Zero Separation (39 page)

Donovan reached out and tried to find her hand again, but she stepped away.

“You did have a choice, and you went after Strauss. You could have died, but you went anyway, without a single thought about Abigail or me. I've always put you first, but that's not what I get in return—and I don't think I ever really have. You lost Meredith, and I'm sorry you've had to endure that, but why did you marry me? It's so clear to me now that I'm your second choice—I'm the runner-up.”

Donovan was speechless as she gathered her things and headed toward the door. She hesitated for a moment and turned toward him. “The look on your face tells me I'm not wrong.”

“Nothing I say is going to make any difference to you right now,” Donovan said. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm sorry too, but I can't live this way anymore. I can't be here.” Lauren turned away and pushed through the door.

Buck hugged Lauren and then gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I wish it didn't have to be like this.”

“Me too.” Lauren pulled away. “I'm really happy you've accepted a full-time job with Eco-Watch. Take care of everyone. Okay?”

“I will,” Buck leaned down and gave a final wave to Abigail, who was already in her car seat.

Lauren took one last look at her house before getting into the waiting limousine. She felt so numb. As the car pulled away, she leaned back into the leather seat and tried to shut down her emotions. She'd known this moment was going to be difficult, but it was beyond what she'd feared.

“How are you holding up?” Aaron Keller asked.

“I'll be fine once I'm on the plane.”

“I'm happy to hear that both your husband and Agent Montero will make full recoveries. They're very fortunate.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Of course,” Keller replied. “I have the final confirmation. You'll be met by my people in Paris at the Le Bourget executive terminal. You and Abigail will be issued your visas and other papers and taken directly to the flat. I've taken the liberty of having the cupboards stocked with a few days worth of food. It'll let you acclimate without having to run many errands.”

“I can't thank you enough,” Lauren said.

“My country owes you and your husband a great deal,” Keller replied. “I'm truly sorry though that the circumstances dictate your sudden departure. But then again, that is life, is it not?”

Lauren nodded, hoping she wouldn't cry until she and Abigail were airborne.

“The security will be in place, but I've made it clear that you and Abigail be given as much privacy as possible.”

“Do you have any clue yet why Strauss was trying to do this?”

“Not really. I think Strauss's emotional state combined with the long-term effects of his chronic drug use made him somewhat pliable to those who may have had a hidden agenda,” Keller said, his voice heavy with regret. “Had he succeeded, it would have looked as if Islamic extremists had struck the United States with a biological weapon. The only real lead was the man who tried to kill you at the hospital. An Iranian national, trained in Yemen, and in your country illegally. The aftermath of such an attack with Islamic undercurrents would have probably have touched off a full-blown war in the Middle East. I think Strauss, or his handlers, were hoping that an act of this magnitude would lead to the annihilation of many of Israel's sworn enemies. The death of millions of Americans may have very well triggered the final conflict they'd hoped for.”

“How did he acquire the anthrax?”

“Just days before the second Gulf War, he led the mission where it was appropriated. It was a surgical airborne strike deep into northern Iraq, very much like a kidnapping, only we raided a convoy and took Iraq's weapons of mass destruction. The mission was a success, but Strauss and his unit took heavy casualties. He was wounded and very nearly died. It was his last mission. From what we've been able to go back and piece together so far is that at some point during the original action inside Iraq, six containers of anthrax were lost. Years later, Nathan Strauss and three other men from the original unit went back into Iraq and reclaimed the canisters and transported them to Venezuela. We know the rest.”

“So in his twisted way, Strauss was hoping for a lasting peace in the Middle East,” Lauren said. “The end justifies the means?”

“Yes, perhaps he saw himself as some sort of catalyst from on high to bring that about, but peace won't happen through killing.”

“Will there ever be peace? Can it happen?”

“I don't know, but killing hasn't solved our differences,” Keller continued. “We know that Strauss and the three other men that were working with him are all dead, but we're still working on the possibility that an extremist element inside the Israeli government was helping them. Your security will continue indefinitely.”

“What if the people who assisted Strauss are inside Mossad?”

“You're not being taken to a Mossad safe house. The flat is owned by an old friend of mine. He's ill and being treated at the Mayo Clinic in Minnesota. He'll be in the States for quite some time. The men and women in the security detail have no ties to Mossad and were handpicked by me. I'd trust them with the lives of my own family.”

The limo turned down the access road that would take them to Signature Aviation where the chartered Gulfstream was waiting for the transatlantic trip to France. The driver smoothly swung up to the front door and stopped. Lauren was about to open the door when Keller stopped her.

“It looks like someone is waiting for you.” Keller gestured to the figure standing on the sidewalk. “If you prefer, I can have my men ask him to leave.”

“No, it's fine.” Lauren reached out and they shook hands. “Thank you again for everything.”

Lauren unfastened Abigail from her car seat, clutched her daughter tightly, and then stepped out of the car into the warm evening air. Abigail lit up at the sight of her grandpa.

“Hello, William,” Lauren said.

William held out his arms and took Abigail. He pulled her close and breathed her in, as if it would be the last time he'd ever see his granddaughter. The sight nearly broke Lauren's heart, but whatever it was that William wanted to say to her, she remained resolute to get away from this place and find some perspective. Behind her, the driver unloaded the bags and set them on the ground. One of the pilots came through the door and introduced himself. He told her they were ready when she was, placed the bags on a wheeled
cart, and pulled it through the door. Without fanfare, the driver slid back behind the wheel, and Keller drove off into the night.

“You realize you're doing exactly what you didn't want to do,” William said. “You're fleeing your home.”

“Turns out it wasn't the home I thought it was,” Lauren said. As she met William's gaze, the elder statesmen nodded subtly.

“You'll be living under twenty-four-hour armed guard.”

