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

  Charlotte had offered a helping hand, inviting her to a cottage a mile up the beach. The modest sand-colored one-story house wouldn’t warrant a second glance. The interior had the expected amenities but little in the way of luxury. Given its prime location, it wouldn’t be long before some Atlanta hotshot gutted it, turning the property into another seaside gem.

  Terry sat on the threadbare sofa, trying to slow her heart rate. The initial shock had not yet worn away. Being privy to the true identity of one of the most wanted international criminals was terribly dangerous. No matter what she looked like.

  Twice, Terry spotted a large man in a bulky windbreaker pass outside the window. His voice was muffled as he spoke firmly into his earpiece. Terry pulled the chenille throw more tightly around her.

  Charlotte followed Terry’s gaze, pouring herself a glass of Merlot. “That’s Simon, my head of security. He’s nothing to be concerned about. As you can imagine, I need to protect my identity at all costs. That’s why I’ve taken precautions.”

  A likeable woman in her seventies, Charlotte had been overlooked by both the Mossad and CIA. She’d never even been a suspect. “My greatest protection is my appearance,” Charlotte had told her on the way to the cottage.

  Charlotte placed the wine glass on the kitchen counter. “I gather you’ve had a bad row with your fiancé.”

  How does she know that?

  As if reading her mind, Charlotte said, “I have no surveillance on Mr. Lewis’s home. It was merely a deduction, my dear. A despondent woman sitting alone on a beach typically adds up to matters of the heart.”

  Charlotte took a seat opposite her and made her pitch. Terry listened quietly. The proposal was nothing short of jaw-dropping. Charlotte would provide Terry’s genetics lab with a sizeable endowment, clearing the way for the experiments and research she’d been unable to conduct due to the financial constraints.

  The problem lay with the quid pro quo.

  “I’ve been patient, waiting for the ideal opportunity to approach you, privately. Now that we’ve met, I’m eager to proceed. However, if you decide to decline my proposal, no harm done. I’ll have Simon bring you back to the beach where we met or anywhere else you’d prefer to go.”

  By two a.m., Terry couldn’t keep her eyes open. They agreed she’d sleep on it, Charlotte making it clear that until things were ironed out Terry could not return to Gabe’s house. Or contact him.

  If Terry agreed to the terms, she would need to remain off the grid for several days as a security measure. Otherwise, there was no way they’d move forward.

  Terry needed to move forward. International security depended on it.

  ***

  New York City

  Jon waited for Sienna to calm down. He passed her a box of tissues.

  “Thanks.” Sienna wiped her eyes. “Jen is my older sister. She knew my deal and offered to act as my surrogate. I couldn’t believe it. I was over the moon.”

  Jon was still stuck on Sienna’s earlier evasiveness, wondering why she’d initially hidden the fact that the surrogate was her sister. He wasn’t sure what it meant but made a mental note.

  Sienna said, “I was going to sit in on Jen’s doctor visits. But then she fell off the radar. Now Jennifer—and my baby—are gone.”

  Jon felt awful for the woman. He’d suffered so many losses himself over the years. But he didn’t see why she’d come to him.

  Sienna said, “I made a terrible mistake.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “From the beginning, I sensed there was something about the procedure that was too good to be true. The degree of exclusivity, the NDA I needed to sign. I talked myself into believing it was all legit. I wanted a child so badly I refused to look too closely. There’s something shady going on at that clinic, Jon. I need to find my sister.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me it was a family matter from the outset?”

  “Would it have mattered?”

  Jon didn’t care for the response but restrained himself from saying so.

  Sienna said, “I’m praying she’s all right. Either way, I want to get my other embryos out of there and move them to a traditional facility.”

  Feeling a strong pull to get outside, Jon glanced out the window. The snow hadn’t let up. “What’s keeping you from doing that?”

  “I had to sign a waiver. It requires they maintain supervision of all embryos created with their technology until implantation. I thought nothing of it at the time.”

  “This sounds more like a lawyer issue than something I can assist you with.”

