1 3 7 – ZOË

by C. De Melo

  We cleared security without a problem and settled into our first class seats. The plane took off and I traced the pattern of icy frost on the window with my eyes. It was snowing and the clouds were dark grey. Lance reached for my hand and it felt good when he closed his fingers over mine. I had not lied when I told him that I felt safer knowing he could defend us. Something suddenly occurred to me.

  I gave Lance a sidelong glance. “Michael doesn’t know?”

  Lance raised an eyebrow. “Know what?”

  “That you can fight and use a gun.”

  He chuckled. “Not to brag, but I know more than just how to use a gun…”

  “What I mean is- when he sent you to spy on me in Italy he had no idea you were as highly trained as my bodyguards.”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He frowned. “What?”

  “Why would he ask you to go to Italy if he didn’t think you’d be useful?”

  “Because he trusts me.”

  I crossed my arms. “Really?”

  “Spit it out. What are you trying to say?”

  “What if Michael knew all along that you were consorting with the CIA? What if asking you to go to Italy was his way of letting you know he’s onto you?”

  “Why would he do that? Why not just come out and accuse me?”

  I crossed my arms. “You know as well as I do that isn’t his style. What if he’s had this whole thing planned a long time ago?”

  He gave my hand a squeeze. “You’re being paranoid, sweetheart.”

  “Think about it: he never tried to contact me after the night I was abducted even though he knew we were seeing each other behind his back. This is Michael Adams we’re talking about here. You’re telling me that being made a cuckold by his younger brother didn’t rile him? Not even a little bit? I find it hard to believe.”

  “So what? You think he planned this whole thing? A bit too elaborate, no?”

  I smiled without humor. “Not for Michael.”

  The flight attendant offered drinks and we each requested sparkling water.

  “Do you think Michael knows we’re flying to Tahiti right now?” Lance asked with a grin.

  “It wouldn’t surprise me,” I replied seriously.

  “He’s stuck inside a federal prison. How the hell is he going to know?”

  I shrugged. “One thing I learned about your brother: never underestimate him. Come to think of it, he didn’t put up much of a fight in court, did he? Accepted the prison sentence without so much as blinking; didn’t shed a tear or even feel the need to take a seat.”

  “He’s a business man who knows how to hide his emotions.”

  I shook my head. “It’s more than that, Lance. Your brother has got something up his sleeve.”

  Lance sat back and regarded me for a long moment.

  “What?” I finally demanded.

  “I had no idea you were so paranoid,” he said.

  “I’m not paranoid, I’m just…”

  “Scared,” he said, finishing my sentence.

  “Yes,” I admitted.

  “You need to do something for me- actually three things.”

  “What are they?”

  “Promise me there will be no more talk of Michael or evil plots. Promise me that you’ll trust me to look after you and protect you. Promise me that you’ll have a good time in Tahiti.”

  “Okay, I promise.”

  We were served a wonderful lunch and then napped afterward. The mid-afternoon sun shone brilliantly in Tahiti when we landed. The hotel Lance had booked sent a driver to fetch us at the airport. He opened the doors of the classic Mercedes Benz and bade us ‘good day’ in French.

  “Bonjour,” I replied.

  “J'espère que vous avez eu un vol agréable,” the driver said.

  “Oui, merci.”

  I practiced my French with the driver by asking questions and making small talk. The landscape was breathtaking. Lush tropical plants, palm trees, waterfalls and lagoons; no wonder the artist Paul Gauguin came to this amazing island to paint his masterpieces. Anyone would be inspired in a place like this!

  The driver turned the car onto a private lane that was lined on both sides with thick vegetation. After a few minutes the road ended and the car stopped in front of a sprawling white stucco building. We got out of the car and went inside. Elegant, biomorphic furniture with natural fabric accessories and potted orchids graced the lobby. The receptionist behind the desk welcomed us with a dazzling smile and gave us the key to our private bungalow. She also pointed out the many amenities available on the luxurious property: full service spa (with hammam), gym, five-star restaurant, two swanky bars, and water sports rental facilities. The private bungalows where the guests stayed were set far enough away from the main building to afford total privacy.

