Need to Know (6 page)

I hear Matt's alarm at six-thirty. The shower turns on a minute later, like any other morning, like this was all a dream. I go upstairs and dress, my favorite pantsuit. I put on some makeup, run a comb through my hair. Matt comes out of the shower, a towel around his waist, and kisses the top of my head, like he does every morning. I smell his soap, watch him in the mirror as he moves on, over to the closet.

“Ella's burning up,” he says.

I go to the bed, put my hand against her forehead. “Yeah, she is.” Guilt runs through me; I hadn't even thought to check.

“I'll work from home. Can you drop the twins off on your way in?”

“Of course.”

I watch him in the mirror and an unsettled feeling comes over me, like maybe this
was
all a dream. How can he act like everything's normal, when our lives are about to fall spectacularly apart?

The rest of the morning is our usual chaos. We get the twins and Luke dressed and fed, our tag team routine. I catch myself looking at him more than I should, like one of these times he'll be a different person. But he's not. He's Matt. The man I love.

I bring Ella down to the couch, get her settled under a blanket, her crayons and coloring book at her side. I kiss her goodbye, kiss Luke goodbye. Then I pick up Caleb and Matt picks up Chase, and wordlessly we get the twins into their car seats. When they're all strapped in, we stand awkwardly together in the driveway, just the two of us.

I'm going to do this, aren't I? There's no other choice. I wanted to come up with something, some way out. But there's no way out. I need to say something to him, but I can't find the words.

He smiles at me sadly, almost as if he can read my thoughts. “It's okay, Viv.”

“I don't see another way,” I say, my voice heavy with apology. “I thought about it all last night….”

“I know.”

“If it were just you and me, then going—
there—
would be an option. But the kids—and Caleb especially…”

“I know. It's okay, Viv. Really.” He hesitates, and I can tell he wants to say something else. He opens his mouth, then closes it again.

“What is it?”

“It's just…” He trails off, starts wringing his hands. “Money'll be tight,” he finally says. And then he lets out a choking sob, one that sends terror into me, because Matt doesn't lose control like this. I move toward him, wrap my arms around his waist, my cheek against his chest. I feel his arms encircle me, that embrace that's always felt so safe, so much like home. “God, I'm sorry, Viv. What have I done? What's this going to do to the kids?”

I don't know how to respond. Couldn't get my mouth to work, even if I did.

He pulls away and takes a deep breath. “I just wish none of this had happened.” A single tear slides down one cheek. “Whatever you found, I wish I could make it disappear.”

“So do I,” I whisper. I watch the tear cut a path all the way to his chin. There's something else on my mind, something I need to say, but I don't know how to say it. Finally I force out the words. “You can go, you know.” I can't help but think how strange, how sad, that it's come to this. Ten years, four kids, a life together. And now a goodbye in the driveway?

He looks at me, incredulous, then shakes his head sadly. “There's nothing for me back there.”

“I'd understand.”

He puts his hands on my shoulders. “My life is here.” He looks so sincere when he says it.

“Still, if you change your mind…at least call a sitter….”

He drops his arms, looks like a wounded animal. I'm not even sure why I said it. It's not like I really think he'd leave Ella alone.

I don't know what else to say to him. And even if I did, I don't know if I could get the words out without breaking down. So I look away, get into the car, turn the key in the ignition. It starts the first time. What are the odds of that? I throw it into reverse and watch him watch me as I pull away, down the driveway, away from the life I know, the one we built together, and only then do I start to cry.

A STEADY STREAM OF CARS
passes through the checkpoints, the ones manned by armed officers. The color-coded parking lots are starting to fill; thousands work here at headquarters. I walk from one of the far lots to the office in a daze, numb. My footsteps feel heavy. Others trudge past me on either side of the wide concrete walkway. I look at the manicured landscaping off to my right, the plants, the colors, because it's better than thinking about what's next. It's better to pretend that none of this ever happened.

