So how come I feel so alone?
9
“Are you getting up, or what?”
Francie's voice came through to Sydney like another part of her fractured dream. She was swimming, swimming, swimming . . . but was she getting anywhere? Her legs felt like lead, and everything was so dark. . . .
“Fine. I'm going to breakfast without you.”
The slam of their hotel room door jolted Sydney bolt upright. She fell back into bed, groaning as a shaft of sunlight found her swollen eyes. Her body was sore, her emotions raw, her head throbbing. She felt like she was hungover, without any of the fun beforehand.
Forcing herself to sit up again, she double-checked the clock on the nightstand. How could it be ten in the morning? That would mean she'd had five hours of sleep, but she felt like she'd just closed her eyes. She swung her feet down to the carpet and tottered to the window, nearly tripping over a potted silk orchid as she drew the curtains wide.
Waikiki Beach spread in front of her. Already the sparkling sand was dotted with towels, the aqua water so clear she could see straight to the bottom. The sunny scene was surreal compared to the darkness in her head.
Her failures of the night before consumed her, not one of them resolved. Even Francie was still mad. Meanwhile, she had an enemy agent to deal with and a nuclear prototype to find. Moaning, she headed for the shower.
The hot water revived her somewhat, and by the time she had dressed to go downstairs her brain was working again. She'd ask around to see if anyone knew where Ashley was; then she'd make an excuse to Roxy and head off on her own.
I have to take that dive gear in and get my tank refilled. And I'd better switch rental cars first—Ashley had way too much time with the old one.
Sydney wondered again about the men she had seen Ashley meet, both in the warehouse and on the cruise. If Ashley was working with a team, anyone could be following Sydney and she might not even know it. Once again, she felt her disadvantage.
If I'd let Noah help me, I'd have a team too.
Sydney shook her head, unable to believe her own stupidity.
At least I've got my pride, she told herself sarcastically.
The sisters were scheduled to eat breakfast on their own that morning. Sydney headed for the hotel restaurant, hoping she wasn't the only girl who'd slept in. With luck, she'd be able to pick up some eggs and news of Ashley at the same time. Maybe someone had seen her leave the night before, or knew where she'd gone since.
To Sydney's complete amazement, Ashley herself was sitting at a corner table with Gretchen, wearing dark glasses and looking like something the tide had washed up. It was shocking to see her at all, let alone to see her so wrecked.
And then Sydney remembered.
Right, she thought slowly. All that pretend drinking on the boat. Today she's got a pretend hangover.
They were going to finish this game of cat-and-mouse in public, then. Abruptly, Sydney remembered something Noah had said at a crucial point in their Paris mission: “We got this far in one piece, so they must not be sure about us.”
Could that be the case here, too? After everything that had happened, Sydney found it hard to believe that Ashley wasn't sure about her. Maybe something else was holding her back.
The mission! she realized in a rush. She still doesn't know what my mission is!
Not only that, but Ashley probably still believed that her own cover was secure. It was the first positive thought Sydney had had in hours. She was down, but she wasn't out. Not yet.
Floating on the high of her new knowledge, Sydney walked directly to Ashley's table.
“Hey, Sydney!” Gretchen greeted her. “You look dry this morning.”
“Right.” Sydney smiled, letting the gibe roll off her. “It's all good now. But how about you, Ashley? If I didn't know better, I'd say you'd had a rough night.”
Ashley barely glanced at her. “Whatever,” she said muzzily, turning her gaze out the window.
The girl's acting skills were top-notch—Sydney had to give her that. She stood there a moment longer, trying to think of some way to draw Ashley out, before deciding to leave well enough alone. They were on to each other, and now they both knew it.
Leaving Ashley, Sydney crossed to the other side of the dining room, where she'd spotted an empty table. She was just about to sit when Roxy hailed her from the far corner.
“Sydney! Hey, Syd! There you are!”
Roxy's hair was wound into a smooth French twist set off with a white plumeria. She looked like the perfect island girl as she stood and motioned for Sydney to join her at a booth.