  The receptionist led us through the lobby and onto a private beach. I gasped when I saw the crystalline water and powdery white sand. There was no one to be seen in either direction. The bungalows were constructed over the lagoon and connected by walkways, which branched from the lobby’s main dock.

  “Do you like it?” Lance asked.

  “I love it. This is paradise.”

  The receptionist smiled. “Oui, Madame, this is indeed paradise.”

  The bellhop was already transporting our suitcases to the farthest and most private of the charming bungalows. It was spacious and equipped with every comfort imaginable. The décor was understated elegance with potted orchids and ferns scattered throughout the room. There was even a private terrace and boat dock. No need for a pool with perfect water right outside the door. Our accommodations were lovely, but the view was priceless.

  “Can we live here forever?” I asked, standing on the terrace and looking at the infinity of aqua water and blue sky.

  Lance came to stand behind me and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “If that’s what you want, I can make it happen.”

  “We can buy a small bungalow somewhere and live simply. We’ll eat fish and fresh fruit and become beach bums,” I said, turning around to face him.

  “We can leave our problems in D.C. and just start over.”

  I stared at his mouth. “Exactement.”

  He kissed the tip of my nose. “Your French isn’t as bad as you said it was, you know.”

  “Merci.”

  He bent his head and claimed my mouth in a sensuous kiss. When he pulled away, he asked, “How about a swim?”

  I nodded in response. I went into the bathroom to change into my bikini and when I came out I saw Lance holding the automatic rifle.

  “What are you doing?” I asked, surprised.

  “Looking for a hiding place,” he replied, looking around the room.

  The gun was too big for the safe. The ceiling consisted of wooden beams, so Lance hopped onto the bed and placed the rifle on top of one of the beams. I gave him a thumbs-up sign to let him know it was perfectly concealed.

  He changed into his swimming trunks and we entered the water, which was deliciously cool and crystal clear. Since the bungalows were far apart and strategically positioned to offer total privacy, we could see no one else in the water. Being the last bungalow meant no one would be walking or swimming near us. Feeling daring, I took off my bikini and tossed it onto the deck.

  Lance’s eyes widened in surprise. “Aren’t we sassy? This is a side of you I haven’t seen yet.”

  “Me either,” I confessed.

  He chuckled and took me in his arms. “I like it,” he said huskily before kissing my throat.

  We made love in the water amidst curious tropical fish. It was pure bliss. As I took him into me I felt a pang of fear. What if I were to lose him? What if this newfound joy and happiness was suddenly taken away from me? I closed my eyes and forced the negative thoughts from my head. I savored the feel of his skin against mine. Our kisses were salty and wet.

  “I want you to be my wife,” he whispered in my ear. “And I’m n
ot ashamed to admit that I’ve always wanted that, even when you were married to my brother.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t pick you,” I said.

  “Don’t be sorry…people should never have regrets. Live for today and don’t look back. Marry me, Zoë.”

  “Yes,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  He pulled away to look into my eyes. “Marry me…here, in this paradise.”

  I nodded and we held each other close in the water. I never wanted the moment to end and could have easily stayed in his arms forever. We eventually disentangled ourselves, however, and went inside to take showers. Lance announced that a nap before dinner was in order and I agreed. We left the terrace doors open to allow the breeze to kiss our naked bodies as we slept on downy white cotton sheets.

  The sun was setting by the time we went out for dinner. I said nothing when Lance placed his gun in the shoulder holster beneath his lightweight dinner jacket. The evening was balmy and the sky was the color of mango flesh with cerise clouds billowing on the horizon. I wore a long sapphire dress of lightweight silk that softly caressed my legs as I walked. There was magic in the twilight; my senses were heightened.

  Lance took my hand in his. “I was serious about wanting to marry you here in Tahiti.”

