Dead Ringer Page 16

“Don’t think you can intimidate me. Did you ever consider installing nanny cams in the kitchen and setting a trap for this would-be murderer? Next time it might not be poison. I like that young woman. I don’t want to see her harmed.”

  Fergus rubbed both hands over his face. “What’s a nanny cam?”

  “It’s a small camera you hide in a strategic place to watch people you don’t trust, or people you do trust, to prove them innocent. They’re available in most electronic stores.”

  He looked beyond her and gave an almost imperceptible nod. “I know what ye mean. Just never heard it called a nanny cam. I’ll check it out. But I don’t want ye playing detective. Most of the staff has been with the family for years. Don’t be interfering with the smooth running of this household. Do ye understand me, woman?”

  “Perfectly clear, Mister Fergus. And my name isn’t woman. It’s Katy Martin. You can call me Katy or Miss Martin, but not woman.”

  She turned her back to him and stalked away. This romance was going fine, indeed. She wouldn’t take any guff off a rough-around-the-edges Scotsman.

  

  Back on her feet, Mercy resumed her household duties, which consisted of planning menus and spending time with Daniel.

  Katy graciously volunteered to work with Father Joseph to get the island children up to date on their inoculations and see to the other inhabitants’ medical needs. They’d set up a first aid station on the terrace, with Mercy and Father Joseph acting as Katy’s assistants, handing the nurse syringes, alcohol swabs, and whatever else she needed.

  The busy-work kept Mercy from dwelling on Thomas. Each day that passed without word, she feared the worst.

  The last islander walked away after being treated, and Katy expelled a deep breath, breaking Mercy’s introspection. “Well, that’s the last one.”

  “So it is. Nice work, Katy.”

  Lily dropped a tray of tea and sandwiches on a table nearby.

  “I think our three-person triage unit has won the day. Time for a break,” Mercy said.

  “Words dear to my heart,” Father Joseph said. “Then I must return to the chapel. God’s work is never done.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Katy raised her teacup.

  After the priest left, Mercy and Katy remained on the terrace sipping their drinks in silence.

  “You know, I really don’t need a nurse any longer.”

  “I know. I’ve been expecting to get my discharge notice for the past few days.”

  “Would you consider staying here, running a clinic on the island?”

  Katy’s eyes widened and laughter bubbled from her throat. “Would I? Who in their right mind wouldn’t want to work here? Where do I sign?”

  “I’ll have to clear it with Thomas, but I think I can swing it. We need a clinic here for minor emergencies, and I’d love to have you stay. Not to change the subject, but what’s going on between you and Fergus? When you two are in the same room the temperature drops twenty degrees.”

  “Have you noticed that our Mister Fergus is a bit of a chauvinist? He seems to think a woman should stay in her place, but he’s not sure what her place is.”

  “That character flaw hasn’t escaped my attention. But he’s a lamb once you set the ground rules.”

  “Well, I set the ground rules a few days ago, and he hasn’t yet shown me his lamb side.” She glanced around and lowered her voice. “I suggested he put in a few nanny cameras in the kitchen. Edda hanging around while I’m preparing your food unnerves me. I feel that when I leave, whoever is trying to harm you will pick up where they left off.”

  “Did he take your suggestion?”

  “Yes, although somewhat reluctantly. He sent one of his army buddies shopping. The kilt brigade is going to install them Sunday on the staff’s day off.”

  “That was clever of you, Katy.”

  “We Texas gals have to stick together. There’s more than one way to skin an armadillo. Or in this instance to catch a wannabe killer.” Katy took a long sip of tea and gazed at Mercy over the rim. “Tell me, what is your husband like?”

  The question caught Mercy off guard. She gave a slight shrug. “He’s handsome, wealthy, and intelligent.”

  “I know that from reading the tabloids and magazines. What is he like as a man, as a husband?”

  Mercy couldn’t hold back the slight smile as Thomas’s face eased into her mind. “He’s very charming when he wants to be. I think he’s a good man, an honorable human being, but very strong-minded.”

  “You think? After seven years of marriage, you’re not sure?”

