Dead Double

by Cooper-Posey, Tracy

  “You mentioned that on the phone, Mr. Wilde. I hope you don’t mind but I made some provisions for your day.” She waved toward the building and another woman hurried over to the car carrying an old-fashioned reed basket that looked quite heavy.

  “Is that one of Mrs. Maggot’s picnics?” the girl asked, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her school shirt.

  “I believe it is,” said Madam Gold.

  “Oh, super. Brilliant! I adore her picnics.”

  “I know,” Madam Gold returned with a complacent smile. She turned the smile on Logan. “There’s also some out-of-school clothes for Angelina, as well.”

  Logan held out his hand to the woman. “As always, Josephine, you manage to keep me in awe. Thanks.”

  “I’ll see you at supper, Angelina!” Madam Gold called as the girl climbed eagerly into the car.

  Angelina paused when she saw Sahara sitting in the corner and gave her a very sharp look with eyes that were identical to Logan’s. Then she turned around and dropped down a small seat that folded out from the back of the driver’s seat and sat on it. She continued to stare at Sahara.

  Angelina was a replica of her father but with crystal green eyes and thick eyelashes framing them. She was a beautiful girl, with clear skin and thick black hair that shone and even white teeth. She was slender and probably tall for her age.

  Logan shut the door and while the driver pulled away, he planted the picnic basket on the floor between him and Angelina.

  Angelina looked at Logan, then pointed over her shoulder at the driver and Nelson. “Are they…”

  “Yes, you’re fine,” he told her.

  She pointed at Sahara. “She is not my mother.”

  Sahara jumped.

  Logan, though, relaxed back into his seat with a smile. “Well done, Angel,” he said quietly.

  Angelina continued to study Sahara and Sahara could feel her cheeks heating. “I’m normally a redhead,” she said, trying in some small way to apologize for the deception. After all, it was this girl’s mother she was aping.

  “Strawberry blonde,” Logan amended. “Angel, this is Sahara. Sahara, Angelina.”

  The girl leaned forward and very solemnly shook hands with Sahara, still watching her closely. “It’s really rather awesome,” she said. “You even have the same green eyes as Mum did.”

  “Thank you, I think.” Sahara pushed her bangs out of her eyes.

  “Do I have to pretend you’re my mother out there?” She waved her hand toward the world at large beyond the car.

  “Well—” began Logan.

  “You don’t have to. I won’t mind at all,” Sahara said softly.

  “Great. Can I call you Sandy?”

  Sahara blinked. “Er…I’m not sure…”

  “Sandy…Sahara. Don’t tell me that hasn’t been your nickname like forever. It’s so bleedin’ obvious.”

  “Angel,” Logan warned.

  She waved a hand at him, almost dismissively. “My Dad keeps trying to turn me back into a little girl. The fact is I have a tested IQ of one hundred and forty-five and every science faculty in Europe has been sniffing around the school, offering me scholarships if only I agree to come work for them when I’ve done my As and got through college.” She leaned forward, with her hands wrapped around her crossed legs, looking very much like a miniature grown woman despite the school uniform. “That’s S.A.T.s, in United States speak.”

  Sahara tried to suppress her smile and failed. “You can call me Sandy if I can call you Angel.”

  “Sure, Angel is fine. They tried Lena for a while but it just doesn’t suit me. Neither does Angel if you’re using strict interpretation but if you think of the opposite when you’re using it, you’ve just about got me. Well, that’s what every teacher in the school will tell you. Not on my reports, of course but I’m sure once they’re in the teachers’ lounge and have a stiff snort of whisky under their belts, they’d agree my name more than fits. Are you in the same trade as my Dad?”

  The question caught Sahara by surprise. Again. She glanced at Logan, who was watching her. “Enjoying yourself?” she asked.

  “Of course he is,” Angel assured her. “He likes watching me confound adults and leave them stuttering. But you’re the first woman he’s led into the trap. Are you?”

