pressure buildup. There’s a possibility the sabotage was caused by the HVAC repair crew that showed up early this morning. According to the rector, their visit was expected, prearranged a few days earlier. With the ceremony taking place in the late afternoon, he didn’t think it would pose any issues. Not for the bishop, and not for us.”
My fists close on the edge of my desk until my knuckles turn white. “What kind of repair needed to be completed today?”
“Oliver Olsen oversaw the team on duty at the cathedral at the time, sir. He did not get the details on that. Oliver did note that the crew consisted of two men—an older fellow, the driver, and a thirtysomething man who went inside to complete the job. He was in and out in under five minutes while the driver remained in the vehicle, filling out paperwork.”
“Did he get the plate?” I growl. “The name of the HVAC company?”
“Oliver didn’t think those details were relevant. And the rector’s records about this matter appear to be missing.”
“Anything on the CCTV?”
“The cathedral has no cameras that cover that side of the parking lot or the exit to the street used by the HVAC crew.”
“Mm-hmm.” I pluck a platinum fountain pen from its stand on top of my desk and lift the gleaming, silver tip before my eyes. “Where is Olsen now?”
“The entire security team that handled the church assignment is waiting for you outside the garage, sir. Would you like to speak with Oliver beforehand?”
“Yes. I would like that very much.”
“Of course, sir.” Brahms nods and pulls out his phone.
Five minutes later, Oliver Olsen rushes into my office. “You asked to see me, Mr. Ruffo?”
“Tell me, Oliver,”—I slowly walk toward the man whose negligence placed my Little Iris in danger—“what was your task this morning?”
“Location security, sir. I led the advance team, responsible for establishing a secure perimeter until Mr. Brahms arrived with the rest of our forces.”
“Exactly.” I strike, burying the pen in the side of his neck, piercing his carotid artery. “And you failed.”
The man gasps, clutching his neck while a geyser of blood spews between his fingers. I step back, not willing to be splashed by the spray of blood, and watch the man who jeopardized my wife’s safety first fall to his knees and then topple over.
I don’t enjoy killing. On the contrary, I loathe it. It is a sordid, graceless business—bloody, brutish, and beneath me. As a rule, I leave such necessary actions to men better suited to that way of life. There are, however, occasions that call for my personal attention. They are rare, but they do exist. Particularly when the situation concerns an intimate matter. Concerns me. And nothing, in my view, has ever needed my personal response more than the imbecile who endangered my wife.
“Roll the body up in the rug and get rid of it where it won’t be found.” I bend to extract my pen. “And see if any of the staff can get the rug cleaned, though. I kinda like it. It’s Persian.”