  “We’ve been separated until just recently.” She looked into the nurse’s eyes. “He’s missing, Katy. I’m terribly worried about him.”

  “Well, we will pray for him.” Katy stood, as if she sensed she couldn’t ask any more questions. She picked up the tray. “I’ll take this back to the kitchen.”

  Mercy returned to her room and called up the menu file on the computer, but her mind refused to concentrate on meal planning.

  Katy’s questions brought Thomas to the forefront of her thoughts.

  What would she do if he never returned? Stay here and raise his son? She couldn’t help wondering about the real Traci Wallace. What if she came back? Would she, if something happened to Thomas? It was her rightful place as Daniel’s mother and Thomas’s wife.

  Paddy jumped into her lap, nuzzling against her chest. She stroked his fur and scratched behind his ear.

  Thomas had to return safely, and not just for her protection. Doomed as their relationship was, the kiss he’d placed on her lips when he left held promises she’d never dared consider. But she couldn’t let her thoughts go there.

  How had she ever allowed herself to become so deeply entangled in Thomas Wallace’s life?

  

  Saudi Arabia/Jordan Border

  Thursday, June 29

  They’d taken turns driving until they neared the Jordanian border. Then Moshe took the wheel. Since the Sheikh Hussein Border Crossing was closest, that’s where Moshe suggested they cross, mixing with the heavy mid-morning tourist traffic.

  Harried border guards wouldn’t pay too much attention to their papers.

  After crossing the border, they could contact Paul Redford and Heim and get transportation to Israel.

  As the line of cars inched forward, an overpowering hunger for home hit Thomas.

  Smells and senses of the island swept over him. The fragrance of the lemon trees, the beauty of the purple water lilies were almost tangible. Ocean breezes soothed his skin, and the sound of the waves washing ashore calmed his spirit. One phone call and Fergus would pick him up. He could chuck the assignment and be home for dinner. Home to Mercy and Daniel. Nice dream, but it couldn’t happen. Not now.

  Debriefing had to come first. And there was still the matter of a mole inside the agency. The worst kind of traitor, hiding behind patriotism while sending real patriots to their death. Selling men’s lives for money. An informant who had gotten Aref’s contacts in Iran killed. And almost succeed in eliminating him and Aref. He must find the mole before other good men lost their lives.

  The vehicle halted, and the Jordanian border guard approached. “Your papers please,” he said in Arabic.

  Moshe and Shaul had also taken papers from the terrorists as insurance. Most Arab countries refused entry to passports bearing an Israeli stamp.

  The guards gave the documents a cursory glance. “Any weapons?”

  “No,” Moshe said.

  They’d ditched the automatic weapons just before reaching the border.

  “Will you be staying long?”

  “We’re just passing through to Amman to meet friends.”

  “If you decide to stay, you’ll need to renew your visas.”

  Moshe nodded. “We understand.”

  The guard handed them their visas and waved them through.

  A collective sigh and nervous laughter filled the vehicle once they were on Jordanian soil. />
  Moshe stopped at the first café he sighted. He and Shaul ordered mansaf.

  “Guess I’ll have the same,” Thomas said, “although I have no idea what it is.”

  Aref concurred, making it unanimous.

  After they’d ordered, Moshe stepped outside to contact Heim and get the small band transported to Israel. When the agent returned, the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes had disappeared and the tense muscles around his mouth relaxed.

  The food arrived and it was quite good—lamb cooked in a dried yogurt sauce, served over rice.

  Over coffee, Moshe explained the plan. “Heim is sending a private plane for us to Queen Alia Airport in Zyzia. That’s about thirty-two kilometers from Amman.”

  “How far to Amman?” Thomas asked.

  “About ninety kilometers. We have a total of one hundred, twenty-two kilometers to go. Heim says the plane should be there by fourteen hundred hours. They’ll standby until we arrive.”

  Thomas finished the last dregs of his coffee. “I need to contact my boss. May I borrow your phone?”

  Moshe handed him the phone. “Heim said he’d notify Redford. He’s been waiting in Tel Aviv for news about you.”

