by C. De Melo
Michael’s smile vanished. “Italy?”
“Rome. There’s going to be an important international art show that usually generates mega sales, and she wants me to represent the Ashford Gallery. Our biggest competitor, the Rosenberg Gallery, will also be there.”
“Rosenberg. Isn’t that the famous gallery in Los Angeles?” Lance interjected.
“That’s the one,” I replied. “Nancy is trying to form a partnership with them since it’s better to work together as a team instead of competing against each other. She asked me to act as the liaison for the deal.”
I noticed that Michael did not seem pleased. “Why doesn’t Nancy go to Rome herself?”
I looked at him incredulously. “Have you seen her lately? She’s the size of a house. I imagine being pregnant is no fun, and the last thing she wants to do is travel. Besides, she doesn’t speak Italian.”
“Those seem like good reasons,” Lance commented.
Michael still wore a stony expression. “I don’t know. I have an important meeting next weekend.”
“So? I’ll go alone.”
He winced. “I worry about you traveling alone. Have you forgotten what happened on the Good Morning USA show?”
“There’s no need for you to worry about me, and I haven’t forgotten. That was an isolated incident and I’m not going to live my life under a rock because some people don’t like me. Besides, I know Rome well and speak decent Italian- you know I did part of my undergraduate work there,” I reminded him.
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he retorted.
“What’s the big deal? It’s only for a few days,” I insisted, becoming increasingly annoyed.
Michael leaned forward to give my hand an affectionate pat. “I’m sorry, princess. I don’t mean to upset you. Forgive me for being overprotective.”
“I know,” I said. “But you need to understand that I want to live a normal life.”
Michael merely nodded.
Lance looked at his watch and said, “It’s getting close to tee time.”
I stood up and both men stood as well. “If you two gentlemen will excuse me, I need to go. Maddy and I are meeting for lunch and then we’re going shopping. Hope you have fun at the club.”
***
Michael and Lance watched Zoë leave the room then turned towards one another.
“There is no way in hell that I’m allowing her to go to Italy unaccompanied,” Michael whispered. “It’s not safe for her to travel alone with so many anti-cryo activists and religious crazies out there.”
“Michael, I’m sorry, but I’m with Zoë on this one. She’s right about the whole Good Morning USA thing being an isolated incident.”
The sound of Zoë’s footsteps descending the stairs silenced them. They waited until she walked out the front door before continuing their conversation.
“It could very well be, but I’m not willing to risk it,” Michael said. “She has no idea of the controversy surrounding cryogenics. Why, just last week there was an attack on a cryo-person in Denmark.”
“Really? I didn’t hear anything about it.”
“That’s because the media was warned by the Danish government not to publicize the story under penalty of incarceration. The U.S. has made a pact with the EU and other countries with cryogenic technology to keep these attacks hush-hush until we get them under control.” He grimaced. “It’s bad for business.”
Lance’s brow creased in confusion. “Bad for business? What is that supposed to mean?”
“Do you know how much it cost me to have my wife cryogenically frozen? We, the clients, have made a substantial investment in our loved ones. The last thing the cryogenic labs want is for something bad to happen to our ‘investments’ after they wake up. An unsatisfied customer- especially one with money and power- is a dangerous thing.”
Lance didn’t approve of Zoë being referred to as an investment but it made sense. “What kind of attacks are we talking about here? What happened in Denmark?”
“A religious anti-cryo group abducted a recently awakened man, subjected him to a biblical discourse where he was humiliated and tortured. They then tied him to a stake and set him on fire.”
Lance’s eyes widened. “Are you fucking kidding me?!”
“I wish I was,” Michael said tiredly. “Fortunately, one of the members of the group felt they had gone too far and doused him with a hose. The police were called and he’s recovering in a hospital as we speak. Now you can understand why I worry so much about Zoë traveling alone. She’s doesn’t suspect anything, which makes her an easy target.”
