Kim Baldwin - The Gemini Deception

Seconds later, two more men in masks appeared at the dark entrance, with what appeared to be a woman between them. When they stepped into the light of the tunnel, Shield gasped.

She looked from the woman, to Thomas, and back again. “What the hell—”

The new arrival was a bit heavier, but that was the only visible physical difference. She was dressed in a pantsuit identical to the one shown all over the media the day of the assassination attempt. The double looked at Thomas with disgust. “Tell your people they did an admirable job recreating me.” She stepped closer, and the two men holding her moved with her, until the two women stood almost nose to nose. “But as is the case with all imitations, the interior is always inferior.”

The woman Shield had been guarding started to respond, but the newcomer wasn’t finished. “I want my wedding ring back.”

“I left it by your bed,” the look-alike in the jeans and T-shirt replied. “I’m so sorry. They didn’t give me a choice.”

“There’s always a choice, even if it’s death.”

The double stared at her feet, her expression one of shame and embarrassment.

“I can’t stand to look at her,” the newcomer said. “Take her the hell away.”

Jason escorted the new arrival—obviously the real Elizabeth Thomas—back toward the golf cart, while the masked men shoved Shield and the look-alike roughly out the exit and into the night.

Chapter Twenty-nine

Washington, D.C.

Jack was blindfolded during her transfer to the private plane that transported them to their final destination, so it wasn’t until the aircraft descended some hours later that she was finally able to orient herself to where the hell she was. Looking out the Gulfstream’s window, she spotted the Washington Monument in the distance, the pale obelisk starkly illuminated against the night sky by spotlights.

Bill, the tall, thickly built goon that TQ had appointed as her escort, led her to a white panel van when they landed and got behind the wheel. They headed out of the city, traveling northeast toward Baltimore. Freeway traffic was so sparse at that early hour Jack realized immediately they were being followed. Because Bill had to know it too, and was unconcerned, that could only mean that the dark sedan tailing them held associates—two of them, from their silhouettes. TQ was obviously being careful to make sure everything went off without a hitch.

Jack had been warned she’d have someone with her for the job itself, but the fact that more of TQ’s people were along in another car threw a wrench in her plan. TQ wanted her to off some civilian and an EOO op, or else Cass would be killed on the spot. Jack’s priority was Cass, but to kill another op even though she no longer worked for the organization was beyond even her morals. She’d come close once before, when she’d been working for a dirty politician.

Jack had fired before she recognized an EOO op—Agent Domino—holding a knife to the senator’s throat. Fortunately, Domino’s quick reflexes had saved her; she’d pulled the politician in front of her as a shield, and Jack had killed him instead, while the op escaped out the window.

Despite the outcome, Jack had felt guilty for a long time. Maybe she didn’t like Montgomery Pierce, but she had no issues with the ops, who were just as much a victim of his ego as she was.

Tonight, she had intended to kill her driver and ask Kennedy to injure her. She planned to make it look like the EOO op had overpowered them both and escaped with Wagner. That way, she could return to TQ beat up, maybe even shot, and tell her she had tried but the op managed to steal Bill’s gun. But explaining away three of TQ’s guys would be a hard sell, even if she managed to shoot them all. Since Cass’s safety was her top priority, she had only one option. She’d have to play along.

Bill pulled off the highway long before they reached Baltimore and drove deserted back roads for another few minutes before stopping in front of an isolated two-story home. The other car stayed on their bumper and parked behind them. “Why did we stop?” Jack asked.

“To pick someone up,” he replied.

The two guys in the car behind got out and walked over. One approached Bill’s window and waited for it to lower. “The Russian just called. They’ll be ready to move in two.” He ducked his head to look over at Jack. “He said he wants to talk to you.”

“What Russian?”

“His name’s Dratshev.”

“What the hell is he doing here?”

“None of your business,” Bill said.

“You know him?” the guy standing outside asked.

“We’ve met,” Jack replied. “But what does he want now?” she mumbled to herself.

“Maybe he wants to screw you.” The guy laughed. “How the fuck should I know?”

Jack smoothly pulled a Walther P99 semiautomatic pistol from Bill’s shoulder holster and pointed it at the other one at the window. All three men, including the guy next to her, who apparently had a backup gun, drew their own weapons.

“Then why, bottom-feeding mutant, don’t you ask the fucking Russian what he wants?” Jack dropped the gun on the driver’s lap. “Just playin’.”

Bill smiled and nodded appreciatively. “You are one crazy mother—”

“Looks like the Russian’s here.” Jack saw the big guy come out of the house and head toward them. She rolled down her window and, in Russian, asked how he was.

Dratshev smiled. “Not too fucked up,” he replied. “Long time no see.”

“Yup.”

“You work for TQ now.”

“Thanks for captioning my nightmare.”

“For catching a nightmare?” the Russian asked with a confused expression.

“Never mind. So, what brings you to TQ’s party?” Jack asked.

“Business.”

“You mean it’s not her fluffy disposition?” Jack feigned shock. “Which business?”

“My favorite toys.”

“Gotta love any toy that profits a few million annually.” Jack was referring to the illegal-weapons trade.

Dratshev changed the topic. “If you work for TQ, you work for me.”

“That what you came to tell me?”

“ Da . This deal means big money, so don’t fuck up.”

“Never. Your financial welfare means the world to me,” Jack said sarcastically. “And I’m sure my buddy Bill here feels the same.” She rolled her eyes in the direction of the driver.

“Good. So, good luck.” Dratshev extended his hand.

Jack looked over at him, hovering outside her window, and extended her own hand.

The Russian shook it roughly. “Be wise.” He winked.

Jack felt something in her palm. Paper. Whatever it was, Dratshev had his reasons for keeping it between them.

“Can’t promise.” Jack fisted the note and pulled her hand in.

Another unmarked white van, like the one they were in, emerged from behind the house and came down the driveway.

“We’re ready to go.” Bill started their vehicle and followed the van as it turned onto the street and headed back toward the highway. The dark sedan with TQ’s men got in line behind the vans. “You used to work for him?”

“Yeah.” Jack stuck her hand in her pocket to hide the paper Dratshev had given her. She’d have to wait for a private moment to see what it was.

“Hits, or what?”

“What is this, career day?”

They followed the other van for an hour as it skirted the nation’s capital. Finally, it parked at the edge of a wooded area in the countryside, and four men in masks got out. A fifth emerged from the back, with a woman in a pantsuit whose head was covered.

“Who’s that?” Jack asked.

“A woman,” Bill replied.

“Killer observational skills.”