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

  “Would you settle for a deli sandwich? I think this place has cleared out my bank account.”

  “I thought you said it was paid for by Erica's life insurance policy.”

  “Okay, smartass, where do you want to go eat . . . that I can afford?”

  “Second Ave Deli. I've been dreaming of an overstuffed pastrami sandwich for the last three hours.”

  Doug grabbed his jacket and keys. “All right. Let's go.”

  Jon wiped at his mouth, the napkin coming away stained with brown mustard. He’d shared everything that happened since Sienna showed up at his door. “She wants me to help her.”

  “That seems somewhat excessive under the circumstances.”

  “I said the same thing but she’s convinced there's more going on over there. She’s scared.”

  Doug took a forkful of his health salad. “Why do I feel like the next thing you're going to say is you want the FBI to get involved?”

  “I don't know, Doug. It's why I'm bringing it up.” Then, “After hearing her sister’s message, I wouldn’t be surprised if something more sinister is going on.”

  “If every time someone shows up asking for your help . . .”

  Jon felt his defenses go up. Thoughts of Ed Hernandez came to mind. An LA Times reporter who’d spent much of his adult life eating pastrami sandwiches, Ed had appealed to Jon for assistance in the very delicatessen Jon now found himself in with Doug.

  “Ed asked for my help and I didn’t give it. At least not initially. And look how that turned out. I won’t make that mistake again.” Jon was referring to the brutal attack Ed suffered shortly thereafter.

  Doug paused, seemingly considering his words. Or maybe he was just eating. “I'll be back in the office tomorrow and I can check out the clinic. Where is it located? Somewhere in Manhattan?”

  Jon said something, but his mouth was full.

  “How about you swallow first?”

  When John finished the bite, he said. “Maui.”

  Doug looked up. “Huh?”

  “The fertility clinic is in Maui.”

  “You've got to be kidding me!”

  Jon did his best to maintain a look of innocence. “Why?”

  “Because Maui’s a bit out of our territory, Jon.” Impatience had crept into his tone. “There’s an FBI field office in Honolulu.”

  “Sienna's a friend of Carrie's. I’ll only be gone for the weekend . . . or maybe a couple of days longer. Just enough time to decipher what’s going on.”

  Doug kept his voice steady. “You do realize you have a job here in New York, right? I tell you where to be and when.”

  “Which is why I'm asking permission. In advance. In the past I just took things on and let you know afterward. Isn't this progress?” Jon grinned broadly, showing off his pearly whites, his demeanor now collegial.

  Doug’s face was contorting, as though trying to hold back a smile. In the end, he just shook his head. “Vacation, right?”

  Jon nodded.

  “You understand that means until otherwise approved you are helping a friend as a civilian, not as a federal officer.”

  Jon gave a thumbs up, his mouth full once again. He swallowed, signaled to a passing waiter. “Please pack me another one of these to go.”

  The waiter nodded. “I’ll add it to the bill.”

  Matthews looked from the waiter to Jon. “Really?”

  Jon downed his root beer, addressed the waiter. “What’s for dessert?”

  Doug let out an exasperated sigh.

  Two hours later, Jon stepped into his apartment. The steam whistled loudly from the metal radiators. He opened a window, allowing the cool air inside, pleased with himself. He’d had an epic meal on his boss’s dime, convinced him to look into the clinic, and was preparing for a trip to the tropics.

  After Sienna’s plea for help, Jon had gone back and forth on whether to tell Matthews about it. The relationship with his boss was unconventional from the start. Poorly disguised animosity had evolved into an inflammable mix of respect, co-dependence and tumult.

  Matthews had surprised him. Pleasantly so. In the past, Matthews would have lost his lunch if Jon even hinted at what bordered on an independent investigation. Broaching the subject had felt like walking a tightrope, sharing most of what he was up to with only a few minor tweaks and omissions.

  Jon could breathe easier now, ready to make inroads with locating Sienna’s sister. Maybe Matthews’s new girlfriend was a good idea after all.

