by David Archer
It was almost a minute before anyone realized that the man was down, and somebody started CPR on the assumption that he had suffered a heart attack.
* * *
The entire team had made it out before the police and ambulance arrived, and had returned to their hotel. They were gathered in Noah’s room, trying to decide on a plan of action, but it was difficult to think of one.
“Are we just going to assume she’s dead?” Marco asked, his expression dark as he adjusted the audio receiver sitting on the small breakfast area tabletop in their hotel room.
“What would be the point in keeping her alive?” Gary asked, although he appeared unhappy with his own questions. He sat on the bottom corner of Noah’s bed, tension obvious in the way he was sitting. The actor seemed subdued, even though he had not known Renée nearly as long as the rest of them.
Noah sat across the table from Marco. He was leaning back in his chair, thinking very hard about what they had learned, and what it could possibly mean. “They don’t know that much about Abigail Willis. That much is clear.”
Neil nodded. “That could mean one of two things. They tried to get information out of her, but she died before they could, which doesn’t make sense, not for such an elaborate charade…”
“Or?” Marco asked, clutching the drink he had made for himself and looking at the skinny young man.
Noah beat him to it. “Or Renée is alive and feeding them only enough information to make it possible for this woman to impersonate her.” He hesitated for a moment, as if thinking about what he had just said. “She knows that if any one of us should get close to her replacement, as Neil did, the substitution would become obvious very quickly. She would also know that we would be able to spot a mask.”
“Then they must be keeping her somewhere,” Marco said, a bit more animated. “Unfortunately, we have no idea where that might be, and this is a good sized city.”
“This just isn’t making any sense,” Neil said, shaking his head. “If Dawson figured out that Renée is a federal agent, why wouldn’t he simply get rid of her and try to pretend he had no idea who she was? Why would he go to the trouble of setting up a double for her and taking the double out in public?”
“That’s an interesting question,” Noah said. “And a very astute one. If they are keeping her alive, then I’d have to suspect the double is simply to try to keep the rest of us thinking everything is going according to plan, somehow. I’m sure she wouldn’t mention the subcom, so they have no way of realizing that it was missing.”
“I hate to bring this up,” Marco said, “but what does this do to our mission? How are we supposed to figure out what Dawson has planned?”
“I don’t know,” Noah said, “but we need to figure out some way to stay on them. Any idea where they might be staying now?”
“Actually,” Neil said, “I just happen to have gotten that information. See, after Simpson was discovered, the police were called. Dawson didn’t get out fast enough, so he had to produce identification and let the police know where he is staying. I got into the computer at the Renaissance Days Hotel and verified that they are staying there, and I saw them on the hotel’s security camera system. They’re in room six forty-one.”
Noah looked at him. “What do you think is the possibility they may have Renée there, as well?”
Neil bit his bottom lip. “I suppose it’s possible,” he said. “I saw the two of them walk out of the other hotel, but as far as I know, there are only two present at the Renaissance. If they have her there, they must be keeping her drugged or something.”
Noah nodded. “I agree,” he said. “But we won’t know unless we go check. Neil, I want you and Gary to stay here and watch their hallway on the video. Marco, Jenny and I are headed over there to see if they have her. Let us know, once we are in place, when it’s safe to go in.”
“I’ll have the van waiting,” Marco said, and hurried out of the room.
Neil nodded at the other team members and smiled nervously. After all, their next move was predicated on the assumption that Renée was the enemy’s prisoner and not a dead woman.
FOURTEEN
“Spectacular,” Noah murmured. He was only talking to himself, overwhelmed by the architectural beauty about him. The Renaissance Days Hotel was actually more than a hundred years old, and the original construction had been preserved and restored. At one time, it had been one of the biggest hotels in the city of Atlanta. It was still one of the most impressive.
“Okay, they just left the room,” Neil said. “Stay out of sight and I’ll let you know if they leave the building or not.”
“All right,” Noah said. He motioned for Marco and Jenny to follow, and they slipped into the gift shop that was just off the lobby. It was packed with a lot of merchandise, and it was easy to hide behind the shelves and racks. A moment later, they spotted Dawson and Renée’s double crossing the lobby and walking out the door.
“Okay, they’re gone,” Neil said. “They just got into a taxi and it’s pulled away. You should have at least an hour.”
“Roger that,” Noah said. He collected the other two by eye and they left the gift shop and headed toward the elevator.
Marco made short work of the lock, using a device made for picking card-based security locks. He slipped a card into the slot, then turned on the keypad he held in his hand. A series of numbers lit up across the top, and he punched them in. The lock clicked, the light went green, and they hurried inside.
Renée was on one of the beds, lying on her side and apparently sleeping peacefully. She was pale and seemed a little too thin, Noah thought, but at least she was alive.
Jenny climbed onto the bed beside her and began to shake her, trying to wake her up while Marco climbed up on the other side. “Renée? Renée, come on, honey, it’s Jenny.”
“Jenny,” Renée whispered. She barely got her eyes open and found Marco leaning over her, then managed a ghost of a smile. “I knew you would come,” she said. “I knew it.” Her eyes closed again and she slipped back into an obviously drug-induced sleep.
