Birgit Ahlberg entered the restaurant wearing a blue dress that clung to her slender figure. The horizontal slits along the right thigh offered a glimpse of the intricate piece of artwork that adorned her leg. It was one of two in the world, and when placed side by side, it told the story of two sisters and the intricate web of deceit they had woven over the years.
She scanned the mostly empty dining room until her eyes met those of the blonde woman who shared the same face, body, and tattoo.
The sisters hadn’t seen each other since that night ten years ago when Birgit took the bullet that had been meant for Katrine. If Katrine’s husband Awad hadn’t given Birgit advance warning, she would have perished. Fortunately, Awad loved both sisters, and after making love to Birgit two days prior to the assassination attempt, he revealed Katrine’s plan.
Katrine had an inside source at one of America’s clandestine agencies who had given her advanced notice of the impending attempt on her life. She and the source hatched a plan to direct the assassins to Birgit instead of her. It was easy. After all, they were twins. Katrine’s contact falsified the intelligence and made the hit team believe they had been tracking Katrine.
Birgit knew there was no way out. The killers were relentless bastards. If she ran, they’d follow. Furthermore, Awad had explained that Katrine had already initiated plans to assume Birgit’s life. Either way, her life as she knew it was over. While living life as a ghost was not in her plan, dying seemed the worse of two options. Awad funded a number of accounts in Switzerland with more than enough money to survive on for the rest of Birgit’s life.
Using her knowledge of pharmacology, Birgit administered midazolam to herself the night of the hit and peacefully went to sleep. Awad had his cousin, a trauma surgeon, on standby. After the American assassins had left the scene, they loaded Birgit’s limp body into the back of a car and brought her to the boat equipped with everything Awad’s cousin needed to put her back together.
Birgit traced the scar through her dress as she crossed the room and walked into the outstretched arms of her sister. They kissed the air beside their cheeks the way women do when they’re wearing make-up even though neither woman had a smidge on their faces. Despite being forty, neither needed it.
“You look beautiful,” Katrine said. “I like what you’ve done with your hair.”
“I suppose if I had not,” Birgit said, lifting a sweating glass of water to her mouth, “it would have been me that was gunned down that day in Leiden.”
Katrine offered a thin smile. “Dear sister, I had nothing to do with that.”
“Spare me the garbage. I know you better than you know yourself.”
Katrine nodded once, letting her sister know the same was true.
“How long have you known?” Birgit set the glass down using the ring of water it had left behind as a guide.
“I suspected early on but had no evidence that you were alive. But then a friend and advisor told me he had spotted me in Leipzig, Germany. I asked him where, then hired an investigator to follow up. It was not easy, as you might imagine. After all, I told him to look for a woman that looked exactly like me. I had no idea you had turned your hair jet black at one point.”
Birgit smiled. She had rather liked the look she had assumed when she portrayed the role of Martina Kohl’s natural healer.
“When he saw you at the gypsy shop, he snapped a picture and emailed it to me. Unfortunately, I was at an event with my family—”
“Our family.”
“—and did not respond quickly enough. Whether you saw him or it was our twin connection that tipped you off, you disappeared that night. He waited another month and chased down four different leads but none panned out. Obviously.”
The women changed the conversation while the waiter set the bread, butter, and cheese on the table.
“How is father?” Birgit asked.
Katrine smiled slyly. “Dead.”
Birgit bit down on her tongue and fought back the few tears that struggled to break free. Two dozen memories raced through her head, from the first time she recalled him lifting her from her crib, to the hug he gave her after she graduated college. He was the only man who ever made her feel safe.
“It was quick,” Katrine said. “Heart attack.”
“What are we doing here?” Birgit asked after the waiter had returned to the kitchen. “Why after all these years did you want to see me?”
Katrine held her hand out. “I simply wanted to make sure you had no designs on returning home and making yourself known again.”
She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s my life. You stole it.”
Katrine shrugged and looked toward the window at the end of the table. “You stole things from me, too.”
Birgit’s breath stuck in her chest for a moment. Katrine had never made mention of knowing about the affair between her and Awad. “I’m not sure what you mean unless you are talking about when we were kids and I stole your doll and drowned her in the lake behind our house.”
Katrine’s gaze slipped past her sister and landed on the door. “Speak of the devil and he will make himself known.”
Birgit turned to see Awad for the first time since she left the boat. During her recovery, he had visited the boat often to check up on her. Once she was in the clear, he let her know that her account had been funded and provided her with the keys to an apartment in Milan that she never once visited. She was sure a device was present that would alert him she was there. Perhaps he would show. Or maybe one of his goons would.
She often wondered why he had warned her. Guilt, perhaps. Looking at him now, she was surprised that her feelings were not as they were so long ago.
Neither woman rose when Awad stopped at the foot of the table, seeming unsure where to sit.
“You couldn’t choose then,” Katrine said, sliding toward the window, “I don’t see why I should expect you to now.”
He looked taken aback by her accusatory tone. If he hadn’t told her, who had?
“Birgit,” he said. “After all these years, it is good to see you. I thought we lost you a decade ago. When Katrine reached out and told me that you had surfaced, we knew it was time to rejoin and put a new plan into effect.”
A new plan? What was he talking about? They never had an old plan. And jumping into bed, metaphorically speaking, with these two was not in Birgit’s future. She had no interest in becoming a terrorist even if she had once loved one.
Katrine glanced toward the entrance and cleared her throat. “I assume this one is yours?”
Birgit looked over her shoulder and saw Thomas enter the dining room. He requested a table on the opposite side where he was to keep watch over the proceedings.
Birgit signaled to Thomas that he had been made. They knew this was a possibility. If it happened he was to join them at the table so that Jack Noble would know where to shoot. The time it took Thomas to reach the restaurant should have been the same as Birgit, which meant three minutes had passed. Noble had instructions to wait fifteen total, and if he heard nothing from them, he was to take the three minute journey down the stairs, across the street, and along the sidewalk to the restaurant and enter with his weapon ready to fire.
Glancing around the room, Birgit noticed that one of the men in the kitchen was out of place. He was not a cook, server or part of the management. Not dressed like that. She found herself wishing she had not instructed both of the guards to remain with Noble. The way the meeting was shaping up, she expected it to break out into a gun fight. And right now she had less firepower on her side, especially with Katrine picking Thomas out so quickly.
But there was one final wrench to be thrown into the plans.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Katrine said, rising and dropping her napkin on the table. “I’m going to leave you two old friends alone to hash a few things out.”
Awad slid off the bench seat and extended his hand. Katrine leaned close and kissed him. “Inform her of our plan.” She pressed her lips to his ear and said barely loud enough for Birgit to hear, “Then escort her out.”