  “Am I what?” Sahara asked. She took a deep breath. There was no possible way anyone could keep up with Angel’s mind and mouth. She resigned herself to having to keep asking for clarification. There was no need to be embarrassed. Angel clearly left everyone tottering in her wake.

  “Are you in the same trade as my dad?”

  “Not even close. I own a surfing gear store on Ocean Beach.” She didn’t bother adding the city.

  “Cool! Daddy, did you see? She didn’t tell me where it was. She knows I know. Isn’t that just fabulous?”

  “Don’t underestimate Sahara, Angel,” Logan said complacently. “She may not have your IQ but she’ll leave your jaw hanging in other ways.”

  Angel reached for his hand and squeezed it. “It’s so good to see you,” she said. “Is there anything you can tell me?”

  “Very little that isn’t classified,” he said.

  “And this thing, with Sandy here?”

  “Also classified.”

  “But it involves something Mum was doing when she died?”

  “In a vague way,” Logan said.

  She looked a little sad. “So I can’t be told anything about it?”

  Sahara looked at Logan, knowing he was going to say no.

  “Perhaps when it’s all over. You deserve that much, especially as I’ve foisted Sahara onto you without notice.”

  Angel’s face lit up. “Great! I’m going to hold you to that.”

  “If he reneges on you, Angel, you come and see me. I’ll give you the story,” Sahara said firmly.

  Angel studied her frankly for a minute. “I like you,” she decided. “You know how to think for yourself.”

  “My mother died when I was eight,” Sahara said. “I’ve kinda had to learn to.”

  “I was ten when Mum died. Is your dad still alive?”

  “No, he died when I was twelve.”

  Angel considered this for a moment. “I can’t even image life without my dad, even though he’s not around much.” She glanced at Logan. “It’s not his fault,” she said quickly. Then she looked out the window. “We’re not at the beach yet? What, is the driver milking the job? Are you paying him by the hour?”

  Sahara had already made the adjustment to Angel’s adult mind, so she saw it as clearly as a shout. The girl had abruptly changed the subject.

  She glanced at Logan. He was watching her, not Angel. This was something he had wanted her to see.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “I love this cove,” Angel declared, dipping the last strawberry in the last of the real whipped cream and stretching out on the blanket.

  It was three hours later and everyone was completely full of one of the best picnics Sahara had ever had in her life. The food had been very English and very traditional but prepared to perfection. She had stopped asking what everything was after the first few bites and just enjoyed it.

  Now Sahara looked around the private beach they had to themselves. It was a fairly small bay but there was an odd shaped island in the middle of it, which ruined any deep-water anchorage. That was probably why no one used the bay or the beach. The beach was rocky and they had found themselves a stretch of clover just above, while the rest of the team had another blanket closer to the cars. The beach, Logan explained, made it hard for anyone to approach them unseen. “It’s not a very pretty beach,” Sahara said honestly.

  “But the whole thing, the cove, the island, doesn’t it remind you of something?”

  “It reminds me a lot of Cornwall. Is that what you mean?”

  Angelina snorted. “Cornwall’s only spitting distance south, so that’s a huge surprise. When were you in Cornwall?”

  “I used to visit
Newquay almost every summer, when I was a bit younger than you are now.”

  “What’s in Newquay almost every summer?”

  “The Association of Surfing Professionals’ world tour British open.”

  Angel turned her head, shaded her eyes with one hand and cracked an eye open at her. “Why were you there?”

  “My dad was a professional surfer.”

  “Really? That’s seriously wicked.”

  “My best friend in the whole world is there right now too.”

  Angel shot a glance at Logan and said cautiously, “Are you going to visit your friend while you’re here?”

  “Tiffany isn’t expecting me and besides, I’m not sure how long this…thing we’re doing is going to take.”

  Angel’s caution lifted when Sahara mentioned Tiffany’s very feminine name and she closed her eyes against the sun once more. “So does it?” she asked.

  “Does what?”

  “Does the bay remind you of anything?”

  “Apart from Newquay?”

