No One Lives Twice (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery) (25 page)

“In poor weather it would be no more than half an hour at the most,
cara.
”

“So what were they doing for that extra thirty minutes?”

“This is what we need to find out,” Slash said.

“Where were the bodies found?”

“According to the report, the bodies were discovered at approximately eleven-fifteen in an alley five minutes from the hotel, lying in their rental car.”

“No one heard any shots or saw anything?”

“No. It apparently occurred in a blind alley, meaning no windows or doors open onto it.”

“Isn’t that convenient?”

“
Si,
and I believe it is no coincidence. The back of the rental car had been damaged. It looked like they had got hit from behind.”

“A good reason to pull over,” I mused. “Especially if the weather was bad. Accidents happen, right?”

Slash nodded. “One man was shot while he was in the car and the other while he was out of the car. Multiple shots on both of them. The Italian medical examiner wrote, however, that he was certain both men had been moved from their locations once they had been shot, but then later returned to the exact location where they were killed. Similar fibers found on both bodies indicate that the bodies were stacked somewhere together—most likely in a truck or a van.”

I looked at Slash in disbelief. “How weird is that?”

“Very.”

“But why hide the bodies and then return them to the spot of the crime?”

“I have no idea.”

“What about time of death?” I asked. “How sure is the examiner of that?”

“Certain within an hour or two.”

“That’s not particularly helpful. What was Al-Asan’s official reaction to the murders?”

“Shock, naturally. He said he had no idea who could have committed such an atrocity. Italian officials are leaning toward a robbery gone bad.”

“Robbery?”

“Both of the men’s wallets and watches were gone. The
polizia
traced the identities of the men via the rental car, which led them to Al-Asan. But this was no robbery.”

“I agree. But then what was it?”

“I don’t know.”

We were quiet for a moment, and I started to find the hot, humid air stifling. Then Slash turned his head toward me. “Did you give Shaughnessy the disk?”

I nodded. “I did it this morning. He said he’d take the disk to work today and do it. I already told the twins.” It was on the tip of my tongue to ask him about his possible connection to the Vatican, but I didn’t know how it mattered at this point. So I decided to keep it to myself until I had time to think about it more.

Slash stood and held out a hand to pull me to my feet. “
Eccellente.
If Shaughnessy has done his part, I’ve got work to do. I want you to stay at your apartment where I can reach you at a moment’s notice.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t like what’s happening,” he replied with a frown. “Women are showing up dead and someone took a shot at you last night. I want you to be safe, Lexi.”

Without thinking, I looked over my shoulder. I saw my neighbor, Mrs. Wolansky, walking her dog in a big open area across from my apartment. Somehow the familiar sight calmed me.

“I’ll be okay,” I said, but my voice shook a little bit. “After all, the FBI is watching me, right?”

Slash smiled and touched my cheek. Without a word, he turned and walked back to his SUV. As he drove away I watched until I couldn’t see the black speck anymore and then returned to my apartment. There was no way I was sitting around doing nothing, so I picked up my purse and cell phone before heading back out to my car. It took me just under five minutes to reach the twins’ house.

I rang the bell and Elvis answered. He practically dragged me inside.

“Shaughnessy did it,” Elvis said, pulling me into the command room and over behind Xavier who sat peering at a monitor. “He planted the program. Check it out, we’re in CGM.”

I peered over Xavier’s shoulder, not certain what I was looking for. “Did you find anything interesting?”

“What do you think?” Xavier said, a smile in his voice.

“Just tell me you found a file called Acheron,” I breathed.

“Bingo,” Xavier said happily, twirling around in his swivel chair.

“Is it encrypted?” I asked.

“Hell, yes. But give us an hour or two and this baby is ours.”

Elvis sat down next to his brother and they started talking in that language only they understood. Bored, I wandered into the kitchen to help myself to something to drink. I had just grabbed a Coke when the cell phone in my pocket began to ring.

I pulled it out and flipped it open. “Hello?” I said. There was a lot of static and I could barely hear anything. “Finn?” I asked. “Slash? Anyone?”

The crackle continued and then my heart stopped when I heard a voice say, “Lexi, are you there? It’s me. Basia.”

