Dangerous Conspiracy

By E Lucas-Taylor

Drugs, money laundering, guns for terrorists, murder. Greek tycoon Dmitri Aleksandros’ fashion empire, Simera, is under a cyber attack. The Leonides drug cartel infiltrated his company computers, tied him and his reputation to some nasty criminal activity, wrecking havoc with his financial future, not to mention the very real death threats. He calls in a few political favors when he discovers several American banks are involved in the cartel’s money laundering. When he finds his old love, super-model, Lilly D’Aggelos, is now an undercover DEA agent, he wants her assigned to his case. Determined to win her back, he offers her and her photographer partner a sweet deal they won’t be able to turn down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: E Lucas-Taylor
• Release date: Oct 31, 2013
• ISBN: 9781310838958

E Lucas-Taylor

E. Lucas-Taylor has written for the Arizona Republic op-ed column, Austin Woman Magazine, and The Austin Networker. She is the author of ten books and compiled the award winning freelance marketing blog called: Snips & Tips & Keyboard Bits (on hiatus). Now in print: DARK PROTOCOL: Checkmate; Deadly Business; Lies, Spies & Unfinished Business; Lost Legacy; Dangerous Conspiracy; Soul’s Music: Thoughts & Reflections (available for all readers). She has contributed content to books/publications: When Diabetes Complicates Your Life; You the Healer; Sales Power; and The Silva Method For Business Managers.

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Dangerous Conspiracy

by E. Lucas-Taylor

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 E. Lucas-Taylor

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Author Bio

Chapter 1

New York City, NY

Lilly D’Aggelos looked daggers at Erik Stanton, the exploding heat in her eyes a clear signal of how angry he made her with his news. When he didn’t respond, she turned her head to hide her despair. Anywhere but Greece. For a dozen years, she cut a wide path away from anything having to do with the Greek islands. She did not believe in revisiting painful memories. And dang, he was dragging her back to hell and angst without a single thought for what she might think of the whole mess.

In a more civil tone, she said, "I know it’s important to you, Erik, and I agreed to go. Under duress, mind you, but I will not wear bells and be a happy camper. Read my lips—unhappy is an understatement. A trip to Greece will never be one of my favorite things under any circumstance. And why does Greek Intelligence want the two of us on this one? You can handle this assignment on your own, hands down."

Erik gave her a wary look. "A bit peckish today, aren’t we? Jesus, Lilly, you are the only woman I know who wouldn’t jump at a chance for an all-expense paid trip to Greece, not to mention all the perks we are getting on this assignment, including a prime modeling contract for you. You will walk away with a fabulous new wardrobe, the first choice of any of the glamorous designs in the Simera catalog. Your fee is over the top generous, almost double what you usually command." He waved a dismissive hand in the air when he saw he wasn’t making an impression.

The drugs coming into this country from the Mediterranean are serious poop. Besides, it’s nothing to complain about. You are making way too much noise over nothing. It’s a plum assignment.

Oh, sure. Tell me about it. She waved her own dismissive hand in the air. "You need another plum assignment. That’s what this is really about."

He let out an exasperated sound. "Why are you protesting so much? It’s beyond unreasonable."

I guess I’m tired of it all, Erik. The drug trade will never be stopped no matter how hard we try, and God knows we’ve tried. She whipped her head around to glare at him. Exactly what has changed over the years? Suckers still line up thinking their next fix will make their pathetic world right with another happy pill or a snort of the finest cocaine. It doesn’t even have to be the finest cocaine. It’s the crap druggies keep inside themselves, something horribly twisted they live with and willingly embrace. Pity is they can’t see it, nor do they want to change it. If people want to stupefy themselves on drugs in an early slide to death and destruction, I say let them do so.

You don’t mean a word of what you’re saying.

"Wrong. I mean every word," she snapped.

A job that began as a lark a few years ago now appeared nightmarish if Erik compelled her to go to Greece. Their Drug Enforcement assignments used the cover of Erik’s fashion photography and her modeling assignments. It was the entrée to many worlds, especially the moneyed world where drug money and drug overlords liked to be seen and spend time with the rich and famous. Social climbing never went out of style, and those lowest on the rungs were desperate for it. She remembered the first time she went with Erik; her gun misfired and she almost got them both killed.

