by C. De Melo
“How about some wine?” Lance asked.
“Sounds good.”
He placed the order in Italian and the serving girl came back within moments with a fine bottle of Chianti and two glasses. She uncorked the bottle, poured out the wine and left us alone.
Lance raised his glass. “To you.”
“Why me?” I asked, raising my glass to meet his.
“You’ve had a rough night. You deserve it.”
“You’re right, but you’ve had a pretty rough night, too. So, to us.”
“To us,” he agreed before taking a sip.
I followed suit by taking a long sip. “I want to go on with my plans as though this never happened. After all, it could have been anyone’s room, right?”
He nodded. “Right.”
“No need to cut my trip short.”
“No need,” he agreed. “Bill told me you’re planning to see some artwork tomorrow. Maybe I can come, too?”
“I already have two bodyguards coming with me,” I teased.
He apparently took my jest seriously because his eyes reflected a flash of hurt. “Not because I have to, but because I want to,” he admitted softly.
“I would be delighted if you came with me,” I said.
“Great! Where are we going?”
“I was going to be ambitious and see the Vatican Museum and the Galleria Borghese.”
“I’ve been to the first one, but not the latter,” he admitted.
“Then we’ll go there first.” I sat up and exclaimed, “Wait a minute!”
Lance also sat up, alert. “What?”
I peered at him closely. “If there’s a camera in my room then there must be a monitor set up somewhere. Who’s watching it?”
The color rose in his cheeks. “I am.” When I gave him an accusatory look, he said defensively, “No! It’s not like that.”
“Like what?” I demanded.
“Like…nothing perverted,” he stammered awkwardly. “I can only see the entrance of the bathroom and part of the bedroom. I haven’t seen you undress if that’s what you’re worried about.” I continued to stare at him and he grew visibly uncomfortably. “Say something, will you?”
I merely shrugged and sat back while I stared at him.
“Will you quit that? It’s unnerving,” he said, looking away.
Finally, I said, “You’ve been watching me for two days and you’re uncomfortable with me staring at you for a few minutes? At least I have the courtesy to let you know I’m doing it and not sneaking behind your back.”
“Come on, Zoë. Don’t be like that.”
“Perhaps I should put a camera in your room,” I teased. The wine was going to my head quickly.
Lance grinned mischievously in response to my suggestion. “Be my guest,” he said. “I have nothing to hide.”
I began to giggle as I often did when I was nervous. The stressful events of the evening, coupled with the wine, had finally taken their toll. I was at the breaking point and felt like laughing until I cried.
“Did you know that I’m actually worshipped?” I asked.
The smile on Lance’s face vanished when he realized I was upset. “Zoë…don’t.”
I downed the contents of my glass. “Can you believe it? I guess some people would find that great, huh? Being a deity- what a major stroke to the ego!”
“People are crazy. It’s not about you, it’s about them.”
“Dance with me,” I said boldly.
He was about to protest, but I stood up and took his hand. It felt strong and warm as his fingers closed over mine. We walked to the dance floor and began swaying to the music. He stood at a respectable distance from me, but the feel of his hand on my lower back burned through my clothing, just as it had at the Christmas party.
I whispered, “I feel almost like a normal woman dancing like this.”
“You are a normal woman,” he asserted. After a few seconds, he added reluctantly, “And Michael loves you very much.”
“He does, doesn’t he?” I asked, the words fumbling from my lips as I chuckled. “He loves me so much. Did you know it was months before he touched me? Even he thinks I’m a freak…and why wouldn’t he?”
“Zoë…”
“He barely touches me now. It’s as if I’m repulsive to him.”
No sooner had I confessed that piece of personal information, I felt foolish and ashamed.
What is wrong with you?
Lance looked at me with a mixture of concern and pity. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me whole. “Stop looking at me that way,” I said, pulling away from him.
“You’re far from repulsive, Zoë.”
“I shouldn’t have said that. Sorry. I think maybe we should leave now.”
Drew got up from his seat as he saw Lance and I approach the bar. No one spoke as we walked back to the hotel. We found Bill in my room speaking with the hotel maintenance person who had just installed an encoder outside the terrace door.
“It’s all set,” Bill said to Lance.
“Thanks, Bill. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, sir, Mrs. Adams,” Bill said before leaving with the worker.
Lance turned to look at me and I said, “I’m sorry for-”
He cut me off. “Hush. Don’t be sorry for anything. We should have made our presence known to you and we didn’t. I apologize for that and I promise it won’t happen again- at least not on my part.” I smiled ruefully at him. He continued, “Call me if you need anything. We’ll go for breakfast whenever you get up, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Goodnight, Zoë.”
“Goodnight, Lance.”
***
My wrist-phone rang almost immediately after I woke up the next day. It was Michael.
“Zoë, I didn’t want to call you last night because I got the news so late. I almost got on a plane to meet you, but Lance assured me everything was fine.”
“Everything is fine. It was just a couple of thieves, nothing more- it could have happened to anyone. They didn’t even know about me...I was just another rich woman. I’m glad you didn’t come rushing over here because I know how busy you are.”