I was so shocked I dropped the unopened can of Coke. It fell to the floor with a clatter and then rolled across the linoleum, stopping against the base of the kitchen island.

“Basia?” I shouted into the receiver. “Where in the
hell
are you?”

“Lexi, thank God, it’s you. I’m safe for now.”

“Do you have any idea of the trouble you’re in?”

“Yes, and I’m scared.”

I knew exactly what she meant because my own heart was racing. “Is Judyta with you?”

“How do you know about Judyta?” she asked and then laughed hoarsely. “Oh yeah, you’re with the NSA. Right.”

“Basia, listen to me carefully,” I said. “We don’t have time for a lot of small talk. I’m pretty much up to speed on what is going on. I got the documents and I’ve figured out that Judyta is your cousin and she’s acting as a surrogate mother for a Saudi prince named Mahir Al-Asan. But how in the world did you connect the translation you were working on for Finn Shaughnessy at CGM to Judyta?”

She blew out a deep breath. “Rather simple, really. Judyta sent me an exact copy of the contract I was working on. She wanted me to check it out to make sure the translation was on the up and up. In her letter, she told me she had signed up to be a surrogate mother for a Saudi prince to earn extra cash so she could study abroad. But she became suspicious when CGM refused to give her a copy of the contract for her own records. So she stole it from her files during a check-up when the nurse left it in the room for a moment.”

“They had a copy of the contract in her medical files?”

“That and more. Judyta told me there was also a document that kept referring to her as part of Project Acheron. It sounded really weird and scared her to death. She didn’t dare steal that document, too, so she just wrote to ask me if I could find anything unusual about the contract and whether or not Project Acheron rang any bells.”

“So, that’s why you penciled the word Acheron in code at the bottom of page three.”

“I knew you’d figure it out! Do you know what Acheron is?”

“Not yet, but I’m working on it,” I said grimly. “And I’ve got the twins helping me. Is there anything else of interest I should know about Judyta’s contract?”

“Not that I can think of. I looked it over carefully. Other than naming the clients, Judyta and Al-Asan, it was word for word like the one Finn had asked me to translate. Do you remember Greg Santiago?”

“Vaguely. Wasn’t he at Georgetown?”

“Lived one floor down from us in the dorm. He went on to law school at Yale and returned to D.C. to practice. He looked over my translation of the contract and said he thought it was worded very oddly. He’s not an expert on surrogate pregnancy, but he thought the language was definitely irregular and considered it very suspicious that they wouldn’t provide Judyta with her own copy.”

“A nineteen-year-old girl,” I murmured. “They thought they could manipulate her easily.”

“Then the accident happened.”

I looked up sharply. “What accident?”

“Judyta was driving in the outskirts of Warsaw when she was run off the road. She came within inches of plunging down a sharp incline and into a lake when a car she thought wanted to pass smashed into the side of her. She managed to spin the car around and stop with only one tire hanging off the incline. As she spun, she saw the car race by. It was a dark sedan with two men inside. She was really shaken.”

“How was she so sure this was connected to her pregnancy?”

“She wasn’t. But when she got back to her apartment, her neighbors told her men had come by asking about her. They were asking a lot of odd questions about her pregnancy and whether or not she had given birth to the baby.”

“Polish?”

“No, Americans speaking Polish and not very well at that.”

I breathed out a heavy sigh. “So she bolted.”

“Immediately. She stayed with a neighbor for a couple of days while she contacted me and asked me to come help her get to safety somewhere.”

“So, you went.”

“Yes. I had no idea what the hell was going on. I had a feeling the contract and the word
Acheron
had something to do with it, but I no longer had the luxury of figuring it out.”

“But I could.”

“You were the only person I trusted. And I knew if someone could unravel it, you could.”

“Look, Basia, I’m darn close to finding out exactly what Project Acheron is. But there’s something else you should know. Judyta wasn’t the only one implanted with Al-Asan’s child.”

“I know,” Basia said. “Judyta met the other girls in Italy.”

I winced. “Jeez, what was it, some kind of surrogate mother slumber party?”

“I know it sounds odd, but at the time it seemed an easy way for her to make a boatload of cash in a short period of time.”