Bull. You know you don’t mean anything of the kind. He leaned closer and lowered his voice. "Look Angel, whether you believe it or not, we can put a healthy dent in this particular drug cartel because they’ve targeted a private corporation, and there are death threats to the owners. Simera is willing to pay millions on the fashion shoot we use for a cover. If we don’t step in and help, the company will be wiped out in a few years if the sabotage isn’t stopped. Someone mean and nasty climbed onboard the company’s mainframe, using money laundering and drugs as a sideline. It’s too important to Greece to lose Simera; think of the effect on the Greek economy if they go under. Better still, think of the loss it will be to the fashion industry."

Lilly shrugged. I say it’s an inside job. Why call in an American agency, Erik? It doesn’t make a bit of sense.

"It may well be an inside job. The head honchos at Simera seem to think so, since their mainframes are involved, and only an insider could gain entry. At the moment, they don’t know who. Granted, it can be done by remote. Someone could manage to get around their firewalls, but I’m betting on a creative insider that began the process. I need your eyes and ears on this one, Lilly. You wear their fabulous clothing, and keep your hearing tuned for any gossip that might betray a key piece of evidence. You know the terrain; you know the lingo, the hidden nuances of the fashion industry. I know you can do the recon in your sleep. He held up two fingers. Two months. You can handle two months blindfolded. You are doing it for God and country—and we are going, so chin-up."

"Well, whoever this Simera group, they can’t be too bright to spend buckets of money having you do the shoot, and contracting me with more buckets of money for their exclusive model. There are local models or the Italians—much more economical, or aren’t they paying attention to their bottom line. Let the DEA send someone else. If Simera is bleeding money, they darn well should be paying attention. She turned his way again. By the way, who are these Simera honchos? What’s the dirty-rotten-gossip on the principals? No one stays immune to tittle-tattle in the fashion industry. There has to be some dirt, and plenty of it."

Miles Dugan is handling everything at his end. It’s hush-hush on the names of the players. They don’t want any leaks to the press to alarm investors and they are paranoid about it. I can’t blame them. Whoever they are, they command some hefty influence with the Greek government, which translates to some hefty influence with the American DEA.

Erik gave her a momentary glance, not liking her mulish expression.

"Look girl, Simera isn’t looking for economy; they are at the top of the A list of European fashion houses. They want the best, Angel. It’s expected when you breathe their rarified air. You are the best model for their line, hands down. I am the best photographer. End of story. And Simera will provide you with a bodyguard, so no worry about hiring your own security."

Lilly laughed. A bodyguard will be a bit troublesome don’t you think? What if I follow someone—does the bodyguard follow me? Do we run in tandem like two squirrels in a cage? Think of the possible outrage if I shoot someone on Greek soil, and the bodyguard witnesses the killing. How will I explain that I couldn’t slink off and hide in the darkness because my bodyguard follows my every move?

Erik gave an exasperated sound. Now you are being ridiculous. His name is Mikhail Agnew, and he comes well recommended, a big strapping Greek. He’s worked with some high profile Greek government people, and he’ll be a discrete protection in case you get yourself into a mess. I’ve been assured he knows which end of a gun to avoid, and he can help you slink off into the darkness if there is a need. Erik grinned. How about if we make him promise to look the other way if you need to shoot anyone.

Lilly didn’t acknowledge his humor.

Silence engulfed the limousine on the drive back to the studio.

Erik needed to finish photos of Lilly for a magazine layout before they left for Greece.

Lilly needed a few months to wind up the last of her contracts before she retired from modeling forever. Retirement. What a beautiful word. The vision the thought conjured up in her imagination, calmed her as nothing else could.

How she hated the need for such unreasonable publicity to stay on top of the fashion game, the fake fawning that went along with it, and all the insipid posturing that prevailed in the industry. You couldn’t have a decent conversation with anyone in the industry that didn’t include too big or too little breast implants, or too big or too little fannies, or who had the latest plastic surgery, good or bad, and who put on a few too many pounds for the camera. The New York fashionista gossip bored her to tears. Her jaws ached from smiling the perpetual public persona.

