The Gemini Deception (42 page)

He placed his cell under the counter and slowly turned around. “They’re XXL.”

“Sounds about right.”

He turned to look at her one more time before he returned to the wall. While he was on his tiptoes reaching for the small box, Shield silently leaned over the counter and snatched his cell. She got it into her jacket pocket just as the boy turned to face her. Though she could have just asked for it politely with her gun, the risk of him pressing the predictably hidden-under-the-counter silent alarm was too big, and the last thing she needed was a police chase for armed robbery.

“Anything else?”

“Got lube?”

“What?”

Shield got out her wallet and placed a hundred-dollar bill in front of him. “Keep the change.” She pocketed the condoms and walked quickly to the cab, where Ryden was waiting.

“I can’t believe you took his phone,” Ryden said as she watched Shield dial Monty’s number.

“I tipped him.”

*

Washington, D.C.

TQ paced in her D.C. office. She had wanted to stay and watch Jack being tortured to calm her nerves and restore her balanced state, but the dire situation called for her immediate attention. She didn’t even have her maids to release her anger upon.

She had rarely been so distressed or so close to having her identity unveiled, and on that one past occasion she had paid good money to make sure that person never talked. She had left him feeling safely assured that he was free to go on with his now-rich life, and then, once he’d let down his guard, she’d eliminated him.

The op and Wagner, however, posed a whole different problem. Even if they accepted her money in return for silence, she’d have to find them before they caused irreparable damage. She wasn’t worried about the authorities or even the president, but the meddling and ruthless media would tear her apart.

Her people had just informed her that the cabin they suspected the two runaways had found refuge in had recently been evacuated. The targets were on the run. But at least they were still within the greater Washington environs.

She jumped with anticipation when the phone rang. The caller ID placed the call from her Texas home. “What?”

“Madam, a Mr. Montgomery Pierce called, asking for Theodora Rothschild. He said you have something that belongs to him, and he’s willing to negotiate your identity in return for it.”

She gripped the cell phone till her knuckles hurt. Who was this Pierce, and had Kennedy already talked to someone? “What else?”

“Nothing, madam. He left a number to reach him at your earliest convenience.”

“I don’t have time for this shit,” she muttered.

“Would you like me to tell him you’re unavailable?”

“Did I ask you to?”

“No, madam. It was a suggestion.”

“Do you know me to be in the habit of seeking proposals from anyone, let alone a secretary?”

“No, madam.”

“Do it again and I’ll stab you in the mouth. Give me his number.” TQ jotted down the digits and hung up.

She treated herself to a shot of red wine before she made the call.

“Pierce.” The man was older, his tone one of confident authority.

“Mr. Pierce, this is Theodora Rothschild. How can I help you?”

“Wise of you to call me back, TQ. I am on my way to D.C. as we speak.”

She hadn’t expected this stranger who was looking for Rothschild to call her by her other business name.

She could hear the distinctive noise of a jet in the background. “Business or pleasure?”

“It will be my pleasure to destroy you and your business, should we fail to reach an arrangement.”

“No need for dramatic statements, Mr. Pierce. Many have offered me deals and I have yet to disappoint. I’m sure we can reach a satisfactory agreement.” Another money-hungry idiot threatening to expose her. “I can get you whatever money can buy, and I value discretion. Whatever transpires between us will stay between us.”

“I’m not interested in buying or discretion. Like I told your secretary, you have something that belongs to me.”

“I’m willing to give it back, assuming it’s still in my possession.” TQ placed her wineglass on the desk. Pierce could potentially be a problem. This was not the time to deal with idiots complaining about stolen artifacts, but she had to contain her anger and play along before he did something rash. “Can you be more specific? It’s very possible I acquired something without knowing it was stolen.”

“All you need to know is that I am willing to look the other way concerning President Thomas, her substitute, and your identity, unless of course you refuse to return what you took.”

The last time TQ’s heart did a somersault like this was
never
. Who the hell was this man?

