Kim Baldwin - The Gemini Deception

“Flesh wound,” the woman said. “He got you the first time he fired in there.”

“But I didn’t… don’t feel any—”

“Adrenaline.” Kennedy slowly got to her feet. “You’ll feel it later.”

“You two need to leave…now.” The woman turned to them. “Take the van.” She dug in her pocket and threw a ring of keys at Kennedy. “There’s a safe house twenty miles from here outside Burke. Mitcham Court, north side of the big park. Stay there and have your people come get you. Keep clear of public places and transport, and ditch the car as far away from the safe house as you can.”

“Can’t we go to the police?” Ryden asked.

“No. The bitch has her people everywhere. Keep low until your own show up.”

“You’re coming with us,” Kennedy said.

“I can’t.”

“I’m not leaving you here.”

“Yeah, you are.” The woman handed the gun to Kennedy and waited at the bottom of the stairs.

Kennedy led the way up, with Ryden behind her and the other woman last, but she’d gone only a few steps when she paused and turned to look at the stranger. “Who are you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“What you said—by any means necessary. Why did you say it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” the woman repeated.

“Why did you help us?”

“I helped you ,” she said to Kennedy, then tilted her head toward Ryden. “Not TQ’s bitch. If you want to help her, that’s your issue.”

“Who’s TQ?” Kennedy asked, and looked at her like she had the answer.

She, however, had never heard of anyone by that name. “I don’t know who she’s talking about.”

“The hell you don’t,” the woman replied. “It’s the same crazy bitch who hired me to kill you both,” she told Kennedy. “The same woman who hired your friend here to play president. Enough talking. You need to go.” She pushed past them and stopped at the door one landing above. It had another illuminated EMERGENCY EXIT sign above it. “This looks like it comes out the back of the building. You’ll have to make it to the van from there.”

“Come with us,” Kennedy insisted.

“He may be out there, and he can’t know I let you go.”

“Then come with us. You’ll be safe. My people will make sure of that.”

“Your people don’t give a damn about me.”

They all heard steps on the metal stairwell above them, and Ryden squeezed Kennedy’s arm. “He’s—”

Kennedy placed her finger on Ryden’s mouth and gently pushed the door open. The woman was right—they found themselves in a narrow alley at the rear of the warehouse.

Once they were outside, with the door shut behind them, Kennedy said, “I’ll shoot him as soon as he comes out.”

“No,” the woman replied. “I need him to tell the bitch I tried to stop you.”

“I don’t understand you.”

“You don’t have to. Punch me in the face. Make it look good.”

“What?” Ryden asked.

“To make it look like I struggled to get the keys from her,” Kennedy replied, before she punched the woman hard in the face.

The stranger fell against the brick wall. “Great,” she mumbled, and spat blood. “Now, give me the gun.”

“What?” Ryden asked again. She couldn’t understand what the hell was going on.

Kennedy placed the weapon in her hand.

“Get ready to run,” the woman said.

Ryden watched in disbelief as the stranger aimed the gun at her own thigh and pulled the trigger.

“Fuck! I’m shot!” she yelled, and collapsed to the ground as blood poured from the wound. “They’re out back!”

“I owe you.” Kennedy picked up the gun.

“And don’t you fucking forget it.” The woman gasped, in obvious pain, as she clutched at her thigh.

Kennedy grabbed Ryden by the hand and ran around the side of the warehouse for the van. Before they got in, Kennedy shot out two of the tires of the sedan.

*

Washington, D.C.

Although the bullet had passed cleanly through the fleshy part of her thigh, Jack’s leg hurt like a bitch during the bumpy drive. TQ had sent a car and two men to pick up Jack and Bill from the abandoned warehouse. They were driven into the heart of D.C. to a service entrance behind a big glass office complex, then led to an elevator that took them down to the underbelly of the building.

From one basement to another, but the two were radically different. This space was clean, modern, and well lit, dominated by large wooden shipping crates piled in several groupings. The markings on the side indicated some had come from the Middle East, while others had Russian Cyrillic labeling or Asian characters.

Jack was surprised and troubled to find TQ standing in the middle of the room. As far as she knew, the bitch rarely left her penthouse. If she was here, that meant things were very serious.

TQ was on the phone with her back turned to them. “I want you to comb every inch of Washington and toll booth out of Washington. I don’t care how many men you need to do it, just give them pictures.” She hung up and turned to look at them before she dialed another number. “Have you found the van yet?” she asked whoever was on the other end. “I see.” She sounded disappointed. “I’ve ordered all airports to signal me should they show up, and I have men at the train stations,” she said. “Call me as soon as you find anything.”

TQ shut the cell phone and walked past Jack, without looking at her, to Bill. “How exactly did they get away?” She was the picture of serenity, which scared Jack more than tripping while holding liquid nitrogen.

Bill explained how he had run outside when Jack shouted that the two women were getting away. When he found her, wounded on the ground, Jack had told him the contractor had used her as a shield to get to the exit and then punched her unconscious in the stairwell. When Jack came to, she went after them and got shot as the two women were in the process of getting away with the van.

“How did they get the keys?” TQ asked calmly.

“They must’ve taken them while I was out cold,” Jack explained. “I need to sit.” She bit her lip in pain. She could feel blood slowly trickle down her leg. It had saturated her black jeans.

“When I say so.” TQ looked at Bill. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but weren’t you the one driving?”

His look of terror at being questioned by his boss was undeniable. “I…I…yeah, I drove.”

“Then do explain how Jack ended up with the keys.”

“I…I don’t know.” He looked at Jack. “They were in my jacket.” Bill felt his pockets as if expecting to find them there.

“They fell out and I picked them up,” Jack said blandly. She’d picked his pocket when he’d been busy pointing his gun at Kennedy’s head outside the building.

“Does that happen a lot?” TQ asked him.

“Never.”

“How unfortunate for you it happened tonight.” TQ took a step closer, so they were face-to-face. “How very unfortunate,” she repeated.

Bill had a good six inches on her, but his eyes were wide in fear and his face was slick with perspiration. He backed up against the wall. “Don’t believe her. She picked my pocket.”

“You saying I stuck my hand in your jacket and you never noticed?” Jack took a painful step forward. “I doubt you’d miss that, since moments before I found the keys on the ground you’d asked me to fuck you.”

“You took them from me.” He turned to TQ. “I know she did. She spent the whole drive there trying to convince me to let the contractor go, because she was afraid of them coming after her.” He looked at Jack. “You could have dropped them both, but you hesitated. It was like you were waiting for that bitch to go for your gun.”