Illusions
Chapter Eleven
Hat pulled low over his face, hood up and sunglasses covering his eyes, Randy Archer moved quickly down the street. From the moment he left his apartment he felt the tingle of being watched. It had to be his imagination. Only that lawyer, McKay and a couple others knew why he was headed to one of the few hotels and casinos not owned by some mob boss. It was rumored that this particular hotel had been bought by a guy who had recently retired from the CIA. It was one of those stories that no one would confirm or deny. But everyone admitted that it made a good story.
The traffic was moderate at this time of day. Just enough to have to block it out. Not for the first time he wished he hadn't left his headphones at home because music would've been great about now. Would've helped take his mind off the hair standing up on the back of his neck and the creepy chill down his spine.
Relief rushed through Randy when he saw the hotel's marquis advertising the appearance of a reunited rock band from the eighties. Ignoring the tourists pointing and staring, he reached for the pull handle just as a burning sensation started in his upper back followed by pain worse than he'd ever felt before. Looking down, he saw a blossom of red growing on the front of his T-shirt. "Oh crap. I've been s-s-shot." Touching the area, he turned around and his existence was snuffed out by the bullet that hit him between the eyes.
~~O~~
Touching the side of Randy's neck, John shook his head telling Woolsey, Marjorie, Rodney and Jennifer that the one person who could exonerate Rodney was now dead. "Sniper." His eyes scanned the area as he took the proffered tissue and wiped his fingerprints from the young man's skin. Getting to his feet, John motioned that they should all go back inside before the cops and paramedics arrived.
"What now?" John asked Marjorie as they entered the elevator.
Marjorie took out her phone and scrolled through one of the apps. "I recorded his phone call. Might not hold up in court though it wouldn't hurt to try. In the meantime, we should keep looking for evidence of Rodney's innocence."
"Oh, great. Where, exactly, are we gonna find this evidence? There is no record of the email inviting me to the banquet that never was and I did the search myself so you can take that to the bank. This Randy person may have seen me, but I didn't see him."
"Relax, Rodney. We're working on it," John used his most soothing voice, but it still came out flecked with annoyance.
This conversation reminded Marjorie of a previous one they'd had in this very room several days ago. And again it centered on John when their focus should've been on Rodney…
~~O~~
"The investigative information is still coming to us at a trickle. If we could find a way to know what the detectives know when they know it…" John jumped up and left the room without saying another word startling Marjorie. "Now where is he going?"
"Prognostication of Colonel Sheppard's actions can be difficult at times," Woolsey said with the lift of one eyebrow in an expression of humor.
"He's in the military. Guessing what he's going to do is easy. It's the way he does it that's difficult to figure out." Rodney huffed then relaxed when Jennifer took his hand and rested her head on his shoulder. "But there's always a method to his madness."
"And running out of here without even saying good-bye will help? What's his plan?"
"You asked for it. He's going to make it happen," Woosley stated with confidence. "Apparently my call to the Mayor didn't have the desired effect."
"I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say he's calling a favor or two."
"That would be a very good guess."
She swept the room with her piercing gaze. "And every one of you has contacts so high I would get a nose bleed if their names were spoken aloud in my presence."
Woolsey smiled. "Whimsical, yet surprisingly accurate. He will also be bringing a few sets of eyes belonging to individuals who have had more than their share of encounters with situations somewhat similar in nature."
"See? This is why you should never lie from your attorney. If this gets out, it could blow our entire defense."
Jennifer huffed sounding more like Rodney than ever before. "We didn't lie, Ms. Warlock."
"You withheld information, Dr. Keller. That's as bad as lying. I can't effectively defend your husband if I don't know everything. And I mean everything. Any information, no matter how insignificant, could work in our favor. Or worse, against us. And I don't like being blindsided."
The Lanteans exchanged glances she found easy to interpret. When Woolsey spoke again, she wasn't surprised by his request.
"Ms. Warlock, could you leave us alone for a few minutes?"
Marjorie shoved several of the case files into her briefcase, zipped it shut and picked up her purse. "I was just going down to the café for coffee. Can I bring you anything?"
