The Lazarus Moment

by J. Robert Kennedy

  She knew him so well.

  “What’s wrong, my love?”

  He gazed down at her, her big brown eyes so clear he could lose himself for an eternity in them. “I’m going to miss you.”

  “You don’t have to go. This conference in Kenya sounds like too much. You’re still weak, you should rest, rebuild your strength and go next year.”

  He shook his head. He would love for her to know the truth, to know what he was about to do for her and the children, though he also knew the very idea would horrify her. He was about to participate in a terrible thing, a horrible thing, something that would probably condemn him for eternity, though it was a sacrifice he was willing to make. His family would be taken care of for the rest of their lives and he was dead anyway. And if he kept his secret, he would die a hero in their eyes, a tragic victim of circumstance, on his way to help others.

  Tears filled his eyes. “I love you.”

  She smiled at him then leaned in, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting her head on his chest. “I love you too. That’s why I don’t want you to go.”

  He chuckled. “It’s only for a week. And besides, if I do this, it makes me look good, and maybe my cousin can get me a good job and we can move.”

  “I’m happy anywhere as long as it’s with you.”

  “A pretty dress, then?”

  She squeezed him. “That might be nice.” She pushed back and gazed up at him. “I still think there’s something you’re not telling me. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  A lump formed in his throat and he resisted looking away, instead closing his eyes and kissing her as he held her tight.

  A horn honked outside, the cab having arrived.

  Quick hugs to the crowd of children and a final kiss to his wife left his heart heavy as he climbed into the cab, his overnight bag loaded in the trunk by his oldest son. He waved to his wife, standing in the doorway of their humble home, the children running beside the cab, shouting their goodbyes, slowly losing ground to the accelerating vehicle.

  Then with a quick turn to the right, they were out of sight.

  Never to be seen again.

  A tear rolled down his cheek as he fingered the memory stick in his pocket.

  What I do today, I do for my family’s tomorrow.

  Jackson Square, Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland

  “I’m really surprised Cecilia didn’t make it.”

  The women gathered around the living room all nodded in agreement at Pam Wimbush’s comment. Everyone who had RSVP’d was there, even a couple who had yet to learn what RSVP meant. She never understood that. Was it ignorance, laziness, or idiocy? If an invitation asks you to RSVP, then you call to let them know you’re coming, that way the host can properly plan for how many people she needs to entertain. The right numbers of chairs are available, refreshments and food, goody bags, whatever. To just show up as if your presence was a delight for all those who did RSVP, was just plain inconsiderate.

  She glanced at Christa and Tanya.

  I think they actually are idiots.

  Their host, Karen Joseph, had whispered that Christa had actually tried to pronounce RSVP when she had handed her the invitation two weeks before.

  “Risvip.”

  They had both laughed.

  “Cecilia never misses these things,” agreed Christa. “And I love her seven layer dip!”

  Tanya’s head bobbed. “Oh, it’s to die for! I tried to make it once but gave up and just stirred it all together. Still tasted great, but looked like hell!”

  Several giggled.

  Karen didn’t.

  Neither did Pam.

  “Did she call you to say she’d be late, Karen?”

  Karen shook her head. “No.” She rose. “I’m going to give her a quick shout, make sure everything’s okay.” Karen disappeared as the conversation returned to the upcoming birth of Pam’s child, her baby shower just wrapping up.

  “Is this your third?” asked Christa.

  Pam nodded. “Yes, another girl.”

  Squeals.

  “Chip was hoping for a boy, but he’s so good with the girls I’m not worried.”

  “I guess you’ll just have to try again.”

  Pam patted her stomach and groaned. “I don’t think my poor body can take another. I think three’s enough. If he wants a boy he’ll have to coach Little League.” She looked up at Karen as she returned. “Well?”

  Karen shook her head. “No answer, it just goes to voicemail. I tried her cellphone as well, it just rings and rings.”

  “Very strange.”

  “Mrs. Wimbush, all your gifts are in your car.”

  Pam turned and smiled at Karen’s son. “Thanks, Brett, I appreciate that.”

  Brett nodded then looked at his mom. “Can I go now?”

  All the women exchanged knowing smiles.

  “Yes, dear, just be back before dinner.”

  “Okay.”

  Brett tore from the house before he was tasked with something else.

  “Help me up!”

  Pam extended a hand and Karen stepped forward, pulling her to her feet. Pam placed her hand on the small of her back. “Ooh, I can’t wait until she’s out of me.”

  Everyone else rose, hugs and kisses exchanged, several volunteering to stay behind and help clean up. Normally Pam would be first in line, but this was her day, and besides, she had a stop to make before heading home. Escaping the chatter, she struggled into her SUV then made the quick hop over to Cecilia’s house, surprised to find the car still in the driveway.

  That’s odd.

  She climbed out and rang the doorbell.

  Nothing.

  She rang it again and knocked.

  Again nothing.

  She pulled out her cellphone and dialed Cecilia’s cell.

  She could hear the distinctive Sencha ringtone of her friend’s iPhone.

  She’s here!