“Nothing is ever quite so easy. In fact, it’s a lot worse than you can imagine. Brace yourself for this, Basia. For some unimaginable reason, all of the other surrogate mothers have been murdered. It looks like Judyta is the last girl alive.”

“What?” Basia gasped. “Murdered? Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Oh my God. Then it’s true. Our lives
are
in danger. I thought someone was following us.”

“Someone is following you?” I asked, my stomach turning to ice.

“Was.” The connection suddenly sounded fainter as though I might be losing her. “Luckily, we know this area better than they do. I’m pretty sure we’re safe for the time being. I guess I don’t have to ask how you found all this out.”

“No time now. But I do need to know how Judyta got hooked up with Al-Asan.” There was a weird crackling noise and for a heart-stopping moment I thought the connection was lost. “Basia?” I shouted in panic.

“I’m still here,” her voice came back faint, but still there. “She answered an advertisement online. She was contacted by Bright Horizons staff in Warsaw and then went through a rigorous health and psychological screening. The pay was incredible, more than she ever could have imagined. She didn’t really consider what it all meant.”

“I’m not being judgmental here. How is she feeling now?”

“She’s fine but understandably scared. Things have changed for her. Lexi, she wants to keep the baby.”

I blew out a breath. “Shit.” A wave of static crackled in my ear. “Jeez, Basia, what do you want me to do now? How can I help you?”

“Are you sure this phone is safe?”

I felt sick to my stomach. “No, it’s not safe at all. There are likely others listening, at the very least, the FBI. You should also know Finn Shaughnessy gave me this phone. He could be listening in, too, for all I know. I know you told me not to trust him, but I think he’s being set up in all of this, as well.”

“I’m not sure I agree,” she said. “Don’t trust anyone except for Lars. He gave me your number.”

“How is he involved in this?”

“It’s not safe to tell you about Lars now.” There was a long stretch of silence with a lot of static in between. “But don’t worry, Lexi. I’m taking precautions,” she finally continued. “This call will be difficult to trace. Judyta and I, we are well protected, at least for now.”

I winced as the static crackled and I knew an end to the connection was imminent. “I’ve got to go,” she said. “I’ll contact you soon.”

“How?”

“Not by this phone again. Another way. A safer way.”

“What do you want me to do until then?”

“Help me figure out a plan to protect Judyta and let her keep the baby.”

“Yeah, sure, piece of cake,” I said, my voice shaking. “Good thing you’re not asking me to do the impossible.”

“That’s what I like best about you, Lexi. A sense of humor in the middle of a life-threatening crisis.”

“Well you’d better survive so I can kill you myself for what you’re putting me through.”

I heard her laugh, and was relieved to hear some humor to the sound. For a fleeting moment, she sounded like the Basia I knew.

“I knew there was a reason we’re best friends,” she said. “We can discuss this over margaritas soon. My treat.”

Before I could answer, the noise on the line disappeared and there was dead silence.

“Basia?” I said frantically and then shook the cell phone, like that would help. “Basia?”

The connection was gone. I flipped the phone shut and leaned against the counter, shaking. For a good five minutes I stood there trying to absorb all she had said.

Still trembling, I returned to the twins’ command room where they sat lost in their own world. They spoke in low voices while furiously typing away on their keyboards, presumably trying to hack into the Acheron file. I sincerely hoped whatever was in that elusive file would finally clue me in to what was happening in my own life. I wanted very badly to interrupt the twins and tell them that Basia had called but was afraid to break their concentration. I really needed to know what was in that file.

Then another, more disturbing thought occurred to me. If the FBI knew I had Finn’s phone, I wondered how long it would take them to inform Slash that I’d received a call from Basia. I wasn’t ready to talk to Slash just yet. I needed more time to think over the conversation.

“Lexi,” Elvis said suddenly, breaking into my reverie. “I think this is something you should see.”

“Are you in?” I asked, hurrying over.

“Not in Acheron yet. But I found something else in CGM’s files you might find interesting.”

I stood behind his chair, my hands resting lightly on the back of his seat. Looking over his shoulder, I studied the monitor.

