The Gemini Deception

Chapter Thirty-five

Shield grabbed the Walther from the table and killed the lights. She wanted to berate herself for letting her guard down even for a moment, but she couldn’t regret the past few minutes and the way Ryden made her feel. “There’s a bucket in the kitchen. Fill it up and extinguish the fire,” she told Ryden as she went to the window to try to locate the chopper. She saw a pair of searchlights from above, scanning the terrain southeast of the safe house.

“They can’t possibly know where we are.” Ryden awkwardly poured water over the fire, one-handed. It sizzled and sent out a cloud of steam as it died.

“We have to get out of here.”

“Go where?”

“Jack wasn’t kidding. This TQ will do anything to find us.”

“Jack? Is that the woman who helped us?”

Shield nodded.

“How can they know we’re in this cabin? There are plenty of other houses not too far from here.”

“And I’m sure they have orders to search them all.”

“This hasn’t been used in years.”

“And they’ve probably seen the smoke,” Shield pointed out. “The pilot’s already informed TQ’s footmen of the location. It won’t be long before they storm through the door or blast the place.” She went to the back door and peered out through the small window. “Let’s go.” She gestured to Ryden.

She held Ryden’s hand as they dodged the searchlights and made it across the open field that separated the safe house from the massive park.

“You okay?” Shield asked when they stopped for air well into the tree line.

“Yeah, don’t worry about me. I’ve been through worse.”

“Sure you have,” Shield replied dubiously.

“Hey, I outran every foster-brother bully and their idiot friends. You think some guys in the sky can catch me?” Ryden cradled her arm, the discomfort evident in her voice.

“Gotta hand it to you, Wagner. You don’t take anything lying down.”

“Yeah, well.” Ryden huffed. “It’s the new me. I never appreciated myself or my life until I almost lost them both.”

“We need to make it to the highway and find a phone.”

“Your boss?”

They both looked in the direction of the house when they heard loud voices.

“No one here, but the fire is fresh,” a man shouted.

Shield grabbed Ryden’s hand again and they took off, heading south through the park. They’d run for quite a while before Ryden pulled her to a stop.

“I can’t…” She paused, taking big gulps of air. “My arm is bleeding badly and I can hardly breathe.”

“We have to keep going,” Shield said. “They’re behind us. It won’t be much longer before we’re at the highway.”

“Why don’t you—”

She could hear the fear in Ryden’s voice. “The new you, remember?”

Ryden hesitated a few seconds. “You might have to carry me,” she said, and took off ahead of Shield.

They reached the highway at the southern edge of the park just as the first sliver of dawn appeared on the horizon. Shield cautiously checked both directions before she pulled Ryden out of the brush. A familiar neon logo beckoned. “There’s a gas station half a mile down the road.”

They stayed close to the trees, and twenty minutes later, Shield entered the gas station first with her head low to check for cams. When she saw none, she went back out to get Ryden. The lone attendant, a teenaged boy, barely glanced their way. She told Ryden to wait in the back of the store, out of sight, while she went straight to the pay phone.

“I need Pierce,” she told the facilitator on duty.

“He’s on his way to Washington, but Grant will take it.” He put her through.

“Why’s Pierce going to Washington?” she asked Joanne as soon as she came on the line.

“Rothschild and TQ are the same person,” Grant replied. “She has an address there, where he thinks TQ is holding Jaclyn. He’s going there to find her.”

“Alone?” Shield asked, surprised. “She’ll kill him on the spot.”

“Lynx and Arthur are with him.”

“Still not enough. She has more soldiers than the U.S. military.”

“He won’t listen.” Grant practically screamed her frustration. “Any news from your side?”

“We needed to abort the house. They found it.”

“We have a working safe house in Washington, at 1650 Corcoran Street, but that means going back.”

“We’ll have to risk it. I need a place to leave Wagner.”

“And yourself,” Grant said. “Call me when you get there.”

“Where’s Pierce landing?”

“Andrews.”

“I’ll meet him there.”

“Shield, you—”

“Pierce is going to need all the help he can get, and…” Shield thought back to the woman who’d saved her life. “I owe Jack a favor. I’ll make sure Wagner is safe, but I’m going to TQ’s with him.” She hung up and walked over to the young pimple-faced clerk who was manically texting on his cell. “I need you to call us a cab.”

“Lady, you’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“Now,” she said ominously.

“Okay, chillax.” He put the cell down and dialed for a cab on the landline. He mumbled the address and hung up. “Dude said it could take up to thirty.”

“We’ll wait outside.”

Twenty minutes later, the cab arrived, and Shield went back into the gas station. The clerk sat smiling as he texted and never even looked up. She checked the slim pickings behind him hanging off the wall. “I want condoms.”

The boy finally took his eyes off the phone and looked from her, to Ryden, waiting outside. “Rrrright,” he slurred. “You sure?”

“The black ones at the top,” Shield answered stoically.

He placed his cell under the counter and slowly turned around. “They’re XXL.”

“Sounds about right.”