  “I wish that were true. But there’s trouble there. I know it. The police won’t help me locate Jen. I need protection and someone to help me find her. I’d like to hire you for both.”

  “Protection?”

  “You heard her message.”

  Jon intuited there was far more to the story. “Ms. Lamont, I feel for you. I really do. But . . .”

  He stood.

  She didn’t.

  She said, “It should only take a few days.”

  “What if it doesn’t?”

  “Then you’re off the hook. I’ll pay you and find someone else. But I don’t think that will be necessary.”

  The conversation was taking an odd turn. “I already have a job.” He eased his way to the door, hoping she’d pick up on the hint. When she didn’t budge, he added, “No offense but I’m pretty sure intuition and that voicemail don’t warrant all this.” His words sounded insensitive even to his own ear.

  Sienna frowned. “Look, I get it. You don’t know me. I show up here with what sounds like a crazy overreaction. This isn’t making a lot of sense to you. But Carrie told me if I ever needed help—real help—I should turn to you. I guess she overstated that.” Sienna finally stood, walked to the door. “Thanks for hearing me out.”

  Jon held the door open for her, irritated that she brought up Carrie again. She’s playing me. Let her go.

  He watched as Sienna walked down the hall toward the elevator. As she turned the corner, he cursed under his breath, then heard himself call out, “Wait.”

  She faced him, a question in her eyes.

  Jon said, “What exactly would you want me to do?”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Sienna replied, “Come with me to Maui. Help me find Jen.”

  ***

  Isle of Palms, South Carolina

  Terry was jolted awake by a knock on the door. Opening her eyes, she was momentarily disoriented, startled at her surroundings and the unfamiliar bed. She sat up, her head spinning with all that happened over the last few hours.

  Thoughts of Gabe accosted her. If only she could call him to say she was all right.

  Another knock. This time the door opened a crack, a halo of white hair visible. “Good morning.” Charlotte was carrying a tray.

  Terry found it bizarre that a woman of her means was handling things personally. “Come in.” It felt like when her grandmother, Savti, woke her up on summer mornings with tea and sugar cookies.

  Maybe Charlotte knows that.

  The thought that the White Knight was privy to that tiny detail about her and was exploiting it, was both odd and disturbing.

  “I brought you morning tea.” Charlotte placed the tray on the bedside table, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Have you had a chance to consider my offer?”

  Terry took a sip from the teacup. Peppermint. My favorite.

  There was only one way to play this. Only one chance she’d be given to infiltrate the criminal’s lair and learn all she could in the hopes of somehow informing Kahn. “Yes, I have.”

  Charlotte looked at her expectantly. “And?”

  Terry looked into Charlotte’s light blue eyes and smiled. “I’ve always wanted to visit the American West.”

  ***

  Gabe Lewis spent the night scouring the beach. After calling Terry’s phone only to find it in her purse by the front door, he called the few neighbors he knew, waking several. No one
had seen Terry. He then drove to the local precinct, thinking his presence would warrant more urgent action. They told him what he expected. It sounded like they’d had a lover’s quarrel and Terry went somewhere to cool down. It didn’t warrant using their valuable resources to search for her.

  Gabe knew better.

  Terry had important work in Israel’s prestigious Technion genetics lab. She would never leave for an extended period without her phone. And as much as she was a hothead, she wouldn’t leave without an explanation.

  Terry was in trouble. Gabe was certain of it.

  Since their premature departure from their vacation in Eilat, Israel’s southernmost city on the banks of the Red Sea, Gabe understood Terry was at Yosef Kahn’s beck and call. He’d assumed by the time they reunited on the Isle of Palms to assess Gabe’s family’s vacation home as a potential wedding venue, whatever work she’d been doing for the Mossad chief had been resolved.

  Perhaps he’d been wrong. Perhaps she was still working for Kahn. It would explain her foul mood. Gabe ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He couldn’t think clearly. What should he do next? Who would Terry call if she was distraught?