“I broke into CGM’s human resource records,” he said. “Your friend Finn Shaughnessy seems to be more than just a lowly lawyer.”

“What do you mean?”

“You tell me.”

Weird, but I thought I heard a trace of jealousy in his voice. What could he possibly have against a guy he’d never met? Frowning, I peered over his shoulder at the screen. “What am I supposed to look at?”

“This document,” he said, swiveling around in his chair and standing up. “Take a look.”

I sat down in his chair. It was still warm, which was good because I was freezing with all the arctic ventilation from the air conditioner blowing on me and I’d forgotten to get a blanket.

I took a breath and started to read what looked like a typical personnel file. Finnigan Shaughnessy, age thirty, born in Cork, Ireland. He attended the National University of Ireland in Dublin as an undergraduate and double majored in business management and public health administration. He went to Georgetown Law School and earned a law degree.

There was a bunch more stuff about his academic achievements and papers. He’d done some research involving medical technology and the law, which made sense since he’d ended up at CGM. Then I read a sentence that stopped my breath. I reread it and then tapped my finger on the monitor beneath the sentence.

“Can this be right?” I asked Elvis, looking at him over my shoulder.

He smiled, apparently satisfied that I had picked up on the oddity. “Don’t see why not. It’s kind of strange, though, don’t you think? A guy like him working at a place like CGM.”

I turned back to the monitor and read the sentence for a third time.

Emergency contact: Father: Mr. Logan Shaughnessy (Shaughnessy Winery, Cork Ireland).

“Logan Shaughnessy,” I repeated. “This can’t possibly be
the
Logan Shaughnessy I’m thinking of.”

“How many Logan Shaughnessys do you think live in Cork, Ireland and own a winery?” Elvis asked.

“Shit,” I said, putting my chin in my hand. Logan Shaughnessy, the colorful and eccentric Irish billionaire, had topped Forbes’ list of richest men in the world last year. His wine was way too expensive for my palate, but I’d had it at my parents’ house once and it seriously rocked.

“Oh, man, you’re right,” I said, starting to breathe faster. “What could possibly be next? First Slash isn’t who I thought he was, and now I discover that Finn is the heir to a wine fortune. Isn’t anyone who they say they are these days?”

“The real question is what is a guy like Finn Shaughnessy doing at CGM?” Xavier said.

“Whatever the reason, I have a feeling I’m not going to like it,” I moaned.

Xavier motioned to me and sat down in front of another computer nearby and starting typing. “Guess we should read the tabloids more often,” he said, angling the monitor so I could see.

He’d pulled up
Celebrity Focus
magazine online. Still in shock, I leaned over and read the cover story about Finn being one of Ireland’s most desirable bachelors. According to the article, he was currently dating Finnish supermodel-turned-actress, Claudette Hyvärinta, whose last name just happened to mean “good chest” in Finnish. The article also had pictures of him racing speedboats off the coast of Ireland, looking gorgeous with his hair tousled and his cheeks red from the wind.

Still in disbelief that Finn and this guy were one and the same, I continued to read the article, feeling stupider by the minute. It wasn’t so much that I’d met with him several times and had no idea he was a celebrity, but more that I felt betrayed he hadn’t even mentioned it. He was under no obligation to do so, but it made me appear doubly idiotic since I work at the NSA and hadn’t even bothered to uncover information about him. Now that I thought about it, why hadn’t I checked out Finn more thoroughly?

Oh, yeah, I remembered why. Because Slash told me he had Finn checked out and nothing unusual popped up. Nothing unusual my ass, that SOB. I was certain Slash knew who Finn was. He probably thought it was a riot to keep me in the dark. That’s me—stellar NSA employee who turns out to be completely clueless.

Elvis must have noticed I was upset, because he put his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let it get to you, Lexi. Perfect hair, chiseled muscles, well dressed…that is so not your type.”

I glanced up at him in surprise. “I have a type?”

“Sure, we all have a type. Sometimes we just don’t know it.”

Elvis had a type? Just as I started pondering that, the shrill sound of my cell phone rang and I reached into my pocket to grab it. I started to open it and then changed my mind. Instead I pushed a button and turned it off.