PALINDROME (21 page)

The
staff treated me like royalty. I
was given a flute of champagne, which I sipped sparingly while the
captain gave me a brief tour. The ship was impressive in size and
quality. The captain explained that the deck and trim were made
from teak wood and that all the fittings were solid brass. He was
cordial and friendly and made no references to the fact that I was
a bought-and-paid-for trollop.

I had the opportunity to float about the deck
along with the well-heeled guests. I was drawing smiles and
whispers. I could only imagine what was being said about me.

I was doing my best to suppress my anxiety
but could not get it under control. I was there to seduce and kill
a man, a task I was incapable of.
What am I going to do?
I
kept asking the question but could not come up with the answer.
There was no answer. I was in an untenable situation, trapped
between Sparks, his gun, and the man he wanted dead. Who was this
Hernitos? What was this about?

The captain checked the time. “You can go
below now. Señor Hernitos is ready for you.” He handed me off to a
member of his staff. “He will see you below.”

My heart began to pound. I finished the
champagne for courage and quickly grabbed a fresh glass.
Easy.
One step at a time. Pray for a miracle.

I was shown to Hernitos’ stateroom. It
spanned the entire width of the ship, with portholes on opposite
sides of the room. It was ornately decorated in shades of ivory
with lots of gold accents. A large, circular bed dominated the
floor space.
The bed,
I thought,
the goddamn bed.
Where was he? I was not a Girl Scout. I had been with men, but the
idea of being with someone I didn’t know and desire—a man I had no
feelings for—I felt violated before having committed the act. I
felt within the pocket of my cover-up and touched the hypodermic.
The cap was still in place.
Should I uncover it?
No!
I left it capped, as if that small impediment would somehow prevent
me from going through with this heinous act.

Where is he?
The bathroom door opened
and Hernitos stepped out. His hair was damp, and his face looked
wet as if he had just stepped from the shower. His silk robe
matched the ivory and gold theme of his stateroom. He grinned, not
to be social but to project the fact that he was pleased. I was a
sure thing after all, a no-risk proposition. He untied the belt on
his robe allowing it to separate. He turned away from me and
extended his arms, waiting for me to come up behind him and remove
it. He didn’t see my face or my expression, which showed that I
found him revolting.

I took a deep breath and inched forward. It
wasn’t until my fingertips caressed his silk robe that an idea hit
me. I buried my head in the nape of his neck and rubbed my cheek
against his. His head arched, and I could see that he enjoyed being
nuzzled.

“Go slowly,” he said in his Spanish accent.
“I like it slow . . . and tender . . .
lentamente
. . .
tiernamente
.”

My throat was too tight for me to speak, but
I managed to continue nuzzling him while I brought Ax’s image to
mind. He began to moan, and I could tell that he was lost in the
moment. I put my arms around his neck and watched until they grew
large and muscular. Ax was always demonstrating his martial arts
for me and had shown me how to apply a sleeper hold. I began to
squeeze lightly while my cheek was still pressed against his. I
continued to apply more pressure and tighten my hold around him. By
the time he realized what I was doing, it was too late. He
struggled briefly, trying to reach me from behind, but the supply
of oxygen to his brain was too greatly diminished. He collapsed in
my arms.

I dragged him over to the bed, lifted him up,
and made him look comfortable as if he was taking a nap.

I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I
had only transformed my body. The face was still mine. I looked
like a menagerie freak, a young woman with a man’s body. The image
made me sick. I ran into the bathroom and splashed cold water on my
face.

I did not know how long Hernitos would be out
and needed to get off the boat quickly.
And back to Sparks? That
is a bad idea.
He was on the lookout for Lexa, but not Allie. I
focused on my image in the mirror and brought Allie back one more
time. I made my hair a little shorter and diminished my bust so
that I would draw less attention. I fished in his closet and traded
my cover-up for an oxford shirt. It was enormous and covered me
down to the knees. I put the unused syringe in my shirt pocket and
slipped out of his room.