  “Yes.”

  “Should it?” Sahara asked, mystified.

  Angel rolled over onto her stomach and looked at Sahara with her brow lifted just like Logan did. Then her frown smoothed out. “Oh, wait, of course, you wouldn’t have read them at all. They’re English and they’re at least fifty years old.” She sat up again. “Books,” she said succinctly. “Some books that I liked.”

  “Children’s books,” Logan added. “Adventure stories. They featured a bay like this one, with a crooked island in it.”

  Angel’s face lit up. “You did read them!”

  Logan lifted his brow just as Angel had a few seconds before. “You thought I wouldn’t? You asked me to.”

  She pulled at the fringing on the blanket, concentrating on it. “I thought you’d be too busy.” For the moment she looked like the eleven-year-old girl she was. Then, still looking at the blanket, she said in a small voice. “Is this still the last job, Dad?”

  Logan had been slouched along the length of the blanket. Now he sat up and rested his arm on his crooked knee. Sahara knew that he had gone to high alert, even though he had made it look casual. Her heart skipped a beat.

  “It’s not the job I was doing last time I saw you,” he said. “But it is the last job.”

  Angel looked up at him. “That’s what you said with the last one!” Hurt etched itself on her face.

  Logan pushed his hand through his hair. “I know I did,” he said. “And I was given the same promises I gave you, Angel. It really was supposed to be the last one. But this one, this operation, has unique demands. I was the only one who could do it.”

  “That’s codswallop,” Angel shot back. “You’re not unique. There are dozens of people with your training and skills and they’re younger too. Why did it have to be you?” Hurt and fury were oozing from her and it reminded Sahara sharply of the previous evening, when Logan had radiated his own anger.

  “It really did have to be me this time,” Logan assured her softly. “You know I can’t explain it. Not right now.”

  She plucked furiously at the blanket. “But at the end of this operation you get the desk job back in Washington or maybe somewhere else, right? Is that how it goes?”

  “That’s right.”

  “And I get to come back to the States and live with you.” She still didn’t look up at Logan.

  “That’s the way we’ve planned it, isn’t it?” Logan said softly.

  Sahara held back her protest. She could see that Angel didn’t believe it. She didn’t believe Logan and it was destroying her, one “job” at a time. But Sahara was an outsider and couldn’t say anything.

  She looked at Logan. The same pain and fury was mirrored in his face and she realized with a jolt that he didn’t believe it any more than Angel did.

  Understanding flooded her. It wasn’t Logan breaking his promises to his daughter. It was the people he worked for. They were insisting he do one more operation after another. They were the ones who kept holding out the desk job as enticement, to keep him in line. To keep him hoping.

  Compulsively, Sahara picked up Angel’s hand and just held it. There was nothing she could say but she could offer that much comfort.

  Angel kept her head down and her wonderful hair streamed past her face to hide it. “He doesn’t get it, Sandy,” she whispered. “But I’ve done research. He thinks because he’s a crack shot and had all that fancy training he’s invincible. But so has everyone else out there. I know the odds.”

  Then she shuffled over the blanket, wrapped her arms around Sahara and buried her hot face in Sahara’s shoulder. “I don’t want to be like you were, Sandy,” she whispered.

  Sahara could feel tears prick her own eyes. She held Angel against her and looked at Logan. He had heard his daughter’s whisper. His expression was one of wretched misery. For the first time he had seen the shape and depth of his daughter’s anguish. It was a double-edged sword for him. He was hit with his own mortality and his daughter’s vulnerability in one blow.

  He pushed his hand through his hair again. The hand trembled.

  “Angel…” he began, his voice hoarse.

  “No, Logan,” Sahara warned him. “Not right now.”

  Angel’s arms tightened around her and she knew the girl was agreeing with her.

  He blew out his breath. With an impatient movement, he pushed himself to his feet and shoved his hands into his pockets. He looked out to sea, then back at Sahara. Then out to sea again. Sahara could almost feel the helplessness circling him. For Logan, that had to be an uncomfortable feeling.

