No One Lives Twice (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery)

by Julie Moffett

  “Brilliant.”

  I closed my eyes and let my thoughts drift off. Just as exhaustion claimed me, I thought I heard Finn murmur, “This lass puts the heart crossways in me…”

  Chapter 15

  I must have slept for more than three hours because when I woke, a quick glance at the dashboard clock said it was already twenty-six minutes past three o’clock in the morning.

  I moved my wrist before remembering it hurt and then winced when hot pain shot all the way to my shoulder.

  “How’d you sleep?” Finn asked.

  “Fine,” I said, trying to stretch my legs. “Why did you let me doze off for so long?”

  “You needed it.”

  “You need a break, too. Where are we?”

  “I-90 in New York.”

  “Want to pull over for coffee and a bathroom break?”

  “Sounds good. I could use some real food. We’ll see if there’s anything worthwhile off the next exit.”

  We found an all-night trucker’s diner and Finn parked the Jag next to a beat-up Toyota truck. I got out of the car slowly, my entire body stiff and sore like it had been used as a punching bag. Finn was walking a bit funny, too, and I thought he was probably feeling the effects of his tussle at the gas station with Beefy.

  After using the restrooms and cleaning up a bit, we sat down in a scarred silver-chromed booth with red plastic seats. I ordered scrambled eggs with sausage and a biscuit, and Finn ordered three poached eggs, two sides of toast and a bowl of oatmeal. The waitress was about fifty, plump with bleached blond hair, and she brazenly flirted with Finn while we ordered. Her red-and-white plastic nametag read Layla. I rolled my eyes when she purposely dropped her pen in his lap, but Finn gallantly retrieved it and gave her a smile that caused her to blush and scurry off.

  “How can you stand that?” I asked him.

  “Stand what?”

  “Women falling all over themselves to get your attention.”

  He grinned. “It’s a tough life, but someone has to live it.”

  I snorted derisively, but he just shrugged it off. When the food finally came we devoured it like people who hadn’t eaten in weeks. Neither of us spoke a single word. Even Layla looked over at us a bit strangely as we shoveled mouthfuls of food in without stopping. When my stomach was finally full, I gulped down some more painkillers and leaned back in the booth to digest my meal.

  Finn finally put his fork down and leaned back, as well. “I’m pretty sure this is the best food I’ve ever eaten.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “When was the last time you ate at a truck stop?”

  “Never. That’s what I like about you, Lexi,” he said with a slow smile. “You sure know how to show a lad a good time.”

  I rolled my eyes and then gingerly shifted my wrist against my stomach. Finn’s smile faded.

  “It still hurts?”

  “Some,” I admitted. “But I’ll live. I hate to admit it, but I’m glad I have you around to drive for me.” I leaned forward on the table, cupping a hand around my steaming mug. The coffee was strong, bitter and most likely brewed hours earlier. I drank it just the same. “Why are you really so determined to help me? And don’t say it’s because of my stellar personality.”

  His mouth twitched, but I also noticed how tired he looked. His chin was shadowed with a day’s growth of beard and his eyes were rimmed red. How he could still look wickedly handsome was a mystery, and a part of me hated him for it.

  He sighed. “Truthfully? Right now my life isn’t worth a fiver. You know what they did to Harold Small. We both know bleeding well he didn’t die in a car accident. Now that CGM’s cloning operation has been compromised I’m a loose end, especially since they know Harold passed on that sample contract to me. The same goes for you, too, you know.”

  He was right, but that didn’t mean I was going to trust him. I’m a cautious person by nature, and there was something about him that didn’t quite add up right for me. Nonetheless his presence could be useful to me up to a point, and the plan was still viable if I could get to Sweden in time to put it into action.

  “All right, Finn,” I said. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll let you in on some things, but first I need to check my email.”

  “They have wireless access here in a truck stop?”

  I pointed to the door where a small poster hung. “Why not? It allows to the truckers to check in.”

