1 3 7 – ZOË (20 page)

“Not long, a couple of years.  If cryogenic technology had been what it is today, you would have been awakened much sooner.  I didn’t want the doctors to touch you until they were sure you’d be fine.”

“So,
let me get this straight.  The doctors knew how to freeze people, but they didn’t know how to un-freeze them?”

“Yes. 
Why do you ask?”

“I’m just curious.  There’s still so much
I don’t know and I want to be well informed,” I replied, carefully choosing my words.

His eyebrow shot upward. 
“I think I’ve already told you everything there is to tell.”

“Z-Lab operates in the U.S. and Brazil, right?”

He was watching me steadily.  “Right…”

“Are there any Z-Lab branches anywhere else in the world?”

He laughed without any trace of humor.  “Why all the questions, princess?  Surely there are other topics we can discuss that are far more interesting.”

I smiled and tilted my head innocently. 
“I’m just curious.”

“I have a few re
search facilities abroad; Germany, Sweden…”

He
stopped talking when Maria came out with the sorbetto.  She placed a delicate cup of Italian sherbet before me, and then bent towards Michael to place a cup in front of him- exposing a generous amount of cleavage in the process.

“Th
ank you, Maria,” he said.

We
waited for Maria to leave before continuing the conversation.

“Forgive me, Michael.  I don’t know much about your work and sometimes
I feel disconnected.”

He smiled at me indulgently.  “Well, there’s no need for you to feel that way. 
Let’s just enjoy our dessert now, shall we?”

“Yes, Michael,” I said submissively, picking at my dessert.

I saw movement out of the corner of my eye.  I glanced and saw a shadow flit across the sliding glass door.  Michael’s head was lowered and he was obliviously eating his dessert.  Had Maria been listening to our conversation?  I made a mental note to keep a closer eye on that girl. 

When we had finished eating, Michael took me to a movie.  Despite having chosen an exciting action-adventure film, he fell asleep half way through.  When we got home later that night, he shut himself up in his
office and I went to bed.  I fell asleep quickly, but was awakened by a terrifying dream.  I placed a hand on my forehead and stared at the ceiling as I recalled the details to memory.  I was walking through the Tudor garden.  The sun was hidden by ominous clouds and a fine mist swirled around my legs.  As I walked past vibrant flowers and green shrubs, they shriveled into twisted black shapes and died.  This made me sad and I cried.  I heard a soft whisper coming from inside the garden shed.  The door opened and I walked inside to find the trunk sitting in the middle of the floor.  The lid was thrown back and I looked inside, but there was no bottom.  There was nothing except unfathomable blackness.  Suddenly I was inside that blackness, floating in liquid nothingness.  I felt cold, numb, and dead.  I managed to open my eyes and I saw what looked like frosty glass and a man’s surprised face staring back at me.

The strange dreams were happening with less frequency, but I still liked to document them.  As I reached for my dream journal to write down the details, I heard footsteps and a smothered giggle. 
I strained my ears for a few minutes before creeping out of bed.  Quietly, I went to the head of the stairs.

“Hello?” I called out into the shadowy darkness.

No reply came.  I tiptoed down the stairs to Michael’s office.  A strip of light escaped from beneath the closed door. 

Silence.
 

After a few minutes,
I crept back upstairs to my bedroom.

***

Michael joined me for breakfast looking bleary-eyed and tired.  He announced that he had worked until three in the morning and fell asleep on the oversized sofa in his office.

“Maybe the movie was a bad idea if you had so much work to do,” I commented while sipping my espresso.

“Nonsense.  I wanted to spend time with my wife,” he said, helping himself to fruit salad and toast.  “Besides, I’m working from home today.”

“Shall I have lunch sent to your
office?” I asked.

“I’d prefer to have lunch together,” he replied, buttering his toast.

“I’ll let Juana know,” I said.

He ate q
uickly and returned to his office. 

Nancy had taken the last couple of days off due to fatigue.  Being so close to her due date, she felt swollen and miserable.  Her absence meant a greater workload for me, but I didn’t mind. 
I spent the entire morning working on an article announcing the upcoming merger with the Rosenberg Gallery.  The article was meant for the annual Ashford Gallery Review. Juana eventually knocked on my door announcing that it was lunch time.  Fresh garden salads were already on the table and Michael was waiting for me.

“
I got so carried away writing that article for the Ashford Gallery Review that I lost track of time,” I said as I took my seat.

“
Busy bee,” he said with a smile.  “What’s that divine aroma I smell?”

“Mushroom risotto, Mr. Adams
.  Porcini to be exact,” Maria replied with a smile.

I frowned slightly. 
“Aren’t you supposed to have the day off today, Maria?”

Juana glanced over at Maria with tight lips and a stern face.  Maria pretende
d not to notice.  “I switched because I need tomorrow off, instead.”

“Well, as long as Juana doesn’t mind,” Michael said indulgently.

“No, sir, I don’t,” Juana mumbled.

I could t
ell she was lying, however.  Juana didn’t like Maria and neither did I.  The women served our lunch in silence, but I could see that Juana was upset about something.  I also noticed the same flirtatious behavior on Maria’s part that I had noticed last night.  My wrist-phone rang half way through lunch and Michael frowned. 

“It’s Ralph Ashford, Nancy’s husband.  I should take it,” I said.

Michael nodded reluctantly. 

Ralph
appeared on the tiny screen.  “Hope I’m not disturbing you, Zoë.”

“Not at all,
Ralph, what’s up?” 

“I
just want to let you know that Nancy went into labor last night.”

“Is she okay
?”

