Deep Allegiance

by David Archer

  Even with all the distractions, he was keeping his eyes open for Doctor Simpson. When the man arrived, he was prepared to do whatever was necessary to calmly take him out, preferably without drawing excessive attention to himself or his team.

  Not drawing attention was made easier by the fact that Noah now looked like a man nearly 30 years older than he truly was. His hair was long and gray, and the beard he was wearing, though neatly trimmed, had the slightly scraggly look that gray whiskers always seem to take on. Combined with the false teeth, it was highly doubtful that anyone he knew would recognize him, including possibly his own wife.

  Neil, in disguise after his picture was on the newspaper clipping Dawson had seen, was a short distance across the room from him with Jenny, looking like the young entrepreneur couple they were supposed to be. Neil’s cover was that he was a Silicon Valley tech billionaire, with Jenny as his wife. They were mingling with the other guests, and Noah suspected they were fending off a number of requests for investment into various ventures.

  Gary and Marco had resumed their earlier disguises, with Gary back in his wheelchair, looking like he was already knocking on death’s door. Noah couldn’t help admiring the way Gary would cough and pick up his oxygen mask from time to time, maintaining the illusion that he was an elderly man with breathing problems. Marco was dressed as his caretaker once again, pulling off the same effeminate persona he had used before. The illusion that the old man in the wheelchair was someone wealthy and powerful would account for why they would be at such a reception.

  “Marco to Noah,” Noah heard in his subcom. “Gary and I are in position where we can watch the main entrance. I’ll give you a heads-up if I see them.”

  “Roger that,” Noah replied softly. “Everybody else, keep your eyes peeled as well. We may only get one chance to talk to her, so be prepared to create a diversion to break her free from Dawson for a few seconds. Jenny, you might be our best bet for that. Dawson hasn’t seen you, yet, so there is less chance of you being recognized than any of us.”

  “Understood,” Jenny said. “Should I spill a drink on him?”

  “I don’t know that that would do it. We need to find something that will engage his attention completely for at least a minute or so. That’s going to be critical.”

  Noah glanced over toward where Neil and Jenny were standing, and that was when he saw Renée, making her entrance with Dawson right beside her.

  Noah watched as the hostess greeted Renée with a smile, even giving Dawson a gentle kiss on the cheek. Renée was lovely as usual, dressed in a stunning green gown, her red hair pulled back away from her face into a sophisticated coiffure. A brilliant diamond necklace adorned her throat, matched by the earrings that dangled from her lobes. Noah looked for signs of nervousness, perhaps even an indication of mental or physical abuse, and although Renée seemed like she might be feeling a little uncomfortable, she did not appear to be under duress.

  “They’re here,” Noah said. “Came in the side entrance, apparently. They seem to be talking with the hostess, so see what you can do, Jenny. Marco, you’re on.”

  “No problem,” Marco said. He began wheeling Gary toward where Renée and Dawson were standing.

  Jenny put down her drink and leaned over to Neil for a second, whispering, “Be ready on my signal.” He barely nodded as she turned and walked away, headed directly for Caleb Dawson.

  Renée spotted her first, and her eyes met hers for only a second, then looked away pointedly as Jenny headed straight toward the man standing next to her.

  “You,” Jenny said loudly. “I know you, don’t I? Aren’t you the son of a bitch that cut me off when I was pulling into the parking lot a little while ago?”

  Dawson’s eyebrows rose as he looked at the short blonde who was bearing down on him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “About twenty minutes ago,” Jenny said angrily. “You were driving the flashy red Ferrari, right? I was just about to turn in when you cut across in front of me. I had to slam on the brakes and the car behind me couldn’t stop in time, so I got hit. I hope you’ve got good insurance, you jerk, because I plan to file a claim based on your reckless driving.”

  Dawson tried a smile as if he was hoping to defuse the situation and draw less attention to himself. “Now I know you’re mistaken,” he said. “I arrived by limousine, just a few moments ago. I don’t even own an automobile, much less a Ferrari. Please, my dear lady, let me buy you a drink and we can all settle back down.”