Warm air hits me as I walk through the automatic doors into the lobby. I focus my attention on the giant American flag hanging from the rafters of the atrium. Today it seems ominous, taunting. I'm about to betray the man I love most in the world. Because I have no choice. Because of that flag, my country, and the fact that it's not, in fact, his country, too.

The security officers are at the turnstiles, watching, observing, as always. Ron, the one I see here most mornings, the one who never smiles, even when I smile at him. Molly, the one who always looks bored. People are queued up, waiting to scan badges and enter codes. I join the line, removing hat and gloves, smoothing out my hair. Why do I feel nervous? Like I'm doing something wrong. It makes no sense. None at all.

I'm going to tell Peter first. I decided on the drive in. I need to practice getting the words out before I say them to security, because I still can't picture myself saying them.
I found my husband's picture
….
I don't know how I'll do it without breaking down.

I walk down the long hall to my vault—our locked suite of cubicles and offices, set behind a heavy vault door, like they all are. Another badge, another code. I walk past Patricia, the secretary, and past the offices of the managers, through the rows of cubicles, back to the one I call my own. The one I tried so hard to make
like
home. The crayon drawings; pictures of my kids, of Matt. My life, hung with pushpins.

I log on, another set of passwords, and start brewing a pot of coffee while I wait for system authentication. The computer's ready before the coffee; I open Athena. More passwords. Then I pour coffee into my mom mug, the one that Matt gave me last Mother's Day, the one with the picture of our kids. It's one of those rare ones where all four of them are looking at the camera, three of them actually smiling. Took us ten minutes to get that shot, me making ridiculous noises and Matt jumping up and down and waving his arms behind me, both of us looking like lunatics, I'm sure.

Athena loads, and I click through the warning screens, the ones I disregarded yesterday by telling Matt. His words run through my head, unbidden.
I'll never tell. I swear.
And he won't, will he? More of his words run through my head.
I'm loyal to you.
I believe that. I do.

I'm back in Yury's computer, same as yesterday. Same blue background, same bubbles, same icons lined up in four rows. My gaze settles on the last one,
Friends.
The vault is quiet. I glance around and no one's nearby. I double-click, and the folder opens to the list of five images. I click open the first. Same guy with the round glasses. Then the second, the redhead. My eyes linger on the next, the third, the one with Matt's picture, but I don't open it. Can't. I skip to the next, the fourth, a woman with pale skin and wispy blond hair. The fifth, a young guy with spiky hair. I close it, close the whole folder, and stare at the screen, the blue bubbles, the icon with the folder.
Friends
. All sleepers. How is this possible?

My gaze drifts to the top of the screen, right side. Two buttons. Active. Passive. There's highlighting around Passive, the only mode the analysts are permitted to use, the one that creates a mirror image of the target's screen, doesn't allow manipulation. But it's the Active button that draws my eyes, holds them in place.

I hear something behind me. I turn and see Peter standing there. I go shaky, even though there's no way he saw where my eyes landed, where my attention was focused. No way he knows the thoughts that are running through my head. He glances at my screen and I feel a rush of adrenaline. The folder's right there. But it's just a folder, and it was just a glance. His eyes are back on me. “How's your little girl?” he asks.

“Fever, but otherwise okay.” I try to keep my voice as even as possible. “Matt's home with her today.” Matt. I swallow down the lump in my throat.

“Tina came by yesterday,” he says. “She wants to see you.”

“Why?” I say quickly. Too quickly. Tina's the head of the Counterintelligence Center. Fierce, no-nonsense. Tough-as-nails Tina.

There's a flash of confusion on Peter's face. “She knows we're in the laptop. Wants to know what we've found.”

“But I haven't had time—”

“I told her that. Don't worry. I pushed the meeting to tomorrow morning. She just wants to know if there's anything that looks promising.”

“But—”

“It's just ten minutes. Spend today digging around. I'm sure you'll come up with something.”

Like pictures of five sleepers? One of whom is my husband?
“Okay.”