The incessant media coverage with their same old mindless questions made her want to scream until her throat hurt. Your entire life came under relentless scrutiny, and if your life happened to be quiet and reclusive, like hers, the attack media made up things for sensational headlines. Trying to remain aloof from the media, the Internet, all the trash tabloids and social networks, became a full-time job even a publicist cried over. Anyone who possessed a computer or a text device and an opinion, especially if it rankled or stank, published every syllable in their vocabulary like mindless robots for the world to see. If it hadn’t been for Erik protecting her all these years, she’d be stark raving mad over the unfairness of it all.

Needing a good sulk, she hunkered down into the limo’s leather seat and turned her back to Erik. He knew she hated to travel. A day or three—manageable—but two months? No way. What was he thinking? She wanted to move on with her life and acquire some serious privacy needs, and Greece wasn’t the route she wanted to take. Greece would never be on her agenda in any time frame.

Okay, rephrase, Lilly. You are going to Greece. Under duress. Deal with it.

No help for it. This morning cinched the deal. She wanted to howl and bitch up a storm cloud with plenty of thunder and lightening when she discovered Erik accepted the assignment and was set to travel, and now insisting she drool with anticipation.

This time there’d be no condo sublet. She’d put her condo unit up for sale when she returned, including the furniture. The personal items could go into storage until time to deal with them. When this assignment completed, she’d move west to her cabin in the Arizona mountains that she purchased last year. With any luck, she would never see another camera for as long as life gave her breath.

***~~~***

A pair of watchful silver eyes scanned the cars and pedestrian traffic while it moved back and forth in front of the upscale Manhattan buildings. The dark tinted windows of the limousine prevented anyone from gazing inside. Time. He closed his laptop.

A stretch of his long legs and a roll of shoulders helped ease the stiffness of his large frame from being hunched over his computer for the last two-hours while he waited. It was a fruitless effort to try and work under these conditions, but he always followed the same routine, rain, sunshine or snowstorm. Every six months, his business brought him to America. Once he concluded his business, he spent several days watching her apartment, or he would sit outside the studio where she worked, indulging his need for a fleeting glimpse of her.

Lilly—all woman now, not the young girl who ran away from Greece and broke his heart. She has done well, he reminded himself.

Informants kept him apprised of her travel movements, and if close by, he took time away from business to watch for her. Earlier in the day, he arranged a delivery of five dozen white roses and a dark red one to her condo unit, a small token to give her something of himself, since she denied everything associated with him. No card accompanied the flowers, and there would be no hint to reveal who sent them. He didn’t know what she ever thought of the largesse, but he did know she never threw the roses out until well spent.

Impatient, he checked the time again. When he chanced to look up, Lilly’s limo pulled up to the curb. He watched as she entered the building and slipped into the ground floor elevator. Her apartment faced the street, a corner unit. One of the few times she went on a lengthy assignment, he sublet her rooms under an assumed name. When the rental came up on the market, he did not want a stranger touching her things.

In his mind, he climbed the floors with her while the elevator made its ascent. He stayed vigilant when the lights switched on in her unit and waited eagerly for a glimpse of her. When she moved to the window to pull the draperies across the wide expanse of window that faced the street, her beauty tugged on his senses.

He wondered if she ever thought of him.

His gaze lingered a few minutes longer, until a florist’s van pulled up to the curb and a deliveryman jumped down from the driver’s side of the vehicle. The courier pulled out several oversized florist’s boxes and entered the building. A uniformed doorman nodded him through to building security where he was greeted by the building’s concierge. Like clockwork, one of the staff hastened to the elevator to make the predicted ascent to the eleventh floor.

Dmitri Aleksandros rolled back the glass partition separating him from his chauffeur.

Proceed to the airport, he said, in a slightly accented voice, hoarse from too many strong Turkish cigarettes.

He sat back in the leather seat and smiled, pleased with himself. Soon, he promised himself. Soon. He had waited long enough.

