The Double

Being Calahan, he insisted on driving me to the airport. We took the elevator down to the lobby, started across it and—

“Shit!” He tried to push me back into the elevator, but the doors had already closed. What? What had he seen?

And then an ear-splitting scream broke the air. I spun around and—

Another of those horrifying reality shifts. The floor seemed to lurch, the room spun. I was looking at myself, but it wasn’t a mirror—

Christina. The real Christina. She was being led across the lobby in handcuffs, one agent holding each arm. And she was staring at me just as I was staring at her.

“What are you doing?” bellowed Calahan at the agents. “Take her out the back, assholes!”

But the damage was done. Christina had paled for a second, but now her face was coloring with anger. “No!” She sprang towards me and the two agents had to fight to haul her back. “You can’t do this!”

“Get her out of here,” yelled Calahan. “Now!”

The two agents dragged her away but they couldn’t stop her screaming over her shoulder, her eyes locked on me. “You think just because you look like me, he’ll think you’re me? He’ll know, you bitch! He’ll know!”

And then she passed through the doors and was gone. Calahan and I stood there panting, shaking with adrenaline. “They must be moving her into protective custody,” Calahan said. “We can’t put her in jail until we arrest Konstantin: she might talk to someone and word could get back to him. I’m sorry. I had no idea they’d bring her out this way.” He put a gentle arm on my shoulder. “It doesn’t matter that she knows. There’s nothing she can do about it. She’s going to be in a safe house with a couple of guys watching her until you’re safely home.”

I nodded, but I couldn’t speak. I wanted to throw up. What if she was right? What if Konstantin could tell?

Outside, we found Carrie leaning against Calahan’s car. She motioned for him to give us a moment and he moved a short distance away.

Carrie looked downtown, towards the swathe of territory Konstantin controlled. Then she turned a slow circle: all the territory he would control. “We need to stop him,” she murmured. “To save this city, we need to stop him. And I want this guy, Hailey, I want to bring him down so much….”

I nodded.

She took a deep breath and turned to me. “But.”

She left it at that one word, but I understood what she was saying. She was giving me one last chance to step back from the brink.

But it was too late. I reached up and stroked my new face. “I already….”

She shook her head and took my chin between thumb and finger, her grip surprisingly firm. “You’ve got her face, but you haven’t done anything, yet.” She stared into my eyes. “Hailey... are you sure?”

I drew in a deep, shuddering breath and thought of all the innocents who’d die if Konstantin went unchecked. I looked Carrie in the eye and nodded.

She pressed her lips tightly together, looking for a second like a tearful, proud mother. “Just don’t forget who you are, okay?” And she turned away, wiping at her eyes.

At the airport, Calahan pulled up outside the doors and we sat for a second, looking at each other. I’d be able to talk to him through my earpiece, but this was the last time I’d see his face until I was extracted and that might be weeks—maybe months. We nodded to each other, both of us too worked up to risk a proper goodbye. I climbed out of the car and—

“Hailey!”

I turned around. He’d lunged across the passenger seat and thrown open the door. For long seconds he just stared into my eyes, knuckles white where he gripped the door.

“Just... be careful, okay?” he muttered.

I nodded. And walked away.

Two hours later, I was on an economy flight to Italy. When we landed in Rome, I booked a first class ticket back to New York on Christina’s credit card. Then I took out Christina’s phone and texted Konstantin with my flight details. A text came back within seconds. I’ll meet you at the airport.

The flight was a culture shock: artfully-presented food on real china plates, glasses of champagne, bags of high-end toiletries, all brought to my huge leather armchair of a seat. It felt so unfair: if I’d flown economy, the difference would have covered my mom’s medical bills for months. But Konstantin would get suspicious if he looked at Christina’s credit card bill and saw an economy flight, or the medical bills of some unknown woman.

I cleared customs, getting steadily more nervous with each step. This will work, I kept telling myself. I looked just like her. I walked just like her. None of me showed through the Christina shell I’d built, and even if it did, no one ever notices me.