He turned to look at her one more time before he returned to the wall. While he was on his tiptoes reaching for the small box, Shield silently leaned over the counter and snatched his cell. She got it into her jacket pocket just as the boy turned to face her. Though she could have just asked for it politely with her gun, the risk of him pressing the predictably hidden-under-the-counter silent alarm was too big, and the last thing she needed was a police chase for armed robbery.

“Anything else?”

“Got lube?”

“What?”

Shield got out her wallet and placed a hundred-dollar bill in front of him. “Keep the change.” She pocketed the condoms and walked quickly to the cab, where Ryden was waiting.

“I can’t believe you took his phone,” Ryden said as she watched Shield dial Monty’s number.

“I tipped him.”

*

Washington, D.C.

TQ paced in her D.C. office. She had wanted to stay and watch Jack being tortured to calm her nerves and restore her balanced state, but the dire situation called for her immediate attention. She didn’t even have her maids to release her anger upon.

She had rarely been so distressed or so close to having her identity unveiled, and on that one past occasion she had paid good money to make sure that person never talked. She had left him feeling safely assured that he was free to go on with his now-rich life, and then, once he’d let down his guard, she’d eliminated him.

The op and Wagner, however, posed a whole different problem. Even if they accepted her money in return for silence, she’d have to find them before they caused irreparable damage. She wasn’t worried about the authorities or even the president, but the meddling and ruthless media would tear her apart.

Her people had just informed her that the cabin they suspected the two runaways had found refuge in had recently been evacuated. The targets were on the run. But at least they were still within the greater Washington environs.

She jumped with anticipation when the phone rang. The caller ID placed the call from her Texas home. “What?”

“Madam, a Mr. Montgomery Pierce called, asking for Theodora Rothschild. He said you have something that belongs to him, and he’s willing to negotiate your identity in return for it.”

She gripped the cell phone till her knuckles hurt. Who was this Pierce, and had Kennedy already talked to someone? “What else?”

“Nothing, madam. He left a number to reach him at your earliest convenience.”

“I don’t have time for this shit,” she muttered.

“Would you like me to tell him you’re unavailable?”

“Did I ask you to?”

“No, madam. It was a suggestion.”

“Do you know me to be in the habit of seeking proposals from anyone, let alone a secretary?”

“No, madam.”

“Do it again and I’ll stab you in the mouth. Give me his number.” TQ jotted down the digits and hung up.

She treated herself to a shot of red wine before she made the call.

“Pierce.” The man was older, his tone one of confident authority.

“Mr. Pierce, this is Theodora Rothschild. How can I help you?”

“Wise of you to call me back, TQ. I am on my way to D.C. as we speak.”

She hadn’t expected this stranger who was looking for Rothschild to call her by her other business name.

She could hear the distinctive noise of a jet in the background. “Business or pleasure?”

“It will be my pleasure to destroy you and your business, should we fail to reach an arrangement.”

“No need for dramatic statements, Mr. Pierce. Many have offered me deals and I have yet to disappoint. I’m sure we can reach a satisfactory agreement.” Another money-hungry idiot threatening to expose her. “I can get you whatever money can buy, and I value discretion. Whatever transpires between us will stay between us.”

“I’m not interested in buying or discretion. Like I told your secretary, you have something that belongs to me.”

“I’m willing to give it back, assuming it’s still in my possession.” TQ placed her wineglass on the desk. Pierce could potentially be a problem. This was not the time to deal with idiots complaining about stolen artifacts, but she had to contain her anger and play along before he did something rash. “Can you be more specific? It’s very possible I acquired something without knowing it was stolen.”

“All you need to know is that I am willing to look the other way concerning President Thomas, her substitute, and your identity, unless of course you refuse to return what you took.”

The last time TQ’s heart did a somersault like this was never. Who the hell was this man?

“The president?” She feigned surprise. “I may be guilty of many things, but I have to admit I have no idea what you’re talking about. Are you sure you have the right person?” So what if Kennedy and the florist had talked? They couldn’t prove anything.

“As sure as I am that Thomas will talk if I offer her and her family protection from you.”

“You have the wrong person.”

“Who do you think the authorities and the media will believe: Thomas, or a thieving auctioneer-slash-weapons and organ dealer? They will rip you apart before they lock you up for life.”

“Unfounded and obscene accusations,” TQ replied. “You have no proof.”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said calmly. “I will expose every illegal transaction you’ve ever made and those who did business with you, starting with Zhang Anshun, the Chinese Supreme Court Justice. I can assure you he will admit to everything to save his skin and delicate position.”

How did he know about Zhang, her key expediter for black-market organs? She ran her hand across her forehead, shocked to discover an unfamiliar sheen of perspiration. No one had ever made her sweat. “Who exactly are you, Mr. Pierce?”

“Someone with more power than you.”

Anger replaced her worry. No one had more power than she. She’d worked hard to make sure of that. “And yet I have something you want,” she said smugly. “Perhaps you overestimate your supremacy.”