I had been in his room less than ten minutes,
much less time than anyone would assume I would be with him. There
was no one posted outside his door. I quickly made it up to the
deck. I scanned the partygoers and crew. Everyone seemed to be
having a good time. I could see past the railing to where Sparks
had parked the car. I didn’t have the best view, but I did not see
him in the car.
Now, Lexa! Move it!
I was just a short
distance from the gangway when I felt someone’s hand on my
shoulder. A chill ran through me. I looked back and nearly
fainted.

Forty-three: What Are You Doing Here?

“
Emilio?”
I threw my arms around him
and thanked God for his unexplained presence. “What are you doing
here?” I was on the verge of hysterics. I was desperate to flee,
yet at the same time, relieved to be in the company of someone I
trusted.

“Allie, what’s wrong?” he asked. “You look as
if you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“I have to get off the ship.” I didn’t have
to say, “Right now”—it was clear in the tone of my voice.

“But what’s wrong? Are you in trouble?”

I didn’t have time to explain. Hernitos would
come around soon if he was not already awake. In a moment, it would
be too late. I took Emilio’s hand. “Quickly, come with me. I have
to go.” I pulled him toward the gangway. His movement was at first
tentative, but then he began to walk with me, matching my pace.

“Okay, come on,” he said. “Let’s go.”

I walked past the guards doing my utmost to
appear inconspicuous. They were both armed. I imagined Hernitos
staggering to the deck and calling for my head. I could see the
guards drawing their weapons and firing. The image stayed with me
until we were clear of the ship. I could see that Sparks’ car was
unoccupied. I dragged Emilio with me.

“Where are we going?” he asked.

“We have to get out of here.”

He looked up and saw that we were walking
toward Sparks’ car. “Is that your car?” he asked.

“I have to get my things.” I scanned the area
and didn’t see Sparks. I opened the driver’s door to look for the
trunk release. My cell phone was lying on the passenger seat. I
grabbed it and then found the trunk release. The bag with my
personal effects was still there. My heart was racing. I was
nervous that Sparks would return and catch us. “Do you have a
car?”

I followed his gaze to a silver BMW M3
convertible. He grabbed me by the hand and led me toward it. The M3
had a reputation for being a rocket ship. Its high-speed capability
gave me hope.

Emilio cranked the engine and threw the car
into gear. We were out of the parking lot and on our way out of
town in scant minutes. I sighed with relief and put my head on his
shoulder. “You’re an angel. There’s no other explanation for you
being on that ship.”

“Señor Hernitos is a client of mine. It’s his
birthday.”

Oh my God, I was supposed to be his
present.
“Who is he?”

“Hernitos is a businessman from Mexico.
Why?”

“Why would—” I caught myself. Should I ask
him?
Why wouldn’t I?
“Why would someone want him dead?”

“
Dead?”
Emilio blurted. He turned to
me, looking at me in disbelief. “Allie, this is crazy talk. Are you
all right?”

How much could I say? Could I tell him about
Sparks and that I was being blackmailed into murdering Hernitos?
Could I tell him that Ax had accidentally murdered Vincent? That
conversation would not end well. He was an officer of the court.
Far beyond that, there was the tale of Lexa and her brother Ax, two
siblings with the ability to alter their physical appearances. That
would lead to, “I’m not who I said I was, I’m really . . .” I would
have to tell him that I was not really Allie. No one could possibly
handle that much baggage, not even Emilio.

“I’ve never seen you like this. I have a
friend who is a doctor. Perhaps I could get him to give you
something to calm down. You seem hysterical.”

I composed myself enough to say. “Just forget
it.” I stroked his arm. “Just get me away from here, okay?”

“Okay,” he said and mashed down on the
accelerator.

I was worried about Ax. I didn’t know where
he was or what he was thinking. He must have come home and found
the two bodies. I couldn’t imagine what that would do to him. I
pulled out my cell phone to check for missed calls, hoping at least
one of the calls had come from my brother.

Forty-four: What Have I Walked Into?

Sampson
saw the Sag Harbor Marina
coming into view through the windshield. A police cruiser was
parked near the entrance to the parking lot with a police officer
standing by the front fender. He spotted Sampson’s unmarked car and
waved him over. As he pulled toward them, he saw a second unmarked
car parked behind the cruiser.

Sampson rolled down the window and presented
his detective’s shield.