***~~~***

The flowers didn’t surprise Lilly, only the persistence of her admirer. An unidentified admirer. The flowers came at regular intervals. For many years she wondered who sent them, and why the source stayed silent for so long. She inhaled the heady floral fragrance in appreciation.

Whoever, their taste—impeccable to the last blooms.

The box held the finest and freshest long-stemmed roses found anywhere, even in a city like New York which boasted the best of everything. The blooms lasted a full two weeks, and her condo carried the rose fragrance for several days after they’d been discarded.

She found her vases in the storage room and went to work trimming stems and leaves. Carmita, her housekeeper, left hours ago. She had the sole pleasure of arranging the blooms and scattering the lush bounty around her rooms. Flowers always managed to raise her spirits, no matter how gloomy the present moment.

"Strange," she murmured. Six-months has a significance to someone out there, and me—the lucky beneficiary.

Carmita always kept the roses trimmed and the water fresh. She’d complain the place smelled like a funeral home in the morning, but Lilly knew she would be in awe of so many flowers.

Since Erik’s announcement about the Greek assignment, she’d been out of sorts. Facing old ghosts and unpleasant haunts didn’t work for her on any level, and she didn’t like bad memories being dredged up at any time. She had too many she shunted aside for many years, and she wanted them to stay dead and buried. After being among people all day long where it seemed to be the norm to be bombarded with reams of unpleasantness, she valued her quietude. She pined for the day when she left New York and all the noise and upheaval it signified—for good. The craving for peace and quiet built to a higher crescendo with every passing day.

Erik said he needed time to tie up his loose contractual ends before they left on assignment. Miles Dugan and Simera voiced their unhappiness about the delay. Lawsuits for breach of contract outweighed their disappointment and any secrecy needed, and Miles well knew it. Even a minor dust-up or mini-scandal in the fashion world would hit the international news wires, possibly affect the assignment in a negative way, and in turn cause untold problems for Simera. Alas, Simera commanded the clout to be unpleasant now they had signed contracts, and they were being disagreeable.

The next seventy-two hours still gave her a brief illusion she owned some control over her life. She shook her head. She’d shove aside the specter of Greece and drug cartels until the last minute. Tonight, Carmita left dinner warming in the oven. After, she’d have a good soak and lights out.

The ritual of removing makeup left her in a better mood. The warm shower left her limp with relaxation, a glorious feeling after a long day at the studio. Erik maintained an iron-hand when it came to camera work; hot and unforgiving studio lights took a toll on hair and skin.

It took little effort to recall his booming voice when he tried to convince her that this trip to Greece was a good thing. The visit to Miles Dugan’s office rather cut to the chase when he began waving U.S. and Greek flags. She would sound like an idiot if she refused the assignment and they asked for a reason.

So—off to Greece we go, she grumbled. She needed to play the DEA game for flag and country one last time.

It was a perplexing case, odd in its ruthlessness and intensity, and also because of the target. Two years ago, the Greek fashion house, Simera, came under cyber-attack from the Leonides drug cartel. Their accounts were openly used to buy drugs and launder drug money. On audit, millions of dollars came up missing from the company coffers. Their fashion designs were also targeted, many stolen and sold for a pittance to knock-off designers before they ever hit the fashion runway. Death threats to the owners loomed daily, and several brutal murders traced to the same cartel. If the sabotage continued, Simera promised to be insolvent in a few short years, sooner if the sabotage remained unchecked, not to mention more dead bodies piled up along the roadway.

She well knew of Simera’s designs. There wasn’t a model living that didn’t know one of the most exclusive fashion houses in the world. The entire fashion consortium remained in awe of Simera’s one-of-a-kind couture, each one designed for the body that wore it. A reclusive new owner took the old, venerated Greek house of fashion near bankruptcy a dozen years ago, and made it into a show stopping success, much like Karl Lagerfield revived the House of Chanel. No one knew the identity of the financial genius behind the company’s talented stable of designers. Everyone knew of the designs.

To call the designs genius—what an understatement, thought Lilly.

Simera boasted no equal for the brilliance of their retro-designs. Could that be the key that pulled in the corporate sabotage by a drug cartel? Death, drugs, theft, the selling of corporate secrets—it was becoming a too familiar story in the business world.