To stop Rodney, Jennifer squeezed his hand. "No thank you. We have plans later with Rodney's family."
Woolsey walked with Marjorie to the door. "We'll call you." She smiled, but they all saw the frustration in the stomp of her heels as she walked to the elevator.
~~O~~
In the bar of a small casino, two men and one woman sat together in a quiet corner drinking beer and not talking. The server came around, took their empties and replaced them with fresh. The woman snagged a pretzel from the bowl and munched on it though she really wasn't hungry. They were here to decide what to do next. She started when Carlos touched her on the arm. "What?"
"Daydreaming about all the extra money we're gonna to have now that we don't have to share with Gavin?"
Emma smiled. "Can't decide what color Jaguar to get first." She gave the car's name the British pronunciation. "Red, black or silver." The third member on the group never smiled. Ever. He was like Gavin that way though Emma didn't really care one way of the other, as long as she could retire to a tropical island that had no extradition treaty with the United States. Sandy beaches, crystal blue water, palm trees and Margaritas were all she needed aside from a place to lay her head at night and a different bathing suit for each day of the month. "What about you, Eddie?"
"No sense in spending stuff we haven't got yet." Eddie took an iPhone from his pocket, scrolling until he came to the notepad. "Okay, here's what's next on the agenda…"
Carlos snorted. "Who died and made you boss?"
"Gavin," Eddie stated.
Carlos slapped the table got their attention. "This whole game was Gavin's idea. Now that he's gone, we should take what we have and scatter." Just as he always did, Carlos kept his voice low, as if the three of them were the best of friends. Nothing could be farther from the truth.
They'd only known each other a short time, less than nine months. No one used their real names, just a nickname they'd chosen to go by when they got together. Since he'd been killed a few days before, they now knew Gavin's real name to be Peter Kavanagh, an out of work theoretical astrophysicist. These little meetings were what Emma privately called their pre-game show. Watching Carlos over her bottle as she tipped it back for a long drink, she could see Carlos gearing up for a fight. Before she could intervene, the presence of a stranger tickled at her senses.
"May I join you?"
Turning to the left, she looked up into the smiling face of a man with light brown hair and brown eyes. She knew her companions were scowling at the intrusion. Not that today was different than any other day. Just to tweak them, she smiled as if he were a long lost friend. "Sure! I'm Emma. This is Carlos and that's Eddie. What can we do ya for?"
The man pulled out the chair between Emma and Carlos, his posture relaxed and confident as he took in the three faces, the men watching him warily. "It's come to the attention of the people I work for that you're little band is without a leader." He leaned forward taking a pretzel from the bowl and eating it. The server came over and he graced her with another of those unpretentious smiles.
"What can I get ya, honey?" The woman was dark-haired, somewhere in her forties, but with the slim, toned body of a dancer, shown off to perfection in the skimpy costume.
He shrugged. "Beer. And I'm not picky. Surprise me." The conversation didn't resume until after the server had set a bottle of Sam Adams Summer Ale in front of him. He reached into his pants pocket withdrawing a five and a twenty. As if it was something he did every day, he handed the twenty over with a wink. "Keep the change…honey."
The woman returned his cheeky grin as she shoved the bill into the front of her uniform allowing one little corner to stick out. "Any time."
He ogled her as she sauntered over to another table then returned his attention to his companions. "As I was saying, you need a new leader and I've been sent to take on that role."
Taking an iPhone-like device from his breast pocket, he touched the screen in several places, the light flickering over his features. Emma found him very attractive, adorable even, her sharp mind working out a way for them to be alone, but not for the reason most people would think. She watched him, appreciating his self-assurance and economical movements.
Eddie growled. "We don't need your help. We can do this alone."
Emma cast a glare at Eddie. "Let's just hear him out."
Again, the newcomer met each gaze. "Good. Here's what I had in mind…"
"Wait. What's your name?"
That grin again. "Call me…Chuck."