  Jon assessed his place. Neat as a pin. At two-thirty in the morning, he’d had an urgent out-of-character need to tidy up, even spending twenty minutes mopping the floors. If Granny could see me now.

  He put the sandwich in the fridge and initiated a video call.

  He was about to hang up when Eunice Steadman answered. “Hi honey. Sorry, I had to dig the phone out of my bag.”

  He was looking at sandy ground. “Can you hold the phone steady?”

  Granny’s smiling face filled the screen. The image shifted to her pink dry-fit leggings, the ocean behind her. He heard a male voice say, “Who’s that?”

  Amused, Jon asked, “What are you wearing?”

  Her eyes shifted to her left, she smiled. “My, uh, friend bought it for me to wear when we go on our walks.”

  “Your friend?”

  She laughed heartily.

  Even Granny has someone. While Jon was dying to know who was standing by her side, he didn’t want to put her on the spot. “I wanted you to see my apartment.” He flipped the screen slowly panning the room.

  “Wow! Did you hire a cleaning service?”

  Now it was his turn to laugh. “I did it myself.”

  “Really? I never thought I’d see the day.”

  Jon turned the screen back. “Was I really that bad?”

  “Let’s just say there were a few times I found the remnants of week-old food under your bed.”

  He smiled at the memory. Granny had brought him up, taking him in after his parents were killed in a car accident when he was eight.

  They spoke for several more minutes, catching up on their week’s news. When he hung up, he grabbed a Bud Light from the fridge, took a seat on his couch, and reviewed his dinner conversation with Doug.

  He inserted his earbuds, took a long draw his beer, then made a call to his co-worker. “Hey, Craig, how’s it goin’?” Jon did his best to sound upbeat.

  “What do you want, Steadman?” Jon’s co-worker asked, the sarcasm overshadowed by his characteristic good-natured tone. He was always so annoyingly cheerful.

  “What makes you think I want something?” Jon said, trying to sound offended.

  “You’re calling me after hours on my cell.”

  “Well . . . I thought I’d try some small talk first.”

  “Not your strong suit.”

  Seemed Craig knew him better than he’d thought. Jon walked into his bedroom, pulled a carryon from the closet, tossing it on the bed beside the freshly washed and folded laundry. He picked out two of the least wrinkled shirts and placed them into the bag.

  “True enough. I’ll cut to the chase. Can you do a background check for me?”

  “Why don’t you do it yourself?”

  “I’m off the clock. Leaving tomorrow for a short vacay.”

  “Oh, yeah? Where are you going?”

  “Hawaii.”

  “No kidding. Didn’t realize you had that kind of coin.”

  “Someone’s helping me out with it.” Before Craig could ask any follow-up questions, Jon added, “So, what do you say?”

  “It’s for the job, right?”

  “Mhmm.”

  “You know I only ask because of all those pesky privacy laws.”

  “Sure. So you’ll do it?”

  A hesitation. “Sure.”

  “Thanks, buddy. I’ll be in touch. And Craig, keep this between us, okay?”

  Before Craig could reply, Jon hung up, feeling a twinge of guilt. The Sienna job was a side-gig
. At least for now. But Craig was a cog in the FBI wheel, a diehard rule-follower like every other agent Jon had come across. Something Jon would never be.

  He stuffed several necessities into his carryon bag, then tossed in his Yankees cap, hoping it wouldn’t get crushed on the flight. He set the bag by the door beside his rucksack, wondering if he’d overpacked. No choice. There were things in there he couldn’t do without.

  He was debating whether to remove some less vital items when through his earbuds he heard, “Call from Gabe Lewis.”

  It had been a while since he’d caught up with his best friend. “Hey, bro.”

  “Hi.”

  The moment he heard his friend’s voice, Jon knew something was wrong. “What’s going on?”

  “Terry left last night and I haven't seen her since.”

  Jon felt a prickle of fear. “Tell me what happened.”

  Gabe paused, then said, “We had an argument. A bad one. But you know Terry. She’s a passionate woman. I assumed she would blow off some steam and then come back so we could talk things out.”

