by Rebecca York
Zeke nodded.
“I don’t remember much about my mother, but I suspect it would have been better for me if she’d turned her unwanted kid over to the welfare people right away.”
Zeke made a low sound, but she plowed on.
“By the time I landed with Donna and Sam Egan, I’d been in more than a dozen crummy homes. The Egans were the foster parents who ended up with kids that were difficult—the ones that weren’t considered normal.”
He shot her a questioning look. “What do you mean by that?”
“At the age of ten, I was a hard case. I was angry. Withdrawn. Destructive. A lot of bad things had happened to me, and I didn’t have any reason to believe life would get better.”
“Why?” he asked, his voice so low she could barely hear.
“Different reasons.” She swallowed painfully. “There was one couple who didn’t feed me much. When I was bad, which was pretty often, they locked me in a closet.”
He swore loudly.
“There were others who beat up on me or made me do housework all day. And one guy…” she stopped and took several breaths “…who climbed into bed with me one night after I’d been with him about two weeks.”
“No!”
“He touched me—with his hands,” she whispered, her own hands twisting in her lap. This was so hard to reveal. She’d only told three other people in her life. Mom and Dad, and the therapist they’d sent her to when they realized she needed help they couldn’t provide. She probably wouldn’t have told Zeke, at least not at this stage in their relationship. But now that she’d spoken, she wanted him to understand that it could have been a lot worse. “It only happened once. The next day, I—uh—made sure I was caught stealing money from his wife’s purse. She called the welfare department, while he just stood there looking at me. He knew why I’d done it, but neither one of us told. I was sure nobody would believe me about the abuse. He was probably sweating bullets over whether I’d keep my mouth shut.”
“My God,” Zeke gasped, his face thunderous. “I didn’t know about any of that.”
“Hardly anybody does.” She gave a little shrug. “But the story ends okay. Even if a child has a really rough start, the right parents can make a tremendous difference,” she said. “At first I didn’t believe anyone really cared about me or would treat me like a…human being,” she gasped, astonished that even after all these years, the emotions were like fresh knife wounds.
She hadn’t been sure how he’d react to her revelations. When he reached over and covered one of her hands, she breathed a little sigh and unclasped her own fingers, turned her palm up and grasped his. For several heartbeats, she simply held on to him. “The Egans were very patient with me. Donna was a natural-born mother. She’d straightened out a lot of messed-up foster kids before she got me. At first I fell back on my defensive behavior—lying, hiding, refusing to do any chores. I kept challenging them, but they understood where I was coming from. They didn’t get angry or beat up on me, the way I expected, or threaten to send me away. They were firm but patient. Gradually, when they didn’t meet my expectations, I started to feel safe enough to let my guard down. I’d find myself smiling—or carrying my plate to the sink when I was finished eating. And I remember what a revelation it was, when I realized I actually enjoyed some of the subjects in school. Reading. History.”
Zeke nodded.
“I was with Mom and Dad for nine months before they asked me how I’d feel about adoption.”
“How did you feel?”
“Scared spitless.” Her fingers tightened around his. “I’d never lived with anyone like them. Things were going better than they ever had, and I was afraid to jinx it. But I wanted to belong to them more than I was afraid to take the chance.” She paused for several seconds, staring out the window as she tried to phrase the next part right. “There are so many good memories. The first time I ever had a birthday party and got to invite kids from school. The garden Sam and I planted and tended together. The proud look in Donna’s eyes when I came home with all A’s and B’s on my report card. Or when I graduated from college. I know they loved me and that they didn’t do any of the things they did for me because they felt obligated, or because I was born to them. They loved me because having a child of their own completed their lives—and because I needed somebody to care about me.”
“It sounds…wonderful,” Zeke said wistfully.
“Better than if I had been their flesh and blood, I think, because I knew how differently things could have turned out. We were a strong family for eleven years. Mom died of a heart attack right after I finished college. Dad was never quite the same after that.”
“You took care of him when he got sick.”
Elizabeth’s vision had turned inward. “He’d done so much for me, and I knew it would tear him up to leave his house. He had a good disability insurance policy, and he owned a part interest in a farm with his brother. He sold that out to his nephew so I could afford to work part-time for a few years.”
“Some people would say you put your life on hold.”
“Well, I never cared much about what anybody said. That’s one of the legacies I carried over from the bad, old days.” She shook her head. “I know a lot of people think I was making a big sacrifice by keeping Dad at home instead of sending him to a nursing home. For me, it was a chance to spend a little more time with him.”
Zeke nodded. Being a man, he was probably wondering how living with her aging father into her late twenties had affected her love life. Then Elizabeth flushed when she realized she was jumping to conclusions. Probably he wasn’t thinking about anything like that at all. Probably he was still worrying about his own role as a father. She was the one thinking about making love—because they’d come so close to doing it.
When the car slowed, she saw that they were leaving the highway. A few minutes later, they turned onto a winding road that followed the course of a fast-running mountain stream. “Almost there?” she asked.
