his arm paused halfway to his mouth and he frowned at her across the table. “Fine. Why?”
Her arms were folded and crossed on the table. She nodded toward his hand in a quick jerk of her head and the frown deepened.
Alex looked at his hand, holding the coffee cup almost to his lips, and his breath caught in his chest. It was shaking, and not just a little, but a lot. Coffee sloshed gently against the sides of the cup. Quickly, he transferred the cup to his left hand and put it back on the table.
“I’m fine, really. I’m just still a little tired from the trip and all the excitement. Guess I just didn’t realize how tired I was.”
Brin’s face was etched in worry, strained.
“Are you sure? Maybe you should see a doctor or something. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your hands shake like that.”
Her tone changed from concerned wife to scientist. He knew that he needed to move on to something else or she would sit and analyze until she uncovered the truth. Part of the problem with being married to a Ph.D. was that sometimes she was too observant for his own good.
“I’m sure. Now, come here, wife!” He held out his arms to her and she rose instantly, slipping around the table.
Alex grabbed her by the hips and swept her into his lap in one easy movement. His lips found hers from experience, resting there as they had done a thousand times before. When he released her, his eyes sparkled.
“If I were sick, could I still do that?” Another wink and a smile.
Brin giggled again and nuzzled his neck. “I guess not. Now, you have to let me go before I’m late for work. You get some rest today. Promise me?”
“Yes, Mother.” He swatted her on the backside, a little too roughly perhaps, but with good humor and great results. “Love you.”
5
With Brin safely off to work and Savannah hugged, kissed and off to day care, Alex was alone with his misery. He tried to focus, to find a positive he could cling to that would help him map out the next few months or weeks. Days? Nothing worked. He finished his coffee, then puttered aimlessly about the kitchen before pouring another cup.
He tried thinking about the house, his family and planning for the future, but it was hopeless. In many ways, they were fortunate—far more so than many of the people he’d seen in other countries. The house was paid for and a college fund for Savannah was already in place, accruing interest. He had more money tucked away than the family would ever need, and, in all reality, Brin didn’t actually need it. The research lab she ran was on the cutting edge of the hunt to cure a dozen or more degenerative diseases. She made plenty of money on her own.
Sometimes he thought it was marriage to him that held her back from a Nobel Prize or more. And she was a wonder with Savannah. It was true that the girl loved her Daddy, but it was Brin who got the call when knees were scraped or a stuffy nose kept the girl from sleeping.
He couldn’t shake the feeling of frustration that he wasn’t going to be part of building their family, their life—he was going to be a burden on it.
One thing was certain. He couldn’t put off telling Denny Talbot that he was done as a Room 59 agent. They would have to replace him, and quickly. His personal life might have gone into a slide, but he knew the world wouldn’t pay a bit of attention to that. He might even have saved it once or twice—it was all the same to Mother Earth.
Alex stalked to his desk. The computer monitor was dark. He punched the power button and brought the machine to life. As it booted up, he plopped into the leather chair and stared at the screen.
He didn’t even know what he’d say when he logged in. He had his final report on the Mexican operation to upload, but they already knew the details. He’d given Denny a quick debrief when he’d returned. Nothing was really news to Kate or Denny. They probably also knew that he’d nearly screwed up, though they wouldn’t say anything about it. If he’d failed or the mission hadn’t been completed, he’d be hearing about it in spades. His mistake this time had no lasting repercussions, so he was sure that was okay.
The computer screen filled with the smiling faces of Brin and Savannah, and Alex stared at them. He didn’t want to touch the keyboard or the mouse. He didn’t want to disrupt the image. With a long sigh, he leaned forward and typed in the coded keystrokes he’d memorized so long ago. While the commands ran, he removed his virtual reality glasses from a hidden slot beneath his desk and put them on. The image on the screen shifted, dissolving to a slowly spinning number 59 in the center of the screen, followed by a login prompt. This was the first of a multiple-stage process for logging into the ultrasecure Room 59 reporting center.
As he followed the familiar electronic trail, he considered what he’d say once he was in. He knew he’d have to resign. There was no way to continue under the circumstances. It was likely he wouldn’t be in any condition to deliver for much longer.
He passed the final security level and his personal portal opened. To the right were icons for a variety of contacts and resources. Down the left side were alerts, memos and communications. The center icon sent a direct chat request to Denny. Despite using the Room 59 technology on a regular basis, there was still a feel of science fiction to it all as far as Alex was concerned. Virtual offices, avatars, conference and briefing rooms. Anybody could look like anyone, though he’d noticed that humor was not highly appreciated. His initial avatar of choice had been Yoda, the Jedi master from the Star Wars movies. The frowns alone told him to choose something more mundane and now he appeared as a somewhat altered version of himself.
Alex started to open the link, and then stopped. One of the communications icons was blinking. He had an urgent message waiting for him. He frowned. These were usually reserved for assignments or emergencies. He hadn’t even been home a full month, and they’d never contacted him for his next mission so quickly.
Yet there it was. Alex touched the icon with his virtual hand, and immediately a series of folders opened in front of him. The files were from Denny Talbot and Kate Cochran, including a note that he should review them before checking in for his assignment. A final document opened without prompting, and, curious, he began to read.
It was an intelligence report from one of their Chinese operatives, interspersed with notes from Chinese intelligence, as well as the conclusions of Denny and Kate and Pai Kun, the Room 59 leader for China. Alex’s frown deepened. This intelligence represented a serious threat to the security of the world, but all it had taken was the name of the company, MRIS, to get his full attention. He quickly skimmed the rest of the materials.
He closed the document, minimized the files, reached out and launched the chat icon. The scene in front of him shifted and he was standing outside the door to Denny’s virtual office. Denny had been waiting for him, and when he rapped on the door he heard “Enter,” just as though they were in the real world.
Alex stepped through the doorway. Though he had never met the man in person, Alex suspected that Denny’s avatar was exact in almost every detail. He had a heavy build and his hair was graying at the temples. Still, he looked strong, and his eyes were sharp. Denny didn’t miss too many tricks, despite the fact that he wasn’t a field man anymore.
“What do you have?” Alex asked without hesitation. “What the hell is this file, Denny?”
“Big stuff, cowboy,” Denny replied. “The Chinese are pretty worried over this one, and if they don’t like it, you know it’s got to be bad. They don’t play well with others, as a general rule.”
“I just got home a few weeks ago,” Alex said. “I was sort of planning on some downtime.” He knew it didn’t mean a thing; he was buying time and running what he’d read through his mind. He knew he should be telling Denny what the doctor had said. This one was hot, and there wasn’t going to be a lot of time to find someone else to handle it. If there was someone else.
“I know, Alex, and I hate it, especially considering that things didn’t