“The president?” She feigned surprise. “I may be guilty of many things, but I have to admit I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you sure you have the right person?” So what if Kennedy and the florist had talked? They couldn’t prove anything.

“As sure as I am that Thomas will talk if I offer her and her family protection from you.”

“You have the wrong person.”

“Who do you think the authorities and the media will believe: Thomas, or a thieving auctioneer-slash-weapons and organ dealer? They will rip you apart before they lock you up for life.”

“Unfounded and obscene accusations,” TQ replied. “You have no proof.”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said calmly. “I will expose every illegal transaction you’ve ever made and those who did business with you, starting with Zhang Anshun, the Chinese Supreme Court Justice. I can assure you he will admit to everything to save his skin and delicate position.”

How did he know about Zhang, her key expediter for black-market organs? She ran her hand across her forehead, shocked to discover an unfamiliar sheen of perspiration. No one had ever made her sweat. “Who exactly are you, Mr. Pierce?”

“Someone with more power than you.”

Anger replaced her worry. No one had more power than she. She’d worked hard to make sure of that. “And yet I have something you want,” she said smugly. “Perhaps you overestimate your supremacy.”

“I have the power to destroy you, and I don’t need a fake birth certificate in order to kill. So tell me again if I overestimate my supremacy.”

How could he possibly know about her birth certificate? “I don’t know who you are just yet, Mr. Pierce, but there is nothing I can’t find out, including who or what you treasure.”

“If you find out who I am, then perhaps you can enlighten me as well, since I officially don’t exist. As for what I treasure, it’s no mystery, since I’m on my way to get it. A heads-up: I don’t deal well with disappointment.”

It was like listening to herself. Who the hell was he? Had she angered and stolen from someone in the CIA? “Why don’t you tell me what you want and give me time to locate it or buy it back? It will make our transaction much smoother and faster.” She placed her hand on the landline, to make an immediate call to whichever warehouse had his fucking artifact. If she’d already sold it, she’d have to find a way to get it back, and that would take time.

“I’m sure you haven’t sold it. If, on the other hand, it has been destroyed…” He paused such a long while TQ thought the line had gone dead. “You will meet an equal fate,” he finally said.

“I don’t destroy anything of value.”

“Then I sincerely hope we have similar tastes. I will be at your Connecticut Avenue address within the hour.”

“I look forward to our meeting.” She kept her voice calm, but her heartbeat accelerated further with the knowledge that he knew about her D.C. office and would be here soon.

“I probably needn’t mention this,” he said, “but should anything happen that might delay my timely return home, I have given orders to release all the information I have on you.”

“I meant to ask you earlier,” she replied. “How did you know I was in Washington?”

“There is nothing I can’t find out.” The line went dead.

She immediately dialed the number of her high-level contact in the FBI. She had to know who she was dealing with, obviously a worthy adversary. Pierce had considerable money—evidenced by his private jet and whatever priceless artifact she’d taken of his—he had power enough to find her and destroy her, and he was smart enough to ensure her devastation should anything happen to him. Although she admired smart people, she would not allow anyone to checkmate her at any game. “I need information and I need it now,” she told her contact.

“What can I do for you?” he replied at once.

“Tell me who Montgomery Pierce is.”

“Give me a second.”

TQ heard him clicking away at a computer.

“I have quite a few with that name. Can you give me more?”

“In his sixties, I think, possibly CIA.”

“I can’t access the CIA without—”

“Don’t, can’t, and won’t are unacceptable. Now search, before I personally take your father’s liver back,” she yelled.

“Give me a moment.”

“Make it a fast one.”

“I found a Montgomery Pierce with a military record, born in 1950. Stationed in France for three years. He left the military in 1974 to become a lawyer in New York, and then…” He paused.

“Then, what?” TQ snapped.

“His career ended in 1988. After that, nothing.”

“You mean he died?”

“No, I mean he disappeared,” the contact said.

“No one disappears. He’s not a ghost. Was he married? Children?” TQ hoped she could find something to at least scare Pierce.