  She had to be. Cecilia never let her cellphone out of her sight, especially when Cameron was away—she never wanted to risk missing a call.

  Something’s wrong.

  She rang the doorbell several more times, hammering on the door, dialing both phone numbers again.

  And still nothing.

  She dialed 9-1-1.

  Fairfax Towers, Falls Church, Virginia

  “She hates me.”

  “She doesn’t hate you. It’s all in your head.” Chris Leroux smiled at his girlfriend Sherrie White, giving her a quick hug, Sherrie not too receptive, her arms just dangling at her sides like limp noodles. “Listen, if you don’t want to come, you don’t have to.”

  “Then she’ll hate me even more.”

  “You’ve got quite the imagination.”

  “You don’t see it because she’s your mother. She thinks I’m stealing her little boy away from her.”

  He pulled back slightly, looking down at her. “Well, you kinda are. You’re the first girlfriend I’ve ever had so she’s not used to it.”

  “Well, I barely remember what it’s like to have a mother and yours is kinda freaking me out.”

  Leroux sighed. “Maybe you shouldn’t come.”

  Sherrie shook her head, finally returning the hug. “No, I’ll go. It’s only three days, and when’s the next time we’re going to get a chance to visit them?”

  “It’s so nice not having a security team watching us twenty-four-seven. I finally feel like I’ve got my life back.”

  “Yeah, well don’t be so sure. I’m stunned the Director agreed to pull the detail so soon. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s still got one on you.”

  Leroux frowned, thinking about it. Since they had managed to turn the tables on The Assembly, he had felt completely safe. In his mind, they wouldn’t dare do anything now that they knew who some of them were, and the threat he had been living under, and by extension Sherrie, was gone. Perhaps it was naïve, and he was certain the expression on Director Morrison’s face was implying just that, but he had agreed.
>
  Perhaps a little too readily.

  “Maybe you’re right.” He shrugged. “I don’t care. If I don’t know they’re there, then I’m not going to worry about it. All I know is that for the first time in over two years I left dishes in the sink without worrying about being judged when they did their security sweep.

  Sherrie grinned. “You didn’t just leave dishes in the sink, you left them all over the counters and pretty much every surface that wasn’t covered by pizza boxes.”

  “Hey, I cleaned it up when you got back.”

  She patted his cheek. “Yes you did, dear, but you lived in it for a week.” He flushed slightly as she let him go, heading for the bedroom, her hips wagging back and forth. “Coming?”

  “Huh?”

  “Well, we’re going to your folks’ place for three days. Do you remember what happened last time? Or didn’t, should I say?”

  He looked up slightly, remembering their first and only visit together, the big introduction visit. His mom had been a little surprised when Sherrie had put her bag in his room.

  “Oh, I made up the guest bedroom for you, dear.”

  “Umm, oh, okay.”

  And the awkward weekend had begun, his father quickly putting an end to the bedroom assignments when he heard about them at dinner. “They live together, dear, you don’t think they’re bumpin’ uglies already? They’re kids, let them have fun.”

  Leroux wasn’t sure what shade of red he was, though he was pretty sure it was close to Sherrie’s.

  They had shared a bed though nothing had happened in it no matter how much he had wanted to break the dry spell that had been his teenage years. But this time he was determined to have a little somethin’-somethin’ happen, though he knew he’d probably chicken out.

  So get your ass in there!

  He grinned, Little Chris already in agreement.

  His phone vibrated in his pocket and he fished it out, frowning.

  “Hello?”

  He heard Sherrie groan from the bedroom, she knowing there was only one reason he’d answer the phone when sex was on the menu.

  Work.

  But it was no ordinary work.

  He was CIA.

  And so was she.

  And the job always had to come first.

  “We’ve got a priority tasking, boss. Want the details now or when you get in?”

  “Assemble the rest of the team and get started. I’ll be there in half an hour.” Another groan from the bedroom. “Make that forty-five minutes.”

  “Woo hoo!”

  Dudnik Residence, Moscow, Russia

  Katya Dudnik inhaled slowly, steeling herself for what she was certain would be an exasperating encounter. To say she despised her ex-husband would be an understatement. She hated him. He was a self-centered egotistical pig and an impotent drunk.

  Who could never handle the fact she had been more successful in the FSB than he had.

  They had divorced only two years ago, and she had made it a point to avoid him, a colleague assigning him to the Ukrainian situation that had him out of Moscow very frequently. Fortunately they hadn’t had any kids together otherwise she might feel a little guilty about what she had to do.

  She knocked on the apartment door, an apartment she had lived in for many years.

  A lump threatened to form in her throat.

  There were some good times.

  They had been in love once. You didn’t get married if you weren’t in love and not pregnant. But his drinking had become so bad he had changed. The first time he had raised a hand she had taken him down, her FSB training allowing her to easily overcome a stumbling drunk.

  Then she had left.

  The door opened and Arseny stared at her, surprised.

  “I thought we were meeting at your office this afternoon?”

  She held out her hand. “May I?”

  He smiled. “Of course.” He stepped aside and she entered the apartment. Except for the level of disarray and dirt, it hadn’t changed much.