“I have the power to destroy you, and I don’t need a fake birth certificate in order to kill. So tell me again if I overestimate my supremacy.”

How could he possibly know about her birth certificate? “I don’t know who you are just yet, Mr. Pierce, but there is nothing I can’t find out, including who or what you treasure.”

“If you find out who I am, then perhaps you can enlighten me as well, since I officially don’t exist. As for what I treasure, it’s no mystery, since I’m on my way to get it. A heads-up: I don’t deal well with disappointment.”

It was like listening to herself. Who the hell was he? Had she angered and stolen from someone in the CIA? “Why don’t you tell me what you want and give me time to locate it or buy it back? It will make our transaction much smoother and faster.” She placed her hand on the landline, to make an immediate call to whichever warehouse had his fucking artifact. If she’d already sold it, she’d have to find a way to get it back, and that would take time.

“I’m sure you haven’t sold it. If, on the other hand, it has been destroyed…” He paused such a long while TQ thought the line had gone dead. “You will meet an equal fate,” he finally said.

“I don’t destroy anything of value.”

“Then I sincerely hope we have similar tastes. I will be at your Connecticut Avenue address within the hour.”

“I look forward to our meeting.” She kept her voice calm, but her heartbeat accelerated further with the knowledge that he knew about her D.C. office and would be here soon.

“I probably needn’t mention this,” he said, “but should anything happen that might delay my timely return home, I have given orders to release all the information I have on you.”

“I meant to ask you earlier,” she replied. “How did you know I was in Washington?”

“There is nothing I can’t find out.” The line went dead.

She immediately dialed the number of her high-level contact in the FBI. She had to know who she was dealing with, obviously a worthy adversary. Pierce had considerable money—evidenced by his private jet and whatever priceless artifact she’d taken of his—he had power enough to find her and destroy her, and he was smart enough to ensure her devastation should anything happen to him. Although she admired smart people, she would not allow anyone to checkmate her at any game. “I need information and I need it now,” she told her contact.

“What can I do for you?” he replied at once.

“Tell me who Montgomery Pierce is.”

“Give me a second.”

TQ heard him clicking away at a computer.

“I have quite a few with that name. Can you give me more?”

“In his sixties, I think, possibly CIA.”

“I can’t access the CIA without—”

“Don’t, can’t, and won’t are unacceptable. Now search, before I personally take your father’s liver back,” she yelled.

“Give me a moment.”

“Make it a fast one.”

“I found a Montgomery Pierce with a military record, born in 1950. Stationed in France for three years. He left the military in 1974 to become a lawyer in New York, and then…” He paused.

“Then, what?” TQ snapped.

“His career ended in 1988. After that, nothing.”

“You mean he died?”

“No, I mean he disappeared,” the contact said.

“No one disappears. He’s not a ghost. Was he married? Children?” TQ hoped she could find something to at least scare Pierce.

“Neither.”

“Parents? Siblings?”

“No siblings. Says here he was adopted.”

“By?” TQ rolled her eyes. “It’s like pulling teeth.”

“Sorry, but it’s just that his record is very vague. It doesn’t say who adopted him or what happened to him.”

This sounded like her man.

“Aren’t you people supposed to have everyone’s records?”

“Unless someone higher up deleted or classified them,” he replied, “in which case access is denied.”

“When are records deleted or marked classified?”

“If someone is an Agency NOC.”

“A what?”

“A non-official cover for the Agen…CIA, or…”

“Or what?”

“Or if someone is considered very significant because of their covert work for the benefit and safety of the United Nations,” he said, “and when they are essential links between the USA and other countries. Their identity is then considered high-level security.”

“Who has access to that level?” TQ checked her watch. Time was running out.

“Interpol. And before you ask, even if I could access their records, information like this is not kept on an electronic database for security reasons. Cooperation with people like him is unofficial, and treated as such.”

“Which means what?”

“They work to make companies like the FBI, CIA, KGB, MI6, and you name it look good. They go above and beyond any law and answer to no one. Nobody cares how they get the job done, as long as the said companies can claim the glory and reap the media benefits.”

“Who pays them?”

“Whoever hired them.”

“In other words, these people are contractors,” TQ said.

“Very similar.”

Maybe Kennedy had talked, after all. “Do you have the address of a company called the EOO?”

She heard him type again.

“Most money-grubbing private companies like Xe advertise everywhere and are easy to find. Others…” The line went quiet again.

“What?”

“Like the EOO are not. Says here the address is classified.”

“Not even a state?” she asked.

“Not even a country.”

“I need more.”

“I’m sorry,” he said nervously. “But I simply don’t have access.”

“Try harder.”

After a long silence and a deep sigh, he replied, “I’ll do my best. Just give me some time. I can’t promise you any—”

“I’m going to be in a meeting shortly. Fax me whatever you find.”

TQ hung up. “What are you up to, Pierce? And what did I take from you?” She was screwed if she couldn’t deliver what this man wanted, and even then she wasn’t sure he’d keep his word, or let her live, for that matter. “But I decide when I die, and today is not the day.”