1 3 7 – ZOË

by C. De Melo

  “How much time did you promise him?”

  “Twenty-four hours.”

  Marshall sighed. “Fair enough.”

  ***

  I ran around the path in the park until my legs cramped. I was so deeply engrossed in thought that I’d gone longer than usual. The twilight sky was the color of ripe apricots and the horizon was bruised by plum clouds. My wrist-phone buzzed. It was Lance.

  “Zoë! Thank goodness you’re okay,” he said the moment I picked up.

  “Hello,” I replied coolly.

  “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you since yesterday. I’ve been worried about you!”

  I looked out at the lake and closed my eyes, taking a deep breath in the process. “I’m fine,” I said, dropping my wrist.

  “Zoë? Are you there?”

  I put my wrist up so he could see me again. “I’m here.”

  “What’s going on? I called you the morning after I stopped by the gallery and you never picked up. I thought…well, with everything that you told me that night you can imagine what went through my head,” he explained. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

  “I’m leaving.”

  “What?”

  “I’m leaving,” I repeated.

  His expression was a cross between joy and relief. “You’ve made the right decision. Leaving him will be hard, but I’m here for you, baby.”

  I stared at him. “No, I’m leaving D.C.,” I said frostily.

  He looked stricken. “What happened? Did Michael hurt you?” he demanded, alarmed.

  “There’s always something happening, isn’t there?” I asked sarcastically. “No, Michael has never laid a hand on me.”

  “Okay, I need to know what’s going on,” he said, gesturing with his free hand. “Where are you? I’m going to meet you right now so we can talk.”

  “Why? So you can get more information from me?” I snapped angrily.

  His face fell so dramatically it was almost comical. “What are you talking about?” he asked, visibly hurt by the harsh accusation.

  “That’s the real reason why you’re trying so hard to get close to me, isn’t it? You want to get some juicy information and sell it to your little cohorts,” I blurted out.

  He frowned in confusion. “Sell information? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Kicking me- or rather kissing me- while I’m down is pretty low, don’t you think?”

  I had obviously offended him.

  “Where are you?” he asked in a serious tone while looking over my shoulder to see if he recognized my location.

  I held my wrist closer to my face to block out the background. “Michael seems to know a few things about you, too. Neither of you have been completely honest with me, so I came to a decision last night.”

  He frowned. “And what would that be?”

  “I’m better off elsewhere- away from both of you.”

  The fear in his eyes almost made me feel bad. “Zoë, honey, please don’t do anything rash,” he pleaded. “We need to talk…I have no idea what Michael told you, but I deserve the right to defend myself from whatever he’s accused me of. I swear I have not lied to you about anything.”

  At this point, I began to cry. I wiped the tears away with annoyance and placed the wrist-phone behind my back so he couldn’t see me.

  “Zoë! Don’t do this…let me look at you.” I obliged him and he added, “I want to swing by the house to talk to you before Michael comes home.”

  “Michael left this morning on business.”

  “Good, I’ll be there in an hour. Don’t go anywhere yet until you hear me out,” he urged.

  “I want proof,” I insisted. “Proof of Michael’s involvement with terrorists, proof that you’re an informant for the CIA, proof of everything you’ve told me so far…I want to know which one of you is lying to me.”

  “You got it. I’ll bring proof, but are you sure you’re ready to hear the truth?”

  Was I ready? “I am,” I assured.

  “See you in an hour,” he said and ended the call.

  I stared at the blue screen for a full ten seconds before returning to my car. My mind had been in turmoil since Michael told me about Lance selling information to tabloids. I tried to discern which brother was the liar, and got so frustrated I decided I’d be better off alone.

  I believed everything Lance told me in Italy. The other night in the gallery he kissed me with such tenderness, such passion, such love. I was incapable of being objective now that my heart was involved. Lance would have his chance- his only chance- tonight. If he failed to provide real proof, then I was prepared to go abroad for a few months. Maybe I’d invite Maddy to come with me.

