I jumped to my feet, my eyes wide.
“What?” asked Calahan, immediately alert.
I grabbed my phone. “We have to call Carrie,” I said as I dialed. “We have to stop the operation!”
He grabbed his phone and called the hospital, but the receptionist refused to pull Doctor Franklin out of an operation to come to the phone. And Carrie’s phone went straight to voicemail. I knew she was at the hospital, keeping watch over Alison. The hospital must have made her turn it off.
I looked at the door. The hospital was less than a block away. “Keep trying,” I told Calahan. And ran. I pelted down the stairs to the street and then along the sidewalk, dodging tourists and street food carts. By the time the huge, gray bulk of the hospital loomed up ahead of me, I was red-faced and panting, and wishing I’d joined Kate on all those runs through Central Park she used to do.
I asked a startled nurse which operating theater Doctor Franklin was in and then crashed through the doors. Everyone around the operating table looked up in shock. Masked and gowned, Doctor Franklin looked very different, but I’d have known those big, bushy white eyebrows anywhere. And yes, that was Alison on the table, her face a mess of marker pen lines.
“What the hell are you doing?” snapped Doctor Franklin. “Get out of here! You’re not sterile!”
I leaned against the door. “Stop,” I panted. “Stop the operation!”
“What? Why?” Doctor Franklin looked towards a window for help and I saw Carrie standing on the other side, equally confused.
“Christina has a tattoo,” I managed, still out of breath. “Low down on her back. We didn’t know it was there.”
Doctor Franklin sighed. “You came in here for that?! That’s not a problem, we’ll give Alison the same tattoo when we’re done with the operation.”
I shook my head. “But she already has a tattoo in the same place!”
Everyone froze.
“You’re sure?” asked Doctor Franklin, after a few seconds.
I nodded. “About a year ago, some of us went to a karaoke bar and Alison danced on the table. Her top rode up and I saw.”
Doctor Franklin cursed. “Help me roll her on her side,” he told the nurses. They did, and when he lifted Alison’s robe, we saw the tribal band she had across her lower back.
“What does Christina have there?” Carrie called through the window.
“A bird,” I said forlornly.
“Could Alison’s tattoo be removed by laser?” asked Carrie desperately. “And then the new one tattooed on?”
Doctor Franklin shook his head. “A tattoo that big would take a whole course of treatments to remove. There’s not enough time.”
A bang made everyone in the operating theater jump. It was Carrie, slamming her fist against the glass in frustration.
The whole undercover operation was off.
* * *
Back at my desk, I stared at my monitor without seeing it. Our once-in-a-lifetime chance was gone. Our only shot at taking Konstantin down.
We could go back to watching him, but I knew we were never going to get lucky. Konstantin was too damn smart. Carrie’s plan had been our one chance to turn the tide. Now the FBI was going to lose, all because there were no female agents who could do the job. It had to be someone from our team: we were the only ones who knew Konstantin well enough to stand a chance of passing as Christina. Alison had a tattoo in the wrong place and Kate, even if we brought her back from Alaska, was way too short. And those two were the only women on the—
I suddenly caught sight of my reflection in my monitor and my heart seemed to stop.
No. No, that’s insane.
But I was the same height as Christina. And the same build. And I didn’t have any tattoos.
I can’t be her. Christina was glamorous and cool. She was the center of attention everywhere she went. The complete opposite of me. I could never pull it off.
But…. I looked around. Not just our little team, but the whole of the floor looked despondent. Konstantin was going to cover this city like a black cloud, blocking out the sun. Another month, maybe, and he’d grow so powerful that the other crime bosses would be forced to fight him. New York would see the sort of violence it hadn’t experienced since the 1930s. Hundreds of innocents would die. And when Konstantin eventually won—and I was certain he would—we’d be looking at a city run by a criminal. He’d have too much power for anyone to stop, even the FBI.
I thought of Rufus, my mentor, about to go outside. Someone has to do something.
But... me? I’d have to lie, constantly, every day. I’m a terrible liar. And even if I was the best liar in the world, how could I keep up the act with Konstantin when—