Living secrets, p.1
Living Secrets, page 1
PRAISE FOR BURIED SECRETS: A PREQUEL BY S.F. BAUMGARTNER
I felt that the author wove a story that had twists and turns with unexpected moments sprinkled here and there.
DELPHIA, GOODREADS
They say that dynamite comes in small packages. This one was definitely loaded with plenty of information that will blow your mind.
TAMMY, GOODREADS
What a great story! This had enough thrill and mystery to draw me in even though it was a short novella.
MEGAN, GOODREADS
LIVING SECRETS: A THRILLER
Copyright © 2023 by S.F. Baumgartner
All rights reserved. This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, mechanical or electronic, including photocopying or recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, or transmitted by email without permission in writing from the author.
Neither the author nor the publisher assumes any responsibility for errors, omissions, or contrary interpretations of the subject matter herein. Any perceived slight of any individual or organization is purely unintentional.
Brand and product names are trademarks or registered trademarks of their respective owners.
ISBN 979-8-9879494-4-3
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023916404
Edited by Represent Publishing
Cover Design by 100bookcovers.com
AUTHOR’S NOTE
To the residents and those familiar with the state of Florida, please be aware that the town of Marian and the Mirror Estate only exist in the fictional world of this series. While I've drawn inspiration from the Sunshine State, I've also taken artistic license in shaping the particulars of the city of Orlando to suit my storyline. These alterations are crafted to enhance the narrative and do not reflect the actual geography or characteristics of the region.
Additionally, while the FBI undoubtedly operates many task forces across various fields, the one depicted in this series is purely a product of my imagination. It is not meant to represent any real division within the federal agency.
All people, places, and events depicted in this novel spring from the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or real-life situations is purely coincidental. These elements are fictional constructs created to serve the story and should not be interpreted as reflections of reality.
Thank you for joining me on this fictional journey. I hope you enjoy the world I've crafted and find yourself immersed in the lives and adventures of the characters within. Happy reading!
CONTENTS
Prologue
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23 YEARS AGO
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PRESENT DAY
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Bonus Content!
Thank you!
Acknowledgments
About the Author
PROLOGUE
DYLAN
Two weeks after the event of the Prequel
Mirror Estate
Dylan sat at his cluttered desk; his eyes fixed on the neatly handwritten notes in front of him. The faded ink told a story of secrets and mysteries buried deep within his family's history. The events of the past two weeks had shaken him to the core, and now he sought answers, resolution, and perhaps even a sense of closure.
His fingertips traced the outline of the notes—the originals were now held as evidence by the FBI. These notes had once belonged to his grandfather, a decorated police officer in the organized crime unit.
Dylan had taken the precaution of making copies before handing them over to FBI Special Agent Ron Peters. He knew that he had to protect himself, to have something to hold on to as he ventured further down this treacherous path.
But now, standing at this crossroad of his own investigation, he realized that he needed more help. He needed a connection to his roots, to the fragments of his family that had been shattered and scattered across time.
"Fr. Phil," Dylan muttered to himself. He had a hunch the priest knew a lot more about his family than he revealed. After all, his mother had entrusted the priest to deliver her email to him after her death.
Decision made, he put the notes and papers away and was ready to head to the chapel, a short walk from the estate.
His phone chose this moment to ring. He glanced at the screen. Agent Peters. Dylan answered. It was a short conversation. Fr. Phil would have to wait.
1
Three Months Ago
USA/China
“Status?” the Ghost demanded.
“He needs more convincing.”
“Use leverage. Anything. Make him cooperate. We have lots of friends in that part of China. The triads and others are in our pocket. They’ll give you a hand, if necessary.”
Good help’s hard to come by these days.
“What’s your plan? You can’t possibly be thinking of using his notes. We don’t have the capability to make any kind of biological weapon. Besides, the Chinese government wouldn't take kindly to you appropriating their research.”
“That’s not your concern. Get it done.” The Ghost hung up. She had plans for the notes. For one, they would be her leverage—in case she failed in her attempt to escape justice again.
The Ghost couldn’t shake the memory of the video she’d seen only a few days prior. The footage, secretly recorded in a hidden laboratory in China, showed the horrifying effects of the experimental bioweapon on test subjects. As the scientist in the video promised, the effects were a combination of smallpox, cholera, and Ebola. The mortality rate was one hundred percent if the antidote wasn’t administered within the first forty-eight hours. The scientist claimed anyone exposed to it would die within forty-eight to ninety-six hours, depending on the individual, if not given the antidote soon enough. The video had been a gruesome testament to the power of the bioweapon, and the Ghost knew that the weapon was something she needed to have in her arsenal.
She sat at her desk shuddering at the thought of the suffering she had witnessed, but she couldn’t let her emotions cloud her judgment. She needed that threat to be her bargaining chip, if necessary.
2
LILY
Present Day, Monday
Cemetery, Hong Kong
Life sucks!
“…you’ll be so proud of her. She recently got promoted. Now, she’s a supervisor…” Lily’s godmother, Marie, droned on. Lily wondered if her auntie, being a nun, seriously believed her dead uncle could hear her.
The two of them had come from a picnic on a park table at the bottom of the columbarium, which had multiple levels. The lingering scent of their leftovers seeped out of their to-go containers.
Lily stared at the little plaque with her uncle’s name, and dates of birth and death, engraved on it. He’d been all she had since his wife, Auntie Elsie, had died. Lily’s mother had died shortly after giving birth to her twenty-two years ago. She’d never known her father, although she suspected he wasn’t Chinese. Every time she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, she could see the mixed features on her face. Her eyes were rounder than other Hong Kong Chinese; her hair was not jet black. It was clear to everyone who saw her that she wasn’t of pure descent. There had been several mixed kids in her school. They had all assumed she was one of them, and nobody cared. If she’d gone to the local Chinese school, people might have asked questions, but the American school had lots of foreign students. She used to think Auntie was her aunt by blood,
If she had known her parents, she wouldn't have been as adrift regarding her identity.