  Jon heard the catch in Gabe’s voice.

  “All she had were the clothes on her back. She didn’t even take her purse or phone. It doesn't make any sense. It’s not like there’s anywhere she could have gone. It’s a secluded area.”

  It wasn’t lost on Jon that this was the second missing woman he was being informed about in one day. Only difference was Terry was a close friend and Gabe’s fiancée. “Have you asked your neighbors if they’ve seen her?”

  “Yes, of course. So far, nothing.” Then, “I was so desperate, I called Terry’s mother.”

  Jon recalled the genealogist, a brilliant woman. “Did Hannah hear from her?”

  “No. All I accomplished was worrying her. And letting her know that Terry and I had a falling-out. I know Terry’s job comes with secrecy, but this feels off. She wouldn’t do this.”

  Terry had taken on what was the intelligence community’s equivalent of a consulting role with the Mossad. Unlike the corporate version of consulting, the job came with the potential for life-threatening danger.

  Jon hoped it was all a misunderstanding though he knew that was unlikely. Right now, he needed to keep Gabe calm. “I'll look into this and call you back.”

  “Jon?”

  “Yeah, buddy.”

  “I can’t live without her.”

  Jon offered some words of encouragement and signed off, hoping he hadn't conveyed his own fears to his best friend. Jon had omitted how he’d caught a prolific hacker responsible for bringing down major American companies. The same person had sold advanced malware to a much bigger fish active in the dark web—an elusive broker of highly classified intel known as the White Knight. In turn, the White Knight had threatened selling it to North Korea. The potentially disastrous consequences were the most dire Jon had seen since starting with the FBI.

  The CIA, Interpol, and the Mossad were working hard to track down the broker and destroy the criminal enterprise but the last Jon had heard, leads had slowed to a trickle. The FBI had essentially been left in the dark. As far as Jon knew, the underground broker was still at large. The sale was intended to go through days ago. He’d heard no news about it, but suspected the governments involved were keeping things quiet.

  Terry had been tasked with uncovering the White Knight’s true identity but was unceremoniously pulled from the case. With no facts about why she’d been discharged, Jon assumed it had something to do with Matthews’s stubborn proprietary nature. He’d made it difficult to work with the Israelis on the joint venture, and Terry was the one who took the fall.

  Jon made a call he wasn't sure he was supposed to make.

  A woman answered speaking rapidly in Hebrew. He didn’t understand a word. “Do you speak English?”

  “Yes. How can I help you?” Her tone already sounded impatient.

  “I'd like to speak with Yosef Kahn.”

  Hearty laughter came across the line, the condescension palpable from five thousand miles away.

  Jon bristled. “What's so funny?”

  The woman took a moment to contain herself. “Who are you?” The r came out guttural.

  “My name is Jon Steadman. He knows me.”

  “Do you realize he is the director of the Mossad, Mr. Steadman? You cannot simply call and ask to speak with him. You must make an appointment. He has an opening—”

  Jon could hear papers ruffling.

  “Three months from tomorrow.”

  Jon told himself to remain calm. It was hard. “There's no time for an appointment! Tell him it's Agent Steadman on the line. Let him decide if he wants to take the call.”

  The woman didn't ask him to hold. Jon wasn't even sure if she had hung up on him.

  He was about to click off when he heard the baritone voice. “Jon, shalom. Have you reconsidered our offer?” Kahn was referring to the job offer he’d made, asking Jon to act as liaison between their two countries.

  “No, sir. I'm calling for another reason. I just heard from Gabe Lewis, Dr. Lavi’s fiancé. Apparently, she’s . . . missing.”

  Silence on the other end. Then, “She went to be with him. For a few days.”

  “That's correct.”

  “How long has she been missing?”

  Jon explained what he knew.

  “Thank you for the call.”

  Before Kahn could hang up, Jon said, “Gabe’s my closest friend. I know we can't tell him details of Terry's work, but he has a right to know if she's okay.”

  “Understood.”

  “Will you keep me posted?”

