Chapter 9
The dead drop was a leisurely stroll through paradise. In the Azores, it was the afternoon, and Gabby was on a romantic vacation, but mentally Gabby was in LA, battling to-do lists and traffic. She blinked into the perfect afternoon sun, trying to orient herself.
Markus’s shirt billowed like he was on a photo shoot. He had the audacity to take her hand.
“We have to sell the romance,” he said, “for our cover.”
It was basic spy stuff—a couple draws less attention than a single man, or even a single woman. Especially at a couple’s retreat.
“There it is.” Markus pointed to a boho beach bag under a designated chair. It looked like someone had forgotten it after sunbathing. Per the plan, the liaison had left it there not ten minutes earlier.
Markus handed it to Gabby. “Look like ours?”
Gabby peeked inside to make sure it wasn’t someone’s actual beach bag. It wasn’t. Underneath a visor and a blanket, she found everything they might need. It looked like the inside of a Verizon store.
“Our cottage should be within range of the listening devices,” Markus said. “At least, if the liaison was right about room assignments.”
Markus slung the bag over his shoulder. “Recon time.” Together, they surveyed the length of the beach.
At the farthest end, a modern structure hung over the water.
The setting sun glinted off its floor-to-ceiling windows, and a waterfall spilled over the cliff, seemingly from underneath the house.
“That’s the Big G’s private residence,” Markus said.
“They must be selling some juicy secrets to pay for that,” Gabby said.
Markus pointed at one of the luxury “cottages” between their location and the Big G’s residence.
“According to the liaison, a single woman who meets Sheridan’s description has been on the patio every day.
” Their plan: knock on the door, introduce themselves, and ask if Sheridan needed a ride back to Wyoming.
Gabby took a few strides toward Sheridan’s cottage while Markus scanned the area. “Careful.”
They could be walking into anything. If Sheridan had been kidnapped, there could be an armed guard. If she hadn’t been abducted, she might be colluding with Inner-G.
“Stay alert,” Markus advised.
They walked carefully up a sweet, hydrangea-lined path toward the cottage.
There was no sign of any security measures.
Nothing but tropical paradise, lapping waves, and sand.
Just as the liaison had described, a woman who definitely looked like Sheridan was relaxing on the back patio.
Seemingly unalarmed, she put her book down and waved at the sight of Gabby and Markus.
“If she’s been kidnapped, sign me up,” Gabby whispered. The woman had a plate of snacks and an umbrella drink.
When Gabby and Markus made it to the edge of the patio, the woman gave them one look and said, “You’re not here for the Power Couples Retreat, are you?”
Was it that obvious? Sheridan might be the real deal.
“Of course we are.” Markus forced a laugh. “I’m George, and this is Gia.”
“Sheridan.” The psychic smiled and held out one perfectly manicured hand. She and Gabby shook hands like they were at a meet and greet at the Cleveland Marriott, not that Gabby had ever been to Cleveland.
Gabby fought to stay present in a reality that didn’t quite make sense. She was not the kind of person who functioned off three hours of sleep on an airplane and hit the ground running.
Because they needed to move their conversation out of range of listening devices, Gabby said, “We’re so turned around. Would you please show us to the main resort?”
Sheridan glanced at the comfort of her patio but grabbed her flip-flops and led the way.
Anyone else would have said, “Hell no,” but Sheridan seemed to know who they were. She was steady and decisive, no indication of any fear.
A safe distance from her patio, Sheridan stopped walking and faced them. “I assume you know who I am.”
“Sheridan Lane?” Gabby said.
“And you are?” Sheridan asked.
“I’m Agent Parks, and this is Agent Greene,” said Markus. “We’re with the CIA. As you can no doubt imagine, there has been a lot of concern over your disappearance.”
“I told President Simon I was fine,” she said.
“You did?” That’s not what they had heard. According to the president, he’d heard nothing from Sheridan.
“Yes.”
“You spoke to him yourself?” Markus asked, and Sheridan nodded yes.
They’d given up the subterfuge of needing directions to the main resort and were standing on the beach close to Sheridan’s. A couple strolled by with yoga mats under their arms. The man said, “Namaste.”
Sheridan returned the “namaste” with a serene smile.
“So you’re not being held against your will?” Markus asked. Something smelled fishy about this situation.
“No.” Sheridan laughed, as if the suggestion was absurd. “I’m just fine. No one is bothering me. Well, until now.” She looked at them pointedly.
“You planned to come down here?” Gabby asked, “Because everyone is pretty worried.”