“So why don’t you make her aware of the truth? Knowledge is power. If she knew the harsh reality of her situation, she’d be more cautious,” Lance pointed out.
“Please don’t tell me you’re this naïve, Lance. She’s my wife, which makes her media fodder by default. Her amazing story as a cryogenic success only adds to her fame. Besides, we have more to worry about than just the anti-cryo zealots. Every time Zoë leaves the house I wonder if it will be the day she gets kidnapped. One of my colleague’s just went through a terrible ordeal with his fifteen year old son. Someone nabbed him right out of school and demanded a high ransom.”
Lance had never thought about that. “Have you warned her about this possibility?” Michael shook his head and he added, “I still think you should tell her the truth.”
Michael looked down and sighed. “She’s already been through so much…I don’t want to add to an already heavy burden. I want to protect her from everything and everyone. My security team secretly follows her everywhere after that whole fiasco in Chicago, you know.”
“I figured as much.” Lance paused for a moment. “Keeping her here in ignorance like a caged bird isn’t going to work forever.”
“Tossing her out into the cruel clutches of society won’t work either!” Michael retorted.
“No, it won’t,” Lance agreed quietly. “So what will you do about this Italy trip?”
Michael was already setting a plan into motion in his head. “I’ll reschedule my meeting next weekend...if it wasn’t so important I’d cancel it altogether. Unfortunately, I can’t do that.”
“She made it pretty clear that she didn’t want an escort. I don’t think she’ll be happy about you shadowing her in Italy. She’s an independent woman who doesn’t like being micro-managed, you know.”
“I know,” Michael agreed with tired sigh. “I’ll go without her knowledge and monitor her every move in secret. She’ll never know. My security team will be there, too.”
“Okay, but how will you keep Zoë from getting suspicious? You can’t go from making a big deal about the trip to all of a sudden allowing her to go alone. She’s too smart for that. She’ll figure out you’re up to something.”
“You’re right.” Michael thought for a moment and then lifted his finger in the air. “I’ll convince her to take a couple of my best bodyguards in lieu of my absence.”
Lance nodded in agreement. “That should work.”
“Now I’m going to fetch my golf clubs.”
***
I went to bed that night feeling immensely relieved. I would finally unburden my secret to Lance on Monday. Sleep came quickly, but I awoke from a dream with a start. Clutching my chest and struggling for breath, I sat up in bed. Glancing at the digital clock on the bedside table, I grimaced. It was three in the morning. My mind was troubled and my heart raced. It was only one of my memory dreams, but this one had been different from the others- very different.
Grabbing the journal and pen from the bedside table, I climbed out of bed and crept downstairs to the kitchen. I turned on the light and put the kettle on to make a soothing cup of chamomile tea. I sat at the table with pen in hand and began to write. In my dream, I stood in front of a mirror with purple rings around my eyes. My face was deathly pale and I knew it was due to the Pod virus. Michael’s face (the younger version from two decades ago) appeared behind me in the mirror�
��s reflection, and it was filled with pain, horror and guilt.
Guilt.
At first, I assumed it was shock, but the dream triggered an actual memory. I put down the pen as my brain flooded with images of the past. I suddenly remembered becoming sick. The physical symptoms of the Pod manifested themselves very quickly. We were having lunch al fresco on a perfect autumn day. The ride to the hospital and the medical examination that followed remained fuzzy in my mind’s eye, but the look of pure guilt on my husband’s face was as clear as day. At the time, I had been too weak and confused to question it, but now…
I walked to the stove and poured out the tea. It felt good to drink something hot. When I was finished, I picked up the journal and returned to bed.
***
As Michael and I quietly sipped our morning coffee the following day, I said, “I’d like to speak with you.”
He looked up, surprised at the seriousness of my tone. “Okay.”
“Tell me about the Pod.”
His expression went blank for a moment. He smiled slightly and said, “I’ve already told you all about it.”
“I mean about me and the Pod. How did I get it?”