“Detective Sampson?” the uniformed officer
asked.

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

“John Franco, Sag Harbor Police.” He reached
in through Sampson’s window and shook hands. “Your lieutenant told
us you were on the way.” He glanced over at the unmarked car and
signaled for Sampson to join him.

Now what?
Sampson thought. He shut the
engine and joined the uniformed officer by the unmarked car.

The man sitting in the second car had short,
blond hair and wore old-fashioned aviator glasses. He pushed open
the car door and stood up. He greeted Sampson with a huge grin and
a mouthful of sparkling- white teeth. “Bill Bianco,” he said as he
reached into his hip pocket and withdrew a leather ID case; “DEA,”
he continued.

Sampson rolled his eyes. “I knew it. What
have I walked into?”

Bianco pointed over his shoulder at the huge
pleasure boat with the name
Diosa de Oro
inscribed on it.
“You see that bucket of bolts over there?”

Sampson glanced over at the yacht. “Kind of
hard to miss. Let me guess, a drug lord’s ship?”

“Alejandro Hernitos. He owns several
international businesses, some legitimate and some not so
much.”

“But nothing pays quite like the white
powder, right?”

Bianco nodded.

“Columbian?” Sampson asked.

“Columbian? Don’t you read the papers,
Sampson? He’s Mexican.”

“Gee, what was I thinking,” Sampson said,
admonishing himself playfully.

“He’s been docked here since last night but
apparently his arrival was no secret. He’s got fifty guests aboard:
lawyers, businessmen, wealthy Gold Coast citizens, and a handful of
call girls to keep the gents happy.”

Sampson reached into his jacket pocket and
pulled out an enlarged copy of Alexandra Ameleon’s drivers license
photo. “Look, I get it; you don’t want me screwing up your
surveillance operation—narcotics isn’t my thing anyway. Either of
you see this woman? She’s wanted for questioning in a double
homicide and may be in extreme danger.

Bianco and Franco studied the picture. Franco
nodded. “I saw her getting on the boat.”

“You’re sure?

“A doll like that—I caught a glimpse of her
walking up the gangway in high heels, a bikini, and not much
else.”

“Think she’s still aboard?”

“Probably, that wasn’t more than a half hour
ago,” Franco said.

Sampson’s phone rang. “She’s on the move,
Peter,” Janik said. “She’s checking her voicemail again.”

“Where?”

“Bridgehampton, over on Montauk Highway.”

“On my way. See if you can get a local cop
over there, will you?”

“I’m on it, Peter.”

Sampson disconnected. “My lieutenant says
she’s checking her phone from Bridgehampton. She either slipped off
the boat unnoticed or someone has her phone. Either way, I’m out of
here.” He handed each of them a business card. “Call me if you see
her.” Sampson got back into his car and sped off. He pushed down on
the gas pedal and engaged the lights and siren.

Sampson was intent and focused on reaching
Bridgehampton as soon as humanly possible. Had he looked in his
rearview mirror, he would have seen the large, white sedan
following him, which was being driven by another person of
interest, Thomas Sparks.

Forty-five: The Beach

I
checked all the calls and messages
on my cell phone. None of them were from Ax. There were calls from
East Pines, the psychiatric hospital I had been released from, and
there were calls from the police. The two bodies must have been
discovered in my home. I was wanted for questioning. I was told to
contact the police as soon as possible, and I would have, but there
was something else weighing more heavily on my mind.

Where is Ax?
I wondered.
Why hasn’t
he called?
It was not like him. The first thought that crossed
my mind was that he was lying low. I had seen Ax in Ninja mode
before, lurking in the shadows, observing and planning strategy. I
needed to feel his presence around me and know that he was all
right. I looked at the locals as we cruised through Bridgehampton.
Ax could have been any one of them, and I wouldn’t have known it.
Why didn’t I have that brother-detector thing we had talked about?
Why couldn’t I feel him when he was around? I wanted to believe
that he was close by. I wanted to believe that he would appear any
second, and that we were safe. I wanted all these things, but
instead my heart filled with dread. Keith and Shawn had attacked me
in the living room, and I never made it to the back of the condo.
Could it be? Could Ax have been murdered too? I began to cry.