The Gemini Deception (30 page)

“Who?”

“Do you know if she had any contact with past…clients?”

“Yuri Dratshev was in touch a week or so ago. He said he had a job for her.”

“You said she stopped taking hits,” Arthur said.

“She has.” Cassady didn’t bother to hide her irritation. “Jack said Dratshev wouldn’t stop trying to reach her, so she planned to call him to tell him she’d retired.”

“I want to meet with Dratshev,” Pierce said to Arthur.

“With what excuse? Arthur asked.

“I’ll think of something.”

“You don’t think he did something to Jaclyn?” Grant asked.

“I doubt it,” Cassady replied. “As far as I know, he has a lot of respect for her, especially after the Owens case.”

Pierce got up. “Maybe, just maybe, Jaclyn decided—”

“I know where you’re going,” Cass glared at him, her temper rising, “and no…Jack promised she’d never go back to that life.”

Pierce raised his hand to calm her. “Cassady, listen to me. Maybe she was threatened to do so.”

“What would Dratshev threaten her with? He doesn’t know where to find her. He doesn’t even have her real name. He doesn’t know anything.”

“Maybe he managed to find her, somehow. It’s possible he took Jaclyn at gunpoint, which would explain the sandwich.”

“Why would he come with it now, nearly two years later?”

“Could be something good came up, and he desperately wants Jaclyn for the job,” Arthur said.

“And is using something,” Pierce added, “evidence, or whatever, against her if she doesn’t accept his offer.”

“Do you think he’s threatening her with me?” Cass asked.

“Why would you think that?” Pierce replied.

“Yes, I think he is.” Grant looked at Cassady. “Jack wrote that she had to do this because she couldn’t
bear the thought of anyone ever hurting you again. I think Jack decided to go to him to protect you.”

“Then why the undertone of finality?” Cassady looked down at the piece of paper. “‘Know that I will always love you,’” she read. “Jack knows I’d forgive her. I’d understand her having to take a job to save her own or my life. I’d do the same.”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Cassady,” Grant said.

Pierce turned to Arthur. “Does the Russian still live in Manhattan Beach?”

“I’ll have Reno check,” Arthur replied.

“Have me booked on the first flight out tomorrow,” Pierce said. “I want to see him ASAP.”

Arthur started to leave, but Cassady put a hand out to stop him. “Make that two tickets.”

Pierce frowned. “We don’t know what he’s holding against her. It may be you, or it may not. It’s not wise to expose the company or your relationship to Jaclyn and give him ammo.”

“How would I be exposing the company?”

“He knows who I am,” Pierce replied. “Yuri and I have met.”

*

Houston, Texas

TQ smiled as she looked out the window of her office at the downtown skyline. Everything was falling nicely into place. Her guest, confined to another of her apartments in the same building, was cooperative, the double was performing even better than she’d hoped for, and the culmination of her plan to cripple the illegal-weapons agenda was only hours away. She couldn’t wait to be able to return her attention fully to growing her business and, with it, her power. Now all that remained was to tie up all the loose ends. She called Kenneth Moore to make sure everything was on track for the big announcement.

“We are going public with it tomorrow,” Moore said.

“As scheduled then. I’ll call the Russian imbecile to have his people get Thomas ready.”

“Oh, and the florist and her gal pal need to be taken care of as soon as the switch takes place,” Moore said.

“Of course. You sound worried. Do you want to share something?”

“I think Wagner talked to the bodyguard.”

“What makes you think that?”

“I caught them talking, and when I asked what it was about, Kennedy said the president had promised to play tennis with her.”

TQ straightened in her chair. She knew the double’s capabilities well; she’d studied every facet of the woman’s past and had herself decided what should be included in her training. “What did Wagner have to say about that?”

“She looked uncomfortable,” Moore replied. “I doubt Wagner offered to play anything against the guard.”

“Of course not, you idiot. She’s never held a racket in her life.”

“How sure are we about that?”

“Sure enough to know Kennedy made it up on the spot.”

“We’re going to upset some very dangerous people by killing one of theirs,” Moore said.