“Well…er…you see,” he stammered. “You got it from another infected person, I suppose.”
“Another person? Do you know whom?”
He sighed. “No. The truth is… we really don’t know how you got it.”
Was that guilt written on his face?
“Did I go out the day before? Was I in a crowded area or a shopping mall? I’ve tried so hard to remember, but I just can’t. There’s this big hole in my memory. My cryo-counselor explained that it took twenty-four to forty-eight hours for the Pod symptoms to manifest themselves, so I must have been exposed to the virus shortly before contracting it.”
“Why is it so important for you to know how you got it?”
“I need to know for my own peace of mind, Michael.”
He looked at me intently and it appeared as if he were frantically thinking of what to say next. “I don’t know what to tell you,” he said apologetically. “I have no idea how you came into contact with the virus.”
Michael’s voice was gentle and his eyes seemed sincere. I believed everything he said except for the last sentence. For some strange reason, my gut instinct told me he was hiding something.
Stop being ridiculous…this man saved your life! I sighed quietly and picked up my coffee cup.
He stroked my cheek. “I have to go or I’ll be late for my meeting. Sorry I wasn’t much help,” he said before leaving the room.
***
Lance called me early Monday morning while I was running in the park. I stopped to take the call.
“Good morning,” I said breathlessly.
“I caught you at a bad time,” he said apologetically.
I shook my head and smiled as I wiped the perspiration off my forehead. “It’s okay. I was going to stop soon anyway. What’s up?”
“I feel really bad about this, but I have to cancel our lunch today.”
I tried to hide my disappointment. “We can go tomorrow, if that works for you.”
He shook his head. “I need to take off for a while,” he said vaguely.
“How long?”
“A few days.”
My brow creased. “Will you be back before I leave for Italy?”
“Yes. I’ll call you, okay?”
“Sure,” I said dejectedly.
“Hey, don’t look so glum. I wouldn’t cancel our lunch if it wasn’t really important,” he assured. “I want to hear what you have to say.”
“We can talk now if you want,” I offered.
“No! Not over the phone,” he said quickly.
“Why not?”
Lance shook his head and put his finger to his lips, signaling for me to be quiet. I thought it odd, but nodded. He said, “I’ll call you. I should be back by Thursday.”
“Have a safe trip, Lance.”
“Thanks. See you soon.”
Chapter Eleven
Rome, Italy
I put on my designer sunglasses the moment I stepped off the plane and onto the tarmac. The Mediterranean sunshine was bright and warm. Michael’s private jet had delivered me to Italy safely and quickly. Two body guards accompanied me (at my husband’s insistence) and the American Embassy had already been apprised of my arrival. A limo was waiting for me outside the Fiumicino Airport. I would have preferred a less ostentatious vehicle, but Michael’s team made the arrangements without consulting me.
The uniformed driver greeted me pleasantly in Italian before opening the car door. I settled in the backseat with my ‘escorts.’ The two young men Michael had selected were loyal, skilled in the art of defense, and armed to the teeth. Bill was a black belt in karate and Drew was a shy weapon specialist with perfect aim.
As the limo pulled away from the curb, I noticed we were being followed by two Italian police cars. I frowned. “What the-”
“Mr. Adams arranged for the police protection,” Bill explained.
“I should have known my husband would do something like this.” My wrist-phone buzzed. Michael’s smiling face appeared in the tiny screen. “Hello, Michael.”
“Just checking in, princess,” he said. “Are Bill and Drew with you?”
I turned my wrist so he could see the two men sitting across from me. They nodded to their employer in greeting.
“Hi boys. Keep an eye on her,” Michael said to them.
“Yes, sir, Mr. Adams. We’re leaving the airport now and headed for the hotel,” Bill said.
“Zoë?” I turned my wrist towards my face again and he continued, “I want you to have a great time in Rome.”
“Don’t you think hiring police cars to follow the limo is a bit much?” I challenged.