  Out of obvious options, he glanced at his watch. It was two in the afternoon in Haifa. He picked up the phone and dialed Dr. Hannah Lavi, Terry’s mother.

  Chapter 3

  New York City

  Jon ran across crossed the Brooklyn Bridge at what he deemed to be an impressive speed. The snow had stopped, the emerging sun burning the dusting away. The weather in the city was all over the map. Still, it was probably the last day for a while that he’d be able to go for a run without freezing.

  He had just spent two hours at his apartment speaking with Sienna Lamont and couldn’t shake the feeling he was being played. But in the end, Carrie won out. He was convinced the two women had indeed been close friends. Sienna knew more about Carrie than most people. More than he did. Randy’s birthday, and even Carrie’s parents’—Esther and Raúl’s—anniversary.

  With so little in the way of family, Jon’s friends became his chosen kin. Carrie among them. He had no choice but to help Sienna, even if she was holding things close to the vest.

  The problem was how far to go to help her. He glanced at his smart watch, turned south. He had an appointment and the timing couldn’t be better.

  ***

  South Street

  Lower Manhattan

  “How have you been, Jon?” the shrink asked, closing the door behind her and settling into the tan leather chair, her iPad in hand.

  Jon looked out the second story window. The cobblestone street offered a glimpse of 1800s New York. “Fine.”

  The therapist tilted her head. “Really? You seem preoccupied.”

  “A lot on my mind.”

  “Care to share?”

  Silence. Then, Jon said, “I suppose that’s what I’m here for, right?” A tinge of sarcasm crept in.

  The shrink didn’t take the attitude bait. “Right. So, what’s up?”

  “Had a visit from Carrie’s friend.”

  “Hmm. I see how that could bring up some difficult feelings for you.”

  Jon shrugged.

  “What brought her around?”

  “She said Carrie told her if she was ever in trouble to find me and I’d help.”

  “Sounds like Carrie had a lot of faith in you.”

  “I guess.”

  The therapist waited a beat. “Is that all?”

  “I’m running low on the meds. I need a refill.”

  The therapist typed something into her tablet. “Are they still helping?”

  “I haven’t freaked out in a while if that’s what you mean.” Jon didn’t like the term PTSD.

  Veterans had earned that diagnosis. He’d never seen war. Despite the shrink telling him there was little difference between combat and what he’d experienced with the college shooting that killed his fiancée and left him with a limp.

  “That’s good.”

  Jon left out the part about his recent violent outbursts. Twice he’d erupted, the ire spiking with ferocious speed. He’d held a gun to a suspect’s head, later hitting him hard in the face, breaking the man’s nose.

  “What about the dreams?”

  “Still having nightmares.”

  She took another note. “Maybe we should try another medication. See if that helps.”

  “You’re the doctor.”

  “I’ll call in the prescription to your pharmacy but want your reassurance that you’re taking the proper dosage. No more, no less. This medication can be very effective but on rare occasions, patients experience adverse side effects. Poor impulse control, extreme agitation. If we need to, we’ll change it.”

  Jon gave a thumbs up.

  “Okay, then. How’s work?”

  “It’s been in a ‘hurry up and wait’ mode. We had a red-level situation that vanished overnight. It may pick up again but for now it’s been quiet.”

  “And things with Agent Matthews?” She knew Jon’s relationship with his boss was frequently volatile.

  “Doug’s been okay these last few weeks. But he’s acting weird.”

  “Weird how?”

  Jon gave the question some thought. “Dressing better, for one. Craig, my coworker says he’s dating someone.”

  “How do you feel about that?”

  “Seems kinda rushed. Don’t you? His wife just died.”

  “And that seems disloyal to you?”

  Jon bristled. “This isn’t about me.”

  She held Jon’s gaze. “Isn’t it?”

  “Stop that.”

  Ignoring the plea, she went on. “You’ve had a hard time committing to anyone since Ashleigh died and that was several years ago. I’m curious if you think doing so would be disloyal to her.”

