Duplicity: An International Adventure Novel (Jon Steadman Thriller Series Book 4) Read online

  Duplicity

  A Jon Steadman Thriller

  Nellie Neeman

  Copyright © 2022 Nellie Neeman

  All rights reserved

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  ISBN: 978-1-7351505-9-8 (Paperback)

  ISBN: 978-1-7351505-8-1 (E-Book)

  Author Photo: Elan Sachs

  Library of Congress Control Number:

  Printed in the United States of America

  To all those gone but not forgotten

  May your memory be a blessing

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Epilogue

  author note & Acknowledgement

  About The Author

  Books By This Author

  Prologue

  Rainbow Falls Trail

  Maui, Hawaii

  Jennifer Cartwright searched the sky for the island’s distinctive rainbows. She breathed in deeply, allowing the pristine air to fill her lungs, forcing away the momentary nausea. In the distance, she spotted the emerging colors, a blurring mist, slowly forming into a defined spectrum far above the earthly paradise.

  Jennifer kept her pace steady, acutely aware of each planted step. Glancing down at her sky-blue hiking boots, she was gratified to see them coated in mud. The ground was soft and pliable, creating short-lived imprints of her shoes’ treads.

  Despite the current circumstances, this trail would remain one of her all-time favorites. An explorer’s dream, it snaked through the dense rainforest, ending at the hundred-foot cascading falls. Right up her alley.

  Jennifer was utterly flummoxed at the seismic shift that had destabilized her life in recent weeks. If things had gone as originally planned she’d now be on a plane back to the mainland.

  She turned around to see Makoa a few strides behind, a watchful look on his handsome face. A mix of Polynesian and Caucasian, Makoa seemed to win the genetic lottery with thick black hair, soulful eyes and a square jaw. Sweat beaded on the deeply tanned muscles bulging beneath his USMA tank top, reminding Jennifer of the Hulk. Primal, masculine.

  Snap out of it, Jen. This isn’t a date. Far from it. They had come here for a purpose and she was prepared.

  They’d hiked for nearly two miles. Not long till they’d reach the falls.

  Every few minutes, Jennifer stopped to take a picture of the scenery. The cell reception was poor but holding the device skyward, she managed to upload the photos onto social media. Several hundred people would see the posts in their feed. Thoughts of her sister infiltrated. She pushed the disquiet aside.

  Jennifer removed her laden backpack, grateful for the reprieve, and took out her water bottle, nearly draining it. Makoa did the same. He was a quiet one. Only spoke when he had something of value to say. She respected that.

  Makoa took her hand. Due to the earlier rains, they were alone. As expected.

  “Hungry?” he asked.

  “A little.”

  Makoa pulled out a granola bar and handed it to her, letting his hand linger on hers, his piercing gaze mirroring her own desire. She could drown in his beautiful eyes. Determined not to be distracted, she looked away. An awkward moment passed and he let go of her hand.

  Jennifer had met Makoa weeks before, their mutual attraction growing with each passing day. Under other circumstances the time alone together would be welcome. But not today.

  They continued on in silence, the unmistakable sound of rushing water soon confirming their arrival at the top of the falls. From this vantage point, the view was magical, an Eden nestled amid tropical foliage. Makoa moved past her, mere feet from the cliff’s edge.

  He waited for Jennifer to unpack her gear, then extended a hand. “Trust me.” Framed by the picturesque backdrop, he looked otherworldly.

  Jennifer took his hand, gripping hard, the adrenaline spiking as he brought her close. She could smell the musky scent of his cologne. Their faces were inches apart. Time stood still.

  Makoa wrapped his arms around her. His body was like a brick wall. All muscle. It was dizzying. Exhilarating.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  A mix of passion and trepidation as she nodded.

  She felt his breath on her neck. "A hui hou," he whispered.

  “What’s that?”

  Makoa’s grip tightened on her waist. Swiftly, he pushed her, the momentum propelling them apart. Jennifer let out a cry, instinctively reaching out to Makoa for stability, the ground vanishing beneath her feet.

  “It means, until we meet again,” he said to himself, as Jennifer plummeted toward the glistening rocks below.

  Chapter 1

  New York City

  Sienna Lamont sat at the edge of Jon Steadman’s sofa, her legs crossed, her eyes cast downward as if studying the glaring black specks on her white leather Jimmy Choo sneakers.

  Jon was still reeling from the woman showing up on his doorstep, claiming his partner had sent her. His dead partner.

  “Sorry to mess with your run,” Sienna said. “I didn't know who else to turn to.”