“
Yeah, she’s great.  She gave birth to a healthy boy this morning.  Almost eight pounds!”

“Wow! 
Congratulations to you both,” I said with a grin. 

“Thanks.  We’ve named him Harold
, after my father.”

“That’s a fine name.  How is Nancy?”

“Sleeping.  She’s exhausted.”

“I
bet.  I’ll be by to visit her and the baby soon.”

“
There’s something else,” he said apprehensively.

“What’s that?”

“Nancy needs you to go into the gallery this afternoon and finish the quarterly report.  She planned on doing it from home today, but...” he trailed off insinuating the obvious.

“No problem, I know what to do
.”

“The information is in her office.”
 

“
Tell her not to worry about a thing.”

“Thank you, Zoë.”

“You’re welcome.”  The screen went blue and I looked to Michael.  “I’m sorry to cut our lunch short, Michael, but I need to shower and change.”

“Not a problem, p
rincess.”

I
would be spending a lot more time at the gallery now that Nancy was on maternity leave, and I actually looked forward to it.  I needed to get my mind off recent events, especially Michael’s possible involvement with terrorism.  After showering and slipping into a chic pantsuit, I went downstairs.  Juana had already cleared the table and cleaned the kitchen.  Michael was nowhere to be found (most likely in his office).

“Mrs. Adams,” Juana call
ed out as I headed towards the front door.  She had car keys in one hand and her purse in the other. 

“Yes, Juana?”

“I’m on my way out to run errands.  Do you need anything?” she asked.

“Thanks for asking, but no.  I’m all set.”

“Okay.  Have a good day, Mrs. Adams.”

“You, too, and thanks for lunch.
  The risotto was exceptional.”

Juana walked out with me and turned towards the back where her car was parked. 
I got into my Mercedes and headed towards downtown D. C.  Fifteen minutes later I cursed aloud and turned the car around.  I’d forgotten my briefcase, which contained my tablet full of vital gallery information.  I pulled up the drive, entered through the front door and ran upstairs to the bedroom.  After grabbing the briefcase, I descended the stairs and stopped when I heard a strange sound.  It was the same stifled giggle I thought I’d heard last night, only now it was followed by a sigh.  The noises were coming from the kitchen.  I set down the briefcase at the base of the stairs and quietly crept towards the kitchen.  Now I could hear heavy breathing and moaning.  My stomach clenched in preparation for what I knew I would see.

I
approached the edge of the kitchen doorway and carefully craned my head to take a peek.  Maria was sitting on the marble counter top with the skirt of her uniform pulled up to her waist.  Michael’s pants were on the floor in a heap around his ankles.  Her legs were wrapped around his waist as he lustfully pounded into her with reckless abandon. He must have taken some kind of male sexual potency drug since I’d never witnessed him perform with so much energy and zeal during our marriage. They were both so engrossed in the act that they were oblivious of my presence.

As I backed away silently, I thought I saw Maria looking at me through half-closed lids
.  I grabbed my briefcase and quietly opened the front door.  As I got into my car and drove off I wondered how long their affair had been going on.  I knew Michael had not remained celibate during my nineteen year absence, but to actually catch him in
flagrante delicto
with another woman in my own home was a bit offensive.  Especially since he barely touched me! 

What do you care?  You’re heart belongs to another man…

The sobering confession hit me like a slap in the face.  I reached the Ashford Gallery and parked in the area behind the building reserved for employees and clients.  Taking a deep breath, I stared at the sky from the inside of my car.  If I confronted Michael about what I’d seen in the kitchen things might get ugly between us, and I didn’t need that kind of stress in my life right now.  As for Maria, I wasn’t really sure if she saw me standing there or not. 

Oddly, I still hadn’t shed a
single tear. 

He was my husband
and I cared for him very much, but it was time for me to finally admit what I had been avoiding for months:
I was no longer in love with Michael Adams. 
I walked into the gallery and headed for my office.  Suzie greeted me with a smile and I returned the gesture as if nothing was amiss.

***

Colin Brady unzipped his jacket as he entered the seedy bar.  Located on the outskirts of the city, it was old, run down and full of D.C.’s ‘finest’ (prostitutes, drug lords and junkies).  Despite anti-smoking laws, the smoke was thick and the music loud.  Brady found his informant quickly.  Lance Adams was sitting in a dark booth towards the back.  A perspiring glass of ice and liquid amber sat on a soggy red paper napkin in front of him.

“What are you drinking, Adams?” Brady asked.

“Scotch on the rocks.”

“Two scotch on the rocks
,” Brady said to the bartender before slipping into the opposite side of the booth.  “So, what have you got?”

“This
,” Lance said as he turned on his tablet and pushed it towards Brady.

Brady
let out a low whistle after he read the contents on the screen.  “Where’d you get this?”

“I scanned them from original documents my sister-in-law found hidden in her house.”

Brady pulled out his own tablet and began transferring the information.  “This does not look good for your brother.”

“Tell me about it,” Lance agreed.

“We don’t have enough evidence to take Michael into custody, but we may have enough to finally perform a full investigation.”

“The question that keeps going through my mind is:
why
would he keep this stuff?  My brother isn’t stupid.”

Brady shrugged.  “In my experience there are
two kinds of criminals; one feels pleasure in the crimes he has committed, and the other feels guilt.  One keeps damning evidence as a trophy; the other subconsciously wants to get caught and be punished.  To understand why your brother has kept those lab reports you must first discover what kind of man he is.”

There was a pause as Lance pondered on the words.  He
eyed Brady steadily.  “I don’t want you to go public with this.”