  

  Zyzia, Jordan

  Thursday, June 29

  Two hours later, Thomas parked the stolen vehicle in the airport parking lot and left the keys in the ignition.

  Just inside terminal one, Heim stepped forward. A huge smile spread across his rugged face when he caught sight of their ragged band. He greeted Moshe and Shaul with hearty hugs and Thomas and Aref with an enthusiastic handshake. He stepped back and scanned their apparel. “I’m so glad to see you men safe I’ll overlook your atrocious wardrobes. I want to hear everything as soon as we’re aboard the plane.”

  The agency chief led them through the terminal to the unmarked jet waiting on the tarmac. As they stepped into the heat, noise from construction crews and heavy equipment fought for dominance over the roar of incoming and departing flights. No jetport here for the private plane, which was just as well. They were less noticeable this way.

  Thomas and his three friends followed Heim up the flight steps. Thomas was the last to board, feeling truly safe for the first time since he’d left home.

  Inside the aircraft, the four men ahead of him jammed the entrance, despite the fact they had no luggage to store.

  Heim, Moshe, and Shaul moved to the back.

  Aref took the first seat on the left.

  Thomas slipped into the seat beside him.

  When he glanced to his left, Paul Redford sat in the seat across the aisle. Next to Paul was Clint Monroe.

  22

  Wallace Island, the Aegean Sea

  Monday, July 3

  The security installations had taken place on Sunday as scheduled. Fergus set up two monitors in Thomas’s office, with recording equipment to save the data on disks. He and his buddies spaced four cameras throughout the kitchen and butler’s pantry.

  Despite the protection around her, Mercy didn’t feel safe.

  The reason someone was trying to kill Traci Wallace was still unknown. If Ricco Rossellini wanted the photographs, how could he get them with her dead? Another possibility was that Traci had other dark secrets and enemies no one knew about.

  At breakfast, Katy seemed giddy with excitement, waiting for the security cameras to solve the crime. She and Fergus appeared to have called a temporary truce, huddling in corners discussing who-knew-what.

  Mercy was more concerned that she hadn’t received any further word about Thomas. Every day her fear escalated. After lunch, she returned to her room to rest.

  A short while later, a faint tap sounded at her door and Katy slipped in.

  “Do you want to be on hand for the fireworks?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Ever since the cameras were installed, I’ve been leaving your juice unattended while I went to get your medicine.” Katy sat on the bed. “As I told you, Edda always hangs around in the background when I’m preparing anything for you. Today, she took the bait. Come downstairs and I’ll show you.”

  Mercy slipped her shoes on and followed the nurse to Thomas’s office.

  Fergus sat watching the two screens. When he saw Mercy, he nodded.

  “Rewind the recording please, Fergus.” Katy requested.

  On screen, Edda entered the butler’s pantry. She glanced around, leaned over, and dumped something into the juice that sat on a silver tray. She gave the liquid a quick stir, returned the bottle to her pocket, and left.

  “So it was Edda,” Mercy said.

  “Yep, and we have her dirty deed on camera.”

  “What now?”

  “You go out to the terrace and wait.” Katy walked her to the door.

  As instructed, Mercy took a lounge chair overlooking the garden.

  Ten minutes later, Edda walked towards her. “Katy asked me to bring you your juice and medication, Mrs. Wallace.” She waited for Mercy to take the glass from her hand.

  “I think ye should drink it, Edda.” Fergus stepped from the shadows before Edda.

  “I-I don’t understand, Mr. Fergus.”

  “I think ye do. Drink it.”

  Fear flashed into the woman’s gaze. She lifted the glass, but instead of drinking it, she splashed half the liquid on the terrace stones.

  Fergus spoke through clenched teeth. “We’ve taken the liberty of packing yer bags, Edda. Everything ye did we recorded on CD. The disk, along with the contents of this glass, will buy ye a wee bit of time in a Turkish prison. Who paid ye to try to kill Traci?”

  Edda’s shoulders slumped. She seemed to wilt before their eyes. “It doesn’t matter who. It won’t help me, now.”

