The Seduction Code (A Remi Laurent FBI Suspense Thriller—Book 6)

By Ava Strong

In an ancient abbey in Ireland, once thought to be home to the Knights Templar, a murder has occurred—and a priceless artifact has been stolen. As brilliant history professor teams up with the FBI, she fears the worst: the killer has found the one legitimate lead to the Holy Grail—and will stop at nothing until he finds it.

THE SEDUCTION CODE (A Remi Laurent FBI Suspense Thriller) is book #6 in a new series by mystery and suspense author Ava Strong, which begins with THE DEATH CODE (Book #1).

FBI Special Agent Daniel Walker, 40, known for his ability to hunt killers, his street-smarts, and his disobedience, is singled out from the Behavioral Analysis Unit and assigned to the FBI’s new Antiquities unit. The unit, formed to hunt down priceless relics in the global world of antiquities, has no idea how to enter the mind of a murderer.

Remi Laurent, 34, brilliant history professor at Georgetown, is the world’s leading expert in obscure historic artifacts. Shocked when the FBI asks for her help to find a killer, she finds herself reluctantly partnered with this rude American FBI agent. Special Agent Walker and Remi Laurent are an unlikely duo, with his ability to enter killers’ minds and her unparalleled scholarship, the only thing they have in common, their determination to decode the clues and stop a killer.

Remi and Daniel’s search leads them into the ancient abbeys and dark cloisters of the UK countryside in a desperate hunt for the killer. Why is he after the Grail—and why does he seem so confident he can find it?

Who will he kill next?

And will Remi be smart enough to find a relic that has been lost for centuries?

An unputdownable crime thriller featuring an unlikely partnership between a jaded FBI agent and a brilliant historian, the REMI LAURENT series is a riveting mystery, grounded in history, and packed with suspense and revelations that will leave you continuously in shock, and flipping pages late into the night.

Future books in the series will be available soon.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ava Strong
• Release date: Oct 25, 2022
• ISBN: 9781094393100

Book preview

cover.jpg

t h e   s e d u c t i o n   c o d e

(a remi laurent fbi suspense thriller—book 6)

a v a   s t r o n g

Ava Strong

Bestselling author Ava Strong is author of the REMI LAURENT mystery series, comprising six books (and counting); of the ILSE BECK mystery series, comprising seven books (and counting); of the STELLA FALL psychological suspense thriller series, comprising six books (and counting); and of the DAKOTA STEELE FBI suspense thriller series, comprising five books (and counting).

An avid reader and lifelong fan of the mystery and thriller genres, Ava loves to hear from you, so please feel free to visit www.avastrongauthor.com to learn more and stay in touch.

Copyright © 2022 by Ava Strong. All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior permission of the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. Jacket image Copyright McCarthy’s PhotoWorks, used under license from Shutterstock.com.

BOOKS BY AVA STRONG

REMI LAURENT FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

THE DEATH CODE (Book #1)

THE MURDER CODE (Book #2)

THE MALICE CODE (Book #3)

THE VENGEANCE CODE (Book #4)

THE DECEPTION CODE (Book #5)

THE SEDUCTION CODE (Book #6)

ILSE BECK FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

NOT LIKE US (Book #1)

NOT LIKE HE SEEMED (Book #2)

NOT LIKE YESTERDAY (Book #3)

NOT LIKE THIS (Book #4)

NOT LIKE SHE THOUGHT (Book #5)

NOT LIKE BEFORE (Book #6)

NOT LIKE NORMAL (Book #7)

STELLA FALL PSYCHOLOGICAL SUSPENSE THRILLER

HIS OTHER WIFE (Book #1)

HIS OTHER LIE (Book #2)

HIS OTHER SECRET (Book #3)

HIS OTHER MISTRESS (Book #4)

HIS OTHER LIFE (Book #5)

HIS OTHER TRUTH (Book #6)

DAKOTA STEELE FBI SUSPENSE THRILLER

WITHOUT MERCY (Book #1)

WITHOUT REMORSE (Book #2)

WITHOUT A PAST (Book #3)

WITHOUT PITY (Book #4)

WITHOUT HOPE (Book #5)

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

CHAPTER THIRTY

CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

EPILOGUE

PROLOGUE

Boston University History Department

7:00 A.M.

Ryan Andrews yawned as he ascended the wide marble steps of the Victorian-era department building. He still couldn’t q uite believe he was here as the newest graduate student and teaching assistant to the great Professor Angus MacPherson.