  I drove home, took a shower and changed into a casual black jersey maxi dress with straps. It was a muggy evening. I pulled my damp hair into a ponytail, put on a bit of mascara and lip gloss and went downstairs to make myself a drink. I was anxious about meeting Lance alone; I didn’t trust my emotions. An hour later, the doorbell rang. When I opened the door I saw Lance with a serious look on his face, and standing behind him was a very muscular man sporting a military haircut.

  “You wanted proof, so I’m going to give you proof,” Lance said. “Zoë Adams, this is Colin Brady of the CIA.”

  Brady flashed his credentials. I invited them both inside.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Brady,” I said, feeling a bit overwhelmed.

  “Likewise.”

  I hoped my nervousness didn’t show. “Have a seat, gentlemen,” I said.

  “I asked Brady to let you in on the truth and he agreed. Before we proceed, you do realize this will change everything,” Lance said, looking at me with great intensity.

  “He’s right,” Brady added. “After we brief you there’s no turning back. You’re not going to like what you hear, Mrs. Adams. Are you sure you’re ready?” I nodded and he added, “If you choose not to believe what I tell you, that’s your right. You can continue to stand by your husband if you wish. But I warn you, if he goes down, you’ll go down with him.”

  I swallowed hard and looked at Lance who said, “We can leave right now if you want us to.”

  “No, please stay. I need to know what’s going on,” I said, annoyed that my voice shook. “Can I offer you a drink?”

  “Got any scotch?” Brady asked.

  I nodded. “Neat or on the rocks?”

  “Neat,” he replied.

  “Make that two,” Lance said.

  After I got the drinks and settled into a chair facing both men, Brady took a sip of his scotch. He cleared his throat and began to speak. “Mrs. Adams, we have been watching your husband for quite some time.”

  “We as in the CIA,” I said, interrupting him.

  “Yes,” Brady replied. “It was difficult for Lance to report to us after his falling out with Michael. Because of you the brothers are reunited again and we have resumed our investigation. The United States government thanks you for this service.” He paused to gauge my reaction. “Lance assured me you could be trusted.”

  “I haven’t said a word about anything,” I assured. “When Lance first told me about my husband’s possible involvement with terrorists, I was shocked. And I denied it, naturally.”

  “Naturally,” Brady agreed. “And now?”

  “And now I don’t know what to believe anymore. Especially after finding those lab reports.”

  “The scans of those reports are being processed as we speak,” Brady said.

  He then proceeded to describe (at length) the nature of the covert investigation involving my husband. He verified everything Lance had told me in Italy, and added new facts for me to digest. When he finished speaking, I got up to refill their drinks.

  “Where is your husband now?” Brady asked.

  “He left for London on business this morning,” I replied. “He goes to London often.”

  Brady gave Lance a look that implied he didn’t believe it. “Are you sure he’s in London?”

&nbs
p; “If he’s not there, where is he?” I challenged.

  “We found out this morning that his research facility in Rio was vandalized. Apparently, this has been happening lately and with increasing frequency,” Brady said.

  “Vandalized by whom?” I demanded.

  Brady frowned. “Well, there are few suspects…”

  “The UAN,” Lance said. Brady gave Lance a look of disapproval. “She’s going to find out sooner or later; it may as well come from us.”

  I was lost. “What does the UAN have to do with Michael?”

  “The U.S. government is pressuring nations around the world to follow its example and abolish fossil fuels,” Brady said.

  “ALTSYS,” I said.

  “Yes,” Brady agreed. “The president and several other major investors are pushing ALTSYS internationally. The benefit of doing so is twofold; environmental health and big profits.”

  My mind was connecting the dots. “And the UAN is reluctant to convert to clean energy because it’s a major provider of crude oil.”

