No One Lives Twice (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery)

by Julie Moffett

  “Yes, it’s me. Where have you been? I’ve been ringing your frigging phone off the hook.”

  “I’m sorry I missed your calls yesterday,” I said. “I had to go out last night. Did you get my message? I was going to call you first thing this morning.”

  “We’ve got to talk right away,” he said and I could hear a car honking in the background.

  “That’s no kidding,” I said. “Someone tried to shoot me last night.”

  I heard screeching tires. “What? Are you okay?”

  “They missed. So, other than a blinding hangover, I’m just dandy.”

  “What happened?”

  “It’s a rather long and sordid story.”

  “Jesus, Joseph and Mary,” he said. “Look, I’m headed your direction. I know it’s early, but can I come by?”

  I thought of the CD sitting on my coffee table that I was supposed to give him. “Sure,” I said, calculating how long it would take me to get ready. “How far away are you?”

  “About ten minutes,” he said. “Give me your address.”

  I gave him directions and hung up. Darting back to the bathroom, I finger-combed my hair, bypassed the rouge and put on lip balm. I pulled on a pair of cut-off jean shorts and a sleeveless baby-blue blouse. My sandals were in the back corner of my closet, so I yanked them out and shoved my feet into them. I grabbed my wallet out of my purse and stuck it, my keys and Slash’s CD into a tote bag. Jamming my sunglasses on my nose, I went down to the parking lot to wait for Finn. Even though Slash had told me my apartment wasn’t bugged, I wasn’t sure I completely believed him. And I certainly didn’t want anyone listening to what I was going to say to Finn, partially because it involved an illegal activity like planting a program in his company’s computer so hackers could break in.

  I hadn’t waited more than two minutes before I saw Finn pull up in a sleek dark green Jaguar convertible. I couldn’t help but goggle—and not just at the car. He looked really different in jeans, a white T-shirt and dark sunglasses. Casual, sexy, yummy. I shook my head. I had started to feel increasingly disoriented as I bounced from one gorgeous guy to the next. How did normal women handle this?

  I tried to look nonchalant as Finn screeched to a halt next to me, putting on my yeah-sexy-guys-take-me-for-a-ride-all-the-time-in-Jags expression. But he looked grim as he leaned across the front seat to open the door.

  “Get in,” he said. “Do you know a quiet place we can talk?”

  “Dunkin’ Donuts,” I said, getting in and shutting the door. “The ambiance is lacking, but the food is good.”

  He didn’t respond to my early morning stab at humor and instead put the car in gear, adeptly maneuvering out of the parking lot. I directed him to the site a mile away and he pulled into an empty spot.

  Neither of us got out of the car. Instead Finn shifted toward me, hands gripping the steering wheel, the sun bouncing off his dark shades. I found it a bit disconcerting that I couldn’t see his eyes, but then again, he couldn’t see mine either. My gaze darted around the parking lot trying to see if I could spot a government tail, but I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. That was probably the idea.

  “What happened last night?” he said, his voice angry. “Who tried to shoot you?”

  I gave him the abridged version, leaving out Slash’s role in the entire fiasco. Finn made no comments, but his fingers squeezed the steering wheel so tight his knuckles were bloodless.

  “We’re getting damn close to something,” he said. “Something big.”

  “That’s not all,” I blurted out. “Basia called me yesterday. She left a message for me on my answering machine.”

  Finn started in surprise. “Is she all right?”

  “For the time being, I suppose.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Not much. She’s fine and safe and said I shouldn’t trust you.” I gave myself a mental head slap. Lexi Carmichael, master of subtlety.

  Finn sighed. “I’m not surprised she said that. I officially belong to the company who may be responsible for putting her in danger. Did she say where she was?”

  I shook my head, deciding not to mention anything about both Xavier and Slash tracing the call to Sweden. “But she said she was safe.”