Professor MacPherson was one of the world’s leading authorities on hagiography, Christian folk legends, and the Apocrypha. He had been the chair of his department at the University of Edinburgh until Boston University managed to poach him with an impressive salary and virtually unlimited research funding.

Andrew smiled. He might become a beneficiary of some of that funding today. Professor MacPherson wanted to discuss a new project with him. He hadn’t said much about it, just that he should show up here at seven in the morning, an unreasonable hour for any graduate student but well into the workday of the grizzled old professor. That man seemed to run on nothing but tea and enthusiasm.

Andrew could use some tea himself. Or some coffee. Or a whole pot. He had gone out with a bunch of friends last night, hitting a series of the local student bars. He’d even gotten the number of a cute undergraduate. Who says history students didn’t know how to have a good time?

He had passed by the department on his way home at about two in the morning and saw that the professor’s office light was still on. That wasn’t unusual. He often pulled all-nighters. Andrew figured that if he got on one of Professor MacPherson’s research grants, the bar crawls would have to come to an end. Oh well. It would be worth it. Whatever the professor’s latest project would be, it would lead to publications, and that’s what a graduate student needed. You had to make a name for yourself and start staking your claim in the academic world before you got your degree.

Because, one day, Andrew Ryan was going to be the next Professor Angus MacPherson.

Andrew got to the third floor of the building and walked down an empty hallway, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor. He had seen no one. While the janitor usually opened up at around six or six-thirty, not even the secretaries showed up before eight. He and the professor were probably the only ones here.

He mentally went over the past week’s reading. MacPherson’s graduate course on the lesser-known Christian legends had included the narrative of Bel and the Dragon from the extended Book of Daniel, an Apocryphal text found in the Codex Chisianus from the tenth century but not in the regular text of any modern Protestant Bible. Professor MacPherson, of course, had his class read it in the original Septuagint Greek, something that gave Andrew almost as much of a headache as the ten beers he had drunk last night. And he knew for a fact that the professor would ask him about the text right after saying good morning.

Professor MacPherson was like that. A big, loud, laughing Scotsman with a fringe of graying beard and crazy unkempt hair. He could probably drink Andrew under the table, but his energy went entirely to his studies. He expected his graduate students to know their stuff and rewarded or ignored them accordingly.

Andrew ran over the text in his mind, prepping himself for the pop quiz he’d get in a couple of minutes.

The text was probably written during the Persian period, when the Holy Land was a satrapy, or province, of the Persian Empire starting in 539 BC until it was conquered by Alexander the Great in 332 BC. According to the text, Daniel lived at the court of King Cyrus II and was his closest companion even though he was a Jew, and the Persians were pagan.

The first story narrates that Cyrus grew angry at his friend because Daniel mocked the worship of Bel, the Persians’ chief deity. An idol stood in the temple of Bel and given large amounts of food and wine every evening. The king pointed out to Daniel that every night, he would put a wax seal on the door with his own signet ring, and when the seal was broken the next morning, everything had been eaten. He and the priests said this was proof that Bel was a living god.

The priests, jealous of Daniel’s favored position, offered a wager—seal up the temple that night as usual and if the food was gone the next morning, Daniel would be put to death. If the food wasn’t gone, the priests would all be put to death.

Daniel accepted the wager. Just before the temple was sealed for the night, he sprinkled a fine layer of ash over the floor. The door was sealed, and everyone went to bed.

The next morning, King Cyrus broke the seal and—lo and behold!—the plates of food were empty and not a single drop remained in the jugs of wine. The king gave a cheer for his god, but that cheering stopped when Daniel pointed to the floor. The ash was covered with footprints big and small. They all originated from a secret door concealed in one of the walls.

What had happened was apparent to all. The priests, their wives, and their children had snuck in at night, as they did every night, and ate the feast reserved for the god. Cyrus had the priests and all their families put to death. Daniel then asked if he could destroy the idol and its temple. Cyrus agreed, and soon there was one less pagan house of worship in Persia.

The text continued with a story about Daniel slaying a dragon that the Persians worshipped. The people were outraged and threatened to usurp the king unless he handed the Jew over. Once the mob had him, they sealed him inside a den of seven lions, where he remained miraculously unharmed. The wild beasts didn’t dare harm a man of God.

Luckily, he didn’t have to read that part for today. He’d skimmed an English version just so he wouldn’t look totally ignorant. Septuagint Greek was still one of his weak points. Hopefully Professor MacPherson wouldn’t expect him to have read beyond the assignment.

