1 3 7 – ZOË (13 page)

“
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 Danis
h 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.  “B
ad 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, o
ne 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 yo
u 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 expre
ssion 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.”

“Anothe
r 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.”

“W
hy 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 u
niformed 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 th
e 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, p
rincess,” 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.

“H
i 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?”

“A
t 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.  “M
y favorite place in the world to enjoy an espresso.  Drink one for me, will you?”

“I will
.”

“M
y 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.

Lanc
e 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.

I admired his perfectly cut Valentino suit
.  “Good afternoon, Rodolfo.”

“I trust
you had a pleasant flight?” he asked politely.

“Ve
ry pleasant, thank you.”

Rodolfo
pushed some computer keys before placing a rectangular metal plate on the counter.  It was called an encoder and it was the latest in hotel security. 

“Please place your right hand flatly
upon the surface, Mrs. Adams.”

I obediently placed my
hand, palm down, onto the metal plate.  The tiny light in the plate’s corner went from red to green, then beeped.  He handed me an electronic room key.

“You’re all set, Mrs. Adam
s,” he said before placing the encoder behind the counter.  “I’m sure you will find the room to your liking.  If there is anything you need, please feel free to call me.”

“Thank you,
Rodolfo.”

Rodolfo
signaled for the bellhop to show me to my room.  We followed the young man into the elevator and quietly rode to the top floor.  There was another encoder panel on the wall just outside the door leading to the Penthouse Suite.  I placed my hand on it, just as I had at the front desk and then swiped my key.  A green light went on causing the door to unlock and open.  The bodyguards followed me into the suite and Drew placed the bags by an antique dresser while Bill checked the bathroom, the closet and under the bed.

“All clear.  We’l
l be right next door if you need us, Mrs. Adams,” Bill said.

“I’ll be fine, gentlemen,” I assured.
  “Why don’t you and Drew take the night off and have some fun?”

Bill shook his head. 
“We have our orders, Mrs. Adams.  I’m sorry if you find our company unpleasant.  We promise to be discreet and stay as far from you as safely possible.”

“It’s nothing personal
, Bill.  My husband’s paranoia is to blame,” I assured. “I’ll alert you when I’m ready to go.”

“Very good, Mrs. Adams,” Bill said with a nod.

“Thank you, gentlemen,” I said in dismissal. 

They hesitated and then (to my relief) left me alone.  It felt wonderful to b
e by myself.  For a minute there I thought they were going to stand guard in the bathroom as I took a shower!  I wouldn’t put it past my husband to give them such an order.  I grimaced as I contemplated the lack of privacy I’d be forced to endure during my trip.  Sighing, I got up and walked onto the small balcony to enjoy the view.  The late afternoon sun was a fiery ball hanging low on the horizon.  I leaned on the metal railing and breathed in the air.  The beautiful domes of the city, including the awesome dome of St. Peter’s basilica, looked dreamy in the hazy glow of twilight. It was so romantic… my mind began to wander and the image of Lance became clear in my head.  I straightened immediately at the thought.

Shouldn’t you be thinking of Michael?

Why should this romantic scenery make me t
hink of Lance?  I could easily picture him wearing a sheer linen shirt opened just enough to reveal his muscular chest, his hair hanging loose, his warm smile…

Stop.

A shiver worked its way from the base of my spine all the way up to my head.  I felt like an ungrateful traitor, a terrible person.  Michael was generous, kind, protective…how could I possibly fantasize about his brother after he’s been so good to me? 

Could it be because you’re
falling for Lance?

I cursed
the little voice in my head.  I was too afraid to answer that question.  I left the balcony in the hope that a hot shower would bring me back to my senses.  Lance canceled our lunch on Monday, and despite knowing how important it was to me, never bothered to reschedule.  In fact, he never called me as promised on Thursday, not even to wish me a good trip.  The last person I should be thinking about is Lance Adams!

I turned my attention to the beautiful furnishings in my room. 
The suite was richly decorated in late nineteenth century Italian Liberty style, but it was the bathroom that was really impressive.  Gorgeous pink-veined white marble covered the floor, walls and bathtub.  The expensive brass faucets gleamed.  At the sight of the luxurious tub, I opted for a bath instead of a shower.  There was a basket containing several complimentary beauty products and I fished through it until I found sweet-smelling bath oil.  I turned on the tap and poured the oil into the stream of hot water.

I got out of my travel clothes and put on the white
terry guest robe that was hanging behind the door.  Next, I left the bathroom to fetch the small travel case that contained my personal care items.  As I walked past the bed, I noticed a vase of long stemmed yellow roses on the bedside table.  There was also a card, a box of expensive dark chocolates, a bottle of Brunello, and a set of crystal wine glasses.  After pouring out some wine and popping a chocolate into my mouth, I opened the card:

H
ave a great time in Rome, princess.

Love, Michael

This unexpected, thoughtful gesture on the part of my husband made me feel twice as guilty for having fantasized about Lance.  What was wrong with me?  Not only was Michael an ideal husband- I owed him my life.

Well, maybe he should
stop treating you like a child and start treating you like a woman.  Besides, it’s not as if you two have a normal sex life, now is it?  No wonder you fantasize about other men…

“Shut up,” I whispered aloud.  That little voice
in my head was really driving me nuts. 

You know something isn’t right. 
You feel it in your gut.  Why don’t you admit it to yourself?

With
chocolates in one hand and wine in the other, I walked back into the bathroom and eased myself into the fragrant, hot water.  I had a couple of hours before my meeting in the Piazza Navona and I intended to use them wisely.

***

Lance watched Zoë from the monitor in his room.  The camera allotted him a full view of the room, the entrance door and the door leading into the bathroom.  He smiled as he saw her dressed in a robe and carrying chocolates and a glass of wine.  He couldn’t see inside the bathroom, but judging from the sound of the running water he assumed she was headed for a long bath.  He would take the opportunity to shower and nap for a few minutes; he needed the sleep.