“Lily! Lily, are you okay?”
The words jolted her to the present moment. “Yes, I’m fine. Thinking about how unfair life is. Why did Uncle have to die? God already took my mother. Now, he’s taken my uncle, my only relative.”
Marie, a woman of Chinese and Portuguese descent, had almond-shaped chestnut eyes and olive skin—an enchanting blend of eastern elegance and Mediterranean charm. “Oh, Lily. Life is a tapestry. From the reverse side, how we mortals see life, it appears ugly and unfair. But when we’re with the Lord, we’ll see how he wove each thread exquisitely into something beautiful and fair.”
She had no idea how Auntie could have such strong faith. But then, she was a nun and daily Mass was part of her routine. What Lily found most interesting was that Auntie still wore a habit. “I know, I know, I’ve heard it before. It sounds deep and all, but it doesn't hit the same when you're living it. I'm still totally alone.”
Auntie stared at her. “And what am I to you?”
“I’m sorry, Auntie. Of course, you’re important to me. But you know what I mean. I don’t have any family now.”
Her godmother glanced away and took a deep breath.
Auntie put her hand on her heart and said, “They’re always with you. They’re here. You’re never alone, my child.”
Her phone vibrated a reminder. Lily glanced at the screen and noticed the time. “I need to go soon.”
“All right, then.” She turned back toward the plaque. “Happy heavenly birthday, big brother.” She’d always called Uncle ‘big brother,’ even though they hadn’t been blood-related. Lily wished her uncle a happy birthday too before they turned to leave.
As they walked out of the cemetery, Auntie said, “Tell me about your new job.”
“It’s not a new job. A different title with a bit more money.”
“But it’s a promotion.”
“Yeah, there’s only one other person in the Business Center. I don’t have a team of people working for me. We do the same thing. In fact, a lot of the guests simply want to print something. A few old-school types want us to play the role of their secretaries.”
“I’m sure there will be plenty of opportunities for you at the hotel in the future.” She paused, looking around. “Ah, I’m going to take the tram. Are you walking to the MTR station?”
The subway was where she was headed, but she had to walk a couple of blocks still. “Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”
“All right. Bye.”
3
DYLAN
Wednesday morning
Marino Hotel, Hong Kong
“Tell me again why the proper authorities aren’t involved!” Tommy hollered from the living room.
Dylan knotted his tie and checked it in the bathroom mirror. Back home, he hardly wore a suit. Business casual was his work attire. Unfortunately, the more experienced employees in the upper echelon had advised him on the business attire in Hong Kong.
Tommy, on the other hand, had no problem getting dressed up. The guy carried himself as if he was a model, stepping out of a GQ magazine. Sometimes, Dylan wondered why his best friend had opted to be a CPA—such a boring profession.
“Because Agent Peters said it’d be a hassle and time-consuming,” Dylan answered.
“Wouldn’t you be able to help move things along if you were the owner?” Tommy replied.
Dylan could hear Tommy searching in the mini-fridge for something. All dressed, he walked out to the living room. The aroma of coffee filled the air. “You do know we’re going downstairs for breakfast, right?”
“So? Checking things out to see if they stocked yours with better stuff.” Tommy closed the fridge. “Oh, did you notice how cute that girl who showed us to our suites is? If I see her again—”
“Don’t even try! We’re here on business. Stick to the agenda,” Dylan said. “How is it that you’re a CPA? You’re ruining the image of your profession.”
“And what’s the image?”
“Come on! CPAs are bean counters. Glasses, boring, nerdy. You’re a chick magnet.”
“And who said accountants can’t be chick magnets? Just because you live like a monk doesn’t mean I should. Back to the question. Wouldn’t you, being the owner, help move things along?”
No matter how many times Dylan told his buddy, Tommy still referred to Dylan as the owner of the hotel.
“My grandmother is the owner. Yes, I could ask, and she’d probably smooth things out. But that’s not the main reason. Remember, the family business has been legit for years now. I don’t want to tarnish our newly established reputation by making such a big scandal.”
“Okay, gotcha. We’re searching for a bad apple.”
“You got it.” Dylan patted his pockets to make sure he had all he needed—cell phone and wallet. “Let’s go.”
“Whatever happened to your game thing? Didn’t you want to hold some reality show or game?”
“Nah, that was one of my stupid ideas.” In reality, Agent Peters had talked him out of it.
“Now, why did it take you this long to come to your senses? I told you that long ago.” Tommy paused. “You know, I have to say these suites don’t hold a candle to even the junior suites back in Orlando. These are smaller. The view is great, though.”
Dylan was assigned one of the premier suites, and Tommy was in an adjacent suite. “Dude, this is Hong Kong. Land is scarce and property values are sky high. I understand some Hong Kong folks think they can get real bargains in New York City or Honolulu.”
“Right—didn’t some VP or other say there are more Mercedes here per capita than anywhere else?”
Dylan made sure he had the key card and closed the door behind them. They were to have breakfast with the hotel manager, Larry. Dylan’s discreet snooping back home had consisted of talking with lots of old-timers on the pretext of learning his family history and the business.
His life had turned upside down a few months ago, soon after his mother’s death. A grandmother he’d never known had managed to locate him. After a few eventful weeks—including almost getting shot by a deranged woman—he’d accepted his grandmother’s offer to stay and work for the family business.