  I pulled out the laptop, pushed aside the dishes and set it on the booth table. After booting up, I entered my password and connected to the internet, pulling up my mail. I had thirty new messages. I deleted the ones that promised to enhance my penis by three inches and pay my mortgage, making a mental note to install a better spam filter if I got out of this mess in one piece. The rest of the mail included an email apiece from my brothers, three urgent messages from my parents, two messages from the twins and ten messages from a variety of addresses I didn’t recognize.

  I started with the twins’ messages. Both of them were in code, so I jotted them down one at a time on a napkin and got to work. We had pre-arranged a code to use for all communications, so it only took me about three minutes to decode the first message, and another two to decode the second. Anyone monitoring my mail would have to spend a good chunk of time on decoding only to discover they revealed nothing of interest to anyone but me.

  “What are you doing?” Finn asked curiously, seeing me scrawl away on the napkin.

  “Decoding,” I said, not looking up. “The FBI is tapping my phone, so there is no reason to assume they’re not monitoring my mail.”

  “Won’t they be able to break the code?”

  “Sure,” I said. “But it will take some time and result in no pay-off. The twins are pros. The messages will be very nonspecific.”

  And indeed they were. The first message simply said that all travel and lodging arrangements were completed and exactly as we discussed. The next message said they had received a visit from Slash who was very angry about my stealthy disappearance. But they had played dumb, which was so hilarious I couldn’t help but laugh aloud. I hoped Slash would try to decode this message, although he probably wouldn’t be as amused as I.

  The most important things taken care of, I read the message from Rock. He said the FBI, who was madly searching for me, had contacted him, Beau and my parents. Mom and Dad had been frantic before my dad went into his lawyerly mode, saying whatever it was I had supposedly been doing, I had been coerced, kidnapped or forced into it against my will and he would prove it in court. I smiled at that, even though I felt guilty as hell for worrying them. Although Rock didn’t say anything specifically about working on the CGM story, I knew he was hot on it because he thanked me for my “tip” and said things were heating up.

  I briefly scanned the messages from Beau and my parents because I already knew they’d be panicking and trying to figure out what was going on. I didn’t want to answer them just yet, so I looked through the mystery ten messages.

  As I’d suspected, all of them were from Slash from a variety of different accounts. He was furious and urged me to call him and stop any foolish plans I had to rescue Basia myself.

  I ignored them and sent back a quick message to the twins in code, explaining I had to do a tiny bit of improvisation and asking them to make identical travel arrangements for Finn. I told them I’d explain everything later, but for now the plan was still intact even though, for the time being, Finn would be tagging along.

  Finn sat patiently sipping his coffee while I did all this. Finally I logged off, snapped my computer shut and returned it to my tote bag. Then I sat staring at him for a full minute. He lifted an eyebrow at my perusal but said nothing.

  “Okay, I’ve decided you can come along. I’ll tell you a little of the plan at a time. Are you cool with that?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then I’m cool.” He leaned back in the booth. “Why don’t you start by telling me where we’re going?�
�

  I drank the dregs of the bitter coffee and winced. They burned a hot trail all the way to my stomach.

  “Toronto International Airport,” I said. “We’ll have to ditch your guns before we get there.”

  ***

  To my relief we had no problem at the Canadian border. We left Finn’s guns wrapped in newspaper and safely ensconced at a bus stop locker in Buffalo and then sailed through the checkpoint. The border guard glanced at our passports, did a perfunctory look through the car and our bags and then waved us through.

  When we finally reached Toronto International Airport, Finn found the long-term parking and pulled the Jag into an empty spot. He got a small navy blue duffle out of the trunk and I slung Jan’s oversized tote bag over my shoulder. We were traveling light.

  “No checked luggage and what I presume will be one-way tickets,” Finn said. “You realize we’ll be stopped by security at least a hundred times before we ever get to the gate.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “We’ve got time. I don’t mind as long as I don’t get strip-searched.”

  Finn grinned. “Be still my beating heart. Could I watch?”

  I looked at him, puzzled. “You’d want to watch?”

