Kim Baldwin - The Gemini Deception

“There’s nothing else around.”

“What’s this house supposed to be?”

“A safe house is a place where ops or agents can find refuge until further notice or a place to hide witnesses.”

Wagner straightened and stared at the sagging porch. “It looks…spooky.”

“As long as we find a phone, I don’t care what the house looks like.” Shield tried the front door, the Walther at the ready. Locked. Wagner stayed close behind her as she made her way around to the back. The back exit was locked as well, but the wood was so warped there was a gap between the door and frame, enough to pop it open with the security keycard from her wallet. The Russian goons who’d overpowered them in the tunnel had taken only her Glock.

“Wait here,” she told Wagner. She slipped inside and slid her hand along the wall until she found a light switch. She flipped it on, relieved when a dim bulb came to life, illuminating a small, sparsely furnished kitchen.

She turned on more lights and looked around, giving the half dozen rooms a thorough check in the space of a couple of minutes. Two small bedrooms, one bath, a living room, dining room, and kitchen. Although everything was dusty and worn, the place did indeed conform to the usual safe-house standards: it was isolated, with a good view of the surrounding area, and had multiple exits and basic, functional furniture. Little else, except for a few kitchenware items and minimal bedding and towels. The less clutter in a place like this, the better. It was easier to tell immediately if anyone had been there and changed anything, and it was tougher to conceal cameras or listening devices.

Many safe houses also had a place to hide things—weapons, documents, even people. Did this one? For the moment, her priority was the phone she spotted on the end table beside the couch. “You can come in,” she called out to Wagner.

Wagner, hugging herself, came in from the kitchen and looked around. “At least we’re safe for now,” she said with evident dismay.

“Have the White House luxuries spoiled the florist?” Shield knew she was out of line, but she didn’t care. Wagner had proved to be a liar working for a dangerous woman named TQ, a woman she’d turned a blind eye to knowing anything about, and Shield was fed up with her lies and games. She didn’t even know why she’d helped Wagner escape.

“My name is Ryden,” Wagner replied angrily. “And no, the White House and everything about it is a nightmare I hope to one day forget.”

“Then get comfortable. I don’t know how long we’ll have to stay here.”

“I thought they were coming to get us.”

“That depends on what’s going on at headquarters and whether they think it’s safe.”

“When are you going to call them?”

“As soon as I figure out what to tell them.”

“What do you mean?”

Shield locked the door and took a seat on the couch. “I want you to tell me what the hell is going on—who this TQ is and how she involved you. And then I want to know how the hell you pulled this off.”

“Look,” Wagner replied, as she sat on an armchair to Shield’s left, “I know you’re angry and you have every reason to be, but I did what I had to, to stay alive.”

“The only reason you’re alive, that both of us are alive, is by the grace of a complete stranger. I don’t understand why she helped us, but we owe her our lives.” Shield tried to keep her voice steady and not let her bottled-up anger take over. “What you did—your lies and deceptions, kidnapping the president and getting innocent people killed in the process, and then trying to seduce me to throw me off track—is not why you’re still alive.”

“They promised me freedom,” Wagner said coldly. “And I did not try to seduce you.”

“Stop repeating that ridiculous mantra. Did you really think they’d let a nobody live to tell what happened? High-profile people have been permanently silenced for a lot less. Do you have any idea how ludicrous you sound?”

“What the hell was I supposed to do? Go to jail and wait for death? Do you think I went looking for them, for this whole absurd weirdness?” Wagner winced. “They framed me, killed my customer and his ex-wife with my stem cutter, and placed it back in my shop where the police found it covered in blood. I didn’t stand a chance.”

“Didn’t you get a lawyer?”

“A fancy-looking one came to me while I was being held for questioning. Initially, I thought my colleague sent him. I’d asked her to find me a lawyer, a pro bono one. Some guy in an expensive suit showed up instead and got me out then took me to his equally expensive office, where he told me if I refused to work for his client they’d provide solid evidence against me. Witnesses who saw me being intimate with the victim on various occasions.”

“Were you?”

“With Tim? No. Never. I hardly knew the man.”

“Who hired this lawyer to represent you?”

“He never said, but as time went by and they started to operate and school me, this woman would call to check on my progress. She never said so, but I know she was the client the lawyer had referred to. She was behind it all.”

“Was TQ her name?”

“She never mentioned a name,” Wagner replied. “No one ever mentioned their name, except for the woman who trained me, taught me manners, how to talk, sound, walk, politics, how to hold a damn fork, and every other little thing.”

“How do you know this woman who called was the brain behind this scheme?”

“Just the way she talked to me. Like it was up to her to decide whether my transformation was successful and I was ready to proceed with what they wanted from me. It wasn’t until I was ready for the job that they revealed who I was to double.”

“The president.”

“I only realized after the swelling from the operations had gone down and they let me look at myself for the first time in the mirror.”

“This woman—”

“It looks like she knows or owns a lot of people in high places, including Moore,” Wagner went on. “That’s why I was terrified to talk to you or even suggest what was going on. The woman gets personal invites to the White House. That should tell you how powerfully dangerous she is. Christ, I wouldn’t be surprised if she owned the place.”

“How do you know she gets invites?”

“Because that’s where I finally put a face to the voice. I’d recognize that voice anywhere.”

Shield sat forward. “You what?”

“She was invited to the state dinner for the Argentine president, and Moore introduced us. She came especially to check on me.”

“I saw her.” Shield remembered the older, attractive woman who’d arrived late.

“It was because of her I needed to get away and collect myself. You came to my room that night and we almost kissed…” Wagner went silent.

“The woman with the white hair.”

“And you didn’t have the pleasure of talking to her. She has the coldest voice and deadest eyes I’ve ever seen. My skin crawled when I touched her hand. It was like ice.”

Shield got up. “Who is she?”

“According to the guest list I studied and Rat… Moore …her name is Theodora Rothschild.”

Shield ran her hand through her hair as she stared at the floor. “I know that name, but from where?” she said to herself.

“Of the Rothschild Auction Houses.”

“The auction…you must be kidding.”

“Why?”

“She’s a client of mine,” Shield said. “Her secretary places orders directly to Tuscany.”

“But she doesn’t know you.”

Shield was still in disbelief. Rothschild was a huge name in the auction business, and although probably a wealthy individual, the woman had the power to own politicians and organize crimes of this magnitude? “Why would she? I’ve never dealt directly with her, and for privacy and security reasons due to my job with the EOO, I kept my company under Pepo’s name. The original owner.”