  “Will she call back?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, at least she’s alive,” he said, exhaling. “I sincerely hope she’s with Judyta. Lexi, there’s something else I need to tell you. Strange things have started happening at work.”

  “What kind of strange things?”

  “I’ve been abruptly pulled from several big cases. There’s always a good reason for it, like something unexpected has come up or I’m needed elsewhere. But I’ve got the distinct feeling that I’m being isolated for a specific reason. I don’t like it.”

  “I’m sorry, Finn.”

  “There’s more. I got an unusual phone call yesterday.”

  “From whom?”

  “Chloe Small. Harold Small’s wife. She was the one who found the contract in her husband’s safety deposit box. She asked me to meet with her.”

  “Did you?”

  “I did. Chloe told me she didn’t think Harold’s death was an accident and she wanted to know if the documents she turned over to me might in any way support that.”

  “Why did she think his death wasn’t an accident?”

  “Apparently she thought that from the start, but her concerns were dismissed by both the police and the higher-ups at CGM. She hoped I had discovered something that would confirm her suspicions.”

  “What suspicions?”

  “She said Harold had been acting strange for months. He wasn’t sleeping or eating well, and he got very nervous whenever they went out. He wouldn’t talk to her about the source of his anxiety, but once told her something big was going down at work.”

  “That’s all he said?”

  “Unfortunately, he didn’t elaborate.”

  “What did you tell her about the documents?”

  “I told her the truth without going into detail. But I also told her that I, too, suspected Harold’s death might not have been an accident.”

  I rubbed my eyes beneath my sunglasses. They felt raw and tired like the rest of my body. “You realize we’re talking murder here.”

  “Bugger it, don’t I know that,” he said, his Irish accent suddenly slipping through. I realized he must truly be shaken.

  “Chloe also said that about three months ago Harold received a significant amount of money. He told her it was an unexpected bonus from the company for his outstanding performance on a case.”

  “Did he name the case?”

  “No.”

  “How significant a bonus are we talking?”

  “Twenty grand.”

  I whistled. “Some bonus.”

  “And unusual, as well. I can’t imagine anything legit he could have been working on that would earn him an extra twenty grand.”

  “Sounds to me like someone was buying his silence.”

  “But for what? What in the hell is the company involved in?”

  My head had begun to throb. I needed caffeine to counteract the hangover and I needed it badly. I opened the door to the car. “I need some coffee in order to think. You want some?”

  “I’ll come in with you.”

  I ordered an extra-large coffee and a bottle of Diet Coke. Then Finn ordered a chocolate-covered donut with sprinkles, so I got one, too. We took the food and drink back to the convertible and ate in silence with the sun warming our heads and shoulders.

  When I finished eating the donut, I wiped my greasy hands on a napkin and took a sip of coffee. “Finn, does the word Acheron mean anything to you?” I watched him carefully, but he seemed genuinely puzzled.

  “No, should it?”

  “It was written in code at the bottom of the contract you sent Basia.”

  “I didn’t send her anything with a code on it.”

  “I didn’t think s
o. She penciled it in for some reason. I’m trying to figure out why.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this earlier?”

  “I wasn’t sure I trusted you.”

  He lifted his sunglasses to the top of his head and looked at me, his green eyes both troubled and serious. “What about now?”

  “I’m doing the best I can, Finn. I want to trust you even though Basia told me not to. I just hope I’m not wrong about you.”

  He put the sunglasses back down and looked away. “You’re not.”

  “Good, because I think if we can find out what Acheron means, we may be on to something.”

  “You think it means something to the firm.”

  “Yes. Maybe the name of a case or a file. It’s worth a shot and we can find out for certain…if you help.”

  There must have been something unusual in my voice because he cocked his head to me. “Just what did you have in mind, Lexi?”

  I unzipped my tote bag and pulled out the CD that Slash had given me. “This.”

  Finn looked at me for a long time. “What exactly is it?”