  “Settle down?” Jenny asked, her eyes wide and her face angry. “You lying piece of filth, I’m not going to calm down! My husband and I could’ve been badly injured because of your stupidity, and you’re going to pay for it. Don’t tell me to settle down…”

  A number of people were turning to watch the altercation, and a few of them moved closer, just in case they might get to actually watch some kind of a fight. Marco maneuvered Gary’s wheelchair carefully, but the encroaching crowd made it easier for him to let it bump into Renée, causing her to turn and look at them.

  “Oh, so sorry, dear,” Gary said in a thick southern drawl. “I’m afraid my man is a bit on the clumsy side this evening.”

  Renée smiled down at him, but then she waved a hand in dismissal.

  “Oh, it’s no problem,” she said. “No problem at all.” She turned back toward Dawson, ignoring them once again.

  Marco stared at her. Disguise or no disguise, he had no doubt she would recognize him this close. Something was wrong, but he had no idea what it could be.

  “I just—wanted to be sure you’re okay,” he said haltingly. “I didn’t mean to run the wheelchair into you like that.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, glancing back at him, “no problem, really.” She put a smile back on her face. “I think you just got caught in the crush of the crowd.”

  Marco looked her in the eye for a moment, then nodded once and pushed Gary on past. As he moved away, he whispered, “Did you catch that, Noah?”

  “I couldn’t hear her,” Noah said. “Her subcom is obviously still off and your volume is too low. What did she have to say?”

  “She didn’t even recognize me, Noah. I mean, not at all. How in the hell could she not even recognize me after as long as we been together?”

  Noah thought about it for a moment. “There are two possibilities I can think of,” he said. “The first is that whatever the situation, she’s afraid that acknowledging you even slightly might give her away. The other possibility…”

  “Yeah? What’s the other one?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Let’s observe for a bit, but remember to keep your eyes out for Doctor Simpson.”

  From the corner of her eye, Jenny saw Marco push the wheelchair away. “So you’re serious?” she asked, letting a little of the anger slip out of her voice. “You honestly don’t have a car?”

  Dawson let his smile grow a little wider. “I promise you, dear lady, the only cars I own are a couple of scale models on the shelf in my home. And just for the record, neither of them is a Ferrari.”

  She looked him in the eye for a few seconds, then visibly relaxed. “All right,” she said, “then I must apologize. I hope you’ll forgive me, but you do look very much like whoever the fellow was driving the Ferrari. I was almost certain it was you, but apparently I was mistaken.” She held a hand behind her back and wiggled her fingers to signal Neil to come closer.

  THIRTEEN

  Neil joined them a moment later and Jenny turned to him. “Honey, you were right,” she said. “This wasn’t the guy in the Ferrari.”

  Neil grinned at Dawson. “I tried to tell her,” he said, “but she gets pretty stubborn sometimes.” He held out a hand. “Jason Turner,” he said. “I’m truly sorry that my wife accosted you this way.”

  Dawson shook his hand and smiled. “Harold Lancaster,” he said. “It’s all fine, I assure you.”

  Renée turned back toward them, and Neil
let his eyes drift over to her.

  Dawson saw where his attention was located and said, “Mr. Turner. May I introduce Ms. Willis?”

  Neil smiled at Renée. “Ms. Willis, it’s so good to see you again,” he said. “We should apologize to you, as well. Caroline didn’t really mean to make a scene, but it turns out it was simply a case of mistaken identity.”

  Renée only stared at him, her eyes wide and looking a little frightened. It lasted only a moment, but it was obvious that the whole situation had caught her off guard. Neil was surprised, but he kept his expression blank and friendly.

  Dawson looked at Neil curiously. “You know each other?” he asked.

  “Oh, yes,” Neil said. “Not well, but Ms. Willis was my assistant in London for a short time. I don’t recall the name of the temp agency you were working for, Ms. Willis, but I do remember that you were the most efficient assistant they ever sent me.” He smiled broadly at her. “And now that I think of it, you owe me a dance.”