The U. S. Drug Enforcement Agency plugged into the worldwide drug trade decades ago. The international request for help to squash another drug cartel didn’t seem too odd in the scheme of things, since a share of the drugs were coming into the States.

After a four-year, multi-nation investigation, the DEA, with the help of the Hellenic Coast Guard, seized tons of cocaine off several Greek cargo vessels. From then on, the drug seizures escalated and the drug trade continued, no matter how many arrests were made. Container ships laden with drugs transiting through Greek ports remained a common occurrence, no matter the controls or inspections set in place. The world seemed to embrace a never-ending supply of drugs, drugs, and more drugs, with an eager, twisted public willing to pay any amount to get those drugs.

However, this private request from Simera, a corporate entity, and a substantial one, looked out of the norm, no matter how she tossed it around in her head. Simera didn’t want their company assets seized because of the appearance of being involved with drugs. Understandable. Since too many American banks managed to involve themselves in the laundering of drug money, the DEA jumped at the chance to come on board and help Simera find their saboteur.

Drug cartels using international corporations for a conduit, signaled a new threat on the horizon in the drug trade. Erik was correct. It was serious poop. Roll in cyber-attacks and identity theft, and the threat compounded. Companies worldwide worked at a furious pace to strengthen their security defenses to no avail. The problem escalated hourly, and any attempt to curb the threats overwhelmed to the effect of trying to empty the world’s oceans with a thimble.

No matter the sophistication or presumed security of the technology, computer hacks remained at the ready to breach systems once thought impenetrable. Industries of every country came under attack before meaningful security reached the marketplace. All of Simera’s efforts to stem the use of their computers didn’t bear fruit. They would no sooner patch one hole and another dozen developed. Miles said the international business community protected proprietary company information involved in cyber-attacks, and compounded the problem.

Well, face it, she mumbled outloud. It doesn’t sit well with investors and Boards of Directors if you are having internal problems of such a magnitude, and it makes the evening news. It scares off investors.

The fact that Simera asked for help and opened its business model, indicated a prime shift for the need of more candidness in the escalating corporate cyber-wars.

Drugs were a never-ending dangerous game, no matter whether a dealer or user. A certain element of society wanted their drugs, and weren’t shy about finding someone to supply. Druggies knew where to go, who to see. The rich and their doctor-feel-good physicians found themselves in great demand to write prescriptions. It made you feel sorry for the money.

Six years—that’s how long she helped Erik in his clandestine work. A few years back, he asked for her assistance on a case when fashion models turned up dead from some bad cocaine. She broke into their ranks to find out who bought and sold the tainted drugs. From then on, whenever Erik asked for help, she agreed without the slightest equivocation. Now she realized she’d been too agreeable.

Okay, she’d make Greece her swansong. This assignment might be the best opportunity to put to rest some old ghosts still haunting her. She frowned, remembering one silver-eyed ghost in particular, one she hadn’t seen in a dozen years.

***~~~***

Lilly awoke to the sound of her own soft grunts in the early morning chill, her heart pounding and her nightgown soaked with perspiration. Her shadowed bedroom bore no signs of long-toothed demons or shadowy ghosts, though she felt certain they’d been there earlier. She squeezed her eyes shut against the crippling depression that washed over her at times like this.

What woke me this time, she wondered.

When she opened her eyes a few moments later, the shadows of a beginning dawn danced across her bedroom ceiling. The dreams came more frequent these days for some unexplainable reason. Probably all the talk about Greece brought them to the forefront of her subconscious again. Thankful the dreams weren’t of her attacker anymore; now the pain and bewilderment danced much closer to her heart. Dmitri Aleksandros, the sad folly of her teen years. She numbed herself to romantic illusions of Dmitri a long time ago. These recent dreams were erotic to the point of irritation. Her breasts felt achy; her body burned for completion.

She desperately wanted to exorcize the emotional ghost of Dmitri. If her dreams were any indication, that plan fell short. Night after blessed night, Dmitri pranced around in her head, naked as a newborn, offering