Linda Howard - Kiss Me While I Sleep

The plane landed and went to the gate with a minimum of fuss. Lily took a deep breath, and her cohort patted her hand. “Don’t worry,” she said cheerfully. “This will work, you’ll see. How will I know if they’ve spotted you?”

“I’ll tell you where the men are standing. I’ll look for them when I go into the loo. Then I’ll leave before you, and when you come out, if they’re still there, then you’ll know it worked.”

“Oh, this is exciting!”

Lily really hoped not.

The woman took the carry-on bag and exited the plane two people ahead of Lily. She walked briskly, looking at the signs but not staring at the people waiting at the gate. Good girl, Lily thought, hiding a smile. She was a natural.

There were two of them waiting for her, and again they made no particular effort to disguise their interest. Glee rose in her. Rodrigo still didn’t suspect anything truly unusual, didn’t think she would notice she was being followed. This might really work.

The two men trailed in her wake, staying about twenty or thirty feet back. Up ahead, her cohort went into the first public restroom. Lily paused just outside at a water fountain, giving her followers time to choose their positions, then entered.

The woman was waiting just inside and handed over the bag. “Is anyone there?” she asked.

Lily nodded. “Two of them. One is about six feet tall, largish, and he’s wearing a light gray suit. He’s standing directly across from the door, against the wall. The other is smaller, short dark hair, double-breasted blue suit, and he’s in position about fifteen feet ahead.”

“Hurry and change. I can’t wait to see you.”

Lily went into a stall and swiftly began her identity change. The severe dark suit and low heels came off; in their place went a bright pink tank top, painted-on turquoise leggings, stiletto knee-high boots, a fringed turquoise jacket, and a short, spiky red wig. She dumped the clothes she’d removed into the carry-on, and stepped out of the stall.

A huge smile lit the woman’s face, and she clapped her hands. “Wonderful!”

Lily couldn’t help grinning. She swiftly added blusher to her pale cheeks, a thick coating of pink lipstick, and dangling feathered earrings. Slipping a pair of pink shades over her eyes, she said, “What do you think?”

“My dear, I wouldn’t have recognized you, and I knew what you were about. I’m Rebecca, by the way. Rebecca Scott.”

They shook hands, each delighted for different reasons. Lily took a deep breath. “Here I go,” she murmured, and strode boldly out of the restroom.

Both of her followers involuntarily stared at her; everyone did. Looking directly beyond the dark-haired man who stood practically in front of her, Lily waved enthusiastically. “I’m here!” she squealed to no one in particular, though in this crowd that would have been difficult to determine. This time she used her own distinctly American accent, and dashed past her watchers as if joining someone.

As she went by the dark-haired man, she saw him jerk his gaze back to the restroom entrance, as if afraid that moment of inattention had allowed his quarry to escape.

Lily walked as rapidly as she could, losing herself in the crowd. The five-inch heels put her close to six feet tall, but there was no way she intended to wear them any longer than necessary. As she neared her departure gate, she ducked into yet another public restroom, and changed out of the eye-grabbing disguise. When she left that bathroom, she had long black hair and wore black jeans and a thick black turtleneck sweater, with the same low-heeled shoes she’d worn on the flight over. She had wiped off the pink lipstick, replaced it with red gloss, and exchanged the pink shades for gray ones. Her papers as Alexandra Wesley were stowed in her tote, and the ticket and passport in her hand stated she was Mariel St. Clair.

Soon she was on a plane headed back across the Channel to Paris, this time in coach. She leaned her head back against the seat and closed her eyes.

So far, so good.

5

Rodrigo was furious. He said, carefully, “How, precisely, did you manage to lose her?”

“She was followed from the moment she exited the plane,” replied the British voice on the phone. “She entered the public facilities, and never came out.”

“Did you send someone in to look for her?”

“After some length of time, yes.”

“Exactly what length of time?”

“Perhaps twenty minutes passed before my men became alarmed, sir. Then I had to wait until a female could be brought to the location to enter the facilities and search.”

Rodrigo closed his eyes as he tried to rein in his temper. Bumblers! The men following Denise must have become distracted and not noticed her leaving the facilities. There were no other exits, no windows or trash chutes or anything else. She could only have left the same way she entered, yet these idiots had somehow completely overlooked her.

The matter wasn’t terribly important, but inefficiency annoyed him. Until he got the answers he wanted about Denise’s background, he wanted to know exactly where she was and what she was doing. In fact, he’d expected to have those answers the day before, but the bureaucracy was being as inefficient as usual.

“One thing is puzzling, sir.”

“And that is?”

“When my men lost her, I immediately checked with Customs, but we have no record of her.”

Rodrigo sat upright, a sudden frown drawing his brows together. “What does that mean?”

“It means she disappeared. When I checked the passenger list of the inbound flight, there was no Denise Morel listed. She did get off the plane, but then she somehow disappeared. The only plausible explanation is that she got on another plane, but I have no record of her doing that.”

Alarm bells rang in Rodrigo’s head so loudly they were almost deafening. He went cold, frozen by the sudden horrible suspicion. “Check the records again, Mr. Murray. She must have done.”

“I have already double-checked, sir. There is no record of her entering or leaving London. I was very thorough with my search.”

“Thank you,” Rodrigo said, and hung up the phone. He was so enraged he was dizzy from the force of his emotions. The bitch had played him for a fool!

Just to make certain, he called his contact in the Ministry. “I need that information immediately,” he barked, not identifying either himself or the information in question. He didn’t need to.

“Yes, of course, but there is a problem.”

“You can’t find where this particular Denise Morel exists?” Rodrigo asked sarcastically.

“How did you know? I’m certain I can—”

“Don’t trouble yourself. You won’t find her.” His suspicions confirmed, Rodrigo hung up again and sat behind the desk trying to contain the sulfuric rage that blasted through him. He had to think clearly, and at the moment that was beyond him.

She was the poisoner. How clever of her, to also poison herself, but with such a small dose that she would be sick for a time but would survive. Or perhaps she hadn’t intended to sip the wine at all, but his father had insisted and she accidentally took a larger swallow than she’d intended. That part didn’t matter; what mattered was that, ultimately, she had succeeded in killing his father.

He couldn’t believe how she had fooled him, fooled them all. Her paperwork had been perfect, as far as it went. Now that it was too late, he saw with perfect clarity how it had worked. Salvatore had been lulled into carelessness by her apparent indifference to his advances, and Rodrigo, too, had allowed himself to relax after Salvatore’s first few meetings with her were so ordinary. If she had appeared eager for his father’s company, he would have been much more vigorous in demanding answers, but she had played them all perfectly.