At 8:30 sharp, Bond went down to the restaurant, Le Douira, which was designed as two distinct representations of Moroccan culture. One side was in a genuine caïdal tent, and the other was decorated in intricate blue and white tile work, like the inside of a traditional Moroccan palace.
Bond had decided he would confront Heidi about her erratic behavior on the train. He wasn’t about to put up with games, no matter how attractive a girl might be.
He waited for tenminutes and finally heard Heidi’s voice behind him.
“Here we are, sorry we’re late.”
Bond turned and blinked. He thought he was seeing double.
“John,” Heidi said. “I’d like you to meet my sister, Hedy.”
Now everything was clear. Hedy was Heidi’s identical twin.
FIFTEEN
“AS TIME GOES BY”
THE TWO GIRLS HAD IDENTICAL FACES, BUT HEDY HAD SHORT RED HAIR, which Bond quickly decided was really a wig.
“This is the guy?” Hedy asked her sister.
“Hedy, this is John Cork,” Heidi said, beaming. “It’s okay that my sister came along, isn’t it?” she asked Bond.
Bond couldn’t help but laugh. “I believe we’ve already met but didn’t realize it. You weren’t wearing the wig on the train, were you?”
“No,” Hedy said. She folded her arms and looked at Heidi with a frown.
Heidi said, “Oh no, not again! This happens all the time! Damn it, Hedy, that’s why we never have any boyfriends.”
“You’ll pick up anyone, Heidi! He made a pass at me out of nowhere. I thought he was a pervert,” Hedy said, glaring at Bond.
“I’m sorry, John,” Heidi said. “It really does happen a lot. Men have a problem telling us apart. It’s a sore subject with us both. That’s why we sometimes take turns wearing the wig. It’s not that we compete with each other, it’s just that whoever we happen to be dating always ends up hitting on the other one, usually by accident.”
“Sometimes not by accident,” Hedy added.
Heidi agreed and nodded. “It can be a problem. I guess we should have used the wig on the train.”
She was right. Hedy was an exact copy of Heidi in every respect. They were both wearing full-length, relaxed fit-and-flare sundresses made of ribbed cotton, buttoned in front down to their knees. The only difference was that Heidi was in gray and Hedy was in black.
“Well, the wig helps, but have you considered dressing differently?” Bond suggested wryly.
Hedy looked at Heidi and said, “He’s a wise guy, too, Heidi.” She turned back to Bond and asked, “How do we know you’re not a serial killer?”
“Ladies, please,” Bond said. “My apologies, Hedy, if I offended you earlier today. It was not intentional. As you say, you do look uncannily like your sister. Now, if you’re saying that your dilemma is that the same man falls in love with both of you, I can understand why. Might I suggest a reasonable solution to your problem? That would be to agree to share the man, and I’m afraid that’s just what you’ll have to do this evening. Let’s have dinner, shall we? I’m starving.”
Heidi laughed, but Hedy remained unreceptive. She followed along grudgingly when the maître d’ asked them to first wash their hands, the Moroccan way, with a pitcher and basin. They were then shown to the tented side of the restaurant, where they sat on cushioned seats at low tables. Heidi commented on the beautiful décor and Hedy said, “Let’s hope the food warrants it.”
As it turned out, the food was excellent. For starters, they shared panaché de briouates aux crevettes, a variety of puff pastries stuffed with shrimp, chicken, and minced meat. Bond had tagine de kebab maghdour aux oeufs, a traditional Moroccan dish of meat kebab in a spicy paprika sauce with a fried egg on top. It was served in a tagine, the Moroccan pot shaped like an inverted top. Heidi had roasted rack of lamb, and Hedy opted for chicken with couscous. The girls insisted on drinking cold beer, so it was Spéciale Flag all around.
“So does this meet your expectations?” Heidi asked her sister.
“It’s pretty good,” Hedy admitted, finally cracking a smile.
They exchanged the usual sort of small talk that occurs when people are meeting one another for the first time. The girls talked about growing up in California, as Bond suspected, on the beach. They had been models when they were children, doing print and television ads for a variety of products.
“We were cute kids,” Heidi said.
“You still are,” Bond added.
“But we decided to join the real world when we became teenagers,” Hedy explained. “We both liked the traveling part of the modeling jobs, so that’s what we decided to do. We’re pretty good travel writers, if I say so myself.”
“I do most of the PR because Hedy says I’m more bubbly than she is,” Heidi said. “Hedy does the lion’s share of the writing. We both do the research. We make a good team.”
“We’ve always been inseparable,” Heidi explained. “We do everything together.”
“Everything?” Bond asked.
“Not everything,” Hedy quickly answered.
“If we ever disagree on something, we flip a coin. Heads I win, tails she loses.”
“Very funny,” Hedy said.
There was a moment’s silence before Heidi said, “Mr. Cork says he’s an importer and exporter.”
“Oh?” Hedy asked. “And what exactly does that mean?”
Bond shrugged. “I make sure things go in and out. Smoothly.” Heidi grinned at Bond. Hedy caught the exchange and frowned.
“Seriously,” he continued, “I work for a firm in London that deals with arts and crafts. Carpets, mostly. There’s a man in Tangier we buy from. I need to see someone in the medina tomorrow. I arrange the deals and let others deliver.”
“You were in Tangier last night?” Hedy asked.
Bond nodded.
“Did you hear about what happened on that ferry?”
Bond felt a sudden stab of paranoia. Had she been reading the papers? Had she recognized him?
“Yes, I heard about it this morning.”
Heidi shook her head. “It was terrible.…”
Looking at Bond, Hedy said, “I hope they catch the guy who did it.”
“Me, too,” Bond said, meeting her gaze. She was studying him intently. Had she seen the drawing in the newspaper? Was it safe to be in their company?
The girls shared a piece of chocolate cake for dessert and they all had coffee. A live band had begun playing traditional Moroccan folk music. Finger cymbals rung throughout the restaurant, casting a mesmerizing and exotic charm over the diners.
“Do you go back to London after you’re through here, John?” Hedy asked.
“I think so,” Bond said. “I may … I may be sent somewhere else. I’m not sure yet.”
“What should we do now?” Heidi asked cheerfully. “The night is young, as they say.” She winked at Bond.
“The night is quickly fading,” Hedy said. “Come on, Heidi, I want to hit the sack.”
“Hedy! It’s so early!”
“We have to get up early, remember? We have that guided tour of the city.…”
“Big deal. I’d rather stay up and hang out with Mr. Cork.” Heidi was a little tipsy from the beer.
“I don’t think so, sis. I’m sure Mr. Cork needs to go to bed early, too,” Hedy said.
“Hedy, don’t be rude,” Heidi said. “I know, let’s flip for it.”
“Please, Heidi.”
Heidi looked at Bond, shrugged, and shook her head, as if she were asking, “What am I going to do with her?”