More Than a Mission (13 page)

“You were lying on the mat with one of the free weights beside you,” she said and motioned to the equipment off to the side of the mat. “You were out cold, so I ran up to get some damp towels and asked Natalie to make an ice bag.”

“Oh,” he said and grasped the ice bag from her hand. As he held it to the injury, he winced again.

“Do you need to see a doctor?” she asked and Natalie broke into the conversation once more.

“You're not going to sue, right? After all, it was your fault the weights hit you,” she said nervously, clearly concerned on her employer's behalf.

Elizabeth gritted her teeth. She knew Natalie meant well, but she wasn't helping the situation at all. While still kneeling before Aidan, she said, “Nat. Aidan is not going to sue—”

“You know how litigious these Americans are,” her friend worried out loud, wringing her hands like an anxious old maid.

If it wasn't so serious, it would be laughable, Elizabeth thought. Trying to calm her assistant, she gave Natalie instructions that would remove her from the cellar. “Please finish up the prep work while I see to Aidan. I'll be up shortly.”

Natalie seemed about to argue with her, but Aidan clinched it with, “I'm not going to sue. It was an accident. I think the weight slipped from my hand.”

With that, Natalie scurried up the stairs, leaving the two of them alone.

She examined him again, reached out and eased the ice bag from the side of his face to take another peek. “There's a bruise already.”

Aidan wanted to say, “Well, hello, duh. You kicked the shit out of me,” but her look of concern was so real, it was hard to imagine she could fake it. “I'll be fine,” he reassured, although a whopper of a headache was rapidly growing behind his eyes.

She dropped her hands to her thighs and rubbed them there nervously. “You scared me. I thought you were really hurt.”

Again, apprehension, seemingly real and unpracticed, flashed across her face on his behalf. “I'm fine. And I know you have to get to work. I'm going to head back to my place to rest.”

“That's not a good idea. You were out for a while. You could have a concussion.”

She was probably right, because he was sure that at any moment, his head might split open. When he moved it too quickly, nausea set in along with a wave of dizziness. “So what do you propose, Lizzy?”

“Let's get you to the cottage. You can sack out there so I can check on you.” As she said that, she slipped an arm beneath his shoulder, helped him to rise and then to navigate the stairs.

He appreciated her assistance, especially since his knees were wobbly. If it hadn't been for her support, he might not have made it to the ground floor. By the time they reached the door to the cottage, a fine cold sweat had erupted on his skin.

She must either have seen or sensed his discomfort since she asked, “Are you okay?”

“I need to sit down.” No lie on his part. He worried he might keel over at any second.

She helped him to the sofa where she urged him to lie down and adjusted the pillows beneath his head until he was comfortable. When she examined him again, she said, “You look pale.”

He wanted to upchuck, but manly man that he was, he forced it down. “Fine,” was all he could manage, and he closed his eyes, hoping to make it clear that the one thing he wanted was to be left alone.

He sensed her continued presence by his side for a moment before she finally left.

Normally, he would have taken advantage of the opportunity to investigate the cottage at his leisure. Only now, he wasn't up to it.

And come to think of it, he hadn't heard a peep of any kind from Lucia. Reaching up to his ear, which was the side of his head that had taken the initial brunt of the kick, he dislodged the earpiece. It had tightly jammed into his ear canal from the force of the blow. It had also been accidentally shut off. Powering it back up, he slipped it into his ear and said, “Copy, Red Rover.”

A
idan maintained his prone position on the couch, his head pounding too badly to consider moving right at that moment. Even the slight crackle from the earpiece seemed overly loud as he waited for a response from Lucia. While he lay there, he recalled Elizabeth's concern for him. It troubled him. Had it been his imagination, or had he seen caring on her expressive face before he had closed his eyes against the pain? Could she be that good an actress?

He cursed under his breath as Lucia's voice finally came across the earpiece, too loudly. Pain stabbed through his temples from the sound of it. “What happened, Blender Boy?”

He wished he knew. He had no explanation for how Elizabeth had managed to elude him in the tunnel, nor how it was possible that Natalie thought Elizabeth had been with her in the kitchen the whole time.

Maybe because it was someone else who nearly took your head off?