  “I—I do?” Renée asked.

  “Why, yes. You remember, you accompanied me to the unveiling of our new computer system at Whitehall, and we were so busy with all of the questions we never got to participate in the festivities. You promised me a dance the next time we had the opportunity, and here we are.” He waved his hands to indicate the dance floor, where an orchestra was playing while couples danced, then held out his arm. “Shall we?” He looked around at Jenny for just a second and she smiled, and then he turned back to Renée.

  Renée glanced at Dawson, who looked slightly annoyed, but nodded, and then slipped her hand into the crook of Neil’s elbow. She let him lead her onto the dance floor as the orchestra began to play a waltz.

  “Now, don’t expect too much,” Neil said. “I’m afraid I’m still not that good a dancer.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it’ll be fine,” Renée said. “And I need you to forgive me, but I really don’t remember working with you. How long ago was it?”

  “Oh, a couple of years,” Neil replied. “I suppose I should be offended, but I’m not really all that surprised. I suppose I’m just not really all that memorable.”

  Renée smiled and did not object when he held her a little closer. He had his face over her right shoulder, and it took him a moment to realize that something was troubling him. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, taking in her hair and ear, and that’s when it hit him.

  Each member of Team Camelot had a subcom inserted against the bone of the skull just behind the right ear. Each of them had the scar, a two centimeter incision that had been repaired with surgical adhesive rather than stitches. It made the scar small and almost invisible, but not quite.

  This woman had no scar. He looked more closely at her hairline, and it dawned on him that she was wearing a mask. It was excellent, the skin tone and texture perfect, but it was still a mask. As he stared at the line, he realized that her hair was also dyed; blonde roots were just barely beginning to show.

  The woman he was dancing with and embracing was not Renée. This was an imposter.

  He didn’t say anything, simply continued to dance and make small talk until the music ended, then walked her back to where Dawson was waiting.

  “I must thank you, sir,” he said. “That was a dance that was long overdue.” He leaned forward conspiratorially. “Of course, it would’ve been nice if she at least remembered me.”

  Dawson smiled. “I think we all run into that from time to time,” he said. “Each of us hopes to be memorable, don’t you think? That way, we’ll never be forgotten.”

  “Of course,” Neil said. He turned to Jenny. “We should go, darling.” He turned back to Dawson for a moment. “We seem to be popular among those who are seeking financing, and Caroline doesn’t know how to say no as well as I can. I need to keep a close eye on her.” He extended a hand and Dawson shook with him, and then he turned to Renée. “Ms. Willis, it was delightful to see you again.” With that, the two of them turned and walked away.

  Noah had been watching the entire encounter, and he stayed focused as Dawson turned toward Renée. The man said something Noah could not overhear, and Renée looked startled. She recovered quickly, however, and the two of them walked into the crowd as if nothing had happened.

  “Neil, how did she seem to you?” Noah asked.

  “At first, I was a little puzzled,” Neil said. “She seemed scared for a moment there, as if she was afraid we were going to give her away, somehow. I thought maybe if I got her away from Dawson, she’d let me know what was going on, but I’m afraid it’s worse than that.”

  “I think I know what you’re going to say,” Noah said. “That isn’t Renée at all, is it?” He paused for a moment. “You got any kind of bug you can tag her with? Something they wouldn’t detect, that would let us keep track of her location?”

  “Not with me. If she would turn on a cell phone, I could possibly hack into it and track its GPS. That way, we could keep pretty close tabs on her.”

  His mind racing with possibilities, Noah looked over at Dawson and the woman who was impersonating Renée, or Abigail Willis, to be more precise. They were talking with another man, and Noah suddenly realized that it was in fact Doctor Simpson, who had finally arrived. The conversation appeared pleasant, if perhaps a bit formal. Simpson actually seemed to be impatient to talk with Dawson alone.