~~O~~
Checking his look in the mirror one last time, Chuck recalled the conversation he had with John, Woolsey, Rodney and the others. He knew his CO could be persuasive though he wasn't quite certain how the man had convinced him to go undercover.
Amelia's face appeared in the mirror beside Chuck's. "You look great, baby."
"You're just saying that because you love me."
"It's true on both counts. Blue really makes your eyes sparkle."
He drew her into a hug. Watching their joined reflection, he realized there was a flaw in his disguise. Easing away, he held up his left hand. "I have to leave the ring to make my story believable."
"I'm not happy about it, but I won't complain." She twisted the circle of gold off his hand and put it in her pocket. "Once this is over, it goes back on."
"You are my one and only. Just remember that."
"I will."
Chuck pulled on a sport jacket purchased to be part of his disguise, tugged on the sleeves, kissed his wife and left the room. In one pocket he carried an Ancient device they'd found mixed in with the treasure trove in Janus' lab. They looked like iPhones, but were so much more. It had GPS that was undetectable by anyone who didn't have a compatible device, the ability to record at a touch or a word and best of all you had to have the gene to use it. In various other pockets he carried cash-lots of it, and a fake I.D. that looked like the real thing.
Once outside, Chuck walked the seven blocks to the hotel where he would be putting on a show more subtle than the usual magic or music. He headed straight for the bar and there they were. The three he'd seen with Kavanagh the day Rodney and Kavanagh had their first argument. Taking a deep breath, he strode up to the table as if he had every right to be there. "May I join you?"
~~O~~
"Someone should go undercover, infiltrate Kavanagh's cell to find out who's pulling the strings." John made the announcement the way he always did. With little emphasis, as if he were telling you it was hot in Las Vegas, cold in Antarctica or wet in Seattle.
With a huff, Rodney got to his feet, rubbing his hands together. "I know you're all thinking it should be me, but…"
"Not you, Rodney. Your face has been all over the media. We need someone who can blend in. Someone like…"
"I'll do it." Chuck heard his voice speaking, offering to put his life in danger. A danger that was different than what they faced on a daily basis in Pegasus. Here, he couldn't carry a weapon. Back-up would be just a code word away, but there was still the chance they wouldn't get there in time and he still had a lot of living to do with Amelia.
"You sure, Sarge?"
"Yes. As long as it's okay with my wife." Amelia wrapped her hand around his giving it a squeeze, and he returned the gesture. "When do we start?"
~~O~~
In deference the presence of his niece, Rodney, Jennifer, Jeannie, Kaleb and the rest limited talk about the case against him and concentrated on putting up a front of happiness for her sake. But what they didn't know, or didn't want to know, was that Madison could sense that the adults were filled with apprehension. She knew it had something to do with Uncle Mer and Aunt Jennifer and what happened at the reception.
The boredom was getting to her though she didn't begrudge her parents wanting to stay nearby so they could help. She didn't know what her mom and dad could do, but knew they would do anything to save Uncle Mer. Uncle John's phone vibrated startling her while she was pushing food around on her plate.
"Sheppard…where?" He pushed away from the table, turned on his heel and left the dining room.
"What's goin' on?" the young girl asked. The adults looked at her, each other then back to their plates. "I'm a kid, not stupid. It's about when the police came to your party."
Rodney looked at Jeannie for help. "Your Uncle Mer is in some trouble. Dad has to go back to work in a few days, but you and I are staying here until it's over."
Looking from one face to another, Madison thought over what her mother said. She lay down her fork and walked around to Rodney. He turned as she came to his side and put her arms around his neck. "It'll be okay, Uncle Mer. Uncle John will figure it out."
Jennifer passed a hand down the girl's blond hair. "I'm sure he will, honey."
~~O~~
John paced around the room waiting for one of the contacts to say something, anything that would give them a clue as to who was backing the operation. But more importantly, they needed to find out who really killed Kavanagh so they could all go home and both newlywed couples could go on their respective honeymoons.