“Let’s go, let’s get her out of here,” Noah said. “Marco, you take her down the service stairs. Jenny and I will go ahead and run interference.”
Marco scooped her up and held her as if she was nothing while Noah and Jenny opened the door and Jenny peeked outside. She motioned for them to follow and hurried out into the hallway, then headed toward the elevators and the stairwell door.
Noah went down first, followed by Marco carrying Renée, with Jenny bringing up the rear. It took them a couple of minutes to get all the way down the six flights, and then they stepped out the service entrance of the building. Marco had parked the van they were using only a short distance away, and he ran briskly toward it.
Marco and Renée were inside by the time Noah and Jenny got to the vehicle. Noah climbed behind the wheel and started it up, and they were on the road only a moment later.
“Okay, you’re all clear,” Neil said. “I scrubbed the security video, so nobody will ever even know you were there.”
“He’ll know,” Noah said. “The shape Renée is in, there’s no way she got out alone. He’ll know.”
Renée gulped slightly as her eyes fluttered open. At first, she could not believe what she was seeing. “Noah?” she asked, her voice unbelieving. No, it wasn’t possible, she thought, and nearly cried out at Dawson, telling him to stop tormenting her. “Marco…”
“Yes, it’s me.” He took her by the upper arms and helped her to sit upright. He smiled warmly at her disbelieving expression. His smile widened slightly as an uncertain hand lifted to touch his jaw and cheek, as if she too were searching for a mask, the fingers drawing a line up to his temple. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Oh, Marco!” Renée threw herself into his arms, now fully recognizing her teammate and lover, grateful for his presence and so pleased that she had held on to her resolve. She had known they would come for her and—somehow—Renée also knew
Marco would be the person she would see first upon awakening. “Oh, Marco, I…” she began, but he silenced her with a kiss.
Marco touched her hair, silently leaning forward to kiss her once again, and looked into Renée’s exhausted eyes. He could not begin to guess what Dawson and his imposter had done to her, but it was obvious that she had been through some sort of ordeal. He would ask her about it later. At the moment, escape was paramount. “Can you move?” he asked her.
“Yes.” With his help, she sat up and leaned against the side wall of the van. She teetered for a moment, feeling dizzy and spent, but his arm holding her steady gave her strength. “What are we going to do now?” she asked, still groggy.
* * *
“This was unexpected,” the woman said, standing beside Dawson as they entered the now empty room. “I find it stunning, after all we did to her, that she managed an escape.”
“Yes.” Dawson stood behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders.
“Do you think her friends came and helped her?”
“Undoubtedly, although they obviously want us to think she did it on her own.” It appeared as though Ms. Willis had simply awakened and managed to walk off while they were gone, but he was certain she was not capable of it. At least, she shouldn’t have been, not after that last dosage, not to mention everything else she had been through; she couldn’t possibly have had enough will to escape on her own. “It doesn’t really matter how she got away, Michelle. The fact is that she’s gone, so we need to make our own exit.”
His hands touched Michelle’s auburn hair and caressed her pale cheek. Pleased by his attention now that the redhead was gone, Michelle chuckled and allowed Dawson to turn her around to face him. She leaned forward for a kiss, and was not disappointed.
“Of course,” he said afterward, “this does change a few things. Since we know they have her back, we certainly can’t have two of her running around now, can we?”
“That’s not a problem,” Michelle said. “I’m sick of wearing that mask and wig, anyway.”
“I’m sure, but that doesn’t solve the entire problem. The fact that they have her means that they are aware that you were merely a doppelgänger. It’s unlikely they will leave you alone; if you make an appearance anywhere around them, they are certain to do all they can to capture you. They’ll want to break you, make you talk.”
She looked at him and smiled, nervously. “You know I won’t talk, right? Even if they were to get me, I won’t say a word.”
“I know,” Dawson said. He leaned forward and kissed her again, and his hands closed around her throat as he did so.
She struggled. He liked it when they struggled, it made it more personal and intense for him.
Besides, everything was in place. He really didn’t need her talents anymore.
* * *
They got back to the hotel at just before sunset and Renée assured them that, although she was fatigued, she felt well. Neil insisted, however, on checking her over personally. She had been drugged, as they had suspected, but it didn’t look like it would have any lasting consequences.
After a good night’s sleep, she would be up for breakfast and questioning.
Marco was the first person to suggest sending her back to Neverland, but Renée refused. After all, Renée reasoned, she was still an agent and since the mission was still in progress—and it did not seem she was compromised—she wanted to see it through.
“Besides,” she said, settled into an arm chair and drinking a cup of tea before she turned in. “I have an idea.”
Noah contacted Allison to let her know what had happened, and Allison reluctantly agreed to let her finish out the mission.
“Noah,” she said privately to him, “just keep an eye on her. If anything seems off, you know what to do.”
“Yes,” he said. “Bring her back, alive, unless doing so would jeopardize the mission.”
“Exactly. And if it does…”
“Then I will terminate her.”