  “Trust me. You don’t want to know, exactly. All you need to do is open it on your computer. That’s it.”

  He kept staring at me without saying anything. Then he took the CD and slipped it into his glove compartment.

  “I’ll be going by the office later today,” he said, putting his hands on the steering wheel. “I’ll let you know when it’s done.”

  “Thanks,” I said, feeling increasingly uncomfortable. As a lawyer he knew full well the possible consequences of what he was about to do and I felt like a criminal for asking, even though the cause was just and an employee of the NSA had instructed me to do it. But Finn didn’t know any of that, so I felt badly that for him, the choice was morally gray.

  “By the way, just to ensure that I can reach you from now on I got this for you.” Finn reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a tiny cell phone.

  I looked at the phone and then back at him in disbelief. “You bought me a cell phone?”

  He smiled. “Not exactly. Consider it a temporary loan. Given our present circumstances I thought it prudent that we be able to reach each other quickly. I’m sorry if I’m being presumptuous. You don’t have to take it if you don’t want to.”

  I thought for a moment and then took it. “Okay. It’s a good idea. I’ll consider it a loan.”

  Finn grinned at me with what looked like relief and then handed me a booklet and a charger. “Instructions are inside, along with your number. It’s a piece of cake to operate. Just like a computer.”

  “Yeah right,” I said, remembering the fiasco I’d had with his phone in the restaurant bathroom. “Thanks, I guess.”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee and returning it to the cup holder. “Just don’t let your mum know you’ve got it.”

  “That’s no kidding,” I said as we got out of the car and dumped our cups in the trash. Then Finn put the Jag into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. With a stern warning to be careful, he dropped me off at home.

  Upstairs, I tossed my tote bag on the coffee table and examined the new cell phone more closely. When I was convinced I understood the basics, I walked out onto the balcony and dialed the twins’ number.

  “Hello,” mumbled Xavier. He yawned. Obviously geniuses had to sleep after all.

  “Sorry to wake you,” I said. “I just wanted to check something out.”

  “Sure,” he replied, sounding a bit more alert. “Where are you calling from?” I guess the twins had caller ID.

  “A new cell phone. Look, I just wanted to make certain you and Elvis had helped write a program with Slash that I was to pass on to Finn Shaughnessy at CGM.”

  “Affirmative. He did the base of the programming and we sort of refined his work a bit,” Xavier said. “Tuned it up, so to say. It didn’t need much. He is good, Lexi. Very good. A wizard in the extreme.”

  “Well that’s comforting. Just so you know, I gave the program to Finn this morning. We should find out in a little while whether or not things worked out.”

  That seemed to wake up Xavier even more. “Cool,” he said and I could hear him shuffling around. “I’ll tell Elvis. We’ll be monitoring it.”

  “Thanks. Let me know how it goes. And, Xavier, if you need to get in touch with me, will you call me on this number?” I rattled off my new cell number, but before I hung up, Xavier told me Elvis wanted to talk to me.

  “Hey, Elvis,” I said when he came on the line. “Nice job on the program.”

  “Thanks,” he said and he sounded a bit sleepy, too. “Look, Lexi, I don’t want to spook you or anything, but I came across something interesting about Slash last night.”

  “Slash?” I repeated. “What do you mean? Xavier said he was the real deal.”

  “He is the real deal—optimum to the letter. I have no doubt he is the Slash we thought he was. But it appears he’s also got an interesting past.”

  I felt my heart skip a beat. “What kind of interesting past?”

  “Well, I called in a couple of favors from some guys I know who did a little digging around for me.”

  “And?”

  “Slash is definitely Italian and he had a rather interesting job before coming on board at the NSA.”

  “What did he do?”

  Elvis paused for a minute. “You may be surprised.”

  “Try me.”

  “All right but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Slash worked, or perhaps even still works, for Vatican intelligence.”

  “What?” I screeched. “No freaking way.”

  “Way.”