“Are you eating by yourself this morning too?” Sydney asked, sliding into the bench across from Roxy. There were dirty dishes on the table, but the only thing in front of Roxy was an umbrella-topped glass of iced tea.
“Nah. Keisha was here earlier. And Francie. Hey, tell me if it's none of my business . . . but are you two having some kind of fight?”
From someone else, Sydney might have resented the question, but Roxy looked so genuinely concerned that she found herself explaining.
“Not really,” she said, with a roll of her eyes. “She's just mad because I jumped off the boat and scared her. It's all pretty stupid.”
“Wow,” said Roxy, shaking her head. “You'd think she'd be grateful you care. I mean, you were trying to save her life.”
“Exactly! Thank you!” At least somebody understood.
“I'm going to lie out by the pool today, if you want to hang with me,” Roxy offered. “We have a pretty loose day, schedule-wise.”
“Thanks. I might take you up on that.”
She was still trying to decide how best to inform Roxy of her impending absence when the waitress appeared. Starving from the night before, Sydney ordered macadamia nut pancakes, scrambled eggs, bacon, and a side of fruit.
“How do you keep your girlish figure?” Roxy teased when the woman left.
“Exercise,” Sydney told her truthfully.
“You'll have to forgive me if I don't stick around to watch you eat,” said Roxy, pushing her glass away. “I promised my mom I'd call her this morning, and now's the perfect time.”
“Go ahead,” Sydney urged. “I'm fine on my own.”
Roxy glanced across the dining room, then smiled. “I don't think you'll be alone for long. Catch you later, Syd.”
She slipped away just moments before Francie appeared at the table, plunking into Roxy's warm seat and staring at Sydney accusingly.
“I, uh . . . thought you already ate,” Sydney said awkwardly.
“I did.”
“Oh.”
Sydney glanced toward Ashley's corner of the restaurant. The girl was still there, her blond head visible over the back of the booth.
“What you did last night was crazy,” said Francie. “You could have been killed jumping off that boat.”
“We already covered this. I thought you were in the water, and that's the only reason I did it. I'm sorry I embarrassed you.”
“Embarrassed?” Tears quivered in Francie's eyes. She tried to blink them back, but they spilled over anyway, dropping onto the tablecloth. “Did you ever stop to think how I'd feel if you died? Or w-w-worse,” she stammered on a rising sob, “if you died, and it was my fault?”
“Francie!” Sydney moved quickly around the table to give her friend a reassuring hug. “I'm not going to die.” The promise made her remember Ashley, but the girl was behind her now, out of sight. “Or, if I do,” she amended, “it won't be your fault.”
“It was my fault you jumped into the ocean.”
“No, it was Ashley's. That girl's a lunatic.”
Francie managed a smile. “You don't like her?”
“Honestly? I can't stand her. So if you happen to see me push her into a live volcano or something, I hope you won't hold it against me.”
She couldn't tell Francie she was only half kidding.
Francie laughed happily. “There aren't any live volcanoes
on Oahu. You'd have to go to the Big Island for that.”
Sydney pretended to consider. “Okay. It'll be worth the trip,” she said, setting Francie laughing again.
The waitress reappeared with breakfast and began putting down plates.
“Excuse me, but I didn't order hash browns,” Sydney told her.
“No? I'm sorry.” The woman reached to take them back.
“What she means is,” Francie put in hurriedly, “can we get some catsup with those?”
Sydney smiled and handed her friend a fork.
By the time Sydney finished breakfast, Katie and Michelle had joined them and were deep in conversation with Francie about the celebrities they'd seen on their last trip to Cannes.
“I'm going up to the room,” Sydney interrupted, restless at the thought of everything she still had to do.
Francie waved her off. “I'll be there in a minute.”
The moment Sydney stood up, she noticed that Ashley was gone, her table now occupied by an elderly couple. She felt an anxious twinge, then let it go. It wasn't as if she could watch the girl every second anyway—she had things of her own to take care of.
