Living Lies (12 page)

Her thoughts drifted from Bobby, the only man she’d been with since Danny, to Danny.

You’ve got to stop thinking.
Her thoughts had come out of nowhere and startled her by the longing that still found its way inside.

The gym was mostly empty. She increased the volume on her iPod and began her 50-minute simulated mountain climb. Imagining she was climbing in the Pyrenees, Melanie practiced her French. Fluent in six languages, she imagined the various landscapes as she mentally flowed from one continent to another. Melanie liked keeping busy. Too much free time wasn’t productive, and it gave her opportunity to think beyond the Agency’s brick walls.

This five-story renovated apartment building, divisional head-quarters, was bought in the 1930s and completely modernized it in the late ’90s. At that time the top two floors were devoted to conference rooms, offices and the kitchen. The basement was transformed into the gym and the first, second and third floors became small offices and apartments for the agents while they were between assignments. Originally, the Board of Executives had wanted all the agents to live in the building. Each apartment could accommodate up to three agents, but right now it was single occupancy at “Spy Manor.”

After a shower and change into a pair of well-worn sweats, Melanie was back in her office, opening the file marked confidential. She worked into the early morning. The damp streets were dark, the lamps barely able to glimmer through the fog. Melanie rode her bike the two miles to her apartment, which she rented from the Agency, for a three-hour nap.

Ben was gathering papers when she knocked on his office door early the next morning.

“Come in.”

His mood was lighter than it had been the night before. He was grinning and there were only three creases in his forehead, not five.

“I was hoping,” she said in a sweet voice while walking slowly to his desk, “you’d come up with one of your brilliant plans to nail Parker senior to the wall and crush little Finn just for the fun of it.”

Ben chuckled. “That is the worst attempt at persuasion I’ve seen in years.” He laughed harder as he herded them out of his office. “Thanks. You have no idea how much I needed a good laugh.”

Melanie was disheartened, but she knew Ben well enough to know the discussion was over. The conference room was buzzing when they arrived.

“Hey, Mike, grab me one of those glazed and a…”

“I know, a large black coffee. I know, I know.”

“Thanks.”

“OK, everyone.” Agent Jackson started the meeting. “We have a new development in the Yakimoto case. There was movement yesterday so we’re now actively involved. Agent Ward, you will head this up and Agent Scott will be your second. I’ve got our jet ready to take you to Seattle, where you’ll take on your new identities. You’re booked on American, leaving tonight for Honolulu.”

The preliminary agents quickly appraised Melanie and Jack Scott of the situation. Melanie had worked with Jack before. He was a good agent, capable and reliable.

She and Jack were to pose as married tourists to get close to a Japanese businessman who was passing government information. A mole had been discovered in another branch of national security. The agent, before he disappeared, had destroyed every trace of data except for the name Bernard Yakimoto. Now Melanie and Jack were stepping in to answer the rest of the questions: What information had been leaked and where was it going?

Melanie made her routine call to her parents and sent an e-mail to Carla, letting them know she’d be unavailable for some time. They knew the drill and asked no questions. Melanie made it a quick conversation and within hours Melanie and Jack had become Lisa and Todd Abernathy, riding in a cab through the streets of Honolulu, Hawaii.

They were staying at the Prince Towers, a huge condo complex overlooking the marina and a sliver of sand and surf.

“I love Hawaii,” Melanie said from the balcony.

“You know, that’s where SS Minnow from
Gilligan’s Island
set sail from,” Jack said, coming to join her.

“There’s speculation it set sail from Newport Beach,” Melanie said, drawing a deep breath of the heavy air, scented with a balance of florals and salt.

“Rumors.”

She looked over at Jack. “Anyway, how’d we check out?”

“We’re clean.” It wasn’t safe to talk on the balcony. Melanie took in another deep breath, looked toward the green hillside and closed the door.

“Have you seen the revised kit?” he asked, excitedly opening one of his bags.

“Amazing.”

This was not just a bag it was technological wonderland, loaded with the latest internal gadgets. They’d been educated on each of the new optical devices and Jack had used the bug detector to verify there were no listening devices, cameras or alarms set up anywhere in the apartment. Satellite scramblers protected them from unwelcome listeners. Cameras were so small that could be placed, without detection, on a shirt or dress while the suspect was wearing it. GPS trackers were in every shape and size. Special underwater equipment was specifically added for this mission. Melanie couldn’t help but be impressed. Her favorite was the vast array of drugs that caused symptoms from nausea to death.

Melanie picked an apple from the fruit basket. “Did you check the fruit?” she asked, taking a bite.

“Actually, I did.”

After installing the alarm in their room she stood on the moonlit balcony, watching waves crash on the shore as Jack secured the equipment.

Very romantic
, she thought, fighting off the current of emotion.

It had been years since she thought of Danny and now here she was thinking of him twice in as many days. The churning in the pit of her stomach had started a month back when her little brother Bruce called to say that he and his wife, Cheryl, were expecting their first child in October. It was during the weeks that followed when Melanie spoke with her zealous mother that an unfamiliar feeling grew inside of her. Fear, jealousy, maybe both. And now she couldn’t shake the agitation she felt over Diane’s death. Someday her own parents could receive a similar call and Melanie wondered how her own life would be represented. Would she be portrayed as a crack whore? They could never know the truth, she accepted that, but she wanted them to be proud of her, and it was completely out of her control.

