Mr. Duplicity

"Are you ready to talk?"

"Are you ready to listen?"

Colonel Jackson straightened and adjusted his crisp lapels.

"I would like to know how a …."

Amy raised an eyebrow at her interrogator, "A what? A woman? A housewife? A civilian?" Amy leaned forward and smiled bashfully, "Which is it, Colonel? I will let you fill in the blanks."

The Colonel cleared his throat clearly irritated with the petit southern woman sitting across from him.

Her hair was wavy and dyed several shades of blonde. How she made it safely to her husband, he had no idea.

"I know what you're thinking! How did this lady from Texas make it across the border and back?" Amy giggled; her mirth filled the room. "I'll tell you how Colonel; a wig, a good smokey eye, and the right clothes. As long as a woman keeps her head down and avoids eye contact, nobody cares!" She looked at him with doe eyes and started to play with the blonde locks hanging loosely over her shoulders. "That's just about the case anywhere, I reckon."

The man glanced down at her shoulder, there was a tight wrap of gauze around it. After she had found her husband, they were on the run for seventy-two hours, when they encountered some not-so-friendly fire. A bullet grazed her arm, and the wound was infected when his guys were finally able to complete the rescue.

He smirked; she was gutsy he'd give her that.

The Colonel tapped his fingers on the file in front of him. Inside were statements given by her husband and the three special-ops guys that rescued them. It seemed her husband had done some private IT contract work with someone above his paygrade and was able to procure a rescue from the US Military.

"I want to see my husband."

He could see the fatigue in her eyes.

"You will after we hear your story."

Amy let out a long breath, she was tired and achy, and she wanted nothing more than to land at DFW and eat a BBQ sandwich.

"So, tell me; when did you first discover your husband was not who he appeared to be?"

"You mean, the man posing as my husband?"

"Yes."

"How is Mitch 2.0, by the way?" The question rolled off her tongue, laced with humor.

"Who?"

"Mitch, 2.0." Amy glanced down at her chipping manicure. "That's what I called him." She looked up and grinned, "I thought the military had replaced my husband with AI or something!"

Her southern accent was heavy, and he would have laughed at her assumption if the situation was comical. It wasn't, so he scowled.

"I can assure you, Mrs. Stewart, the government doesn't replace people with AI."

The Colonel tapped his massive fingers on the steel table, the national security implications of this situation was making his blood pressure escalate.

Amy smirked at his response.

"Oh, Colonel, don't get so stuffy! It wasn't like you spent the last week disguised, traveling through the desert, eating who-knows-what, and praying no one found out you were a Baptist from Texas!"

The Colonel shook his head, this was going to be a nightmare.

He opened the file and reread the document. According to Mitch, who was sequestered down the hall, the man that impersonated him as Amy's husband for almost six months was his doppelganger. In fact, after the DNA tests they just ran, they were twins. That's what made this whole debacle the most disconcerting. What if there were more of them?

Amy clasped her fingers together in front of her on the table, "So let me tell you how I knew something wasn't right."

The Colonel raised head and relaxed robotically in his seat.

"Mitch had been on a business trip…"

"To Berlin."

"Yes, Berlin." Amy moved a stray hair behind her ear.

"At a software convention."

"Yes." Amy blew out a breath. "When my husband came home, he did not want a slice of homemade pecan pie."

"So… that was out of the ordinary?"

"Yes, yes, it was! I always make him my homemade southern pecan pie when he comes home from a business trip!" Amy sighed. "It's his favorite."

"You mean to tell me your husband turning down a slice of pie started you down some conspiracy theory path that your husband was an AI robot?"

"I think you are making fun of me, Colonel."

"No, continue." He would have laughed if it wasn't so absurd.

"That Sunday, we went to church." Amy shook her head, "He acted like he barely knew his way through a Bible, and he almost seemed uninterested in the sermon."

"And?"

"He was very uncomfortable in church, edgy."

"Maybe he was just having a bad day?"

"He plays on the church softball team with the youth pastor."

There was a pause, and then the Colonel looked at another document.

"So, tell me again, why did Mitch, the real Mitch, contact…" He looked back down at his notes, "Luella Simpson."

"Oh, yeah, Luella is," Amy smiled broadly, "the church secretary."

"It still doesn't add up."

"He must have suspected we were being monitored." Amy's eyes widened, "You know how all those wi-fi objects in your house, they're always listening." She laughed at her own remark.

"Why didn't he call your mom or his sisters?"

Amy shifted in her seat; the Colonel must have had their whole life story before him in the file.

"Oh, that would have set a whole swarm of bees to flight," Amy laughed, "Bless her heart! My mother would have approached Mitch 2.0 and interrogated him herself! That would have probably put my husband in more danger then he was already in!"

"This text..."

"Yes?"

"It makes no sense." The Colonel skimmed the page again.