The office was just ahead, the last on the right and the only one with a door open and a light on.

Andrew threw back his shoulders, put on what he hoped looked like a professional smile, and came to the doorway.

He raised his hand to knock on the doorjamb and froze.

The office looked like it had been hit by a whirlwind. Papers and books lay strewn everywhere. All the drawers of the filing cabinet were open, their contents dumped on the floor in a snowdrift of paper. Nearly all the volumes on the bookshelf running along one wall had been thrown to the floor too.

Professor Angus MacPherson lay slumped on his desk. His sports coat, the desk, and a large area around it was soaked a deep crimson. His face—the skin white, the mouth slack—was turned to face the door.

His glazed eyes did not see his newest graduate student, who turned and ran screaming for help down the hall.

CHAPTER ONE

Georgetown University

7:45 P.M., that same day

Remi Laurent clicked to the next slide, the audience in the darkened lecture hall silent, hanging on her every word.

"Here we have another depiction of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary. While not as colorful or as well-preserved as the famous painting by Rubens, it is a splendid example of fourteenth-century English church painting. This is the church of Saint Mary the Virgin in Chalgrove in Oxfordshire, England.

"It is the last of a series of paintings in the church that run chronologically from the Tree of Jesse, showing the lineage of Jesus Christ, through the Last Supper, his betrayal by Judas, and Crucifixion. These take up the north and south walls of the church. On the east wall, flanking the window, we see the Assumption of Jesus on one side and the Assumption of Mary on the other. This equates their importance and shows just how prominent the cult of Mary had become by the High Middle Ages.

"The details of this painting are interesting and reflect a popular non-Biblical story of the time. Here you see the Virgin, her hands clasped in prayer, flanked by angels who are flying her up to heaven. Below, standing on a roof, is a male figure holding a girdle or belt. The halo shows he’s a saint. In fact, he’s Saint Thomas, the doubting Thomas of the Bible who didn’t believe that Christ had been resurrected until he touched his wounds. In this version of the story, Mary died in the presence of all the saints except Thomas, who was away. When he returned, she had already been put in her tomb. Thomas asked to see her, the tomb was opened, and her body, like that of Jesus, was found to be missing.

Saint Thomas was then granted a vision of the Virgin ascending to heaven. The Virgin dropped down her girdle as proof of the vision, and this became a holy relic. Thus Thomas, who had doubted the miracles offered by Jesus, was finally graced with the last miracle of the Virgin Mary. Doubting Thomas becomes witness to the holiness of the Mother of God.

Remi paused, looking at the image. While faded with time, the figures still remained clear. A perfect depiction of the religious individual who doubted but was given proof.

Seven years ago, when Aunt Lilli died. That’s when it was.

She had been trying to remember the last time she had attended Mass.

Seven years ago, and only because it was a funeral Mass for a favorite aunt.

The realization gave her a twinge of guilt, but more than guilt, she felt another emotion.

Nostalgia.

That surprised her. While she had never lapsed into unbelief, she didn’t think she’d miss the religious aspect of her life. That part of her had been important in her childhood before slowly fading in university, and all but vanished in her career-oriented adulthood.

A shifting in the seats reminded her that she needed to keep talking. This was a public lecture, after all.

Thus, we come full circle, from the Annunciation to the Assumption of Mary, the life of one of the crucial figures in the medieval church. Now, if we can bring up the lights, I think we have time for some questions.

As the lights came up, she looked out on the audience. So much older than what she was accustomed to. Before she joined the FBI full time, she had taught university students. Now, with these special guest lectures, it was mostly middle-aged members of the community, along with a sprinkling of graduate students and faculty.

Her ex-lover and the head of the Georgetown history department, Cyril Mullen, was not among them. He hasn’t attended these lectures since their breakup. The Dean of Arts and Sciences, Ronald Hines, attended them all. Hines always had an eye for publicity and keeping the famous researcher—now turned famous FBI agent—on as a special guest lecturer was good for the university.

Not good for her patience, as the first question was to prove.

A hand shot up near the front. It was a skinny fellow with disheveled hair, mismatched socks, and a worn-out old suit that hadn’t been fashionable when he bought it twenty years ago.

She acknowledged him. Yes?

Remi braced herself. She knew what was coming. She could tell just by his expression. She’d met far, far too many people like this in her career.

Did you join the FBI in order to get the federal government to help you in the hunt for the cryptex?

There were several stifled groans and chuckles from the crowd as well as an equal number of interested looks.

My academic studies have taken a back seat to my law enforcement duties.