  “Exactly.” Brady took a sip of scotch. “It seems that some people wish to prevent ALTSYS from making a deal with the UAN political leaders. We believe it may be a group of oil sheiks- a coalition of businessmen using the false name of ‘Mr. X’ to protect their individual identities.”

  ‘Mr. X’ sounded like a comic book villain. I allowed this information to sink in and exhaled deeply. “You think Michael is in Brazil right now?” I asked.

  “I know he is,” Brady replied confidently.

  I handed the men fresh glasses filled with scotch and poured out some fizzy water for myself. I took a sip and said, “Well, let’s go.”

  Lance looked at me incredulously. “To Brazil?”

  “I’m leaving on the next flight,” I announced. “I need to see this with my own eyes. You two can either accompany me or let me go alone. If my husband really is in Brazil as you say, I’ll help you with your investigation.”

  Both men looked at me in disbelief.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Lance asked.

  “Yes,” I said, already looking up the number of various commercial airline carriers on my wrist-phone. “My husband’s security team will be alerted if I use one of his planes.”

  “Whoa, wait a minute,” Lance protested.

  “What?” I asked nonchalantly.

  “Maybe going to Brazil isn’t such a good idea.”

  My eyebrow shot upward. “Why not?”

  “Tell her, Brady,” Lance implored.

  Brady shrugged. “Tell her what? I think it’s a brilliant idea. She’ll see her husband’s treachery with her own eyes and then be a part of our team.”

  “Won’t she be in danger?” Lance insisted.

  “We’ll be careful,” Brady said. He smiled wryly and added, “Besides, Mrs. Adams strikes me as the kind of woman who will do what she wants to do regardless of anything we say.”

  Defeated, Lance exhaled and looked at me. “Put the flights on my card so they can’t be traced back to you.”

  ***

  Four hours later, we were taking off into the air. Brady had managed three business class seats on a direct flight. I sat beside Lance in the center row and Brady sat across the aisle by the window.

  “This is insane,” Lance whispered into my ear.

  “Is it?”

  “Just taking off to Rio like this…”

  “You know, I don’t even know the difference between what’s sane and what isn’t anymore.”

  Lance glanced over at Brady, who was already asleep. “Zoë, listen to me,” he said in an urgent whisper. “I know how hurt you are by Michael’s infidelity. I know how disconnected you feel and how you think people perceive you. None of that is any reason for you to place yourself in danger.”

  “In Italy you told me we would do the right thing if Michael is guilty. Besides, Brady said I’d be fine.”

  “Yes, I said that. But I also believe the less you’re involved, the better. And to hell with Brady.”

  “Less involved? You don’t think I’d be forced to testify sooner or later?”

  Lance grimaced. “I was hoping you wouldn’t have to, that I’d find enough evidence to incriminate him without you getting mixed up in this mess.”

  “I’m already involved.” I paused and crossed my arms. “You still have to explain yourself, you know,” I reminded him.

  “About what?”

  “Michael told me you like to sell information to tabloids.”

  He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right. I did some work as an activist for Green Peace and Deep Green Resistance a few years ago, and got my hands on some evidence that put a major corporation at risk. These creeps were poisoning protected forests so trees could die of ‘natural causes’ and be used for commercial lumber. They were also dumping illegal chemicals into landfills, causing thousands of people to get sick. I turned the evidence into the EPA. I also blew the whistle on some other dirty companies. And yes, I got paid for the information. They weren’t tabloids, however.”

  “Michael didn’t tell me the details. He did imply that you leaked information about my mother’s death at the Christmas party.”

  Lance looked at me incredulously. “And you believed him?”

  “I don’t know what to believe anymore,” I said, already feeling a bit guilty for having doubted him.

  “I would never, could never do that to you. Michael is angry because he was a major stockholder for some of the companies that got busted, which means he lost money. When he found out I was behind it, he practically blew a fuse. He simply couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that it was nothing personal; I was only trying to do the right thing. I was on a mission to protect the environment and innocent people.”