"It doesn't."

"Then how did you know where to find him."

"A hunch."

The Colonel let out a long-exasperated breath.

"Why do you think he sent it to the church secretary?" 

Amy shrugged her shoulders and stared down at her chipping nail paint, "Sir, I have no idea."

He couldn't tell if her voice was sincere or condescending. The Colonel thumped his fingers again. She was within her rights to withhold any info she wanted. She had not, as of yet, done anything wrong. He knew playing dress-up was no more a crime than changing your Instagram filters on your profile to look younger. She traveled on her own passport and had a squeaky-clean record.

"Very well, then, tell me about the tag that helped us secure…"

"Mitch 2.0?"

"Yes." He still couldn't wrap his head around this southern spitfire sitting across from him.

"Simple, I tagged him in as many places as I could so I could trace him if indeed he was impersonating my husband."

"How do you know about RFID tags?"

"I am a part-time librarian, and we work with RFID all the time. I also own my own T-shirt and monogramming business. I need the RFID tags to attach to the clothing I sell." Amy nodded toward the file, "I am sure this is a waste of my time and yours. You already know all of this."

"So, are you going to try and tell me you came up with the RFID tagging on your own?"

Amy looked offended, "What is that supposed to mean?"

The Colonel stared at her for a few minutes and read another document. It was all there in black and white; she ran a legit clothing business. She worked at the downtown library part-time and volunteered for the local food bank. She and her husband taught Sunday school together at the local Baptist church, and they had no children. Her mom lived in Dallas, and Mitch had two sisters that lived in Bellevue, Washington.

The Colonel looked up at the woman across from him, ordering his brain to unravel the mystery staring at him in the face.

"I tagged his watch, that's how you found him. My Mitch is old fashioned, so Mitch 2.0 was forced to wear an old Timex. It was easy to disassemble."

"So, tell me again about Mitch 2.0."

"His mannerisms were like my Mitch's, but of course, you can't fool a woman." Amy smiled coyly. "His accent was flawless, and he even changed the oil in the old Ford, and that thing is a beast."

"Tell me about the tattoo?"

"Ah, yes, the tattoo." The Colonel noticed her voice sounded troubled.

"Kind of an odd place for two strait-laced Americans to get a tattoo." The Colonel raised an eyebrow as he spoke, "Inside your bottom lip?"

"It is." The Colonel could swear he could see the young woman's eye twitch.

"And Mitch 2.0 didn't have this tattoo?"

"Nope." Amy didn't elaborate, and her tone curt. Reflexively, she ran her tongue along the tender skin in her mouth.

The Colonel tried to read her expression.

"It was beyond dangerous what you did, trying to take matters into your own hands." He raised an eyebrow, "Traveling through a country that's engulfed in a civil war, following vague text messages."

"Who was I going to ask for help? Mitch 2.0 had everyone fooled, except for me."

The Colonel stood up and rolled his neck from side to side, trying desperately to relieve the tension building in his muscles. The national security repercussions of what just transpired were alarming. The idea there might be others impersonating innocent Americans was enough to put anyone's muscles in a knot. He glanced back at Mrs. Stewart, he still felt like he was missing something.

"I do have one more question."

"What is that?"

"I have some information on the youth pastor of your church…"

Amy cocked her head in a question. "What information?"

The Colonel paused for a moment, trying to gauge the reaction in her pupils, he made a note of the slight hesitation in her voice.

"Some of your church members have had some run-ins with airport security overseas, trying to smuggle religious material," He paused, "I am sure you already knew about that." Both Mitch and Amy had been on several mission trips with the youth pastor and his wife since their college years. Some of the locations he wouldn't have gone into himself without a full army behind him.

Amy's jaw tensed, and she wondered what the Colonel was trying to insinuate.

The Colonel gripped his hand around the file and gave her another scowl. "I am sure that has nothing to do with you or Mitch, though."

"I am sure it doesn't." The women's retort was quick.

The Colonel raised an eyebrow, "You know they may come after you?"

"Who?"

"The ones that planted Mitch."

Amy left out a long breath and didn't respond, he was disturbed by the lack of panic in her eyes.

"I understand."

"If they think you've figured out what is going on," The Colonel didn't finish his thought. There were rumors when he first entered military service twenty years ago that something like this may be in the works, but to come face to face with it forced a chill down his spine.

Amy sat up straight and put on a brave smile. 

No one would be coming after them.

She knew as soon as Amy Stewart stepped off the plane, phase one of Operation Duplicity had failed.

She'd studied the information on her twin since infanthood. In her country, it was the job of the male to control the destiny of their mission, so she was tossed aside. However, Mitch didn't plan for one thing; women's intuition.  The tattoo was an unexpected glitch, she couldn't blame him for that, but she wouldn't make the same mistake.