* * *
Neil took first watch that night, and was relieved by Gary at two a.m. Gary was gone when breakfast was brought up by room service the following morning, and the rest of them all gathered in Noah’s room to eat.
Renée ate ravenously: eggs, bacon, potatoes, cereal, orange juice and coffee. She was up an hour before the others and had forgotten how glorious it was to eat what she wanted when she wanted it. She winced at the thought of the scraped together doggy bags her abductors brought her to eat while she was held captive. No doubt it contained a narcotic of some kind, something to keep her quiet, but it was all they allowed her to eat, no matter how badly it was mushed together. The previous night, she had missed even that. Renée blinked and paused many times while she devoured her meal, thinking about what it had been like: the fear, anger and bewilderment. She had questioned her oppressors, but they never replied. Renée recalled being tied to a chair and questioned in rapid succession, giving them yes and no answers even as she tried not to.
Then, that woman had roughly covered her face with plaster for a mask mold. Renée had felt trapped under the heavy coating, trying to breathe, feeling closed off and frightened, but trying as hard as she could to hold onto her courage.
She had thought often of Marco when her thoughts would manage to become lucid for a moment. She actually wondered whether she would ever see him again.
“How are you feeling?” Noah asked.
She sat up straight, a bit startled, and looked over at him, then smiled. “Good morning.” He brought the coffee pot over to their dining table and poured himself a cup. Marco, of course, was sitting beside her.
Renée had showered, changed clothes, and applied a little makeup. Her eyes seemed a bit vague, but brighter than the night before, he thought. She also seemed fragile in the same way as a patient often was while healing after a long illness. “Do you feel up to some questions?” he inquired, sitting in a chair at the closest corner to Renée. When she nodded, he asked, “When were you taken?”
“The day after we left this hotel. We went to that big one because he said he wanted to show me some of the finer things in life.” She rolled her eyes. “We had gone that morning, to meet some guy who said Dawson was being sent to Sydney for a job, and it was on the way back when he said we were moving. I never got a chance to get alone and let you know, and then when we got to the new hotel, that woman was waiting. He said she was a friend, and she offered me a cup of tea. We sat down to drink some and I started feeling strange, and that’s when he told me that Joshua had texted him in the car, telling him that I was an agent of the United States. I tried to laugh it off, but the woman, Michelle, held out her phone and showed a picture of me from back when I worked at the CIA.” She shook her head. “I didn’t even know there was such a picture. That was the last thing I remember until the next morning.”
“Honey, why didn’t you have your subcom on?” Marco asked. “At least we would’ve known what was happening, we could have come to you sooner.”
Renée turned to look at him, biting her bottom lip for a second before she spoke. “He was spending a lot of time close to me,” she said softly. “Like, really close. Sometimes he would lay close behind me and put his head right on top of me, right on my ear. I couldn’t take the chance that one of you might say something and he could pick it up through conduction, because his ear was right against mine. I just thought it was a good idea to keep it off except when I needed it, and when I finally started to wake up, my watch was gone. I couldn’t exactly search the room or call the desk for a Wi-Fi password, so I was basically screwed.” She shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I did turn it on a few times just to see if I might hear somebody, but there was never anything there.”
“What were they doing to you?” Noah asked. He lifted the coffee cup to his mouth and looked over the brim.
Renée looked sideways at him. “Lots of questions and for the longest time, I ignored that picture and just stayed in character, told them only
the script I was given. But honestly, with the drugs and everything, I have big gaps in my memory. I slept, woke and slept again. I can’t really remember much during that time. Dawson told me once that I was a very strong woman, almost too strong to serve their purpose, but I could never get out of him what exactly that purpose was.” She looked directly at Marco. “To be honest, I think Dawson and Michelle merely wanted me to give them as much information as I could about myself. The clues I gathered—with the limited information I had—make me think that Michelle, wearing a mask with my face, was going to kill someone and disappear. Then, when they let me go, I would be blamed for the murder. I know they were expecting me to be blamed for one, anyway.” She shivered, her fingers clenching from where her hand lay on the tabletop. Renée felt Marco reach for her, his hand warm against her own as it rested on the table.
“I suppose that could make some kind of sense,” Noah said, but he felt there had to be more to it. Something seemed out of place or unfinished but, like Renée, he could not quite put his finger on it.
“What about the job in Sydney? Do you have any idea what it was about, or who the target could be?”
Renée grimaced, deep in thought for a moment, but then shook her head. “I can’t remember,” she said. “I think I might have known, but now I can’t remember any of the details.”
The door to the dining room opened at that moment and Marco’s fingers slipped away from hers.
Gary entered, engaged in an animated conversation with Neil and Jenny, who were right behind him. They greeted Renée warmly, pleased by how well she looked.
“We have an update,” Neil said to Noah, cutting Gary off. “Dawson is gone. Gary followed him to the airport, and he got on a flight to Sydney.”
“Sydney?” Renée asked.
“That’s where they went,” Gary replied. “Am I missing something?”
”Yes,” Noah said. “That’s where his next assignment is.” He looked at Gary again. “What about his lady friend?”
