The Lazarus Moment (6 page)

“That
isn’t my concern. You committed to a course of action, my friend, and we must
see it through.”

“No
matter the cost?”

“No
matter the cost.”

Dudnik
gripped the edge of his desk, leaning over it, his phone pressed hard against
his ear. “Listen, Igor, I’m
ordering
you to abort.”

There
was a pause. “I’m sorry, Arseny, I couldn’t even if I wanted to.”

“What do
you mean?”

“I mean
it’s already too late. The plan is in motion. There is no stopping it.”

Dudnik
ended the call, quickly dialing the only person he could think of. Someone who was
just as likely to kill him as help him.

His
ex-wife.

“Hello,
Katya, it’s me, Arseny.”

“What do
you
want?”

Uh
oh, not a good day apparently.

“I have
a problem. Rather,
we
have a problem.”

“How do
we
have a problem?
We
haven’t spoken in eight months.”

“Not
we
as in
us.
We
as in
Russia.
”

“I’m
listening.”

The Union Buildings, Pretoria, South Africa

Command Sergeant Major Burt “Big Dog” Dawson watched President Jacob
Starling shake President Surty’s hand as they both faced the camera, the
official photographer snapping several shots as traditional gifts were
exchanged. The conference yesterday had wrapped up with an impressive cultural
display that extended well into the evening, Dawson and his team not partaking,
instead providing supplemental security until they were back at the hotel, the
Secret Service taking over completely.

It had
been straight into the rack after Red’s team left for Kenya to scout out the
next location. So far the mission had been routine, no problems, a few
environmentalist protesters there for the summit, but other than that,
uneventful. He had been to a lot of these conferences over the years and always
wondered why so much money was wasted on them. Almost always the negotiations
had been completed behind closed doors by other people, the heads of state
merely showing up to either sign the deal, or make the public think they were
very close, significant progress made, a deal imminent.

Even
when they knew well ahead of time that it was complete BS.

Like
yesterday.

Nothing
was really accomplished, just a bunch of photo ops with the leaders reiterating
the positions they already had going into the conference.

Yet it
was of no importance to him. His job was to keep the man alive, not productive.

“I thank
you once again for agreeing to take my cousin with you. Thulas is a good,
strong man. Since he has fought and beaten cancer, he wants to spread his
message of hope across Africa. Perhaps one day we will have the experimental
treatment centers like your country enjoys.”

“It’s a
laudable goal, Mr. President, and the American people are happy to help. I look
forward to meeting Mr. Zokwana in person.”

Dawson
had already tuned out the conversation, activating his comm. It wouldn’t be the
first time a president had invited someone along last minute, though it was
rare for it to happen on foreign soil. “Control, Bravo Zero-One. Have we vetted
a Mr. Zokwana, over?”

“Negative,
Zero-One. Why?”

“I just
overheard the President mentioning that we’d be taking him with us to Kenya,
over.”

“Do we
have any details?”

“Negative,
but we better start running a background check, out.”

Dawson
exchanged glances with Niner and Atlas, both rolling their eyes slightly. No
matter how much security you put around someone, it was all for not if they
ignored it.

And
how to you say no to the President?

Nkandla, South Africa

It had been a good three weeks. A
great
three weeks. Thulas Zokwana
had missed his family terribly the six months he had been in Moscow, but as he
had heard someone once say, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and it was
true. He loved his wife and children more so today than he ever had. Perhaps it
was the knowledge he was dying that had intensified his feelings, though
whatever it was, he relished every moment with them.

Yet it
all was about to end.

And he
didn’t want it to.

Of
course he didn’t want it to. He loved them, they were his everything. Despite
being dirt poor, they were happy together. Life was a constant struggle to
survive, though it was the same way for everyone around them. His exposure to
Moscow had been an eye opener into how good things could be, living in a clean
room with a comfortable bed and access to clean water and regular hot meals.

It had
almost spoiled him.

