No One Lives Twice (A Lexi Carmichael Mystery)

by Julie Moffett

  “Si, she was. And so was nineteen-year-old Lupita Lopez, a fashion model from Colombia; twenty-four-year-old LaTasha Brown, an art curator from Toronto; Khanatta Chraibi, a twenty-two-year-old optometrist from Morocco, Ito Yakusari, a twenty-three-year-old translator from Tokyo, and Sarah Cunningham, occupation unknown, from London. All were staying at the Hotel Locanda di Palazzo Cicala last December at the same time.”

  “Do we know who picked up the tab at the hotel for the girls?” I asked.

  “Al-Asan.”

  “What a surprise. What else do we know?”

  “Well, a quick examination of their bank accounts shows that a substantial amount of money was deposited exactly two months later in the women’s accounts following the gathering in Genoa. All of the women were apparently also set up with their own apartments, cars and access to premier medical staff in their hometowns. I need to take a more thorough look at their finances to see if there is any more of a pattern.”

  I shook my head in disbelief. “I just can’t believe what I’m hearing. This doesn’t make any sense. Why would a wealthy Saudi prince go to all this trouble to inseminate a bunch of women of different nationalities? What’s up with that?”

  Slash took a sip of his coffee. “Honestly, I don’t know. It’s even more curious because Al-Asan already has nine children with his wife. Six of them boys.”

  I sat back on the couch trying to make sense of everything he had just told me.

  “And what’s the Yemen connection?” I murmured. “Why did Bouker threaten me to get those documents and then warn me about impending danger?”

  “I don’t know and as far as I can tell, the only link to Yemen is the CIA’s suspicions that the hit on Al-Asan’s bodyguards was the work of followers of Yemeni terrorist Samir Al-Naddi. But Yemeni government officials are adamant about separating themselves from the actions of Al-Naddi.”

  I set my coffee mug on the table with a thump. “Okay let’s say that Al-Asan wants to get his jollies by impregnating a wide variety of women around the world. Only he doesn’t do it the old-fashioned way, which, frankly speaking, would be a hell of a lot easier, more fun, and considerably less expensive than in vitro fertilization. Instead he invites them to Genoa, Italy, all at the same time, and has it done clinically. Why?”

  “Maybe he’s shooting…” Slash paused, groping for the right word.

  “Blanks?” I offered.

  “Ah, si, blanks. Perhaps he’s shooting blanks.”

  I looked at Slash in exasperation. “You said he’s got nine children. How blank can he be?”

  “Perhaps he used them all up.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Who in their right mind could possibly want more than nine kids?”

  Slash shrugged. “Well, perhaps it’s something simple—a competition of sorts. He wants more children than his brother, for example. I don’t know. Maybe he’s just bizzarro.”

  “I’m leaning toward the bizarre theory. Anyway, wouldn’t the children legally be bastards? I’m no expert on monarchies and all, but isn’t proper lineage important to a royal family? Why, at the very least, wouldn’t he try to impregnate Arabic women?”

  “I don’t know,” Slash said wearily, rubbing his temples.

  He’d probably already thought a lot about this. But I wasn’t ready to give up yet.

  “All right, you said that the CIA suspects Yemeni terrorists possibly linked to Al-Naddi assassinated two of Al-Asan’s bodyguards in Genoa after they had delivered something to the Bright Horizons clinic. Do we know what the guys were delivering?”

  Slash shrugged. “Semen, I presume.”

  I tried not to be grossed out, but I could feel my cheeks starting to heat. Was I really having a conversation about semen with a national treasure?

  “Why the delivery? Why wasn’t Al-Asan there in the clinic himself? Isn’t he supposed to, you know, provide a fresh sample? I mean, isn’t that why they stock the bathrooms with pornography and men’s magazines?” My cheeks were flaming now, but I tried to act cool, like it was no biggie for me to talk about men playing with themselves in a clinic bathroom.

  “Do you really think I know the answer to that?” he countered.