  “I was serious when I said yes.”

  He led me to the restaurant attached to the far side of the main lobby. Tables were set on the grand terrace overlooking the water. The many palm trees around the establishment gave it privacy and beauty. Tanned guests spoke and laughed softly while dining under the stars. We were shown to our table and ordered the special of the day, which was fresh fish.

  For the first time in months I felt totally relaxed. The restaurant was lit with candles and tiny white lights, creating a soothing and romantic atmosphere. We were seated far enough from the other guests to allow us to hear the sounds of the waves lapping against the shore and the whispering breeze through the palm trees. I sighed from pure pleasure.

  Lance’s wrist-phone went off. He looked down and frowned. “What’s up, Brady?”

  My stomach clenched immediately. Brady was speaking softly so as not to be overheard, which meant that I could barely make out what he was saying from across the table. Lance’s troubled expression made me sit up in my seat. When his eyes turned to mine my blood went cold.

  He ended the call and stood up. “We need to go.”

  “Why?” I demanded.

  “Charles White is in Tahiti.”

  This had to be a joke. “What?!”

  “Airport security cameras captured your image. A man like White can get access to anything.” He ran his fingers through his hair and exhaled in frustration. “Damn it. We should have worn disguises…I didn’t even think of it. Forgive me, Zoë.”

  I stood up. “It’s not your fault, Lance. I didn’t think of it either. Neither did Brady for that matter.”

  Our waiter came rushing towards us. Lance gripped my wrist and pulled me away from the table as he apologized to the waiter. We left the restaurant and headed in the direction of our bungalow. By now the moon was up and it was dark. Nobody was on the dock or walkways.

  Lance paused mid-step. “Did you hear that?” he asked in a barely audible whisper.

  “Hear what?”

  And then I heard it- the far off sounds of men talking. We tiptoed along the wall of the main building and hid behind the vegetation and palm trees. The moon afforded us enough light to clearly see the outlines of the bungalows.

  Lance motioned for me to stand behind him. I watched as he slowly reached for the gun in his holster and crouched low to the ground. I did the same. We waited until the source of the whispers manifested themselves. Two men dressed in black walked towards the main dock. They were coming from the direction of our bungalow. One of them had his wrist-phone up to his mouth and was speaking quietly. Their heads were turning left and right as if they were seeking something. They walked the length of the dock quickly and turned in the direction of the restaurant.

  “They’re looking for us,” Lance said. “Wait right here. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “Where are you going?” I asked, panicked.

  He placed the loaded gun in my hand. “To get my rifle and assess the damage. Don’t move.”

  Before I could protest, Lance ran into the night. I kept my eyes on the two men and prayed for them not to turn back. They went inside the main lobby and I could see them through the glass doors. They exited a moment later and continued walking towards the restaurant, stopping to check the spa on the way. I looked over my shoulder towards the bungalow.

  Hurry up, Lance!

  The men reached the restaurant and searched the inside before looking around on the terrace. They stopped to ask the hostess standing at the podium a question before retracing their steps. As they walked back towards where I hid, I noticed that both men were young and lean.

  Lance crept beside me with the sleek and deadly rifle in his hand. It was a wicked looking thing; lightweight and easy to use with some kind of foolproof aiming technology (the technical name escapes me since I was never one for weapons). He gripped my shoulder and pushed me forward.

  “What are you doing?” I hissed.

  “Following them,” he whispered. “It’s not safe to stay here. Our bungalow has been ransacked and they took our real passports.”

  “Damn it, I forgot to lock them in the safe! Oh, I’m so sorry.”

  “This isn’t your fault.”

  He led me along the side of the building and instructed me to wait there while he followed the two men up the lane. I jumped a moment later when I heard the sound of two shots being fired. Lance came jogging down the lane and waved for me to follow him. My legs refused to move at first, but I forced them to do my bidding. I froze when I saw the bodies of the two men slumped over one another on the ground. Lance’s face was hard and his steely gaze frightened me.