“I don't know what happened. I heard someone and then they knocked me out.”

“You should return to base,” Lucia suggested, dragging a harsh chuckle from him.

“If I could, I would. Did
you
see anything?” He tried to keep his tone neutral, but even he could hear the pain and annoyance behind his words.

“Nothing. Someone jammed the signal,” Lucia replied.

Damn. That was not so good, he thought and again it occurred to him that it would have been difficult for Elizabeth to do the jamming. It would take some sophisticated equipment and software to break into the encrypted signal and decode it. Not to mention jam it—or worse—listen in. Hopefully they weren't jacked into their current transmissions. For the moment, he had no way of knowing, however.

“Where was Elizabeth when I was decked? Did the jamming begin at the same time?”

“As far as I know she was up in the kitchen until I lost the signal. I don't know how that fits into when you were attacked,” Lucia answered. In the background he could hear her fingers flying across the keys. She was likely loading up images from all the various cameras just to make sure.

“Great. So someone knows how to jam us,” he said with a tired sigh.

“Have we been compromised?”

Aidan shook his head, but then winced from the movement. His voice was tight as he held the ice bag to his face and replied. “Don't know. Easy to jam. Harder to break in.”

“Don't know if this is proof that Ms. Moore is the Sparrow or that it's someone else.”

Proof? Someone had attacked him and jammed the signal, but as far as they knew, Lizzy had been in the kitchen at the same time. But then again, maybe Lizzy had slipped away without Natalie noticing, Aidan thought. Again conflicting emotions rose up and he told himself it was possible that someone else had attacked him and done the jamming. As it was, he was already torn about how the kind, gentle and seemingly honest woman he had come to know could be an assassin.

“We need concrete proof, Lucia. Not just circumstantial evidence.”

“That knock on your head do some damage, Aidan?” Lucia responded with some puzzlement in her voice.

“No damage, only…It just doesn't feel right. My gut tells me we're missing something here.”

“Copy. When are you returning to base?”

“Give me half an hour or so. First I need to check on Lizzy in the kitchen,” he answered, closing his eyes and shifting the ice bag on the side of his face.

He intended to take a good part of that half an hour to consider everything that had just happened and try to regain perspective. That, and let the pain behind his eyes recede.

Then he intended to track Lizzy down and try to find out just what was going on.

E
lizabeth didn't head straight back to the kitchen. She sat on the stone wall between the cottage and restaurant to take a moment to calm the shaking of her hands. To settle the knot in her stomach as she thought about what had happened to Aidan.

He could have been badly hurt. As it was, he seemed to be in pretty rough shape.

Maybe she should call a doctor. Make sure the nasty-looking injury wasn't serious. And, as Natalie's words came back to her, maybe she should make sure she did everything she needed to in case he did sue.

Americans
were
a litigious lot after all.

But Aidan wouldn't sue because she trusted him to honor his promise, she told herself. No matter that he was a nomadic man, she had the sense that he was true to his word.

She shot a glance at her watch. Only a few minutes had gone by since he had lain down. She'd give him half an hour or so and then go back and see how he was doing.

Rising, she walked to the kitchen where Natalie was assigning jobs to their two kitchen assistants. Satisfied everything was under control, she grabbed the list she had been working on earlier and reviewed the menu she'd devised for the daily specials.

It was going to be a hot day today according to the weatherman, so she wanted to keep the day's specials light.

Broiled hake served with a side of homemade tagliatelle covered with fresh pesto. She and Natalie would have to get to work on making the pasta soon. Next, fresh
haricots vert
tossed with a citrus vinaigrette and toasted almonds as well as a spicy gazpacho as first courses. For dessert she had a collection of wonderful fresh-picked berries. They would be great either alone, with some zabaglione, or around a scoop of fresh sorbet. Maybe mango, she thought and realized the sorbet would need to be prepped shortly for it to be set in time for dinner.

Satisfied with the specials, she returned to the prep table where Natalie was busy slicing what looked like morels. A basic, although pricier ingredient, for one of their staple dishes—a pan-seared duck breast in a red wine and morel reduction. But as she approached, she realized something didn't look quite right.

“Hold up, Nat,” she called out and her sous chef's knife paused in mid stroke.