  Well, well. Maybe Mr. National Treasure also felt uncomfortable discussing this matter. It was hardly surprising. We barely knew each other, and semen probably wasn’t a regular conversation starter even for normal people. I tried to steer us back to safer ground.

  “Then why did the shooters ambush the bodyguards after they made the delivery?” I asked. “Why not before?”

  “Does it matter?” he said, still a bit cranky. “What would they do with Al-Asan’s semen if they stole it?”

  “Hold it for ransom?”

  “Very amusing.”

  Just like that we were back to discussing semen again. I thought for a moment. “You’re right. It doesn’t make sense. But why kill the bodyguards at all if they didn’t need the package?”

  “A message or warning of some kind, perhaps?”

  “You mean, like Al-Asan and Al-Naddi are archenemies?”

  “Si, like that. Except that I haven’t been able to find any direct link between Al-Asan and terrorist scum like Samir Al-Naddi. The Saudis have been very vocal about distancing themselves from Al-Naddi’s group.”

  “Then maybe Al-Asan has some kind of secret political sympathy for Al-Naddi.”

  “Perhaps, but it’s doubtful. Al-Asan appears to be one of the more moderate faces of the Saudi royal family.”

  “Maybe it’s just a front.”

  “Perhaps.”

  I frowned, picking up my mug from the coffee table and taking a large swallow. “Oh, I forgot to tell you that Finn thinks Judyta is pregnant,” I said. “So, I guess it worked.”

  Slash raised an eyebrow. “And what did he base this presumption on?”

  “Neighbors of hers in the apartment complex in Warsaw. They say she was pregnant before she disappeared. If the procedure took place in Genoa in December, she should be pretty far along now. Do you know for a fact that these other women were also successfully impregnated?”

  “We won’t know for certain unless we get a peek inside CGM files.”

  “What about asking the other women? Can’t you just track them down and ask them what’s up?”

  “If only it were that simple, cara. All of them have disappeared, including Judyta Taszynski.”

  I blinked in surprise. “Disappeared?”

  “Si. Vanished.”

  “That can’t be a good development.”

  Slash just looked at me and took another sip of his coffee. I stood and walked over to the kitchen and back. Maybe a bit of pacing would clear my head.

  “Perhaps we’re coming at this from the wrong angle,” I said after a few minutes. “Maybe we need to see what the girls have in common.”

  “We’ve already thought of that,” Slash said. “The girls have nothing obvious in common—they come from completely different nations, cultures and even religions. Their backgrounds, upbringing, language and education are all varied. The only thing that binds them is that they are relatively young women aged nineteen to twenty-four, which are excellent years for breeding, I suppose.”

  “Breeding?” I repeated, raising an eyebrow.

  “Well, isn’t that what Al-Asan’s doing?” Slash said. He sounded rather disgusted.

  Perhaps he was right to feel that way. Personally, I don’t have anything against in vitro if people really want children. But Al-Asan seemed to already have his fair share at nine, and from what I could tell this in vitro procedure didn’t involve his wife. I wondered what he would say to her when he brought the kids back to the palace. Hi, honey, I’m home. And here are a bunch of new kids for the family. Just don’t ask where I got them.

  Still, all the facts weren’t in and there wasn’t any point in being too judgmental yet.

  I pushed my hair off my neck, closed my eyes and leaned back against the wall. The buzz from the tequila was beginning t
o wear off and my muscles were starting to ache again.

  Slash set his mug down and walked over to me. His close proximity made every nerve leap to alert. He was so amazingly good-looking I could hardly breathe. How had I gotten so close to so many sexy guys in such a short time?

  “Now it’s your turn, cara,” he said softly. “Talk to me more about this Finn Shaughnessy.”

  “What about him?”

  “Did you ask him about Acheron?”

  “Not yet,” I admitted.

  “Why not? Don’t you trust him? I thought he was nice.” He said the word nice with such derision in his voice that I pursed my lips.

  “He is nice. And I trust him as much as I trust anyone these days. My gut instinct tells me he’s a good guy.”

  “Then get him to agree to let us in from the inside.”