Well, sort of.

But what about the report of a fight in the catacombs of Rome between a gang of priests and a man and woman matching the description of you and your partner?

I wasn’t aware of such a report. Who the hell reported that? Remi managed a smile that didn’t quite look convincing. But I can assure you, as a practicing Catholic, I’m not in the habit of brawling with members of the clergy in Rome’s catacombs, or anywhere else for that matter.

More chuckles. This time no one tried to suppress them.

The man flushed a little but went on. Remi got the impression that he got laughed at a lot and had become used to it.

With all due respect, Professor Laurent, it seems strange to me that an esteemed researcher such as yourself would be hired by a federal agency even though you are not an American citizen.

Well, the Statue of Liberty comes from France, too, but she’s made America her home.

That got a round of applause. Nothing worked on an American audience like a public display of patriotism. Remi used that as a cue to look for another question.

The dean saved her with a question related to the topic of her lecture. She answered it, then went on to three more people who looked safe—a graduate student she knew, a professor from another university she vaguely recognized, and a little old lady who came to all her lectures and was enthusiastic about how beautiful all the art was.

Remi got through these questions without a hitch, then said, That’s all the time we have for tonight. The misfit’s hand shot up again. I thank you all for coming.

The dean got on stage in two seconds flat. He had probably seen that hand shoot up too.

A wonderful talk as usual, Professor Laurent. Our next talk in this special series will be at seven P.M. here in this lecture hall where Professor Laurent will talk on the symbolism in Ottonian ivories of the tenth and eleventh centuries.

 Another round of applause. The little old lady exclaimed, Ottonian ivories! My favorite! Remi felt her heart lift. Despite being an FBI agent in training, she still loved teaching, and she still loved Medieval Studies.

But as she told that member of the audience, her research had taken a back seat to her new career in law enforcement.

To a point. That had been a stretch of the truth, and the rest she had told him had been pure fabrication. She was still on the trail of the cryptex, running through a series of clues, the most recent being that strange amulet she and Daniel had found in the catacombs.

God, how had that man heard about that incident? Apparently, it had been published somewhere. Most likely some outré Internet website or forum. She better look it up.

The dean came down off the stage with her.

Steer me away from the groupie, would you please? she said in an undertone.

Certainly.

The dean was a true gentleman. He didn’t like to see an academic harassed. Plus, fringe members of the public like that made the lecture series look bad.

She could see the man in the old suit homing in on her like some fighter plane swooping down in one of those old war movies her father used to watch. The dean got on that side and called out to an obese, white-haired professor.

Bob, so glad you could make it! Professor Laurent, have you met Bob Parson, professor emeritus?

So nice to meet you, Remi said. Or anyone that’s not that fellow.

An admirable talk, Professor, the old man said, taking her hand in a weak grasp. I wonder if you have visited the Byzantine sites in Morea. There are some fascinating mosaics which show…

Remi fell into a conversation about late Byzantine religious iconography, only half paying attention to the old professor and the crowd that encircled them. The misfit stood on the fringes, as he had probably always done, frustrated that he couldn’t be a part of it all.

But Remi wasn’t even thinking about him. Her mind raced. If that source he had mentioned had said a couple matching their description had been seen in the catacombs, that meant someone had been on the lookout for them.

Remi had long had a bit of a cult following among conspiracy theorists and alternative history nuts. Having published several books and articles on the cryptex and other medieval mysteries, that was inevitable. But she had never had someone write up a Remi Laurent sighting. It made her feel like a UFO.

Perhaps she should talk to that man? No. It would only lead to an awkward conversation in full view of this crowd. Better to make a hasty exit and look it up later.

It’s a fascinating topic, Professor Parson, and I look forward to your publication.

Remi shook his hand. From the look of confusion on his face, dear old Professor Parson hadn’t mentioned any upcoming publication.

Good night, everyone! she said as she wended her way through the crowd. Thank you so much for coming.

A few people called out questions. Remi smiled, waved, and ignored them. The misfit tried to follow but got swallowed up by the crowd.

Remi ducked out and hurried down the hallway, getting around the nearest corner and speeding up into a full run. Other than the lecture hall and front foyer, the university building was dark and empty.

Glancing over her shoulder to make sure that no one was following, she entered a classroom and closed the door behind her.

The Venetian blinds were shut, and only a little light filtered through to dimly illuminate the blackboard, lectern, and rows of empty seats. Some posters on the back wall looked like a row of shadowy figures, and a white hump in the middle of the room must