“Something wrong?” Natalie asked.

Elizabeth stood next to her and gazed down at the morels Natalie had been cutting. “These came in our regular delivery?” Even as she was asking, she plucked two slightly different-looking morels from the basket and laid them out side by side on the cutting board.

She grabbed a paring knife from a knife holder and carefully split each morel in half. “Damn,” she muttered under her breath.

“Something up?” she heard and turned.

Aidan was at the end of the table, watching them intently, ice bag pressed to the injured side of his face.

“You are obviously. Are you sure that's wise?” she asked, concerned since he appeared a little too pale for her tastes.

“I'm feeling better. I just wanted to drop in and let you know I'd be back later,” he said and walked directly over to where she was standing. “So, what's up?” he asked again and motioned with his head to the morels. He immediately grimaced, the action obviously painful.

He should have rested some more, she thought, annoyed that he was possibly making his injury worse. But first, she had to deal with the problem sitting before her on the cutting board.

She motioned down to the morel pieces. “The delivery we received this morning was tainted.”

Was it her imagination or did Aidan's face harden at her words? She carefully explained to Nat, so that she would know for the next time. “See the differences between the two mushrooms here? The cap on this one is only connected at the top and the inside of the stem isn't hollow. That's a false morel.”

“And that would be a problem because?” Aidan asked.

“It's poisonous. Not as poisonous as the aminita mushrooms, but definitely deadly,” she replied.

His eyes turned cold, the lighter flecks of blue becoming like shards of ice. “You seem to know a lot about things like that,” he challenged.

She twirled the sharp paring knife around once in her fingers before spiking it into the cutting board so that it stood upright, tip embedded in the wood. Expertly and efficiently. “It's my job to know things like that,” she responded, angry with him on a variety of levels, including that he seemed to be questioning her expertise on culinary matters.

“I bet it is,” he replied gruffly, tossed the ice bag to her, and walked out the door without a backward glance at the two of them.

“What's with him?” Natalie asked as she followed his stiff retreating back.

Elizabeth shrugged. “For the life of me, I don't know.”

 

Her job. Yeah, right. World-renowned assassin. Aidan's head was pounding with all the facts running around in his mind and the conflicting emotions they raised.

He'd had his doubts about Lizzy, but with each passing minute, there was yet more and more evidence piling up against her. The tunnels. Shoe size. The attack. Those damn poisonous mushrooms and of course, the too-vivid reminder of her adroitness with a knife.

Back at the hotel, a concerned Lucia hovered over him like a hummingbird, inspecting the blow to his head.

He brushed her off with a weak swipe of his arm. “I'm okay. Really.”

“Really?” she asked and examined his face, sensing that his anger was about a multitude of things beyond his injury. “Well, then I guess we can call Xander and hear what else he has to report.”

In a way, it was almost the last thing he wanted to hear since he suspected that the DNA test would clinch the determination that Lizzy was indeed the Sparrow. But maybe it was better that way. Maybe that would allow him to regain full objectivity about her and complete a mission that was turning out to be more than he had expected. With a nod that brought fresh waves of pain and nausea, he sat down by Lucia's laptop and the speakerphone.

Lucia dialed Xander and he answered a moment later. “Alexander Forrest here.”

“Xander. It's Lucia and Aidan,” she advised.

“I was waiting for your call,” he replied, an eager tone in his voice that told him that the younger man had good news.

Or bad depending on which camp you were in.

“Get on with it then,” Aidan said grumpily.

“Whew. Wrong side of bed this morning,” Xander said and after a short pause, his image filled Lucia's screen. The young man winced and with a chuckle said, “Or maybe the wrong side of someone's fist?”

Lucia was quick to explain. “I think it was a roundhouse kick judging from—”

“Enough,” Aidan barked and regretted it as the word echoed painfully in his skull. “Get to the important stuff, Xander,” he added more softly.

Xander shuffled some papers prior to beginning his report. “You were right about the prince not being able to resist the Sparrow. And may I say that I, too, find her babealicious.”

“Xander,” Lucia warned, heading him off before Aidan could admonish the young specialist.

“Okay, okay. On to the good stuff. Swabs from the prince's mouth yielded two sets of DNA. I did the PCR test and ran the unknown sample against some blood that Ms. Moore had donated during Silvershire's annual blood drive.”