“Yeah.” He said nothing further, and Elizabeth hoped she’d offered him a more constructive way to think about his relationship with Ariadne. Sitting back in her seat, she tried to relax in preparation for the meeting with Jason. But she couldn’t. She’d revealed more about herself than she’d liked, and she wanted to know what Zeke thought about her now that he knew her rocky beginnings. He wasn’t saying. And he wasn’t talking about his own background, either, she noted, although she’d given him the perfect opportunity to explain to her how his father was involved in their present problems. But he’d fallen back on silence.
They had entered an area of dense woods, ablaze with yellow and orange foliage. A few houses were visible from the road. Elizabeth imagined that more were hidden by the trees.
Zeke didn’t say anything until he’d consulted the piece of paper on which he’d written the directions. “Start looking for a mailbox with a kitschy little Dutch windmill,” he instructed. “The address is 44002.”
“A windmill? You’re kidding.”
“That’s what Jason told me they use to identify the turnoff—instead of a big sign advertising the research facility.”
She watched the rural boxes that came up at odd intervals, sometimes in clusters at the ends of long driveways leading into the woods, sometimes alone.
After a relatively straight stretch, she spotted the windmill and pointed. “Over there.”
Zeke checked the address before turning in.
“Wait a minute,” Elizabeth said. She’d been wrapped up with her past, but now that they were here, she realized that she and Zeke hadn’t talked about a rather important subject.
Zeke braked the car and looked at her inquiringly.
“I gather you told Jason about the rescue mission. But what did you say to him about…us?” she asked, hearing her voice rise at the end of the sentence.
It gave her a little frisson of satisfaction to see color bloom in his cheeks. “Well, I guess everybody down at Light Street already kn
ew we were good friends. I didn’t say it in so many words, but I…uh…let Jason think we were already engaged when you agreed to help me.”
“They know we’re getting married?” she clarified, wanting to be sure of the situation she was walking into.
“Yes. It seemed less awkward,” he added. “For you.”
“Oh,” she managed. And how awkward is it going to be when you dump me afterward, she wondered, wishing she hadn’t spent so much time with her mouth shut and her gaze on the scenery. She’d thought she was giving Zeke the space he needed, but she realized she’d been avoiding important issues. And now there was no time to discuss their relationship.
He started the engine again, and the car jerked forward. The first part of the narrow road was gravel, like most of its neighbors. But as it curved up a hill into the woods, the surface changed to asphalt. Rounding a bend, they came to a double chain-link fence with barbed wire on top.
“After the cute little windmill, that doesn’t look very friendly,” Elizabeth murmured.
“Cam Randolph got tired of coping with industrial espionage in Baltimore. They’ve moved a lot of their most sensitive projects up here where the security is tighter—and only people actually working on a particular project have access to it. Also, Thorn feels more comfortable away from the city.”
Elizabeth nodded.
Zeke pulled up at the gate and spoke into an intercom. It was attached to a video camera and a machine that looked like something from a drive-in bank. In fact, he was instructed by a mechanical voice to insert his driver’s license into the slot. After half a minute, the machine gave back the card and the gates swung smoothly open.
“You may proceed to the main facility,” the same stilted voice advised.
“Well, the security measures make sense, but I’m not sure I’d want to work here,” Elizabeth said as they headed for a low wood-and-stone building that looked as if it might have been a hunting lodge in former days.
“You can get used to this kind of security,” Zeke told her.
“Are you speaking from personal experience?” she asked.
“I’ve been at training centers like this,” he clipped out.
“With the CIA?”
“With various government agencies. Once I spent a month in the country—at a complex hidden under a tobacco field. I didn’t see the sun for a month. But they had a very nice gym at level B-4.”
The conversation ended when they pulled into a paved area where three vans, a couple of four-wheel-drive vehicles and a sports car were parked. Before Zeke cut the engine, Jason and Thorn came striding through the front door. Both of them were tall, rugged looking, and similar in bearing. Jason had been a secret agent before joining Randolph. Thorn was a man without a past, who was glad to have found a group of colleagues who appreciated his talents and could market his inventions without his having to worry about nosy people questioning his identity.
Zeke climbed out of the car. The three men shook hands and spoke for a few minutes. Then Jason turned to her. “So you’re engaged,” he said. “Congratulations.”
She nodded, fighting not to blurt a disclaimer. Jason and Thorn were married to two of her best friends, and anything she said to them would get back to Noel and Cassie. Although her silence now might mean a lot of explaining later, she decided to postpone the pain.
“I hear you’re in a bit of a hurry to get on with the wedding,” another voice said. It wasn’t one of the men.
Elizabeth blinked. Somehow agreeing to marry Zeke hadn’t translated into an actual wedding in her mind. The oversight said a lot about her emotional state, she supposed. You didn’t get married by remote control. You stood up in front of a judge or a minister and exchanged vows. She’d always pictured herself getting married in a church. She was pretty sure that wasn’t going to be the case.