  Jon grabbed a sweatshirt from the front closet and put it on over his faded UNT t-shirt, noting stray flurries swirling lazily outside his kitchen window. “Looks like I wouldn’t have gone far. It’s snowing.” The weather had been wacky of late, rapidly changing from unseasonably warm to bitingly cold in a matter of hours. He sat on a chair across from Sienna. “You knew Carrie?”

  Sienna spoke to the floor. “We grew up together, roaming around Europe with our parents. Our fathers were military men. She and I stayed in touch for
years. But over the last twelve months or so, we sort of drifted apart. I gathered she had a lot on her plate between being a single parent and managing a demanding career.”

  Jon didn’t fill in the gaps, namely, the job that Carrie Santiago once held with the CIA. Carrie and Jon had worked together for a short time, much of it overseas. She died in the line of duty, leaving behind her four-year-old son, Randy. Jon was hyper-protective of the boy, having taken on an unexpected uncle-like role.

  Sienna raised her gaze to meet Jon’s. As if reading his mind, she said, “I know what she did for a living, Agent Steadman.”

  Jon raised a brow.

  “Like I said, we were close. She didn't tell me the details, but I knew she worked in American intelligence. It must have been really tough for her to leave Randy behind to go on assignment.”

  “It was.” He left it at that.

  Sienna seemed to sense something in his tone. “Were you two . . .?”

  “No.” Aware he was coming off as abrupt, Jon added, “Maybe under different circumstances things would have been different.”

  “The story of my life.” Sienna reached for the chamomile tea Jon had poured for her after escorting her up to his apartment. Her hands were well-manicured. She took a sip, quickly placing it back on the small table beside her, the remnants surely cooled by now.

  Jon took in his guest’s attire, her bearing. The peacoat Sienna had worn into his apartment was now draped over the back of his kitchen chair, its black and gold Dolce and Gabbana label visible. He took note of the stylish cut of her light hair, edgy but refined; the jeweled choker around her throat that to his untrained eye appeared authentic. He estimated Sienna was at least five years his senior.

  There was something about her Jon couldn’t quite put his finger on. Perhaps it was the odd resemblance she bore to the fair-skinned, green-eyed model he’d seen on one of Times Square’s iconic jumbotrons. He recalled the fashion ad. Posh. It was impossible to miss the scrolling glittery script the size of a full-size car shining down on 42nd Street.

  Sienna had money. Of that Jon was certain. Apparently, she’d come a long way since her army brat upbringing.

  Jon stood, cleared the mugs, placing them in the kitchen sink. Sienna came up beside him. She had the petite, lithe physique of a gymnast, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder. She smelled of fresh-picked roses.

  Jon said, “Why don’t you tell me what brought you to my door.”

  Sienna stared out the window at the stray flakes, seemingly trying to organize her thoughts, then turned to face him, her green eyes studying him. “Do you really work for the FBI? You look so young.”

  Jon pursed his lips, made the effort to remain amiable. And patient. “I’ve been with the New York office for over a year.”

  Sienna took a deep breath, blew it out. “I have a genetic disorder.”

  It wasn’t what Jon was expecting to hear. “Oh?”

  “I was twenty-three, engaged to my college sweetheart, when I learned about it.” She cleared her throat. “The gene passes down exclusively to boys. I wasn’t willing to take a gender gamble and risk subjecting a child to a debilitating illness.” Her eyes watered. “My fiancé couldn’t bear having no biological children of his own.” She paused. “He broke off the engagement.”

  “I’m sorry,” Jon said. He meant it. It must have been bad enough learning she was a carrier of a hereditary disease. Topping it off with losing her fiancé would have been devastating. He knew what that felt like.

  Sienna said, “Since then, I just assumed I wouldn’t have children.” She turned away, extracting a tissue from her jeans pocket.

  Jon guided her back to the sofa. “Go on.”

  She sat, her mascara now smudged. “About nine months ago, I learned about a fertility clinic that could help me.” Her eyes flicked to his, then away. “You’ve probably heard the term, designer babies. Parents select the gender, eye color.”

  Jon nodded. “Only embryos with the desirable genetic markers are selected for implantation, right?” Noting Sienna’s surprise, he added, “I studied forensic criminology. I read about it in one of my science journals. Sounds like science fiction.”

  Sienna shrugged. “Maybe it was at one point, but today gene therapy is becoming increasingly popular.” Sienna shifted in her seat, bit her lip. “This particular clinic specializes in gene editing.”

  “What's that?”

  “It’s a procedure where the DNA associated with the disorder is edited out of the embryos and then implanted into the mother. Or carrier. It corrects genetic variants of reproductive cells.”

  Sienna’s unease was starting to make more sense.

  “Isn’t that illegal?”