  He sighed. “Sometimes you kill me, Lexi. Look, now that we’re at the terminal, aren’t you going to tell me where we are going?” He stopped and opened a door for me, motioning me to go through.

  “Stockholm,” I said, deciding it was time to accommodate him. “Via Prague.”

  “Is that where Basia and Judyta are?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why the drive to Canada?”

  “I couldn’t just buy a ticket to Stockholm and fly there with everyone following me. It will be harder for everyone to track me if I go out via Canada. I’m not foolish enough to think that this maneuver gives me a lot of time. Just a bit of a head start. And that’s all I need.”

  “To do what?”

  “To talk with Judyta and Basia before we have company. To find out what they want.”

  He gaped at me. “That’s it? There is no other plan?”

  “Hey, it’s a good plan.”

  “I’m not sure I believe that. You seem smarter than that.”

  “I’m going to try really hard to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

  He shrugged. “Okay. You’re the boss.”

  Despite our early arrival at the airport, we were able to check in at the Czech airline counter. My ticket was waiting and the twins had received my email and secured Finn a ticket, as well. I couldn’t even imagine the conversation the two of them must be having about Finn’s sudden insertion into the plan, but I was grateful that they trusted me.

  The gate didn’t open for another six hours for our five forty-five p.m. flight, so Finn and I had a lot of time to kill. We strolled around the airport, browsing through the expensive duty-free stores and buying some extra painkillers for the flight. A bit later Finn treated me to lunch. I didn’t eat much because I was pretty nervous. Any minute I expected to be apprehended by the FBI, although what I could be busted for, other than an NSA employee traveling abroad without permission, escaped me. I supposed I could be charged with interfering in a government investigation, although I was still quite unclear exactly how the U.S. government was involved in all of this in the first place.

  To calm my nerves, Finn bought a pack of cards. We played gin rummy for several hours, and I killed him in forty-six consecutive games. After all, if you really think about it rummy is largely just one big mathematical equation with a little luck thrown in. Still, Finn was stubborn and didn’t want to give up until he won at least once, so I let him score big on the forty-seventh game because I was sick of playing. I think he knew I let him win, but he didn’t say anything.

  We were first in line when the gate opened. Whether it was a miracle of fate or science, the plane actually left on time.

  The flight to Prague was long, but uneventful. I dozed for a couple of hours, and Finn slept like a log for most of the flight. I envied him the ability to sack out like that but was glad at least one of us was getting some much-needed rest. The few times he woke to eat or drink, the flight attendants flirted shamelessly with him. That, for some reason, made me crankier than ever.

  I flinched each time I went into the airplane bathroom and saw my reflection in the mirror. Totally unfair seeing as how Finn looked ready for a magazine cover shoot. My hair was in serious need of washing, my chin had broken out and my teeth were fuzzy. My wrist had swollen and turned purple, so I kept it tucked safely in the sling. I tried to do some damage control by brushing my teeth and hair, and scrubbing my face with airline soap. But nothing could hide the huge black circles under my bloodshot eyes.

  We arrived just after seven-thirty in the morning, Prague-time. Our flight to Stockholm didn’t leave until half-past noon, so we wandered around the airport again, had an early lunch and played a dozen hands of poker, all of which Finn lost.

  “That’s it,” he said, tossing down his cards in frustration. “I understand that math plays a role in cards, but you have to factor in luck, as well. It’s unfathomable that you continue to win every time.”

  I shrugged and took a sip of bottled water. “I guess I’m lucky and smart.”

  He shook his head. “Well, bugger that. If we get out of this alive, I’m taking you to Vegas.”

  I’d never been to Vegas and taking on the odds with Finn by my side sounded exciting. “You’re on,” I agreed. I could wear my red dress and pretend to be a Bond girl.

  Finally we boarded the next leg of our flight and the plane took off. Within two hours, we landed at Arlanda Airport in Stockholm.