  I sighed. “I’m trying to figure out how to delicately ask him to plant the program.”

  “Well, make haste,” he said. “The twins and I have finished the program.”

  “Wow, that was fast.”

  Slash shrugged. “It’s important.” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a clear case containing an unmarked gold CD. “All Shaughnessy has to do is insert it in his drive and click on the program. The rest is up to the twins and me.”

  “You had it with you all night?”

  “Si. The twins and I did our part. Now the rest is up to you and Finn Shaughnessy.”

  I hesitated. “You know, I’m not sure this is the right thing to do. I guess I should mention that Basia said not to trust Finn.”

  He raised a dark eyebrow. “And just when did she say that?”

  I sighed and set the CD down on the coffee table. “I forgot to tell you. She called yesterday and left a message for me on my answering machine.” He didn’t appear at all surprised to hear this and suddenly I understood. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

  He nodded. “Si, I knew. I also know she’s hiding out somewhere in Sweden with Judyta.”

  I stared at him in shock and then shrieked in anger. “I don’t believe it! You bugged my phone. What else have you done? Put hidden cameras in the bathroom, too? How dare you!”

  “Calm down,” Slash said in a pathetic attempt to soothe me. “It’s not like that at all.”

  “The hell it’s not. This whole conversation is a sham. Why even bother with me since you apparently have the entire U.S. national security apparatus at your beck and call, Mr. Whoever You Are?”

  “It’s not like that,” he repeated. “I won’t lie to you. You are being monitored. Judyta is the only girl on whom we have a lead and you are the link to her.”

  “Is that what they instructed you to say?” I said, still furious at him. “Are they feeding you your lines?”

  He stepped forward, gripping my shoulders tightly. I tried to shrink away but he wouldn’t let me. “No one tells me what to say,” he said firmly. “Your apartment is not bugged, just your phone. I have told you the truth, cara. I may have withheld information or provided it judiciously, but I have not lied. Never.”

  My eyes burned with tears. I felt betrayed, soiled. “You’re using me,” I whispered. For a girl with a high IQ, I had been pretty stupid not to wonder why such a hot guy had acted so interested in a geek girl like me.

  “No. You came to me, cara. It was meant to be, our helping each other. I will admit this partnership has not been easy for me. I usually work alone, so perhaps I am not handling this as well as I would like. Forgive me.”

  “But you said you have other people working with you.” I sniffed.

  “Working for me. There is a difference when two people must work equally in synchronicity. I have never met a woman quite like you before, Lexi. You are capable, innocent and deliciously unpredictable.”

  I kind of wish he had said beautiful, sexy or intelligent, but I guess beggars can’t be choosers.

  He gently wound a strand of my hair around his finger. The gesture was intimate and unexpected. I held my breath, and for a moment we gazed into each other’s eyes. I could see his pupils darken until I could hardly see them anymore. Then, to my acute disappointment, he abruptly dropped his hand and stepped back. Once again I’d thought he would kiss me, and once again, I was wrong. Apparently, I had no skill whatsoever in reading the sexual signals of men.

  I wasn’t sure I could take much more humiliation in my life. He had to have seen the desire on my face, the expectation. Yet he couldn’t even bring himself to give me one lousy, little kiss.

  “So why is someone trying to kill me?” I asked, trying to change the subject, clear the air or do anything but stand there stupidly.

  He exhaled a breath. “Because they want to sever our only link to Judyta. I think it’s that simple.”

  I didn’t think it was simple at all, but then again, I’d never had anyone try to kill me before. Slash rubbed the back of his neck and then returned to the couch, picking up his mug again.

  “When will you talk to Finn Shaughnessy?” he asked without looking at me.

  I stood where I was, still feeling like a fool.

  “He called me several times this evening and left messages,” I said stiffly. “I’ll give him a call first thing in the morning.”

  “Be careful of what you say on the phone,” Slash warned. “It’s not secure.”

  “What now? You don’t want the FBI to know what we’re doing?”

  “Don’t worry. I will keep the FBI, NSA and others appraised of any developments. But the FBI may not be the only ones listening in.”