Riding the elevator up to her room, Sydney made her plans. She'd change clothes and leave a note telling Francie she'd gone for a run—that ought to cover her long enough to swap rental cars and take care of her equipment for later that night. She'd be back in time to meet Roxy at the pool, and no one would ever even know she was gone.
She opened her door, ready to hurry, then stopped and stared in disbelief.
The sheets and blankets from both beds had been stripped and were in a heap on the floor. Sydney's clothes looked as if they'd exploded out of her suitcase, flinging themselves all over the room. Francie's suitcase had been dumped on the floor, and the dresses in the closet were all off their hangers. Shoes had been tossed around as if scattered by a tornado.
Sydney half hoped to find Ashley hiding in the bathroom, so they could settle things right there. But while her toiletries were all over the floor, Sydney's rival spy was long gone.
Sydney slapped a Do Not Disturb sign on the doorknob. She flipped the security bolt so Francie wouldn't be able to get in, then hurried to the closet, straightening dresses and returning shoes, each movement quick and methodical. Next she tackled Francie's suitcase, taking pains to refold and replace things exactly as they had been, hoping to get it right.
At least I know Ashley didn't steal anything.
The only spy equipment that wasn't in the rental car was Sydney's SD-6 cell phone, and she'd been carrying that, just in case Wilson called.
The main thing right now is to keep Francie from guessing what happened. She'd go nuts if she knew about this!
Especially as Sydney had no intention of ever reporting the break-in.
Finishing with Francie's suitcase, she moved to her own, putting things back without worrying too much about neatness. She folded the blankets and put them on the beds, piling the sheets beside them.
If the maid doesn't beat Francie in here, I'll say I just wanted to make sure they changed the sheets.
It wasn't as good as remaking the beds herself, but she had more important things to do, like sort out the mess in the bathroom.
Picking up the lipsticks and makeup brushes on the floor, trying to separate her things from Francie's, Sydney wondered what Ashley thought she was going to find in their cosmetic bags. Bugs, maybe. Minicams. Tracking devices. Microfilm. Actually, there were a lot of possibilities—if a person didn't know what she was looking for.
And that was when it hit her: If I'd found the prototype last night, Ashley would have it right now!
The thought rocked her far worse than the mess in her room. Every time she thought she had Ashley figured out, the girl went another way. She had never expected burglary, and certainly not in broad daylight.
I could have walked in on her. Francie could have walked in on her.
A chill ran between Sydney's shoulders. What if Francie had confronted Ashley?
For the second time in as many days, she was afraid for her best friend's life.
The problem is, what am I going to do about it?
Sydney found Roxy already at the swimming pool. The redhead was lounging in her blue bikini, reading a novel with a busty woman and a pirate on its cover. She put it aside when she saw Sydney, but her welcoming smile quickly turned to a look of confusion.
“Where's your bathing suit?” she asked.
Sydney had left a note for Francie and was now wearing running clothes.
“Something's happened,” she said in a low voice, perching on the edge of the lounge next to Roxy's. “Somebody's been in my room.”
Roxy's brows drew together. “Like the maid?”
“No. Definitely not the maid. Someone was, uh . . . in my things.” She was taking a huge risk telling Roxy any of this; it might be better not to get too detailed.
Roxy sat up. “Is anything missing?”
“No.”
“There you go, then!” she said, smiling. “It was probably menehunes.”
“Many whaties?”
“This guy told me about them on the cruise last night. Menehunes are these mischievous little locals, always getting into stuff. Kind of like Hawaiian leprechauns.”
Sydney took a deep breath. Obviously she had played things down too far.
“No, listen, Roxy. This is serious.” She glanced around to make extra sure no one was listening. “I think it was Ashley.”
“Ashley?” Roxy's blue eyes went wide. “Why would Ashley go into your room?”
“I can't say.” That much was certainly true. “Maybe she was looking for something to steal.”
“Like what?”
“Jewelry, money. I don't know.”