“They’ll never find out who did it.”

“You seem to have a lot of faith in the unpredictable Russian.”

“It’s not Dratshev I’m placing my chips on. I know he’s capable of using the florist as a bargaining tool, either with me or with the police.”

“Exactly.”

“That’s why I’ve chosen someone with too much at stake to disappoint us.”

“How do you know he has the nuts to do it, let alone do it right? Threatening someone’s life or their family doesn’t mean they won’t screw up.”

“First of all, it’s a she,” TQ replied. “Secondly, she’s one of the best in the business, and last but not least, her Achilles’s heel is worth more than anybody’s money can buy.”

“And you own that heel.”

“Obviously.”

“Well, good.” He sounded relieved. “Because frankly, I’m ready to have this over with. I haven’t slept in six months, my wife won’t stop complaining about my lack of libido, and I’m losing my hair.”

TQ sighed. Moore was an essential ingredient to her plan’s success, but he was proving to be too high-maintenance. “Aside from irrelevant, it’s also an I-don’t-give-a-damn tidbit of information. Make sure Wagner does her homework and stop whining. It’s very unbecoming.”

She disconnected and dialed again. Yuri Dratshev already knew the time and location for the switch back; she needed only to tell him that things could proceed as scheduled.

Yuri Dratshev picked up immediately.
“Da?”

“Your guest is ready to go home,” she said.

“I will take care of it.”

“You are not to touch the florist,” she reminded him, “or her friend. My people will deal with them.”

“What friend?” he asked.

“It doesn’t concern you. Once your delivery is made, your job is done.”

She’d barely hung up the phone when it rang again. The caller ID told her it was the guy she’d put in charge of watching Cassady Monroe. “Yes?”

“We lost Monroe.”

She put the call on speakerphone. “Tell me I heard wrong.”

He cleared his throat. “I don’t know how it happened.”

“I pay you enough to make sure you know how everything happens.”

“She must have left late last night or very early this morning.”

“Where were you?”

“The hotel across the street.”

“Sleeping.”

“I stayed on watch until two.”

“I don’t pay you to fucking sleep.” TQ slammed her hand on the desk.

“We were taking turns. The lights in her room were still on when Mike took over.”

“So Mike should have seen her leave.”

There was a prolonged pause on the other end. “He didn’t.”

“Pray tell.”

“He fell asleep.”

“Where is he?”

“Next to me.”

“I don’t like disappointments.”

“I know, ma’am.”

She couldn’t abide incompetence. Everyone who worked for her was aware of the penalty for failing to deliver. “Then you know what you have to do.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Once you’re done with him, I want you to spend all eighty-six thousand, four hundred seconds of every day looking for her.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The White House

Ryden spent an hour that morning and nearly two more that night with Ratman, preparing for the big announcement on the illegal-weapons plan that she would deliver the next day. Rehearsing her scripted statement took no time at all—she had Thomas’s accent and mannerisms well in hand by now. But she would face some tough grilling from the White House Press Corps, and Ratman wanted to be sure she was well versed on how to respond to any question that might come up.

Since there was a protocol for White House briefings—a clear pecking order regarding who in the press pool got called upon, and when—she also had to memorize the names and faces of the key reporters who would be present.

Only after they’d covered every eventuality thoroughly did Ratman agree to call it a night. As they emerged from the Oval Office, Kennedy, standing outside, turned and looked at Ratman in pure distaste.

Part of Ryden was glad Kennedy felt the same way as she about the miserable excuse for a human, but Kennedy was oblivious to the fact that she was pressing her luck.

Ratman had made it very clear that he would not hesitate to kill Kennedy if Ryden ever confided in her or turned to her for help. And Ryden certainly believed he and that cold bitch Rothschild were capable of cold-blooded murder. She had witnessed firsthand how they had set her up by orchestrating the murder of an innocent couple, plus they’d taken out five Secret Service agents. Kennedy either had no idea just how dangerous Rothschild and her people were, or she was just plain crazy in thinking she could uncover and stop this political game.