  Realizing this, he came forward and put an arm around me. “One of them pulled a gun on me,” he explained.

  I looked down and saw the dead man gripping a gun. Lance led me away from the scene to a small dark blue car parked off the side of the road and semi-hidden in the vegetation.

  “We don’t have keys,” I pointed out.

  Lance waved a set of keys. “This was in one of the men’s pockets. I hope it belongs to this car.”

  Luckily, the key made the engine spring to life. As we were heading back to the airport Brady called.

  “I just killed two of White’s men. They ransacked our place and stole our real passports,” Lance said, keeping one hand on the steering wheel as he held his wrist-phone close to his face.

  “Is Zoë okay?” Brady asked.

  Lance stole a glance at me. “She’s okay, just shaken up a bit. How the hell are we going to get out of here without passports?”

  “We have an agent there. Let me make a few calls and I’ll get back to you.”

  Brady hung up. I felt the sting of tears and wiped my eyes quickly.

  Lance gripped my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t cry, sweetheart.”

  “Those men could have killed you.”

  He continued to look straight ahead. “You underestimate me.”

  We rode in silence for several minutes until Brady called again.

  “Our agent goes by the name Francine; Caucasian, five-one, short blonde hair, brown eyes. She’ll be wearing jeans and yellow tee-shirt. She’s on her way to the airport to meet you right now,” Brady said.

  “What can she do to help us?” Lance demanded.

  “Just meet her there. She’ll get you on the next flight out of Tahiti.”

  Brady hung up and I marveled at the power the CIA possessed to pull strings all over the world. We arrived at the airport and a woman fitting Brady’s description was standing out front waiting to meet us.

  “Francine?” Lance asked after getting out of the driver’s seat.

  “Oui,” the petite blonde replied in a F
rench accent. “Follow me.”

  I scrambled out of the car and took hold of Lance’s hand as we followed the woman into the airport. She led us to security and told us to wait as she spoke to one of the guards. The tall man in uniform nodded to Francine before looking at us and motioning for us to come forward. He then escorted us to a small room where we were told to sit and wait. He closed the door and left us inside.

  Francine said nothing to us as she watched the door. When it opened again, a middle-aged man in an official uniform came into the room. Francine spoke in quick French, but we understood. We both stood up at once. Francine looked at us and frowned. She reached down to pull a weapon hidden in the leg of her jeans, but she wasn’t fast enough. Lance already had his gun aimed at her head.

  “Get her weapon,” he said to me. “Make one move and I’ll shoot,” he added. He looked to the man. “Same goes for you.”

  I moved to where Francine stood and raised the pant leg of her jeans. Strapped to her lower calf was a small gun. I removed it and went to stand beside Lance.

  “Does Brady know you’re a double spy?” Lance demanded.

  Francine shrugged. “Who isn’t?”

  Lance raised my hand so that the gun I held pointed at Francine while he aimed his gun at the man. “We’re taking both of you hostage on the next flight out of here.”

  The man finally spoke. “That will not be possible, Mr. Adams.” Lance tried to hide his surprise at the man knowing his true identity. “Don’t be shocked. We knew you and Ms. Adams were coming to Tahiti the moment you boarded the plane in D.C.,” he said flatly.

  Lance glared at Francine. “Let me guess…you work for Charles White.”

  “I work for the highest bidder and yes, at the moment Mr. White fits that description,” she replied.

  “Well, I must admit that I’m impressed,” Lance said sarcastically. “The man is a mastermind at playing chase.”

  “You bet!”

  All eyes turned toward the booming voice just outside the doorway. One second later a corpulent man of average height in a light blue linen suit and classic white Panama hat appeared in the doorway. He was glistening with sweat and held a pale green handkerchief to his brow as he struggled to catch his breath. He removed his hat and his bald head shone under the fluorescent lights. His fair skin was flushed and bore a shade akin to that of a baby piglet.