  “And now?”

  He shrugged. “I still do what I can through donations, but the CIA has made it clear that I should make Michael my priority.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you really see?” he asked earnestly. “I don’t want you to think that I’m a slime ball who’s out to screw people for money.”

  “I don’t think that at all,” I assured him honestly.

  There was a moment of awkward silence before he spoke again. “Flying to Rio like this was a bit too spontaneous on your part,” he said, changing the subject.

  I shrugged. “I was prepared to spontaneously go abroad indefinitely.”

  “I’m relieved you didn’t. Besides, Michael’s reaction would have been far from pleasant.”

  I eyed him steadily. “Why should you care?”

  He looked at me long and hard. “I care because I love you,” he admitted. He stopped when he realized what he had said. His eyes softened and he whispered, “I love you, Zoë.”

  As much as I wanted to hear those words come out of his mouth, I couldn’t let myself get caught up emotionally. I was on my way to Brazil with a member of the CIA, intent on finding evidence to incriminate my husband. Now was definitely not the time to start a romance. I looked down at my hands in my lap, not saying a word.

  “I’ve upset you,” he said.

  Slowly, I met his eyes. “Right words, wrong time.”

  He stared at me with an unreadable expression. Finally, he nodded in agreement. “You’re right. Now’s not the time or the place. I’m willing to wait for you, Zoë; however long you need.” He paused, and it seemed as if he was debating whether or not he should continue. “In the two decades you slept, I thought of you often. Okay, I thought of you all the time. Do you want to know what my favorite fantasy was?” I nodded and he said, “That you’d wake up and somehow- miraculously- you’d pick me instead of my brother.”

  I reached out and took hold of his hand. “I’ll pick you, Lance.”

  “I’m holding you to that, you know,” he said seriously.

  “I just need some time to get through this.”

  “You got it, baby.”

  ***

  It was still dark when we landed at Rio’
s international airport. After hailing a cab, we made our way to a swanky American hotel by the water. According to Brady’s sources, Michael always booked the same penthouse suite when he stayed in Rio. We checked into a double room directly below his suite, and waited as Brady spoke to his South American contact.

  “Onde esta o Michael Adams agora?” he asked into his wrist-phone.

  I understood enough Portuguese to understand that he was asking for Michael’s whereabouts. Lance stretched out on the plush sofa in the sitting area of the room and closed his eyes. I was tired, too.

  Brady ended the call. “Michael just left the lab a few minutes ago. Apparently he’s been there for most of the night.”

  “Which means he must be exhausted and on his way here,” Lance said, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

  “I can’t imagine he’d go anywhere else. It’s four in the morning,” Brady said. “It’s the third time in less than two months that his lab has been vandalized. Someone is definitely pissed off.”

  I crossed my arms. “Whom?”

  Brady looked at me. “That, Mrs. Adams, is the million dollar question.”

  “What should we do now?” I asked.

  “I need to record images and maybe snag some audio if I’m lucky,” Brady said, looking into the black backpack he picked up at his apartment before boarding the flight. It was full of high-tech spyware.

  “I’ll go with you,” I said.

  “No,” Lance said, standing up and walking towards me.

  Brady ignored Lance. “If you need to see what you’re husband has been up to with your own eyes, there’s a stairwell that affords you a perfect view of his room without being seen.”

  Lance glared at Brady before turning to me. “You can see the footage afterward, can’t she, Brady?”

  Brady shrugged. “Sure, but there’s nothing like seeing proof with your own eyes- especially when it comes to significant others.”

  “Can I talk to you for a minute in the bathroom?” Lance demanded. “Will you excuse us, Zoë?”

  Brady followed Lance into the bathroom and closed the door. They turned the fan on to muffle the sounds of their voices. I walked over and placed my ear to the door.

  “Don’t you think it’s a bit cruel to have her tag along?” Lance demanded.