  “I hope whoever hired ye can get ye a good lawyer. The prisons in Turkey are a nasty business.”

  All the color drained from Edda’s face, but she didn’t confess.

  Sympathy rose inside Mercy. She could have died a very unpleasant death if the poisoning hadn’t been discovered in time. Turkish prison would be a horrendous price to pay for Edda’s actions. Mercy offered a silent prayer for the woman.

  Dejected, the housekeeper stood before them, her head down.

  Two of the men took her arms and escorted her to the boat. They would drop her off at the nearest police station on the Turkish coast.

  At dinner, Fergus entered the dining room, the satellite phone in his hand. “Traci, ye have a phone call.”

  “For me?”

  He nodded, his eyes misting.

  A spark of hope flashed inside her as she accepted the phone from Fergus’s hand. “Hello.”

  “Mercy.” Thomas’s welcome voice sounded in her ear. “I’ll see you soon. I’ve got a few days of debriefing, and then I’m coming home.”

  Her throat tightened so that she could barely speak. A weight had lifted. He was alive and unharmed. ”Thomas, I-I’m...so glad you’re safe.”

  It wasn’t until hours later she realized he’d call her by her own name.

  

  Tel Aviv, Israel

  Tuesday, July 4

  Thomas emerged from his first day of debriefing determined to find Paul and Heim. He found the two head spooks in Heim’s office. Heim kicked a chair towards him. “Have a seat. What’s on your mind?”

  “You guys know yet who outed Aref to the Iranians?”

  Heim waved a hand at Paul, giving him the floor.

  Paul broke eye contact and shifted his position in the chair. “Not really. Since knowledge of the mission was closely contained, I’m thinking someone saw the transfer.” Paul was hiding something.

  “That won’t fly, Paul. Aref said they were acting funny after they arrived in Riyadh. And they were waiting for him ten minutes later when he returned to the hotel after the exchange. There wouldn’t have been time to set that up. Face it, Paul, you have a leak. Tell me, what was Clint Monroe doing here? I thought his job was training recruits.”

  “Wait a
minute, Thomas,” Paul said. “I know you don’t like Monroe, but you have no reason to think he’s a traitor.”

  “I didn’t make an accusation. I just asked a question.” Thomas walked to the door. “You’ll have to forgive me. But when someone paints a target on my back and passes out ammunition to the bad guys, I take it personally.”

  “Monroe came to escort four graduates to their new assignment. Nothing more.”

  “I’ll accept that for the time being,” Thomas said.

  Creases formed on Paul’s brow and he looked directly into Thomas’s eyes. “Don’t think I’m not taking this seriously. I’m giving it my full attention. The last thing I want is to put our operatives in danger. It’s my job to protect them.”

  Thomas returned to his hotel room. Before he could settle in, a knock sounded at the door. He swung it open and Heim, Moshe, and Shaul stood outside.

  “Grab your jacket. We’re going to show a goy how to have a good time.”

  Thomas laughed and slipped into his coat. “Is that me?”

  Heim slapped his back. “Well, it isn’t one of us.”

  Thomas flipped off the lights and closed the door. “Where are you taking me? I’m not sure I’m old enough to party with you guys.”

  Heim put his arm around Thomas’s shoulder. “I’m taking you to one of our finest restaurants. We’ll feed you asparagus with chestnut, smoked sirloin, and ply you with wine. Tonight, my friend, you will forget all your troubles.”

  The evening turned out to be everything Heim promised.

  Thomas found himself laughing and applauding as his three Hebrew friends provided an impromptu floorshow. Heim grabbed a guitar from one of the musicians and sang while Moshe and Shaul, arms extended, danced, movements of hands and feet passed down through the ages.

  Although the song was in Hebrew, Thomas understood the meaning. They celebrated another victory over their enemy. They rejoiced to live to fight another day. Shouts of L’chayim, to life, rang out from restaurant patrons and the staff alike followed by wild applause.

  Thomas’s heart swelled with admiration for these proud, courageous people, surrounded on all sides by enemies dedicated to their destruction, yet they fought on, holding onto life with both hands.