  “You mean to say that the pope has his own intelligence service?”

  “In a manner of speaking. Back in the 1800s, the Catholic hierarchy ordered various faithful groups to spy on heretics and report to the Church. In 1909 Pope Pius XII formed a more sophisticated version he called Sodalitium Pianum. A lot of people didn’t like knowing the Church was involved in espionage, so in 1921 the Church announced that the group had been officially disbanded. Still, many experts believe that the group remains intact and is one of the most powerful spy networks in the world.”

  “You’re saying Slash was, or is, a member of this Sodalitium Pianum group?” I said, struggling to contain my disbelief.

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, I’m having a hard time picturing this.” Slash just seemed too sexy and dangerous to be the religious type. Then I remembered the small gold cross he wore beneath his shirt and reconsidered.

  “Did you happen to discover Slash’s real name?” I asked.

  “Not really. He has a list of aliases three pages long, all government provided. I’d venture a guess one of them is his real name, but I have no idea how to determine which.”

  “You trust your sources on this?”

  “Implicitly. Lexi, I don’t know how this plays into everything. It’s just another thing to add to the mix.”

  I was hoping the mix would stay just where it was. I was no cook, nor did I have any desire to be promoted to head chef.

  “Thanks, Elvis,” I said, flipping the phone shut and sliding it in my pocket. Things were definitely starting to heat up. There would be time to think about Slash working for the pope later.

  Going back inside my apartment, I grabbed my tote bag again. I went down to the parking lot, looking around to see if I was being followed. Nothing unusual jumped out at me. On the other hand, it was a beautiful Saturday summer morning and there were lots of people out for a drive and walking around. So I probably wouldn’t have a clue I was being followed unless someone held up a sign reading FBI Here.

  I hopped into the Miata, put down the top and drove directly to Anderson’s Karate Academy. The place was packed and I had to wait until Lars finished teaching a group of students with red belts before he finally walked over to see me.

  “Hi, Lexi,” he said cheerfully. He didn’t even looked flush
ed, but his students were sweating and red-faced as though they had run a marathon.

  “Hi, Lars,” I said. “Basia is in Sweden.”

  There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes and then he shrugged. “Lucky for her.”

  “No more games with me. She’s in serious danger. I need to find her.”

  Lars looked around at the parents who had begun to stare at us and then motioned for me to follow him. Without speaking, he led me to his office and shut the door.

  “Why do you think I know where she is?” he said, sitting down.

  I remained standing and crossed my arms over my chest. “Don’t give me this crap about her being your student. I’ve known Basia for years and the idea of her taking karate is about as absurd as anything I could possibly imagine.”

  “And from that you extrapolate that I know where she is?”

  “I know that for some misguided reason you think you’re protecting her. But she’s my best friend. You’ve got to trust me. She just called me and she’s scared.”

  “If she just called you, why didn’t she tell you where she was?”

  “I wasn’t home. She talked to my machine and didn’t leave a number where I can reach her.”

  “Then how do you know she’s in Sweden?”

  “I have my ways,” I said rather smugly.

  His face hardened. “Good for you. But the bottom line is that I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Look, just so you know, the stakes have been raised considerably. Someone tried to kill me last night. And that’s not counting the two previous times I was accosted at gunpoint by people looking for documents Basia was translating. We are talking significant danger here.”

  His face remained impassive. “Then go to the police.”

  “It’s not so simple.”

  “Sounds simple to me.”

  “I think you know better. A lot better. Look, I just need you to get a message to her.”

  I leaned forward and snatched a pen and a piece of paper off his desk and scrawled down my new cell phone number. “Have her call me as soon as she can. If I found out she’s in Sweden, others will find her, as well. I have a feeling their intentions toward her will not be as altruistic as mine.”

  He stared at me, saying nothing, so I stalked out of his office without a backward glance. I drove home, feeling frustrated and discouraged, constantly peeking in my rearview window for the FBI.