Pacing didn't help his restlessness the way it usually did. He had to get out of this hotel room, away from these four walls and all the people. Evan, Ronon, Amelia and Teyla could be counted on to mount a rescue if one should be necessary.
"Lorne."
"Sir?" Evan had been discreetly watching him from his seat near the kitchen.
"Keep eyes and ears on Campbell. I'm going for a drive."
"Will do, sir." The door slammed on the last word.
~~O~~
"…That's it then. We all have our assignments. Let's get to work." Chuck pushed back from the table only then noticing that Emma hadn't taken her eye off of him in some time, except when they exchanged phone numbers. "Something wrong, Emma?"
"No." The woman stood, pocketing her phone and tossing a few bills on the table. "See you later."
Chuck nodded and left by the same door he'd come in, his regular phone in one hand as he prepared to call John with a report. A beep told him he'd gotten a text. From Emma.
I know who you are.
Tapping quickly, he responded: NOT possible. I don't exist…officially.
Emma's response wasn't a surprise. Mocha Café on Highgate. One hour.
Naturally, he couldn't make it easy for her. Can't. I have an appointment.
Two words: Carlos and Eddie
Thought I did a good job of being mysterious and smug. Guess not. He made a sound of exasperation. What's this about?
One hour. Get me a latte. Do NOT be late.
Reading Emma's last text filled him with a small sliver of apprehension. Hitting speed dial, he called John. "Sir? We have a problem…"
~~O~~
He held up his phone, the photo showing a group of people dressed for a special occasion, the men in tuxes and one woman in a wedding gown. "This is your assignment."
His companion glanced at her screen, accepting the mission with a nod. "Does it matter which one?"
"On the left. Along with the photo, I've sent all the details you'll need to make your story credible."
"And?"
"And our people on the inside will take care of the trace evidence to back up your story." He sipped his beer, relaxed yet ready for whatever might happen next. She would do whatever she was told without questioning the morality of it just as she always did.
She smiled as if they'd been talking about a movie they'd seen together and enjoyed. "Should I implicate any of the others?"
He liked the way she thought though his smile didn't change. "That's an idea. Which one?"
"Oh, I was thinking…" she turned the screen, her finger pointing, "…this one."
He shrugged. "Makes sense. It also fits with what we're trying to accomplish." He waited, but she didn't ask him to elaborate. That and her appearance made her one of the best low-level operatives in his cell. If this went as planned, he'd see about bringing her in, making her his second now that his current one had outlived his usefulness. "Make your move when you get the signal."
"Got it." Together they stood and walked out the side entrance, her hand wrapped familiarly around his elbow.
At her car, he put her in, leaning down for a kiss before closing the door. They weren't romantically involved, but they wanted it to appear so to anyone watching. He lifted his hand in a wave as she turned out of the drive into traffic.
~~O~~
With John watching from across the street, Chuck entered the Mocha Café one minute before Emma's deadline. He went to the counter, ordered a regular coffee and a Cinnamon Dolce Latte, carrying both to a table in the corner. Emma looked at her watch, extending her hand for the cup he held out before sitting across from her.
"Right on time. But then I would've expected nothing less."
He sipped from his cup then set it down, his hand soaking up the warmth seeping through the cardboard sleeve. "What's up?"
"You are not who you pretend to be."
Chuckling, Chuck met her gaze unflinchingly. "Is anyone?"
She sipped from her cup, her eyes flicking away then back to him when the door opened to admit a woman pushing a stroller. "I concede that point."
"Is there a point to this pointless conversation?"
"There is. As I said before, I know who you are. Not your real name, who you are inside."
Pushing his cup to the side as if clearing the way for action, Chuck clasped his hands in front of him and let his smile fade. "Tell me more."
"I read people and you, my friend, are an open book." She too moved her cup out of the way. "You're much older than you look. Forty-two, maybe forty-three. You have three siblings, two sisters, one brother, all older. Mother is still living, but your father died when you were eleven. At one time, your family had money, but that all went away when you were very young. Though you normally stay in the background, pretend to be of slightly above average intelligence, you actually have an IQ of…one seventy-two. You drink beer to fit in though you prefer wine."