Ryden had expected Ratman to say something about the tennis game she’d promised Kennedy, and the fact that he didn’t disconcerted her. He knew she couldn’t play, let alone to the president’s standards, so he must have known either she or Kennedy was lying. Why hadn’t he said something? Where were the usual threats? He wasn’t one to ignore or let any comment go unnoticed.

She had to get Kennedy off her back and away from interfering with Moore before it was too late for both of them.

“We need to talk,” she said to Kennedy in a low voice when they reached her bedroom. Jason, the night shift bodyguard, was positioned farther down the hall at the top of the stairs.

“That’s why I came up with a game of tennis.”

“We can’t be seen together.”

Kennedy looked confused. “It’s my job to be with you at all times.”

“I mean we can’t be seen talking anymore.”

Kennedy opened the door for her and stood aside. “Let me know if you need anything, Madam President,” she said, loud enough for the other guard to overhear.

Ryden nodded and went inside.

Seconds later, a knock came from the adjoining door. Ryden threw off her suit jacket before she opened it, and when she did, she put her finger on her mouth. Kennedy started over the threshold, but Ryden pushed her back into her own room and followed, shutting the door behind them.

“What happened?” Kennedy asked after she’d unclipped her communications device and set it on her dresser.

“My room could be bugged.”

“It’s not.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it’s my job to check.”

“Either way, I don’t trust anyone.”

Kennedy settled into one of the armchairs near the window. “What happened in there?”

“No questions, Kennedy. I will be the one asking.” Ryden remained where she was, too restless to sit.

“Very well.”

“What did you mean by, ‘if he killed once, he can kill twice’?”

“Did that get your attention because it shocked you or because I know about it?”

Ryden clasped her hands together behind her back to keep them from shaking. “I said, no questions.”

“I don’t know what Moore wants,” Kennedy said, meeting her eyes, “but I do know he wants it bad enough to have killed your husband.”

Ryden didn’t believe she’d heard right. “My…what are you talking about?”

“Mr. Thomas was killed at the country club. Some waiter served him poisoned coffee to made it look like a heart attack. They played on the fact that your husband had heart problems to avoid an autopsy.”

“Oh, my…” They’d certainly proved they were capable of doing virtually anything to get what they wanted, from killing the Laudens to set her up to kidnapping the president of the United States and killing five Secret Service agents. But knowing they had the power to murder Thomas’s husband and get away with it, completely undetected, was a whole different kind of scary. “How do you know Moore was behind it?”

“I don’t have proof yet, but my instincts are never wrong.”

“And why are you trusting me with this information?” Ryden asked. “How do you know I wasn’t involved?”

“Maybe you were. I don’t know. All I know is that you’re terrified of him and there’s got to be a good reason.” Kennedy was spot-on, on both accounts, but if Ryden admitted it, they were both as good as dead.

“First of all, my husband died of natural causes. Secondly, I’m not afraid of Moore. My only issue with him is that he’s pushing me to act like the president this country elected at a time when I feel my world has fallen apart. My husband’s death has taken a heavy toll, evident from the fact that I even tried to kiss you. I’m tired, confused, and lonely. Frankly, I don’t know where I find the energy to get up in the morning.”

“And Moore is pushing you to perform?” Kennedy eyed her suspiciously. “Nothing but a friend with your best interest in mind.”

“Indeed. I’ve told you all this before. So I’m asking you to stop making up stories, looking for what isn’t there, and sticking your nose in government issues.”

“What you told me about Moore the other day doesn’t fit your story. When I asked you about him, you practically gagged, and I’m sure it wasn’t the wine.”

Ryden sighed for effect. “He tires me and at times aggravates me because he pushes too hard. That’s all I meant.”

Kennedy stood up. “You’re lying.”

“Excuse me?” she replied, sounding appropriately offended.

“You have the power to fire his ass, but for some reason you insist on protecting him.”

“Fire him?” Ryden practically shouted at the absurdity of the idea.

“The man tried to molest you, and all you did was walk away. Why is that, Elizabeth?”

How could Kennedy possibly know that? Ratman was nothing but decent in public. “Have you gone insane? He’s never touched me.”