  “Who else, then?”

  “We don’t know. Just be careful.”

  Oh, that was comforting advice. “Is Finn in any kind of danger?”

  “Not yet, but we have him under surveillance, too. I’m having his background checked out as we speak.” Leaning back on my couch, he took a sip of coffee. “Perhaps now you might tell me how Lars Anderson fits into all this?”

  I sighed. My life held no secrets anymore. Not like I had any great ones to begin with, but still, I didn’t like the fact that everything about me, warts and all, was now open to official scrutiny.

  “I don’t know how Lars fits into this,” I said. “Basia signed up for karate lessons with him shortly before she disappeared. There may not be any connection.”

  “I don’t consider it a coincidence that she shows up in Sweden and Lars Anderson just happens to be from there,” he said. “There must be a connection.”

  “Well, if you have a theory I’d be happy to hear it.”

  “I don’t have one yet. I ran a check on him and he appears clean. But there must be a link we are missing.”

  I thought the same thing, but had come up with no answers. “I’ll let you know if I discover anything.”

  “Good.” Slash ran his fingers through his hair and stood. “I must go now. There is much to do.”

  He didn’t offer operational details and I didn’t ask. Instead I glanced at my watch and saw it was past one o’clock in the morning. I sat where I was while he picked up his jacket and put it on.

  “Set the alarm,” he said, motioning toward the door.

  I followed him to the corridor and dutifully punched in the code. He was careful not to watch, which was kind of silly since he could break into my place in under three minutes anyway.

  “Well, I’ll see you around,” I said, waiting for him to open the door and leave. After all, he only had sixty seconds to depart before the alarm sounded.

  Instead of leaving, he suddenly backed me up against the wall, placing one hand on either side of my head and trapping me there. He looked serious, sexy and more than a little dangerous. His gun pressed into my hip and I sincerely hoped it didn’t go off.

  “Watch your back,” he said softly. “I don’t want anything to happen to you. There are many matters that are yet to be resolved between us.”

  “What kind of…matters?” I squeaked.

  He smiled mysteriously.

  “You’re marr
ied, aren’t you?” I blurted out and then wished the floor would open up and swallow me, or more likely, that an armed assassin would break down the door and shoot me.

  His lips twitched. “No, I’m not married. But I do not take advantage of women who have been shot at or drinking. Especially not both in the same night.”

  “That’s terribly gallant of you,” I admitted.

  He pressed a soft kiss against my cheek. “Buona notte, cara,” he murmured. “Sogno di me.”

  I foolishly pressed a hand to my cheek where he had kissed me. “That means ‘sweet dreams,’ doesn’t it?” I asked, hoping he was impressed that I was picking up Italian so quickly.

  A smile curved across his lips as he opened the door. “Not exactly, cara. It means dream of me,” he said and then disappeared down the stairs.

  As I closed the door behind him, I had a feeling that’s exactly what I would do.

  Chapter 10

  Saturday dawned far too early and I forced myself awake when the alarm went off at six-thirty. Typically I slept in on the weekends, but there was so much to do today that I gingerly sat up in bed, holding my throbbing head in shaky hands until I could open my eyes. Bright summer sunshine spilled through cracks in the vertical blinds and I squinted in order to bear the light.

  I carefully swung my feet over the side of the bed and stumbled into the bathroom. Rummaging around in my medicine cabinet above the sink, I found the extra-strength Excedrin and proceeded to struggle for a full five minutes getting off the child-proof, adult-proof and idiot-proof cap. My hand trembled as I shook out the tablets and half a dozen went down the drain before I managed to catch two. I popped them into my mouth and cupped a handful of cold water to wash them down. The most important business of the morning completed, I stood in a shower as hot as I could stand for twenty minutes, letting the water massage my aching back and neck.

  As I stepped out of the shower, the phone rang. I grabbed a towel and dashed to the bedroom to answer.

  “Lexi?” a male voice said.

  “Finn?” I replied. The connection was bad. He must be calling from a cell phone.