"Don't stop now. It's just getting interesting."
One side of Emma's mouth lifted. "You're Canadian though your American accent is excellent. I doubt many have picked it up. And you were in the military. My guess is the Canadian version of the Air Force." She paused for breath. "And you got married within the last week."
"I'm not confirming or denying anything but the last." Chuck glanced down at his bare left hand not seeing anything that would've given his status away. "How do you know I'm married?"
"I know when a man finds me attractive and you do, but you hold yourself back." She placed her right hand on top of his left. "Even now, I can feel you wanting to pull away because you think holding my hand makes it appear as if you're cheating. Plus you have a habit of touching your thumb to the underside of that finger checking for something that isn't there."
Carefully extracting his hand and keeping his features bland, Chuck leaned back in his chair, cup in hand. He took a long drink, finishing his coffee. "I know a few things about you as well."
For some reason, she seemed to think his statement funny. Crossing her arms, she leaned back in her chair and nodded for him to continue. He obliged. "You keep your hair short to downplay your looks because they've held you back in the past. That's also why you dye it brown instead of leaving it blond. You don't wear make-up or bright colored clothing for the same reason. It's also why you wear colored contacts." He could see that she was trying not to react.
"You're an only child and your parents died when you were in high school leaving you penniless and in debt up to your ears. A scholarship helped put you through university, but you dropped out after your second year because you're easily bored. You found you had this talent for reading people and have been using it to make a living. You paid off your family's debts years ago, but still continue grifting for the rush. There's something else, something you're ashamed of. It's not the grifting or the huge debts from your past. I just can't put my finger on it. How am I doing?"
"Tell the truth, Chuck. You used your affinity for computers to check up on me, right?"
Chuck shook his head. "I read people too, but as a hobby, not to make a living."
Emma got to her feet, Chuck standing as well. "Now that we understand each other, let's get to work."
"This wasn't an attempt to procure a large cut for yourself? We each get twenty-five percent. More than fair as I'm doing most of the work, taking the biggest chance. And I wager it's more generous than your previous employer gave you."
"And you'd be right. I just wanted each of us to know where the other was coming from. Keep the playing field even." She picked up their empty coffee cups and tossed them in the trash. "I won't say anything to the guys."
Relieved that he and John didn't have to remove Emma from the equation, Chuck held the door open then followed her out. "I'll make the transfers into the offshore accounts tonight and tomorrow after midnight."
"Okay. Oh, I do have one question. That friend of yours who's been watching from across the street and recording everything? Is he single?"
Knowing it was useless to deny John's presence, Chuck shrugged. "Uh, not exactly."
"Too bad. Well, see you in two days."
"Good luck, Emma."
"That's the first time you've called me by my name." She faced him, walking backwards. "And I don't need luck, Chuck. Bye."
Las Vegas Police Department
Homicide Division
A young African-American woman, looking fearfully over her shoulder, hesitated before taking a deep breath and pushing open the front door to the police station. She stood in front of the desk waiting for the Sergeant to finish his phone call. When he did, he looked at her then back to his computer. "What can I do for you?"
"I…I need to speak to the detectives assigned to investigate that murder that's been in the news."
"Look, honey. We've had twenty-three murders in the last three weeks alone. I'll need a little more to go on."
She took out her phone, looking up the information. "Kavanagh. The dead guy's name was Kavanagh."
"Oh, that one. Have a seat."
A few minutes later, Gin and Jase were standing in front of her. She stood up, her purse clutched in one hand. "My name is Sonya. Sonya Arroyo."
Gin extended her hand. "Detective Stevens. My partner, Detective Maguire. You have some information about the Kavanagh case?"
"Y-yes, ma'am. I, uh, was in the hotel that day gettin' tickets to the show for me and my husband." Sonya took a deep breath to steady her nerves. "And it wasn't that guy, the scientist. Uh…"
"McKay?"
"Yeah. He didn't do it."
"You know this how?"
"Because I saw what happened…and it wasn't him."
TBC