He hesitates. “Want a hand? I can take a look, too.”

“No,” I say, again too quickly, too forcefully. “No, don't worry about it. You've got a lot on your plate. I'll come up with something for her.”

Peter nods, but there's an odd expression on his face. Uncertain. He hesitates. “Are you okay, Vivian?”

I blink at him, and I know what I have to say. I have to do this. I don't have a choice. “I need to talk with you about something. In private.” There's a sick feeling in my stomach as I say it. But I have to get it over with, before I lose my nerve.

“Give me ten minutes. I'll ping you when I'm ready.”

I nod and watch as he walks away, back toward his office. I just set this in motion. Ten minutes. In ten minutes my world will change. Everything will be different. Life as I know it will be over.

I turn back to the screen. The folder.
Friends
. And then I look away, because I have to. Over to my far wall, past the pictures of my family, because I can't look at them right now or I might break down. My gaze settles on a little chart, something that's been there for years, ignored. A handout from a training course on analytic rigor. I scan it now, for the first time in ages, something to take my mind off reality.
Consider second- and third-order implications
….
Think about unintended consequences….

His words this morning, in the driveway, run through my head.
Money'll be tight
. We'll lose his salary. That much I've already considered. I'll have to pull the youngest three out of school for sure, probably hire a nanny, someone cut-rate, and I'll have to swallow my fear of a stranger watching my kids, driving them around.

For the first time, though, it dawns on me that I'll lose my job, too. There's no way Tina would agree to keep me on, to let me keep my security clearance, when I was married to a Russian spy. It's one thing to lose Matt's salary. How will we survive if we lose mine, too?

Oh God. We'll lose my health insurance. Caleb. How is Caleb possibly going to get the care he needs?

I picture Matt breaking down.
What's this going to do to the kids?
Suddenly the future appears before my eyes. The media spectacle that this is sure to become. My kids, no father, no money, ripped from everything they know. The notoriety that'll always follow them. The shame, the suspicion, because after all they're his flesh and blood. Sons and daughter of a traitor.

I'm frozen in fear. None of this should have happened. If I hadn't stumbled upon the photo, hadn't come up with that damn algorithm, fought my way into Yury's laptop, I wouldn't know about Matt. No one would. His words ring in my head.
If only you weren't so good at your job.

My eyes shift back to the buttons at the top of the screen. Active. Passive. I can't do this, can I? But I'm moving the cursor there anyway, until the arrow's hovering over Active. I click, and the borders of the screen change from red to green. Guilt threatens to overwhelm me. I think of my first day on the job, raising my right hand, taking the oath.

…support and defend the Constitution of the United States against all enemies, foreign and domestic…

Matt's not an enemy, though. He's not a bad guy. He's a good person, a decent person, someone who was taken advantage of as a kid, trapped in circumstances beyond his control. He hasn't done anything wrong, brought any harm to our country. He wouldn't. I know he wouldn't.

I move the cursor to the folder. I right-click, guide the arrow down to the command Delete. And then I hover there, my hand trembling.

Time. I just need more time. Time to think, time to figure things out, time to come up with a solution. There has to be a solution, a way out of this. A way to go back to the way things were, before. I close my eyes, and I'm at the altar with Matt, looking into his eyes, saying my vows.

…in good times and in bad…

I promised to be true to him, all the days of my life. And then I hear his voice, last night.
I'll never tell, Viv. I swear. I'd never do that to you.
He wouldn't, would he? And here I am, about to do exactly that to him.

Images of our kids run through my mind. Each of their faces, so innocent, so happy. This would destroy them
.

And then another memory from our wedding day, our first dance, the words Matt whispered in my ear, the ones that've never made sense, for all these years. There's a sudden clarity to them now.

I open my eyes, and they instantly find the word. Delete. Highlighted, the cursor still hovering over it. More words float through my head, and I don't even know if they're his, or mine, or if it matters
. I just wish none of this had happened.