“I’m never too busy to make sure you’re safe. I was told the encoder was installed last night.”
“Yes and I didn’t appreciate the camera, Michael, but I understand why you did it.”
“I don’t want you to worry.”
“I know. Lance explained. I’m going to the Galleria Borghese this morning.”
“Not unaccompanied, of course.”
“Lance and the bodyguards are coming with me, so I’ll be in good hands.”
“Go an enjoy yourself, princess. I’ll see you soon.”
***
The taxi came to a stop in front of the splendid villa known as the Galleria Borghese. It was nestled in a large park with lovely trees. People strolled throughout the pathways, taking photographs or simply gazing on the beautiful architecture. Bill and Drew followed us at a discreet distance.
“I cannot believe that nothing has changed in twenty years,” I exclaimed joyfully after being allowed into the gallery. “Now I’m going to show you some of the most beautiful sculptures in the world.”
Lance smiled. “I’m looking forward to it.”
I slipped my arm through his and led him to Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne, Pluto and Proserpina and David respectively. He marveled at the elegance and movement of each piece, and how the genius sculptor had managed to breathe life into the marble. He was also taken with Canova’s exquisitely carved statue of the reclining Pauline Bonaparte.
After viewing several magnificent sculptures, I led him upstairs where he saw the works of the controversial painter, Caravaggio and Titian’s famous Sacred and Profane Love.
“I know that piece!” Lance exclaimed excitedly.
“It’s a famous work of art, so I’m not surprised,” I said.
“But I never quite understood it,” he confessed as he stared
at the two beautiful red haired women Titian had painted so beautifully. “Is the naked woman supposed to be the profane one?”
“One would think so at first glance. She is naked, but naked in honesty and truth, not indecency. Notice there,” I said, pointing up at the painting. “She holds the lamp of truth in her hand. The woman who is dressed in rich clothing is the profane one. See? She also wears gloves. Clothing and gloves conceal, and those who attempt to conceal things may be construed as cunning or deceitful. It’s symbolic…” I trailed off. I was suddenly embarrassed by the way he was looking at me.
“So, the woman who appears to be the wealthier of the two is profane, while the naked woman is sacred?” he asked.
“Yes, I think that’s it,” I replied self-consciously.
“I’m pretty impressed.”
I blushed, lowered my head and continued to lead him through the exhibit. We took our time and thoroughly enjoyed the masterpieces around us. As we left the museum, Lance placed his arm around my shoulders. I looked up at him in surprise.
“Thanks for allowing me to tag along, Zoë. This has been great,” he said.
“You’re welcome.”
“Do you want to walk through the park? It’s such a nice day,” he said.
“I’d like that.”
It really was an exceptional day; enamel blue sky, brilliant sunshine and a refreshing breeze. We walked under the shade of trees towards a footpath that wound its way to a large duck pond. Bill and Drew followed behind, quietly taking in the scene around them. We sat at the edge of the pond and soaked up the sun as we talked and laughed. At one point I kicked off my shoes and placed my bare feet on the grass. Lance followed suit.
When I noticed that the shadows around us had shifted, I looked at the time. Three o’clock! “There’s no way we’ll be able to see the Vatican Museum today because it’s so late,” I pointed out. “We’ll have to go tomorrow.”
“Time flies when you’re having fun,” Lance said. “I don’t know about you, but I am famished.”
“You should be. We haven’t eaten since breakfast.”
“How about we grab some lunch?” he suggested.
“Sounds good.”
We walked out of the park and found a little eatery with outdoor tables that offered service non-stop throughout the day. Since most of the lunch crowd had already gone, the place was almost empty. Bill and Drew sat down and we picked a table far enough to ensure private conversation. We ate crispy salads, spicy pasta and fresh bread. We washed it down with a bottle of good white wine.
“This has been the best day I’ve had in a long time,” I confessed, sitting back with a glass of wine in my hand. “Life back home has become mundane.”
“I’m sure it doesn’t help that Michael is gone most of the time,” he said.
I smiled wryly. “If he isn’t away on business, he’s locked in his office. Sometimes I wonder if he even knows I’m there.”
“He cares about you.”
“I know he does, but I often feel like a possession instead of a person.” Lance studied me intently and I added, “Maybe I shouldn’t be telling you these things. As for last night, I definitely shouldn’t have divulged such private matters. After all, he is your brother.”
“Nonsense,” he assured. “Besides, I know Michael’s flaws better than anyone.”
“I feel so guilty saying anything that would even resemble bad-mouthing him after all he’s done for me, but…”
“But?” he prompted.
I toyed with the edge of the napkin in my lap. “Well, things just haven’t felt right. At home, I mean.”
“Like what?” he asked, his eyes intent.
“Like the missing trunk,” I said.
“What are you talking about?”
I lowered my voice and proceeded to finally tell him about the trunk.
When I had finished, he leaned forward and asked, “Is it still in the garden shed?”
“It was there the last time I looked. Do you want to know what the really strange thing is? Juana seemed very nervous when Maria first mentioned the trunk on Thanksgiving. For some reason I think Maria did it on purpose. Juana actually got upset when I insisted on seeing it. I just get the feeling they both know something I don’t.”