Amy Stewart, the suburban housewife, was definitely smarter than any of them believed.

Operation Duplicity was simple; infiltrate the American family one person at a time, and over the next ten years, phase two would be activated. The doubles would be safely integrated into all forms of the great American dream; teachers, lawyers, fathers, mothers. No one would have been the wiser. Except they didn't bank on Amy Stewart, she'd known her husband way too intimately.

Now it was up to her. If she succeeded, others could enter the country undetected.

They'd finished their statements, ate some subpar food in the airport, and boarded their plane.

She glanced at Mitch as they walked through DFW.

Mr. All American; played college football and had a doctorate in computer science. On the weekends, he coached pee-wee football and attended a two-thousand plus member church in an upscale Dallas suburb.

Yes, her life would be different, but in a few years, it would all be worth it. Her father's mantra had always been- slow and steady wins the race. She was sure she read that about a turtle one time, and now she was that turtle.

Mitch picked up their luggage effortlessly and reached for her hand.

"I can't believe you came for me."                       

"I didn't do it alone," Amy laughed, her false merriment carrying through the air. "I had help along the way." Amy shoved the thought away for later, she would need to find out who had helped the other Amy find Mitch. Amy was no longer the focus, deceiving Mitch was.

She'd extracted Amy before she could come in contact with her husband. A quick, blunt hit to her head rendered her unconscious. She'd be kept alive at the compound for as long as they could get valuable information from her. 

"All that matters now is that I am here with you, and where are back on American soil."

Mitch grinned. "You know all of this has me wondering," Amy paused and looked up at Mr. All American, "maybe we should start a family?"

Amy tensed.

"Is something the matter?"

Mitch could feel the tension in her arm.

"No, no, of course not."

Amy flipped through every cataloged file in her memory; his wife had not been able to have kids; at least that is what she had read in her medical records. It was amazing the information she was able to glean over the past few years, from the world wide web. Now that everyone had a virtual assistant in their homes, it was easier and faster to interpret conversations, online purchases, and schedules.

"I know we've had some troubles in the past," Mitch looked down at her lovingly, "but the doctor said a miracle was always a possibility."

Amy took in a deep breath, at least she hadn't misjudged her new husband. Ever the optimist, ever the believer in miracles. She wondered how he'd react to her duplicity when all was revealed to him. Would he do what his beliefs touted; forgive and forget. He may not live long enough for her to find out.

They climbed into the rental, and Mitch turned to look at her, his gaze steady.

Mitch's heart skipped as he took the sight of her in. He knew Amy would be ok, but the thought of his evil twin in a jail half-way across the ocean was still disconcerting.

Amy batted her eyelashes, "Something on your mind Mitch?" He was handsome; it wouldn't be hard to play the doting southern wife for the next few years.

"There is." His smile stretched across his lips, displaying a perfect gleaming row of teeth.

"What's that?" Her soft southern drawl rolled off her lips.

"I think it's time we took a second honeymoon."

"Really?" Her heart lurched in her chest. She thought traveling would be the last thing on his mind after what he'd been through.

"Yes. I think after all we've been through its time we reconnect; really get to know each other."

"Oh, ok." Her voice grabbed, and she forced a smile.

Mitch looked back at the road his face stoic as Amy kept her eyes firmly fixed on his profile.

"There are some things I reflected on after I was kidnapped. That man..." His voice turned husky, "He tried to sabotage my family, my faith, and my country." Amy's jaw tensed as he spoke. "I promised myself I would never let anything like that happen again." He turned her direction as he spoke, "To anyone."

Amy kept her lips tightly together.

Mitch turned his face back toward the road. "Do you remember when we took that missionary trip to the desert, and we weren't sure we'd make it out alive?"

Amy nodded her head slowly, sifting through the information in her head.

As if reading her mind, he spoke, "Nobody knew about the trip," he laughed lightly, "it was the first one we did undercover."

She couldn't believe what he was saying, it would have been suicide for them to trapeze across the middle-east trying to preach his personal version of religion.

Mitch eased the car on to the interstate.

Amy stiffened in her seat as she looked out the window, suddenly feeling like a caged animal.

The Amy she'd shadowed disembarked in Israel, altered her appearance, and took a minibus into Jordan. At the time, she thought the lady was insane, throwing herself willingly into a hostile environment.

"It was the first time I was able to use my new model to smuggle religious material into a hostile country."

"Your model?"

Mitch laughed lightly, "Yeah, I called her Amy, 2.0." Mitch turned and looked at the woman sitting beside him, "She has dark hair and dark eyes; she's a great decoy in unpredictable situations." Amy gripped the door handle, her knuckles white, and the sound of the turn signal echoed loudly in her head as Mitch changed lanes.

"In fact," Mitch let a smile ease across his lips while he kept his eyes on the heavy traffic in front of him, "I think you might have met her, she's about your height."