Though
no bed was uncomfortable with his sweet, sweet Zoe lying in it.

His
desire for her had overcome his weakness and they had made love that first
night back. It had been wonderful, exciting, almost like the first time as they
rediscovered each other’s bodies. He had to apologize for not having his
stamina anymore, though she didn’t care, she just wanted to be held by him, to
feel close to him.

When she
had first stepped through the doorway to see him arriving in a cab, she had
cried, tears of happiness though he was sure tears of worry as well. He looked
terrible, and each day a little worse. He had convinced her that it was just a
side effect of the medicines and over time he’d get better, and he hoped she
believed him, though he wasn’t sure.

She knew
him so well.

“What’s
wrong, my love?”

He gazed
down at her, her big brown eyes so clear he could lose himself for an eternity
in them. “I’m going to miss you.”

“You
don’t have to go. This conference in Kenya sounds like too much. You’re still
weak, you should rest, rebuild your strength and go next year.”

He shook
his head. He would love for her to know the truth, to know what he was about to
do for her and the children, though he also knew the very idea would horrify
her. He was about to participate in a terrible thing, a horrible thing,
something that would probably condemn him for eternity, though it was a
sacrifice he was willing to make. His family would be taken care of for the
rest of their lives and he was dead anyway. And if he kept his secret, he would
die a hero in their eyes, a tragic victim of circumstance, on his way to help
others.

Tears
filled his eyes. “I love you.”

She
smiled at him then leaned in, wrapping her arms around his waist and resting
her head on his chest. “I love you too. That’s why I don’t want you to go.”

He
chuckled. “It’s only for a week. And besides, if I do this, it makes me look
good, and maybe my cousin can get me a good job and we can move.”

“I’m
happy anywhere as long as it’s with you.”

“A
pretty dress, then?”

She
squeezed him. “That might be nice.” She pushed back and gazed up at him. “I still
think there’s something you’re not telling me. Are you sure you’re okay?”

A lump
formed in his throat and he resisted looking away, instead closing his eyes and
kissing her as he held her tight.

A horn
honked outside, the cab having arrived.

Quick
hugs to the crowd of children and a final kiss to his wife left his heart heavy
as he climbed into the cab, his overnight bag loaded in the trunk by his oldest
son. He waved to his wife, standing in the doorway of their humble home, the
children running beside the cab, shouting their goodbyes, slowly losing ground
to the accelerating vehicle.

Then
with a quick turn to the right, they were out of sight.

Never to
be seen again.

A tear
rolled down his cheek as he fingered the memory stick in his pocket.

What
I do today, I do for my family’s tomorrow.

Jackson Square, Andrews Air Force Base, Maryland

“I’m really surprised Cecilia didn’t make it.”

The women
gathered around the living room all nodded in agreement at Pam Wimbush’s
comment. Everyone who had RSVP’d was there, even a couple who had yet to learn
what RSVP meant. She never understood that. Was it ignorance, laziness, or
idiocy? If an invitation asks you to RSVP, then you call to let them know
you’re coming, that way the host can properly plan for how many people she
needs to entertain. The right numbers of chairs are available, refreshments and
food, goody bags, whatever. To just show up as if your presence was a delight
for all those who did RSVP, was just plain inconsiderate.

She
glanced at Christa and Tanya.

I
think they actually
are
idiots.

Their host,
Karen Joseph, had whispered that Christa had actually tried to pronounce RSVP
when she had handed her the invitation two weeks before.

“Risvip.”

They had
both laughed.

“Cecilia
never misses these things,” agreed Christa. “And I love her seven layer dip!”

Tanya’s
head bobbed. “Oh, it’s to die for! I tried to make it once but gave up and just
stirred it all together. Still tasted great, but looked like hell!”

Several
giggled.

Karen
didn’t.

Neither
did Pam.

“Did she
call you to say she’d be late, Karen?”

Karen
shook her head. “No.” She rose. “I’m going to give her a quick shout, make sure
everything’s okay.” Karen disappeared as the conversation returned to the upcoming
birth of Pam’s child, her baby shower just wrapping up.