  Finally, he walked away, following the little track worn through the tough coastal grasses, winding around the slope at the top of the bay.

  Sahara watched him go, feeling his daughter’s hot tears soaking her blouse and recognized that she loved him. With that love came the same despair that Angel was feeling. How do you stop someone you love from dying on the job, if you had absolutely no power of your own to prevent it?

  With a jolt, she recognized the sensation.

  She had been in this position before.

  * * * * *

  Logan always came back from visits with Angel feeling like he’d been ripped apart and put back together in the wrong order. He loved seeing Angel but over the last few years, the dilemma about bringing her back to the States had become sharper and harder to deal with.

  Since Micky died, the stakes had grown higher too.

  This time the stress gnawed harder because of the still, silent figure in the other corner of the car.

  Sahara had barely spoken since Angel had wept on her shoulder. She was absorbed and focused inward.

  He tried to dig up some of the resentment he’d held for being forced to show her this very private side of his life but could find none. Somehow, she had accepted Angel in a way that pulled the sting. She had made it feel right.

  Angel had not been harmed by her visit, which let him further relax.

  As soon as the Rolls pulled up under the hotel’s portico, Jacqui opened the door, stepped in and shut it. She perched on the jump seat.

  “Malik has responded,” she said. “We’re leaving for Spain tonight.”

  * * * * *

  “But Seville doesn’t make any sense at all,” Logan said. It was the fourth time he’d circled back to this gnawing oddity.

  “So what? Has any of this made sense, so far?” Elias demanded. “The guy is running us around in circles deliberately. He has to feel like he has total control over this, or he’s not going to hand the notebook over. So we do what he says and get ourselves to Seville.”

  Nelson, who had remained silent until now, keeping himself to himself, lifted his head. “Logan, do you think, maybe, Malik knows your personal history well enough to know what role Seville plays in your life?”

  Logan looked at him. “How do you know that much?”

  “I used to be the travel clerk, remember?”

  Logan grimaced. “Right
.” He had been the one to champion Nelson’s promotion to active ranks.

  “What the hell has Seville got to do with you, Logan?” Elias asked.

  “Micky and I used to go there every year.”

  Elias frowned. “Malik would know that? How well did he know Micky in France?”

  Logan sighed. “A few days ago, I would have said not all that well, but I’m starting to understand that I’m the last one to know about Micky’s real life.”

  “So it’s possible he knows and this is another string-pulling venture.”

  “Malik isn’t the kind to play with people unnecessarily.” Logan shook his head. “Seville is it. Ground zero.”

  “The Spanish government swore it didn’t have Malik, when he first disappeared.”

  Logan laughed. “Would you admit to anyone that you had the Einstein of the twenty-first century tucked in your pocket? Seoc said Malik was feeling confined and claustrophobic. That would fit, if the Spaniards were keeping him under wraps.”

  Elias cracked his knuckles in gigantic pops and stood up. “He wants Micky there by tomorrow. That’s fast enough that we can at least out-run Zaram, if we haven’t shrugged him off altogether. This is turning into a race, people. Time to pack. I want this gear dismantled and stowed in the next two hours. We’re on another commercial flight at midnight. Let’s go.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sahara couldn’t shake the lethargy dragging at her, even after Jacqui had announced they were heading for Spain. She knew she should have been feeling nervous or excited, or even a healthy dose of fear, for they were heading into the lion’s den.

  She should have been feeling a warm glow over her newly found love for Logan.

  She felt none of it.

  Sahara pulled herself through the motions of packing, knowing she didn’t really have to put any thought into it because Jacqui would oversee the details and make sure she had forgotten nothing. So she moved around the hotel room, aware that Logan was just next door and berated herself for her zombie state. What was wrong with her?

  It wasn’t as if she felt nothing. Somewhere deep inside she was aware of a swarming, boiling mass of emotions but she could access none of them and on the surface she remained placid.