  “You should really get yourself a maid.”

  He shrugged. “Or you could come back to me.”

  “It’ll be a cold day in hell before that happens.”

  He rubbed his upper arms. “This is hell. And it’s cold.”

  She shivered. “Why don’t you have the heat on?”

  “I’m never here, and it’s too expensive. I’ve got blankets.”

  “And vodka.”

  He frowned. “Don’t start.”

  “Of course.” She pursed her lips, looking for a place to sit. There was none she’d risk herself on. She looked at her ex-husband. He seemed ten years older. And worried. She decided to get it over with. “Who authorized you to do this?”

  “I see, no pleasantries.”

  “You expected some?”

  “A roll in the hay for old time’s sake?”

  She nodded toward his crotch. “Is that thing working again?”

  He grunted, dropping into his favorite chair, dirty dishes, empty bottles and newspapers littering the surrounding area.

  A cockroach scurried under the couch.

  I hate this place.

  “Nobody authorized it.”

  “So you took it upon yourself to initiate an operation that could result in the death of the President of the United States.”

  He shrugged. “I was doing a favor for a friend. I didn’t actually expect him to go through with it.” He pointed a lazy finger at her. “And nothing says it’ll work.”

  “If they manage to upload the virus, there’s every indication it will work.”

  Dudnik shrugged.

  “If the President dies, they won’t stop until they find those responsible. It could trace back to us and lead to war!”

  “I’m not concerned. There’s no way it could trace back to us.”

  “If you’re not concerned, then why are you trying to stop him?”

  “Because the First Family is on the plane. I never would have given him the virus if I had known the President’s wife and daughter were going to be on the plane.”

  “Why the concern? You’re willing to kill almost a hundred innocent people, what’s two more?”

  “It’s a kid!”

  “I never thought you cared about kids.”

  Dudnik looked away. “That’s only because we couldn’t have them, and I didn’t want you thinking I was disappointed.”

  This caught Katya off guard. It was the first time he had mentioned children since they had discovered she couldn’t have any. She had been terribly disappointed, but he wasn’t, instead shrugging his shoulders and saying he never really wanted them anyway.

  Then he had reached for the bottle.

  Could it have been children all along?

  “You never said anything.” Her voice was gentler, probably as gentle as it had been since things started to go wrong between them.

  He shrugged again, stealing a quick glance. “I didn’t want you to feel bad and blame yourself.”

  She wanted to reach out, to comfort the man she once loved, but she resisted the urge. She knew what she had to do, and reestablishing an emotional bond now would be a mistake.

  She took in a deep breath. “That’s the past. Now back to the present. Who knows about this operation?”

  “Me, you, Khomenko and his friend, Thulas Zokwana. And some of Khomenko’s men, obviously.”

  “Does anyone know the source of the virus?”

  “No, only Khomenko. He assured me he’d tell no one its source.”

  “And you can trust him?”

  Dudnik nodded. “Yes. He’s a man of honor, a man of his word. And he only has a few months left to live with no one to live for. Even if they catch him, there’s nothing they could do to make him talk.”

  “They could torture him.”

  “That would only hasten his death.” Dudnik shook his head. “He won’t talk.”

  “Which means the only way they can trace it back to us is through his connect
ion to you.”

  Dudnik frowned at her. “I suppose so.”

  “If we kill him first, then there’s no risk of that. Can he be reached?”

  Dudnik shook his head. “I’ve been trying, but after the first call when I ordered him to abort, he hasn’t answered.”

  She sighed, turning her back on him as she stepped toward the door, unbuttoning her jacket. “We can’t risk this backfiring. It must be stopped.”

  “I don’t know how. That’s why I called you.”

  “You did the right thing.” She turned to face him as she reached inside her jacket. “For once.”

  She drew her weapon and fired two shots into his chest, the look of shock on his face one she would never forget.

  A tear rolled down her cheek in memory of the good times.

  So long ago.

  Now how do we warn the Americans without admitting involvement?

  CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia

  CIA Senior Analyst Chris Leroux poured over the data his team was gathering, the emergency tasking to run a background check on one Thulas Zokwana a priority that he was certain was going to keep them there far too long. He had already postponed the visit with his parents, delighting his girlfriend, CIA Agent Sherrie White. They had been disappointed yet understanding, it not the first time plans had been cancelled due to his job.

  Worse was cancelling plans on Sherrie. He always hated doing it, he knowing how it made him feel when she was forced to do the same. Something in the back of his mind always thought she wanted to spend less time with him, to end things.

  Your insecurity is what’s going to end this.

  She was way out of his league, or at least that’s how he had always felt. She was gorgeous, at least in his eyes—and Dylan’s!—and the first real girlfriend he had ever had. He was a loner, geek, nerd, dork—whatever the kids were calling it these days. She was beautiful, vibrant, outgoing, confident.

  All the things he wasn’t.

  It wasn’t that he was ugly, though he would never describe himself as handsome. He was slim but not skinny, blessed with genes that just allowed him to eat whatever he wanted and not gain, though also not to be just skin and bones. He appeared athletic yet was anything but.