“Hell no, I didn’t plan this. I was on my way to Washington to do an aura reading for the president, not of the president but of the Speaker of the House.
It was not my idea, nor is it a service I advertise, but he’s the president.
I was just going to end up telling him to calm down and do his job like a big boy. ”
Markus’s jaw dropped. “What?”
“You heard me. That’s the relationship we have. He needs some encouragement. I need a job. That’s the way the world works.”
Gabby’s jaw was on the floor. People always seemed so normal until they opened their mouths.
The couple set up their mats and sat down in lotus pose facing the ocean like they were posing for a brochure about a yoga retreat.
“So how’d you get here?” Markus asked.
“I thought the private jet was an upgrade. When I realized what had happened, I asked them to turn the plane around, and G said no. I was upset for a minute, but then I took a nap. Now here I am in paradise with an umbrella drink.”
Markus said, “That’s an abduction. He took you somewhere without your consent.”
“I don’t think consent is a thing G’s thought a lot about. No one’s probably ever said no to him.”
“So he just thought he was going to pick you up and make your day?” Gabby asked.
“Pretty much. And I can’t say he was wrong.” Sheridan gestured to the surroundings. “I needed a break. He’s harmless, so I called and told everyone I was outtie for a week.”
Markus gazed into the mid-distance thoughtfully before saying, “What does Genesis want from you? I guarantee it wasn’t altruistic.”
“I’m a present for Jasmine, his wife. He’s under the impression that Jasmine’s a huge fan.”
Gabby and Markus stared back dumbly for a fraction of a second.
“They’ve been arguing, and he’s trying anything to save his marriage, including kidnapping me from the president, which probably wasn’t that smart.”
Gabby had no words.
“The funny thing is,” Sheridan said, “I don’t even think she’s a fan. She’s aware of me, to be sure, but a fan, I don’t think so.”
Bringing Sheridan to the resort was Genesis’s version of gas station carnations and waxy chocolates. He was Phil as a movie star billionaire.
“Anyway, I need a vacation, and that man needs some advice. It’s a mutually beneficial situation.”
“Are you sure?” Markus asked, “Because we arrived with the intention of evacuating you to safety.”
Gabby looked at the pink sky and the frothy waves crashing onto the shore.
Talk about a bad gift. Genesis had activated national security with his recklessness.
On the upside, this mission was going to be short and sweet.
All they had to do was clarify the misunderstanding and spend the next couple of days sipping umbrella drinks and writing a glorified Yelp review of Inner-G.
But even if there hadn’t been a kidnapping, it wasn’t all cool. Markus explained, “Ms. Lane, in your capacity as the president’s psychic, you have been read in on a variety of sensitive information. Inner-G is not the kind of place where you or that information is necessarily safe.”
Sheridan smiled. “You act like I know something.”
“The president thinks you know something.”
She arched a brow. “The president is attributing more power to me than I have. I am not a mind reader. I’m a good listener with powerful intuition. There’s a difference.”
Markus leaned forward. “The point is, if everyone thinks you know something, you aren’t safe.”
Sheridan stood and pressed the wrinkles out of her caftan. “If we’re done here, I’d like to get back to the cottage. I’m binging that new Keira Knightley thriller. Spoiler alert: The prime minister is rotten. You don’t need to be psychic to know that, though.”
The prime minister is rotten. Was she speaking in code?
“I only have time for TikTok lately,” Gabby said. This morning, she’d seen one where a woman had proclaimed that childless, unmarried women live longer and more happily, are less likely to die from suicide or homicide or car accidents, and have better sex.
Looking at Sheridan, Gabby believed it.
Markus said, “Well, consider us your babysitters. We can’t leave you down here alone and will be checking in periodically.” He handed her a necklace.
Sheridan stopped and gave them a look so pointed that Gabby couldn’t help but think she was having a vision. “I can’t stop you from being here, but I don’t want to go, and I don’t want to see you, talk to you, or know you’re here.”
What? Gabby was surprised. “Don’t you want protection?”
“I’m safer without you.”
Markus drew his brows together in consternation. “I don’t think that’s true.”
But the thing about a psychic is that you can’t argue with their logic because there is none.
At the edge of her patio where they were to part ways, Sheridan stopped and looked back at Gabby and Markus. “You two need a vacation too. Babysit me all you want, but go enjoy a couple’s massage and your plunge pool—”
“Oh, we’re not a couple,” Gabby said.
Sheridan looked between them and smiled like she knew better.