“There's still the possibility of a threat.” Lauren replied. “What would you have me do?”

“Anything but this.”

“I should get going, the pilots are waiting.”

William handed Abigail back to her mother, then reached inside his coat and removed an envelope. “The reason I came was to give you this.”

“What is it?”

“It's from Donovan.”

Lauren shifted Abigail in her arms, took it from William's hand, and slid it into her purse. “How is he?”

“He'll make a complete recovery—physically. Emotionally, I don't know. He hates that you're leaving, but he also knows that he has only himself to blame. We'll all have to take this one step at a time and see where it goes.” William reached in and tenderly kissed both of them. “You're very much loved here. Please take care.”

Lauren watched William walk away. She went into the flight lounge and within moments the crew had escorted her out to the plane. There was no need for armed guards over the North Atlantic as she and Abigail were the only two passengers. After a short safety briefing from the flight attendant, the Gulfstream taxied out. It was well past her bedtime so the gentle motion of the airplane and the quiet drone of the engines put Abigail to sleep almost instantly. With any luck she wouldn't wake up until they arrived in Paris.

Lauren dimmed the lights and fixed her gaze out the window as the airplane rolled down the runway and lifted off for Europe. She spotted the landmarks that identified Fairfax County as home,
and she finally let herself cry. Thankfully, they climbed through a thin layer of clouds and all that remained below was the orange glow of Washington, D.C. She opened her purse for a tissue and saw Donovan's letter. She set it on her lap and dabbed at her eyes until the tears stopped.

It took her a long time before she finally picked it up. She turned it over in her hands and noted the thickness, not more than a single page, she guessed. Her name had been scrawled on the face; it was Donovan's writing, but worse, messier. She debated with herself about when to read it—if at all. She finally relented and slid her finger under the flap and removed the sheet of paper.

Dear Lauren
,

I of all people understand why you're compelled to leave. I've created a life you've decided is filled with too much pain, half-truths, and deception. You're wrong about you being my second choice. I married you because I couldn't imagine living without you. I didn't do a very good job at being your husband, and I won't deny that I failed us in almost every way possible, but it was never because I didn't love you. It was the exact opposite. I always felt as if I was protecting you and Abigail, but we both know I was only protecting myself from my problems, all of the emotional damage I've suffered and never effectively dealt with. I will never forgive myself for those errors in judgment. Take your time. I can assure you that many stages of both grief and elation come with making a clean break. It's an evolution, and there's much to learn but it doesn't happen all at once. I hope you find what it is you're looking for. Most of all, never forget that I'm always here for you and that I'll always love you
.

Donovan

Lauren folded the note and slid it back into the envelope. She signaled the flight attendant and asked for a glass of wine. Lauren
sipped sparingly and watched the eastern seaboard as it slipped away beneath the wing. She had no illusion about what she'd left in her wake. Her actions had no doubt alienated her from almost everyone in her life. Michael and Susan, William, Buck, plus everyone at Eco-Watch would no doubt condemn her for leaving Donovan. Even her mother, while ever supportive, didn't fully understand. Calvin had been sympathetic and refused her resignation, instead, he'd called it an open-ended leave of absence.

If she ever came back, she'd have to allow time for those wounds to heal. If she never returned, then it didn't really matter. She had no real idea if Donovan could, or even would, make an effort to come to terms with his issues. Maybe coming so close to death, coupled with her departure, might initiate a reassessment of his life. She knew her husband was a very complicated, conflicted man—more so than she'd ever suspected. Donovan's demons were formidable, tempered in blood and hardened by decades of pain and guilt. It might be easier for him to simply tell her goodbye and revert back to the solitary creature he was when she found him.

Climbing into the rarefied atmosphere nearly eight miles above the earth, the cloudless sky bristled with the light from countless stars. Lauren gazed out at the heavens. The light from each distant sun had traveled for millions of years to reach her at this very moment. Somehow it made her hopeful. Perhaps one day Donovan would find his peace and the resulting light would ultimately reach out across the distance and find her.

Savannah, Georgia

He rounded the wingtip and ran his hand over the smoothly painted surface. The pristine Gulfstream 500 marked an upgrade from the Gulfstream IV, a significant technological improvement over the older version, but Donovan still felt a tug of nostalgia for the original—the one that had saved his life. The brand new
Spirit of da Vinci
was still at the factory in Savannah, Georgia, but hopefully in few days he'd accept delivery. It had been five months since the accident, yet he was able to recall even the smallest detail of the events leading up to the actual crash, and he was convinced that no other airplane but a Gulfstream would have made it to the airport that night.

It was late, the large hangar was empty and quiet, but Donovan wasn't ready to go back to his hotel just yet. He continued to admire the newest addition to the Eco-Watch fleet. He'd spent a large part of his life in this setting, and the inherent structure of aviation gave him a small measure of comfort against the disarray of his life.

The sound of a door closing and the decidedly female footsteps on the concrete floor made him stop and slowly turn to look. In the back of his mind he was always hoping that somehow it was Lauren, though in his heart he knew the harsh reality. His wife was half a world away and had no intention of coming back anytime soon.

The slender figure walked beneath an overhead light and Donovan smiled. He hadn't seen Montero for months, not since she'd been released from the hospital. She'd gained some of her
weight back, and Donovan thought she looked better, healthier, though she'd lost her tan.

Her injuries, coupled with her sudden thrust into the international spotlight, had been hard on her. She'd confessed to him over the phone that if it had been up to her, she would have remained in the shadows, not agreed to live the lie her superiors had concocted. She'd admitted to him that she'd had a little taste of how his life had once been and it made her miserable. She didn't want to be a symbol of patriotism, especially when the actual events were so far from the truth. She was beyond tired and more than ready for the next “it” person to come along and eclipse her.