Kim Baldwin - The Gemini Deception

“No. You can’t touch Cass.”

“Then you can’t decline.”

The bitch left her no choice. “I’ll do it.”

“I need proof.”

“So do I. I want to hear Cass is okay.”

“Fair enough,” TQ replied. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

“I want to meet you in person.”

“We’ll get to that but not just yet.”

The static disappeared. TQ was gone.

*

The White House

Thomas’s meeting with Moore lasted an hour. Both came out with blank, distant expressions, and neither looked at Shield. When Shield followed the president to her room, she shut the door in her face without so much as a good night. Thomas was clearly upset with her, and she couldn’t fault her.

When Jason, her Secret Service replacement, arrived to take the night watch outside the president’s door, Shield left for her bedroom.

Although she was exhausted, she couldn’t stop thinking about Moore and his hold on Thomas. After tossing and turning for a couple of hours, she reached for her iPhone and Googled Jeffrey Thomas Elizabeth died. She had no proof, but her gut told her Moore was somehow involved in his death.

News reports said Thomas’s husband had been playing a round of golf at the Bath Country Club near the couple’s home in Maine when his heart failed during the game. His wife Elizabeth, who was campaigning in Vermont at the time, rushed to Mid Coast Hospital in Brunswick, accompanied by her special advisor, Kenneth Moore, a close family friend. But Jeffrey Thomas was pronounced DOA before she arrived. He had stopped breathing in the ambulance and could not be revived.

Reporters covering the story from the hospital said the presidential candidate was too distraught to make any official comment about her husband’s sudden death. The only video of her was several seconds shot by a local TV station, of Thomas and Moore getting out of a car in front of the hospital and going inside. Thomas’s face was a study of sadness and pain, as though she already had been informed of her husband’s passing. Moore’s countenance was somber.

One news story, shot several hours later outside the couple’s home, said that Elizabeth Thomas had released a statement saying she hoped the media would respect her need for privacy during this difficult time. Kenneth Moore, shown on camera outside the two-story brick residence, said that he was deeply upset by Jeffrey’s death. “He had been a heart patient for years,” Moore told the reporter, “but you’re never prepared for the tragedy of a friend’s death.”

The news reports went on to say that Jeffrey Thomas, an attorney, was fifty-six at the time of his death, thirteen years older than his politician wife. The couple had been married for twenty-two years and had no children. Shield could find no reference to whether an autopsy had been performed.

By the time she got through finding everything she could on the Internet, it was three a.m. in D.C., one a.m. in Colorado. She could have waited for morning, but she dialed the EOO’s number and asked for Reno.

“All of you are responsible for the black circles under my eyes,” he said immediately.

“Sorry about the late hour, Reno.”

“Yeah, that’s what you all say.”

“What happened to that sunny personality of yours?”

“I was told it bothers some,” he replied grumpily.

“Who?”

“Jack Harding and Chase.”

“You mean Phantom.”

“She doesn’t like that name.”

“What’s the deal with her, anyway?” Shield had been away on assignment when the rogue former agent had returned to the EOO headquarters a few months earlier. She’d teamed up with agent Chase to track down Andor Rózsa, the madman who had kidnapped her partner Cassady Monroe, aka operative Lynx. “Strange that Pierce let her get away with going AWOL.”

“No one really knows why, but there’s talk,” he whispered.

“Ah, yes. The ever-growing grapevine.”

“That’s funny.” He chuckled. “You owning a—”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it.” She cut him off before he finished pointing out the obvious.

“Now, you see? It’s that exact attitude that’s changed me.”

“It shouldn’t matter what people say. Just keep being your sunny self. We have enough cynics among us as it is.”

“You think?” he asked sarcastically.

“At least your positive outlook makes you original, compared to most of us.”

“True.”

“So, here’s what I need: Jeffrey Thomas’s autopsy reports.”

“Give me a few.”

Shield stared at her bottle of wine on the dresser as Reno clicked away. But instead of traveling back to Tuscany, her thoughts took her to Thomas. Was she already asleep? How long would she give Shield the silent treatment? She was just trying to keep Thomas safe and… “What the hell, Reno, did you just swallow a bird?” she asked when slurping sounds and a loud gulp interrupted her thoughts.

“It’s cola. Need the caffeine. And yes, I’ve been told that, too, bothers people.”

“Let me guess.”

“Yeah. Same duo.”

“Now officially a trio.”

“But it makes me original, right?”

“Wrong.”

“So, anyway…turns out no autopsy was done on Thomas. He was a longtime heart patient and they didn’t find it necessary to perform one.”

“I see.”

“Anything you want to share?” he asked.

“Like I’ve said, I don’t trust Moore.”

“You think he was involved in Jeffrey Thomas’s death?”

“Tell Pierce I’m taking some time off tomorrow,” she said. “The president doesn’t have anything scheduled but meetings within the House. She should be fine for a few hours with the regular guards.”

“What are you up to, and can I help?” Reno sounded eager, like he always did when a conspiracy was involved.

“I’m going to visit a certain country club. I’ll let you know if I need your expertise.”

“Cool.”

“Thanks, Reno.”

“ Finally a thank you,” he shouted. “Is it so hard for some to acknowledge I’m a human being and not an android?”

“Good night,” Shield said. Poor guy’s cracked. He really needs a vacation before he breaks and even the company shrink won’t be able to glue him back together.

Chapter Twenty

Outside Houston, Texas

Next morning, March 4

Jack’s bladder hurt so much she bent over in pain. She’d be damned if she’d give TQ the satisfaction, but she didn’t know how much longer she’d be able to master her bodily functions. She was cold, her head hurt from the bright light, and although she was parched, any liquid intake would only worsen her situation.

“Hello, Jack.” TQ’s voice filled the room.

“What time is it?”

“If I wanted you to know, I would have greeted you accordingly.”

“I’m gonna say it’s morning.”

“Maybe,” TQ said teasingly. “Then again, maybe not. So, how is life in a box treating you?”

“Nice and quiet in here, and I love what you’ve done with it.” Jack looked around.

“Thank you.”

“You said you were going to let me hear Cass was all right.”

It was quiet for a while, then TQ’s voice came back. “I keep my promises.”

The door opened and the same small-framed person she’d seen in the warehouse came in and approached her. She could tell now it was a man. He placed an iPad in front of her and pressed Play. The camera was zoomed on Cass during rehearsals, and the date stamp on the video was, from what Jack calculated, that morning. She would have doubted the date, knowing it could be manufactured, but the conductor spoke and announced that opening night was tomorrow. Jack sighed in relief.