“But that's crazy!” Roxy protested. “Ashley's folks are loaded.”
“Sometimes . . . people have secrets. You think you know someone, but—”
“We should get Security,” Roxy interrupted, jumping to her feet. “They'll find out who did it.”
“No!”
Roxy froze, an incredulous look on her face.
“I mean, I'd rather keep this among the sisters. Wouldn't you?”
“I guess so,” Roxy said slowly. “But what if it isn't Ashley? What if it's some total stranger?”
“It's Ashley,” Sydney insisted. “I can't tell you how I know. I just do.”
Roxy settled back onto her lounge chair, stunned. “Nothing like this has ever happened in AKX before. I mean, we're better than that. You know?”
“I know,” Sydney assured her. “It's just . . . could you help me keep an eye on Ashley? And on my room? I don't want to tell Francie, because I don't want her to worry. And I can't confront Ashley, because I don't have any proof. But if you could help me watch her . . .”
Roxy nodded, still a little dazed but starting to come around. “Definitely. I'm on it. I'll watch that girl like a hawk.”
“That would be great.” Sydney played her final card. “I was going to take a long run, get this all out of my system. But if you think I ought to hang around . . .”
“No, go.” Roxy stood up. “I'll wander around and see what everyone else is up to. I think I just remembered an AKX project that will keep Ashley busy all day.” She smiled conspiratorially. “At least, I will have by the time I find her.”
Sydney's return smile was straight from her heart.
“Thanks, Roxy. You're the best.”
Roxy laughed, the motion jiggling the jewel in her navel. “I am, aren't I? Be sure to spread that around.”
10
At the cove in Pearl Harbor for the second night, Sydney glanced over her shoulder at every sound. She'd arrived earlier than the night before, giving herself more moon to work with. But the same moonlight that allowed her to see what she was doing as she prepared for her dive also allowed others to see her. It was a huge relief to finally sink beneath the dark water en route to the wreck site.
He
r scooter towed her quietly, the GPS unit still her only guide. But this time she had precise coordinates—and she knew what to expect. A newly purchased crowbar, hammer, and set of bolt cutters swung heavily in the dive bag at her waist. She'd be ready to open anything now, and she was determined to finish searching the entire ship this time. Maybe the prototype was down there, maybe not. Either way, she wanted to be sure without making a third dive.
When her coordinates put her over the wreck site, Sydney dove swiftly, pausing only to equalize the pressure in her ears and switch on her dive light. Ditching the scooter in the same spot on deck, she swam toward the stern of the Eagle, determined not to think about sharks. She paused at the tilted cabin doorway just long enough to check for eels, then swam quickly inside.
Under the instrument panel, the bank of cabinets that had defeated her knife offered little resistance to a heavy-duty crowbar. She popped open the first set of doors, but found nothing of interest inside. Perhaps the compartment had once held charts; all that remained was sludge. Moving down the row, Sydney continued opening and inspecting cabinets. She found the rubberized remains of some foul-weather gear. At one point, the discovery of a decaying box made her heart race, but all it contained was a ruined sextant for celestial navigation.
Convinced she had thoroughly searched the upper cabin, she made her way belowdecks. She had already checked the galley and first tiny berth overhead. Now she decided to start at the bow, in the forwardmost chamber of the ship, and work her way back from there. If she didn't find the prototype by the time she'd returned to the galley, she'd check the aft engine compartment.
As soon as Sydney entered the V-berth of the Eagle, something told her she was in the right place. This compartment was far more luxurious than the other berth, as if fitted out for the captain—or his important guests. The entire chamber had probably once been paneled in wood, although only worm-eaten remnants remained. The brass fixtures were badly corroded. A small metal table was bolted to the steeply angled floor, and a large raised platform filled the narrowest point of the cabin, extending out into the room. Sydney recognized it as the base of a bed and drifted over for a closer look. The mattress had rotted, leaving a set of rusted springs still attached to the metal structure. And on both sides of the platform were drawers—locked steel drawers.
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