  “We’ll do our best to find her.”

  Jon hung up, aware the director had artfully dodged his question.

  Chapter 5

  Somewhere over Colorado

  Terry opened her eyes, acutely aware of the pervasive deep hum. She rose, twisted her shoulder-length golden hair into a bun, securing it with the clip she’d left on the nightstand. Dressed only in her underthings, she opened the room’s closet, finding a silk kimono, wrapping it around herself and tying the sash tightly around her narrow waist. She opened the shiny lacquered panel doors and let out a yawn.

  The last twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of activity. The pull to tell Charlotte that she’d changed her mind and wouldn’t consider her offer, was so strong she nearly capitulated. What sort of woman leaves her fiancé in limbo wondering what had happened to her? If she was dead or alive.

  Terry stepped into the main cabin.

  “Good morning, doctor.”

  Charlotte Colbert appeared perfectly coiffed as if she’d just left the salon. Impeccably dressed in a designer skirt suit, white blouse and a string of pearls, she emitted a quiet confidence.

  “Did you rest well?”

  Terry nodded.

  “Why not have a peek out the window?”

  Terry opened the small shade and looked out, in awe. Behind them to the east was flat land, massive, neat squares she assumed were farmland. A range of snowcapped mountains lay just ahead to the west. She had spent her teenage years in Boston but never ventured out to the American West. She remained awed by the vastness of a land that could hold several European countries within its borders.

  “Where are we?”

  “We just entered Colorado. Those are the Rockies. Aren’t they magnificent?”

  They were. But they reminded Terry how far she now was from South Carolina. Sitting in a leather chair across from Charlotte, she was acutely aware of the surreal circumstances. I’m on a private plane, sharing morning coffee with an international criminal.

  Despite the veritable ambush on the beach, Terry never once felt threatened. She’d been in a sorry state when Charlotte materialized beside her on the beach, showing authentic concern. But it was obvious Charlotte—or her bodyguard—had been waiting until Terry was alone.

  The moment Terry realized the matronly woman was also the White Knight, she shifted into operation mode. Charlotte gave no ind
ication she knew of Terry’s connection to the Mossad. As far as the older woman was concerned, Terry was a renowned geneticist with access to some of the most classified scientific breakthroughs. To Charlotte, Terry was someone to court, someone with access to the kind of insider information desired by buyers of cutting-edge scientific intel.

  The world was looking for the criminal and the she had come to Terry. It was a one-time-only opportunity, a chance to learn all she could about the woman’s criminal enterprise. She would have been a fool not to accept the offer.

  Her sole objective was getting word to Yosef Kahn, telling him what she’d learned. He’d taken her off the case but surely this would change things. Now all she could hope for was that her own hidden identity as a Mossad operative remained as secret as Charlotte’s once was.

  ***

  Jerusalem, Israel

  Yosef Kahn stared out the window of his Knesset office, his eyes barely registering the view of Sacher Park below and the Wolfson Towers beyond it. Though the Israeli parliament building was not his primary office—that location was highly classified—he had a designated suite of rooms in the Knesset’s lower level for those times he needed to work out of Jerusalem.

  He was deeply concerned for Dr. Terry Lavi’s safety. He had recruited her—a scientist, ethicist and patriot. She’d proven her abilities under challenging circumstances. Her involvement in the last mission had gone sour thanks in large part to Special Agent Doug Matthews, head of the New York FBI field office.

  Terry’s role had been to lure the White Knight out from the shadows. At one point she believed she’d made contact, only to discover her mark was actually an FBI agent on a similar mission. The realization had been deflating, effectively stalling the operation. Matthews took issue with a foreign national’s involvement in operations, even those that involved both their countries. It didn’t help that U.S.-Israeli political relations were already strained.

  Kahn understood it wasn’t an equitable relationship. For that reason, he’d shared much of the intel the Mossad had gathered, in hopes of reciprocity. Unfortunately, Matthews chose to put a vise grip on what his own field officers had learned. The result of the bad blood was Terry being pulled from the job.