  Noah thought it was interesting that his two targets were suddenly deep in conversation. The fake Renée was sent to fetch drinks or something, and the two men had moved to the side to try to get a moment of privacy.

  “Marco to Noah,” Noah heard. “You see them?”

  “I’m watching,” Noah said. “I wish I could hear them.”

  “I can,” Marco said. “I have the little shotgun microphone up my sleeve, and it’s plugged into an earbud. Let me turn it on and you can listen in.”

  There was a rustling noise, and then suddenly Noah could hear Dawson’s voice, somewhat distorted through Marco’s subcom. When Marco had put the earbud into his ear, it allowed the subcom to pick up the sounds coming from it when he aimed his wrist toward Dawson.

  “… I got the job done, didn’t I? Nobody gave me any instructions about making it look like an accident.”

  “We employ you, Mr. Lancaster,” said a voice that had to be Simpson, “because you are supposed to be one of the best. It would seem to me that gaining that reputation would have required you to make reasonable decisions about some of your contracts. Why is it that you seem incapable of making such decisions when you’re working for us?”

  “I don’t get that many complaints,” Dawson said. “If you would prefer that I not work for you anymore, I would not necessarily find that objectionable. I wonder, though, how the Director would feel about it? I have been with him quite a bit longer than you, or the rest of the Council, for that matter.”

  Simpson glared at him. “I never said anything about letting you go,” he said. “Don’t think, however, that you are somehow indispensable. I have others who do the same kind of work you do, and while they may not be as creative as you are, they have yet to cause me any undue stress. The Director will probably discuss this with you when you see him, anyway. I just thought you might like to know that the Council is not pleased with your grandstanding.”

  “Duly noted,” Dawson said. “Goodbye, Doctor Simpson. I shall give the Director your best wishes.”

  He turned and walked away, and Noah watched for a moment, then turned back and gave his attention to Simpson. As much as he preferred to take his targets more privately, Allison’s orders were to eliminate Simpson at the earliest possible opportunity. It probably wasn’t going to get much more convenient than this.

  A lot of things were happening, and it would be up to Noah to try to figure it all out. And the worst of it was the fact that even Noah was troubled as he considered what might’ve happened to the real Renée.

  Unfortunately, he did not have time to worry about that at the moment. He kept his eyes on Simpso
n and considered his next move carefully.

  “Noah to Neil,” he said. “I need a diversion. Keep your eyes on me and wait till I get close to Simpson, then make sure everyone is looking in your direction.”

  “Sure, boss,” Neil said. “That’s me, Mr. Diversion. What do you want me to do?”

  “I’ll handle it,” Jenny cut in suddenly. “Go ahead, Noah, we got this under control.”

  “All right,” Noah said as he pushed away from the wall and started toward Doctor Simpson. The man was talking to a young woman, and the expression on his face made it clear that he was definitely on the prowl. Noah continued toward them, then stopped just a couple of feet away from where Simpson stood.

  “You son of a bitch!” he heard from behind him, and he recognized Jenny’s voice. “How could you sleep with her? How could you do that to me?”

  “But, baby, I…” That was Neil.

  “I trusted you, you ass! I trusted you, and this is how you repay me!”

  It was working. Everyone in the entire hall was looking toward the couple who seemed to be having some sort of massive argument in the middle of the floor. When Noah glanced at them for a split second, then turned back toward his objective, Jenny reached out and slapped Neil across the face. The crack of the slap was heard throughout the room, and most of the men there cringed or put a hand to their own cheeks in sympathy.

  Noah stepped up behind Simpson, who was also staring toward the argument. Noah reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a syringe that he had prepared before leaving the hotel.

  In a split second, he stepped up behind Simpson and jabbed the needle into the back of his neck. The highly potent chemical inside went to work instantly, disabling all of the nerves in the neck and working its way into the spinal cord. Simpson barely had time to react before he lost all motor control and collapsed to the floor. Unconsciousness came only a few seconds later.