“Is this
your third?” asked Christa.

Pam
nodded. “Yes, another girl.”

Squeals.

“Chip
was hoping for a boy, but he’s so good with the girls I’m not worried.”

“I guess
you’ll just have to try again.”

Pam
patted her stomach and groaned. “I don’t think my poor body can take another. I
think three’s enough. If he wants a boy he’ll have to coach Little League.” She
looked up at Karen as she returned. “Well?”

Karen
shook her head. “No answer, it just goes to voicemail. I tried her cellphone as
well, it just rings and rings.”

“Very
strange.”

“Mrs.
Wimbush, all your gifts are in your car.”

Pam
turned and smiled at Karen’s son. “Thanks, Brett, I appreciate that.”

Brett
nodded then looked at his mom. “Can I go now?”

All the women
exchanged knowing smiles.

“Yes,
dear, just be back before dinner.”

“Okay.”

Brett
tore from the house before he was tasked with something else.

“Help me
up!”

Pam
extended a hand and Karen stepped forward, pulling her to her feet. Pam placed
her hand on the small of her back. “Ooh, I can’t wait until she’s out of me.”

Everyone
else rose, hugs and kisses exchanged, several volunteering to stay behind and
help clean up. Normally Pam would be first in line, but this was her day, and
besides, she had a stop to make before heading home. Escaping the chatter, she
struggled into her SUV then made the quick hop over to Cecilia’s house,
surprised to find the car still in the driveway.

That’s
odd.

She
climbed out and rang the doorbell.

Nothing.

She rang
it again and knocked.

Again
nothing.

She
pulled out her cellphone and dialed Cecilia’s cell.

She
could hear the distinctive Sencha ringtone of her friend’s iPhone.

She’s
here!

She had
to be. Cecilia never let her cellphone out of her sight, especially when
Cameron was away—she never wanted to risk missing a call.

Something’s
wrong.

She rang
the doorbell several more times, hammering on the door, dialing both phone
numbers again.

And
still nothing.

She
dialed 9-1-1.

Fairfax Towers, Falls Church, Virginia

“She hates me.”

“She
doesn’t hate you. It’s all in your head.” Chris Leroux smiled at his girlfriend
Sherrie White, giving her a quick hug, Sherrie not too receptive, her arms just
dangling at her sides like limp noodles. “Listen, if you don’t want to come,
you don’t have to.”

“Then
she’ll hate me even more.”

“You’ve
got quite the imagination.”

“You
don’t see it because she’s your mother. She thinks I’m stealing her little boy
away from her.”

He
pulled back slightly, looking down at her. “Well, you kinda are. You’re the
first girlfriend I’ve ever had so she’s not used to it.”

“Well, I
barely remember what it’s like to have a mother and yours is kinda freaking me
out.”

Leroux
sighed. “Maybe you shouldn’t come.”

Sherrie
shook her head, finally returning the hug. “No, I’ll go. It’s only three days,
and when’s the next time we’re going to get a chance to visit them?”

“It’s so
nice not having a security team watching us twenty-four-seven. I finally feel
like I’ve got my life back.”

“Yeah,
well don’t be so sure. I’m stunned the Director agreed to pull the detail so
soon. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s still got one on you.”

Leroux
frowned, thinking about it. Since they had managed to turn the tables on The Assembly,
he had felt completely safe. In his mind, they wouldn’t dare do anything now
that they knew who some of them were, and the threat he had been living under,
and by extension Sherrie, was gone. Perhaps it was naïve, and he was certain
the expression on Director Morrison’s face was implying just that, but he had
agreed.

Perhaps
a little too readily.

“Maybe
you’re right.” He shrugged. “I don’t care. If I don’t know they’re there, then
I’m not going to worry about it. All I know is that for the first time in over
two years I left dishes in the sink without worrying about being judged when
they did their security sweep.