Turning, she found herself facing Kathryn Kelley, a psychologist who had begun working several months earlier with another of her friends, Abby Franklin. The look in Kathryn’s green eyes said that she wasn’t as willing as the guys to take Zeke’s story on faith.
“What are you doing here?” Elizabeth asked.
“Randolph Electronics is planning to station some personnel at this location for several weeks at a time. I was hired to evaluate the facilities for long-term use and make some recommendations.”
Elizabeth gave her a weak smile, wishing she hadn’t run into someone so insightful at this particular time in her life. The last thing she wanted to do was answer questions about her personal relationship with Zeke—or to have another woman making a silent assessment.
“I’ve been working on your request,” Jason remarked to Zeke as he led the way into the building. “Irena is no longer at the address from which she mailed you the initial letter.”
“How did you find that out so fast?”
“You can get quite a lot of information from databases. The apartment she took in the port town of Kalana has been listed for rent since the Thursday before last. She and the little girl checked into a small hotel in Delvia a couple of days later.”
“Delvia’s in the mountains,” Zeke said.
“She was only at the hotel one night, but she’s still in the area. She signed for a package from UPS a couple of days ago—at a rented villa.”
“That’s consistent with what she told me. She gave me a number to call and leave a message when I arrived in the country. Then she’d let me know where to meet her.”
“Do you want to look at some maps I’ve pulled up on the computer?” Jason asked. “You can get a small plane from the mainland to Kalana. Then get transportation to Delvia.”
Kathryn put her hand on Elizabeth’s arm. “Since I’m here, Jason asked if I’d take care of some wedding arrangements while the men discuss strategy.”
“Is that how they divide up the duties between the men and the women?” she shot back.
Kathryn gave a little shrug. “Well, both jobs need to get done, and I don’t have much experience with covert operations. Do you?”
Elizabeth shook her head. Not until the past couple of days, she thought.
“Zeke said you need to be married before you leave for Mythos,” Kathryn continued. “Usually there’s a waiting period for the license, but Jason showed us how to backdate that in the computer files. I’ve pulled up the pertinent information on Zeke through his employee record at Johns Hopkins University. But I need some personal information from you. Date of birth. Address. Stuff like that.”
“That would be in my Birth Data records,” Elizabeth said crisply.
“Those files aren’t accessible to us,” Kathryn replied, brushing back a lock of red hair that had fallen across her face.
Elizabeth stared at her. Irrationally, she wanted to come back with a sharp reply, even though she knew this woman was trying to help her.
“Lucky they don’t require a blood test in Maryland,” Kathryn murmured.
“I’m sorry. I’m a bit tense,” Elizabeth answered.
Kathryn gave her an encouraging smile. “I understand. I would be, too.”
Elizabeth summoned an answering smile, as she followed the psychologist into a comfortable lounge and settled onto one of the couches.
“Do you want something to drink?” Kathryn asked, pausing beside a table with a coffeepot and a pitcher of water.
“I’m fine, thanks,” Elizabeth answered, although it wasn’t true. She was far from fine, and she was pretty sure Kathryn could read the signs—in her voice, on her face, in her body language.
The psychologist sat down at a desk with a computer terrminal and pulled up the marriage license form that she’d already partially filled out. “When I finish this, we’ll transmit it to the Frederick County records department,” she explained.
“Why Frederick?”
“I believe that’s where the airport is located. The ceremony’s going to be held there.”
Elizabeth’s eyebrows arched in amazement at the amount of work that must have
been done while she and Zeke were on the road. Lord, people here had been running around like crazy, and all she could think about was how miserable she felt and how embarrassed she was going to be later.
Trying to stop her insides from churning, she provided data Kathryn requested. Full name. Date of birth. Place of birth. Address. Occupation.
“So how do you feel about entering into a marriage you don’t think will last?” Kathryn quietly slipped in at the end of the list.
“Sad,” Elizabeth answered before she realized the import of what she was saying.
Kathryn turned from the keyboard and gave her a penetrating look. “I thought so.”
Elizabeth sat like an ice sculpture someone had placed on the couch. If she moved she would shatter.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” Kathryn asked gently, “or should I go make myself busy with the survey Cam ordered.”
All at once, Elizabeth’s control slipped, and she felt hot tears fill her eyes.
Silently, Kathryn pulled a tissue from the box on the desk and handed it to her. Elizabeth pressed it against her eyes, as much to hide her face as anything else. She knew she’d been adroitly tricked into revealing more than she’d intended. In a way she was angry, yet at the same time she was relieved that she didn’t have to keep acting so damn cool and collected when her insides were raw.
She knew she couldn’t hide forever. Wiping away the tears, she raised her face to the other woman. Still not sure of her voice, she gave a little shrug.
“Jason said Zeke’s child is in danger,” Kathryn prompted.