“Neither.”

“Parents? Siblings?”

“No siblings. Says here he was adopted.”

“By?” TQ rolled her eyes. “It’s like pulling teeth.”

“Sorry, but it’s just that his record is very vague. It doesn’t say who adopted him or what happened to him.”

This sounded like her man.

“Aren’t you people supposed to have everyone’s records?”

“Unless someone higher up deleted or classified them,” he replied, “in which case access is denied.”

“When are records deleted or marked classified?”

“If someone is an Agency NOC.”

“A what?”

“A non-official cover for the Agen…CIA, or…”

“Or what?”

“Or if someone is considered very significant because of their covert work for the benefit and safety of the United Nations,” he said, “and when they are essential links between the USA and other countries. Their identity is then considered high-level security.”

“Who has access to that level?” TQ checked her watch. Time was running out.

“Interpol. And before you ask, even if I could access their records, information like this is not kept on an electronic database for security reasons. Cooperation with people like him is unofficial, and treated as such.”

“Which means what?”

“They work to make companies like the FBI, CIA, KGB, MI6, and you name it look good. They go above and beyond any law and answer to no one. Nobody cares how they get the job done, as long as the said companies can claim the glory and reap the media benefits.”

“Who pays them?”

“Whoever hired them.”

“In other words, these people are contractors,” TQ said.

“Very similar.”

Maybe Kennedy had talked, after all. “Do you have the address of a company called the EOO?”

She heard him type again.

“Most money-grubbing private companies like Xe advertise everywhere and are easy to find. Others…” The line went quiet again.

“What?”

“Like the EOO are not. Says here the address is classified.”

“Not even a state?” she asked.

“Not even a country.”

“I need more.”

“I’m sorry,” he said nervously. “But I simply don’t have access.”

“Try harder.”

After a long silence and a deep sigh, he replied, “I’ll do my best. Just give me some time. I can’t promise you any—”

“I’m going to be in a meeting shortly. Fax me whatever you find.”

TQ hung up. “What are you up to, Pierce? And what did I take from you?” She was screwed if she couldn’t deliver what this man wanted, and even then she wasn’t sure he’d keep his word, or let her live, for that matter. “But I decide when I die, and today is not the day.”

Washington, D.C.

Jack tried not to throw up as she crawled to the concrete wall of the basement and propped herself against it. Her leg was bleeding profusely again and she left a wide swath of blood on the floor. TQ’s two assholes had made a sport of kicking her where she’d been shot, and then one sat back as the other began to punch her relentlessly in the stomach.

She coughed up blood, the steely taste making her even more nauseated. Since they hadn’t hit her in the face, she was probably bleeding internally.

“Take a break,” the guy sitting said to his friend. “Where’s the fun if she passes out?”

“I guess,” the other replied. “It’s time for lunch, anyway.”

Relieved she could catch her breath, Jack rested her head against the wall as soon as they left. She badly needed something to wipe the terrible taste out of her mouth, and her T-shirt was too filthy and drenched in blood. She stuck her hand in her pocket in search of a tissue or anything at all and pulled out the folded note Dratshev had given her.

With effort, she focused on the words.
Your cat is safe. Come home. 19 8 1 4 5.
In disbelief, she read the note again, then once more. It was Pierce’s handwriting and code; he was telling her Cass was safe. But how? And how did this note end up with Yuri? Did Pierce know about TQ?

Jack didn’t care how he had gotten the note to her. Cass was safe, and that was all that mattered. “Fuck.” She let her head fall back again with a thump. If she’d read the note earlier, she’d be halfway back to Cass’s arms by now, planning how to get rid of TQ once and for always.

She stuck the note in her mouth when she heard approaching steps and chewed.

“We’re baaa-ack,” the Hulk sang. “Ready for round three?”

Jack no longer had to worry about the door opening any moment and Cass being pushed through it. Her only fear when they’d started to punch and kick her had been that TQ would bring Cass in as punishment, to make Jack watch as they…