  “She’s dead. It wouldn’t be cheating.”

  The therapist nodded. “I agree. But we both know logic and emotion are two very different things.”

  There was truth in that. Even with the one real relationship he’d had since Ashleigh’s death, he hadn’t been fully vested.

  “You’ve had a lot of work stress in recent months. Maybe it’s time for a brief vacation.”

  “I was in Costa Rica not long ago.”

  “I recall. But from what you told me it was a very active, exhausting trip.”

  “Yeah, so?”

  “So, I’m suggesting something more relaxed. No ziplining, jujitsu classes, whatever. Just a book on a beach.”

  “With a cocktail?” he smirked.

  “Not on those meds,” she said, pointing to the iPad, her expression humorless.

  “Sienna—that’s Carrie’s friend—wants me to go with her to Maui to check something out. On her dime.” He left out the details.

  “Sounds like a perfect solution. If you can get real downtime while you’re there, I’d strongly encourage you take her up on the offer.”

  ***

  The Bronx

  Jon tossed the empty ice cream cups in the trash while keeping an eye on Randy, who was climbing like a monkey in the shop’s indoor playground. The boy had wanted to go to the aquarium. It was his favorite outing but the frigid temperatures forced Jon to decline. His concession was to spend an hour eating raspberry chocolate chip and swinging from the rafters.

  Jon smiled to himself amazed at how much he enjoyed the boy. Who would have ever believed Jon a babysitter? No, it was more than that. He’d become family. The Santiagos had embraced him as one of their own. The feeling was mutual. Jon had come into Randy’s life shortly before the boy’s mother was killed in the line of duty. Jon knew some scars would fade while others would remain a lifetime. An only child himself, Jon could count on one hand the people that truly mattered in his life. He wanted something better for Randy.

  Jon approached the tubular slide, waiting for the boy to emerge. “Time to go, little man.”

  Randy pouted. “Five more minutes?”

  Jon tried to conjure up
a stern demeanor, but it wouldn’t come. “Sure, why not?”

  On the way out, Jon rinsed Randy’s sticky hands, then held one in his own. “Let’s get back to Abuela before she starts to worry.”

  Jon stood in the Santiago’s doorway, the aroma of sauteed onions welcoming him.

  “Had fun?” Esther asked.

  Randy began firing off about the playground, barely coming up for air.

  Esther laughed. To Jon, she asked, “Lunch?”

  “Can’t today.”

  Esther said to Randy, “Go get cleaned up. I made mac and cheese.”

  Jon gave Randy a hug. “Bye, buddy. Have a fun week.”

  Randy ran inside.

  “Sienna Lamont came to see me,” Jon blurted.

  Esther’s eyes widened. “I didn’t realize you knew her. She and Carrie were close friends. She’s a lovely young woman.”

  Jon glanced at his watch. He wanted to hear more but he was running late. He kissed Esther on the cheek and hurried to the elevator. He’d committed the rest of the afternoon to Matthews. Given what he was considering doing for Sienna, annoying his boss with his tardiness would not be prudent.

  Chapter 4

  SoHo, New York City

  Jon brought the last of the boxes up to the SoHo loft. The space looked much larger than necessary for one newly widowed man. Doug Matthews was dressed in a way that Jon never got to see. Sweats and high-top sneakers. When he’d called, asking for help with the move, Jon assumed he was desperate, contacting everyone he knew before scraping the bottom of the barrel and recruiting his employees. When he arrived at the loft, Jon was surprised to learn he was the only person Matthews had called.

  Doug was a changed man. With the death of his wife, he was starting over in his late fifties. Jon had never met Erica but understood that the couple was perfectly matched—the tough-guy Fed and the workaholic DA. Jon suspected Doug wasn’t an easy man to live with. Erica must have been something special.

  “This is the last of it,” Jon said, placing the box on the kitchen table.

  “I owe you a beer,” Doug said, grabbing one from the fridge and cracking it open.

  Jon made a face. “A beer? How about lunch at Cipriani?”