“When was that?' Lucia questioned and Aidan was thankful for her intercession, since his head throbbed so painfully, even speaking hurt.

“About two months ago.”

“And? Do we have a match?” he finally asked.

“That's the strange thing,” Xander said and immediately began flipping through his papers again. “We had a clean sample from Elizabeth. The one taken from the prince—well, it should have been fairly good.”

“You're doubting the integrity of the evidence you were given?” Lucia pressed and shot a worried look at Aidan, obviously not liking where this was going. Too much information had already leaked from an inside source. To think that the same source could manipulate the evidence…

“There's nothing to say it was tampered with, only…It's not a complete match, but it's not far enough apart for it not to have come from the same person.”

“What?” Aidan snarled in low tones. “What do you mean?” After he spoke, he leaned closer to the laptop to get a better view of Xander's face as he explained.

“About seventy-five percent of the DNA matched in the specimen from the prince and Ms. Moore's blood. But not all, which is weird. Unless the sample was compromised somehow or…” Xander chortled before continuing, “…unless Ms. Moore has an evil twin out there somewhere.”

“You think the DNA can belong to someone other than Elizabeth Moore?” he pressed.

“Yes. Identical twins have identical DNA. Fraternal twins share fifty percent of the same DNA,” Xander answered.

Aidan cursed under his breath. “But you said we had a seventy-five-percent match. So where does that leave us?”

“There's a theory about a third type of twin—polar body twins. Basically, the polar body is a remnant near the egg. Normally it dies, but if it should grow as large as the egg, it can be fertilized,” Xander explained.

“Which means that both the egg and the polar body have the identical DNA from the ovum, but fertilization by different sperm causes the difference in the DNA,” Aidan continued for him.

“And that results in what?” Lucia jumped in.

“In theory, twins that are nearly identical, but not quite. Of course, this is just a theory and some say that even if it is possible, it is quite unusual. Very, very rare.”

Aidan glanced at Lucia, and, as he met her gaze, it was obvious what she was thinking. “This is getting to be a nightmare, isn't it?”

At her nod, he snapped at Xander. “Run the tests again.”

“I can do that, only—”

“Xander. Just run the tests again,” he repeated gruffly.

The young man nodded and signed off.

“Odds are the tests are going to come out the same way,” Lucia advised.

Aidan shook his head, but regretted the action since it brought pain. In fact, his headache had been steadily growing during the entire conference. “She really nailed me.”

“She did.
Elizabeth
did. Not some rare or nonexistent evil twin.”

He hated to admit it, but the twin thing was a farfetched idea. Nothing in the personal history suggested Lizzy had a sibling. But personal histories could be altered. The Lazlo Group did it all the time to protect its operatives and their families. It kept the cases away from their private lives. Or at least, that's what they tried to do.

The Sparrow, if she wasn't Elizabeth, could have done the same in an attempt to protect her twin.

“Aidan?” Lucia questioned, since he hadn't answered her earlier question.

“Your Lazlo bio says you're an only child. Are you?”

When she didn't reply, Aidan had his answer. “I'll try tonight to get more info from Elizabeth about her family.”

“You plan on going to work? Do you feel well enough?”

“It's what I have to do,” he replied and walked away, intending to get some rest. He planned on going to the restaurant, but laying low. He needed Lizzy to worry. He needed her to make the first move. If he did the approaching, it might seem too pushy, create a blip on her radar if she truly was the Sparrow.

Which, once again, he was unsure about.

Why? he asked himself. Maybe because Xander's report had only created doubt. He couldn't see her knocking him out in the tunnel and then faking the whole concern thing so well. Until he remembered the expert way she had handled that little paring knife and her knowledge regarding the poisonous mushrooms.

He was dumbfounded. Again.

But that's what she does. She creates the persona you think you know and then…the reasonable voice in his head reminded. It's what he was doing, except that he was finding it hard to reconcile all her many facets. In fact, he was fascinated by all her layers.

Somehow tonight, he'd find a way to reach her. To get more answers about her, because if they were on the track of the wrong woman…the real Sparrow was still out there. As deadly and dangerous as ever.