“No, I don’t. Do you, boys?” he retorted.
Bill and Drew shook their heads and I made a face at them. Bill shrugged apologetically in response.
“Just be careful,” Michael said.
I sighed. “I will, and please don’t worry so much.”
“When are you meeting the art consultants from L.A?” he asked.
“Tonight.”
“Where?”
“At the Piazza Navona,” I replied sweetly even though I was irritated. “I left a copy of my itinerary with you, remember?”
“Ah, the Piazza Navona,” he sighed, ignoring my last comment. “My favorite place in the world to enjoy an espresso. Drink one for me, will you?”
“I will.”
“My meeting is about to start. I have to go. I’ll be calling you again soon, princess. I miss you already.”
“Miss you, too,” I said.
The screen faded to blue.
***
“Yes, Michael, I can see the limo,” Lance said to his wrist-phone.
“Good. Just keep an eye on her,” Michael said.
“Everything will be fine, don’t worry.”
Michael sighed. “I wish I could be there myself. Thanks for doing this at the last minute.”
Lance smiled. “There’s no need to thank me. I’m as concerned with Zoë’s safety as you are. Besides, it’s been a while since I’ve been to Italy and I’m always in the mood for good Italian food.”
Michael nodded. “I’ll stay in touch.”
“Will do,” Lance said before his older brother’s face disappeared from the screen.
Michael could not reschedule the series of important business meetings taking place over the weekend (as he had originally planned). Since his presence was obligatory, Michael called Lance Thursday morning requesting that he go to Italy in his place. This arrangement was kept secret from Zoë, who was already furious at having to take two bodyguards.
Lance offered the taxi driver extra money to stay behind the limo without being detected. His thoughts were on Zoë as he stared out the car window. He hated having to cancel lunch with her on Monday, but Brady had called instructing him to take the next plane
to Rio. He stayed in Brazil until Thursday and didn’t get back to D.C. until four o’clock in the morning on Friday. His flight to Italy was leaving two hours later, so he simply remained at the airport and slept. He didn’t even have a chance to call Zoë and wish her a good trip. Michael had required him to be in Italy a full six hours before Zoë’s late afternoon arrival in order to make sure everything was in order.
Despite his exhaustion, Lance sat back and enjoyed the ride into Rome. He pulled out his tablet and read over Zoë’s itinerary and the various security protocol files his brother had sent him electronically. Michael had arranged for a microphone and tiny camera to be installed in the penthouse suite of Zoë’s hotel. The room Lance would stay in was directly beneath Zoë’s and equipped with a monitor. If anyone tried to enter her room, he would be able to see and hear it immediately. Michael’s security team would also be alerted. Unbeknownst to Zoë, four specially trained security guards were housed in the room directly across from her suite.
Lance felt guilty about spying on Zoë, but it was the only way to guarantee her safety while giving her the illusion of freedom.
***
As the limo passed through the heart of Rome, I drank in the lovely Baroque architecture. My heart skipped a beat as we passed the amazing Coliseum and the Roman Forum with its ancient, colonnaded temples. By the time we zipped through Piazza Argentina I was grinning from ear to ear. It felt good to be back in Italy. I was extremely relieved that little had changed from the last time I had visited Rome. It was not called the Eternal City for nothing.
The limo squeezed through several narrow, cobbled streets until it finally came to a stop at the top of the Spanish Steps, just above the Piazza di Spagna. The Hotel Spagna Lux was a new luxury hotel with old roots. The original historic hotel that existed beforehand had been revamped and built upon to include a rooftop terrace, and an indoor swimming pool and spa facility.
Bill walked beside me as I entered the plush hotel lobby. Drew stayed behind with the bellhop who carried my luggage. The distinguished man behind the front desk recognized me immediately.
“Good afternoon. It is a pleasure to have you here, Mrs. Adams. My name is Rodolfo and I am the hotel manager,” he said in perfect English with a charming Italian accent.