  “I presume you’ve got reservations at a hotel somewhere in the city,” Finn said as we headed out to the taxi stop. “It’s tourist season, you know.”

  “Stop worrying so much,” I said. “If anyone should be allowed to worry, it’s me. Do I look remotely worried? No. That’s because I’ve got everything under control.”

  At least I hoped so. Secretly, I was damn worried. Not about the hotel reservations, which I knew were taken care of, but about my need to ditch Finn and soon so I could put the rest of the plan into play.

  We quickly hailed a cab and headed off to the hotel where my reservations were secure under the name Mrs. Susan Jaffe. Since the hotel didn’t require identification and I was paying in cash, I figured I was anonymous enough, at least for now. Unfortunately the hotel was small, just three floors, and they were booked solid. That meant Finn, I mean Mr. Jaffe, would be sharing the room with me. He didn’t seem too upset about it, but it was another unforeseen complication for me. I’d just add it to the list of things I had to work out by the seat of my pants.

  We trudged up to the third floor and unlocked the door. The room wasn’t huge, but it was clean. One bed, one small table with two chairs, and a wooden wardrobe. The loo, I was told, was down the hall. It wasn’t The Ritz, but it would do.

  “Guess the one bed means I’ll be sleeping in the chair,” Finn said. “Unless, of course, you’d like company.”

  “We can sleep in shifts,” I suggested.

  “You sure know how to bring a lad’s ego down a notch,” Finn said.

  I glanced at him in surprise. “Why? I’ll let you go first.”

  He let out a loud breath. “Never mind. Want to get something to eat?”

  “Later,” I said, dropping my bag on the bed. “I need to check my email first.”

  Finn shrugged. “Okay, I’ll go change some money and check things out a bit. When I come back, we’ll go eat.”

  “Sounds good,” I said, pulling my laptop out of my bag and setting it on the table. He left as I plugged the adapter into the wall and booted it up. As it hummed I leaned back in the chair, closing my eyes and rubbing the back of my neck. My entire body felt sore and achy, not to mention my throbbing wrist. I would have loved to stretch out on the bed for a solid eight hours of sleep. But I had to meet Basia this evening and had a lot of
work to do before then. I presumed someone on Slash’s team had picked me up at the airport and tailed me here since I’d used my real passport to enter the country. But Bouker was another story entirely. I needed to find out whether he had taken the bait the twins had dropped and was on his way to the party.

  Once I logged on, I accessed my mail and saw two emails from the twins, both marked urgent. I opened the first one and quickly decoded it.

  The fish took the bait, headed out last night. Will arrive 1800 hours Monday and should be in place by 2300. You have a green light.

  I breathed a deep sigh of relief. That had been the part of the plan I worried most about. Now that Bouker would be in Sweden in about two hours, the rest would hopefully fall into place.

  I closed that message and pulled up the next one. The message was short—just one sentence. It took me about a minute to decode it. My blood turned to ice. I stared at the words as if they were written in a foreign language and then blinked.

  “Impossible.” I carefully copied down the message again, this time taking extra time to decode. But the words didn’t change.

  Finn Shaughnessy working undercover for MI-6.

  “Shit!” I cried, standing up abruptly and knocking the chair over. “I knew he couldn’t be trusted.”

  Why Finn, an Irishman from Cork, would be working for the British equivalent of the CIA was a mystery. But somehow, it fit. Something had bugged me about Finn from the get-go. He had seemed too capable, too smooth. And hadn’t it been damned convenient how he showed up at the gas station, wielding not just one, but two guns, just in time to save my butt? I hadn’t suspected British intelligence, but that was probably the point. This was a tricky development because it meant Finn had likely been keeping British intelligence, and possibly by extension, the Americans, apprised of my every move. Feelings of betrayal and anger swept through me. It hurt more than it should have because in a small way, I’d let Finn have a glimpse of my inner self. Worse, I’d been dumb enough to think we’d made some kind of deeper connection. All the time, he’d probably been laughing his head off at the clueless geek girl. God, he’d even kissed me to further his mission.