Lance let out a sigh and looked extremely concerned. “Is this what you wanted to talk to me about on Monday?”
I nodded. “I debated telling you at all after you blew me off.”
“You did the right thing by telling me. And I’m sorry I had to cancel our lunch last Monday. I have a good reason, however. You have to believe me.”
“I do,” I assured. When Lance looked troubled, I asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Zoë, there’s something you should know,” he said in a serious tone.
The look on his face made my stomach turn. “What is it?”
“Not here. Let’s go across the street for some gelato. I don’t want to risk saying anything with our companions sitting right there.”
“Okay,” I said.
Lance turned towards Bill and Drew. “We’re just going across the street for some gelato. No need for you two to follow.”
Drew nodded and Bill said, “Please stay visible.”
The narrow street was mainly pedestrian and we’d be in their line of vision at all times. Lance led me gently by the elbow across the street and purchased two small cups of gelato. We sat side by side on one of the benches outside the gelateria.
“What should I know, Lance?” I asked, enjoying a spoonful of pistachio gelato.
He paused to think of the right words before responding. “Listen to me carefully and don’t react to what I’m about to say…Michael is being watched.”
“What do you mean?”
“It isn’t easy for me to tell you this, and I’m not even sure I should, but I trust you.” He paused. “Michael is being watched by the government; the CIA to be exact.”
I fought the inclination to jerk my head up. “Why?”
“They’re trying to prove his involvement with terrorists.”
A feeling of uneasiness settled over me. “Terrorists? There must be some mistake,” I protested.
“There’s no mistake. In fact, I saw one of them leaving your home.”
“Whom?” I asked in disbelief.
“The man posing as Joseph Greeling.”
“Are you absolutely certain?” He glanced up at the bodyguards before nodding. I added, “Michael said he was a business associate. I’ve heard him mention the name on a few occasions while he was on the phone.”
“He lied to you. Greeling’s real name is Al Majed.”
“Al Majed…I think my mother mentioned that name to me once. She said he’s the terrorist who poisoned the water supplies with the Pod virus, and the government has been trying to track him down for a while. Am I right?”
“Yes, that’s right. You can imagine my shock at seeing him casually walk out of your house.”
“Are you positively certain that Michael knows Greeling’s true identity? It’s possible that my husband is being duped, you know.”
“We’ve been watching Michael for quite some time and-”
I cut him off. “We?”
Lance looked down guiltily at his untouched chocolate gelato. It was melting, as was mine.
“You’re working for them,” I accused.
“Yes,” he said, not meeting my eyes.
I stared at him in disbelief. “How could you betray your own brother?”
“Please lower your voice,” he warned, looking at Bill and Drew who were digging into their tiramisu with oblivion. “I have no choice,” he added.
“I don’t believe Michael would knowingly get involved with a dangerous terrorist.”
Lance took hold of my hand and squeezed it hard. “Listen to me, Zoë. I didn’t believe it at first either, but then I saw the proof with my own eyes. The rift between us was caused by what I found on his desk. There is no doubt that Michael knows.�
�
I felt like vomiting. “Oh, God.”
“You can’t say a word about this to anyone. Anyone. Do you understand?”
I nodded slowly, my eyes on the melting green mush in the cup within my hand. A fly landed on the rim and I didn’t bother swatting it away.
Lance continued, “That trunk you found must contain some kind of incriminating evidence.” He paused. “Zoë?”
I kept my eyes on the fly and didn’t respond.
“Zoë?”
I finally looked at him.
“The only reason I’m telling you this is because I trust you. I care about your safety,” he said gently. “Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
His expression was intense. “I need to get to that trunk without Michael’s knowledge. There’s no way I can do that without your help.”
“How long have you been an informant for the CIA?”
He sighed. “Almost two years.”
“Aside from whatever it is you found on his desk, what else have you discovered?” I demanded.
Lance looked down for a moment. “A few things here and there that seem shady, but aren’t serious enough to incriminate him.”
“He’s innocent,” I stated firmly.
“Then why does he lie?”
“When did he lie?”
“He didn’t go to London last February.”
“Of course, he did,” I said defensively. “He had to go to London on business.”
He looked at me long and hard. “He was in Rio de Janeiro. I was there, too. I saw him, but he didn’t see me.”
“Were you there because of the CIA?” He nodded and then it dawned on me. “One of the main headquarters for Z-Lab Industries is in Rio.”
“Yes.”
“So you also lied to me when you called and said you were in Costa Rica,” I pointed out.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yes.”
“Does Michael suspect anything?”
“I don’t think so. At least I hope not.”
“Why have you kept this from me for so long?”
“When was I supposed to tell you, Zoë? Do you realize how difficult this is for me? How does one broach this topic? I knew I had to tell you sooner or later, but I had to wait for the right time.” He paused, glancing at the bodyguards. “I know this must be hard for you to accept, but it’s for your own safety. After what you told me about the trunk, I don’t think it’s fair to keep you in ignorance. If you don’t want to help me, I understand. But your silence is vital to my survival and to the CIA’s operation.”