  Sienna exhaled, her shoulders slumping. “It’s a gray area. In the U.S., federal funds cannot be used to research gene editing but there’s no legislation yet regarding genetic engineering in humans. In any case, the facility I heard of is private. They conduct clinical trials.”

  Either she’s deluding herself or rationalizing. Jon didn’t care for either option. “Messing with Mother Nature never ends well.” He had learned that lesson on more than one occasion.

  Sienna said, “Maybe so, but put it this way, if you had the option to remove the gene for diabetes or Alzheimer’s from your child, would you?”

  Jon couldn’t deny her point. “Of course.”

  Sienna held out her hands, palms up. “You see? Once we peel away the layers, the right thing to do is not so obvious. Needless to say, for me, the prospect of editing out my disorder was like finding gold. I jumped on it. I’ve always wanted to be a mom, have a large, noisy family. The chance to have that, was without exaggeration, life changing. I began to see the future differently, one with new purpose.”

  She spoke faster, her eyes brightening with the talk of motherhood.

  “You signed up for the procedure?” he asked.

  Sienna nodded, broke eye contact. “I’m using a surrogate.”

  Jon didn’t comment. It was none of his business.

  Perhaps she read his silence as confusion. “The procedure has a low rate of success to begin with, not to mention an exorbitant price tag. My doctor thought I’d have the best chance of success with a surrogate to carry my child.”

  Jon suspected there was more but didn’t press the issue. There were lots of reasons for surrogacy. “Can I ask who the father is?”

  Sienna said, “Most clinics allow you to either use sperm you acquire independently or choose from a catalogue. This facility has an unusual policy. Clients are required to select a donor from their exclusive catalogue. I assume the protocol increases the odds of success with their highly desirable pool of donors. Which was fine with me. I’m not in a relationship and would have done so anyway.”

  Jon wondered if like him she was commitment-shy given the trauma she went through in her past relationship. Still, he was enthralled with the advances in reproductive technology. He leaned back in his chair, put his feet up on the coffee table. “What happened?”

  “It worked. Probably the best day of my life. Jennifer was scheduled for a gynecological exam two days ago but she didn’t show up. I tried reaching her to no avail. She doesn’t answer her phone or emails. I called the clinic and they claimed not to have heard from her.”

  “That’s it?” Jon regretted the words the moment they left his lips. “I mean, is there something more? Maybe her phone isn’t working. Maybe she was under the weather. There are countless reasons . . .”

  Sienna must have sensed where he was heading. “She didn’t back out of our surrogacy deal,” she said, crossing her arms like a brooding child.

  When Jon didn’t respond, impatience crept into her tone. “If it weren’t for her last voice message, I’d think nothing of it.”

  She pulled out her phone, tapping the screen. A young woman’s breathless voice came through the speaker. “Sienna, call me asap.” She spoke in a rapid whisper. “Something awful is going on at the clini
c. Watch your back.” In the background, Jon heard a knock. “I-I’m sorry.”

  Jon asked Sienna to play it again. There was no denying the fear in her words.

  “That call was from yesterday. I’m kicking myself for missing it. I tried to call back but it goes straight to voicemail. Something’s happened.”

  “Did you call the police?”

  Sienna nodded. “They took the info but said there isn’t much they can do at this point. That she probably turned off her phone or is out of range. Whatever. But I know her. She’d never go this long without a word.”

  “She did sound scared of something . . . or someone.”

  A groan escaped Sienna’s lips.

  Jon felt awkward. A woman was in his kitchen confiding in him and crying. Despite being a so-called friend of Carrie’s, to him Sienna was a stranger. And something felt off. “What am I missing?” he asked, looking her square in the eye.

  A flood of tears broke through, freely running down her cheeks. Between sobs Jon deciphered Sienna’s heartbreaking words.

  “Jennifer is more than my surrogate. She’s my big sister. And she’s carrying my baby.”

  Chapter 2

  Isle of Palms, South Carolina

  It was a long night for Dr. Terry Lavi. After the heated argument with her fiancé, Gabe, she’d left the beach house in a huff, taking a lonesome seaside walk to blow off some steam. There, on the blustery beach, Terry had felt the weight of her relationship with a man who lived thousands of miles away from her homeland. A man who knew little about her job as a ‘consultant’ for the Mossad, Israel’s intelligence service.

  A man she loved with every beat of her heart.

  In the heat of the moment, she’d left her phone behind, letting her guard down for only a few minutes. And was approached by Charlotte Colbert. Terry had spent long and frustrating weeks in pursuit of one of the world’s most hunted black market brokers. Until she was unceremoniously pulled off the case. The appearance of the matronly, white-haired businesswoman on the South Carolina beach—a woman she’d met briefly at a New York conference—served to reveal her true identity as the White Knight.