Pangs of loneliness seeped under her skin and she ached for a touch of a hand, an embrace, something. All this she would never admit to another soul. She could barely admit it to herself.

What are you doing, Melanie?

She had no business thinking of home. She knew better than to be distracted on a case, but she couldn’t help watching a couple holding hands, laughing as the waves lapped at their toes. Closing her eyes, she touched her fingertips to her lips and felt the moist, warm air on her face.

Inside she stretched out on the bed. It was as isolated as she’d ever felt.

“Can we talk?” she asked.

“Yeah, the scrambler’s on,” Jack said, without opening his eyes.

“You’re engaged, right?” She looked over at him and waited. Melanie had long ago lost the nervous habit of biting at her lip, but she felt the urge when he turned on his side and looked at her. “I’m sorry. Never mind. I shouldn’t be asking you this.”

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d broken cover.

“No, it’s okay. It’s just in all the time we’ve worked together you’ve never asked anything personal.”

“I usually don’t, but I was curious how you’re able to maintain a relationship with this job?”

“Sara thinks I’m in the Navy, on a sub.”

Melanie nodded. Jack lay back and closed his eyes again.

“Are you dating someone?”

“Nope.”

“How are you able to do that?” he asked.

Melanie knew there were rumors about her. “I block it out. I just can’t lie to anyone else.”

This time Jack nodded.

The next morning Lisa and Todd walked down the dock looking for a boat to take them diving. They stopped at a 30-foot white fishing vessel with the name THE MOTO-MAN painted in light blue.

“Excuse me,” she called out.

“Wha’?” snapped a man from inside the boat.

“Hi, we are looking to go diving.”

“10 a.m.” A Japanese man in his late 50s, with sun-toughened skin, came out and looked them over. “We’re back by 3. You bring your own equipment and lunch, I only supply the trip.” He turned and went back into the boat. “Show up by 9:30.”

“Well, Honey,” Melanie said as they walked away, “looks like we’ve got some shopping to do.”

Three dive shops later and they were equipped.

The next morning with their scuba gear, surveillance equipment and lunch they arrived right on time.

“Hello, I’m Todd and this is my wife Lisa.” Todd reached to shake the man’s hand.

“Captain Yakimoto.” He ignored Jack’s outstretched hand.

The water was calm and the blue sky stretched across the horizon as the agents got acquainted with the only other people on the boat, a young couple from Texas.

Melanie was feeling the excitement of being on a job. Sitting on that boat, knowing she had placed six cameras along the deck without being detected, gave her a rush. This, right here, was why she loved her job. Working on instinct, she was a natural at manipulation. During a case Melanie never felt lonely or empty. There was none of that melodrama. She was alive and in control.

“Those are awesome goggles!” she said.

“Yup, they’re top of the line,” the man from Texas said as he handed them over for Lisa to admire.

Melanie handled them with care and, without skipping a beat, placed a camera on the bottom corner. It looked like a piece of clear tape that could go unnoticed forever. The reception wasn’t great, but for what she needed it was perfect.

“Very cool, but a little too big for me.” Lisa handed them back and he exchanged them for his wife’s.

“Here, these are more your size,” he said.

Melanie tried on the wife’s goggles, fitting them with a camera as well. She praised the goggles and returned them to their owner. Mr. Yakimoto dropped anchor and came on deck to point out the best diving area. They lowered themselves into the strange world of silence. Hearing only her own breathing, Melanie signaled for Jack to dive deeper. Beneath the surface lay brilliant coral reefs, with bright tropical fish hovering and soaring around her. The magnificent colors glistened in the sun’s reflection. Melanie stopped by a lava formation that was home to thousands of sea creatures. Each life form was unique and yet they were able to build a functioning society; in fact their mere survival depended on the other species. Melanie marveled at the beautiful complexity for a nano second before tapping a few keys on her diving watch. She checked each of the cameras they’d placed on the boat as well as on the goggles of the other two divers. Mr. Yakimoto was relaxing on the boat reading the paper and the Texans were swimming around some tall green kelp. Jack was accessing these same images.

While still keeping tabs on the other divers and the captain, Melanie and Jack dove to the Corsair that had been resting on the seabed for over 50 years. Swimming amid vibrant fish and aquatic plants, sea anemones attached to the rusted metal, mussels and embedded shell fossils. Melanie examined the cockpit.

At the top, the sun glimmered off the crystal blue water. She at-tached a satellite tracking system to the bottom of Mr. Yakimoto’s boat.

This job is going to save me a bundle on therapy
, she thought, exhilarated, as she climbed aboard.

The cantankerous captain scoffed off her compliments and waved her off when she asked about the sunken plane.

With everyone back on board the craft headed back to shore.

The Texans also had brought their lunch and enough beer to share. They made a toast to Captain Yakimoto and his trusty ship.

For two weeks Melanie and Jack monitored every passenger on THE MOTO-MAN. They went on 10 more dives. Yakimoto knew the best locations, opting for secluded spots over heavily trafficked, touristy ones. The Texans were regulars and had been on seven of the dives. Melanie tagged each of them with tracking devices.