Tuesday, August 25, 1987

11:27 a.m.

"Amanda . . . Amanda . . ." I rolled over and wrapped the sheet around me, but the persistent voice refused to let me sleep. "Amanda, it's late, you need to wake up."

I reluctantly opened my eyes. Instead of my familiar bedroom, I found myself in a small, but tastefully decorated room. The walls were painted in a color meant to soothe, the pale blue accentuated by the more colorful pictures and wall hangings. The soft light came, not from the windows, but from the lamps on the bedside tables. Oddly enough, there didn't seem to be any natural light at all . . .

No natural light . . .

The events of the previous day came crashing back with alarming clarity. The incident at the drop site, the discussion with Joe at the hospital, the ambulance ride to the Agency clinic, the painful revelations I'd been forced to make to my family . . .

I grimaced. The explosion in the parking lot had been nothing compared to the one I'd experienced last night with my mother.

She helped me sit up then plumped the pillows behind my back with cool efficiency. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess. My head still hurts." I rubbed the small, painful knot on the back of my head as I fluffed my sleep-tousled hair. "The real question is, how are you?"

Mother's brows shot up. "Well, let's see. Yesterday I was yanked out of Mr. Emelio's Salon by three uniformed men, hustled into a limousine, then transported to a secret underground Agency where I'm told my daughter and the son-in-law I didn't realize I had are both employed as spies. How should I be?"

Though her tone was flippant, it was impossible to miss the flashing anger still present in her eyes. I didn't know what else I'd expected; Mother certainly had every reason to be furious with me. "I really am sorry," I said, trying to apologize once more. "You don't know how many times I've wanted to tell you, especially these past two months when . . . and well, then, the other night . . ."

I'd managed to twist the bed sheet into a tight ball. Without a word, Mother extricated the rumpled bedding from my grip, smoothed it, and tucked me beneath the covers. Then she sighed and sat beside me on the bed. "Well, I suppose I can take some small comfort in knowing that my new grandchild isn't going to be a . . . well, you know."

A shadow of a smile crossed her face, and I attempted to meet her proffered olive branch halfway. "Mother, I'm not the heroine in one of those soap operas of yours, you know."

"Yes, well . . ." She rolled her eyes. "If they did this storyline on my program, nobody would believe it."

"Probably not." I squeezed her arm. "How are the boys this morning?"

"Jamie's been a little quiet, but that's not surprising. Phillip appears to be taking it all in stride. He convinced Mr. Leatherneck to take them down to the motor pool to check out the cars."

"That's just plain Leatherneck, Mother."

She raised an eyebrow. "What kind of a nickname is that?"

I smiled. "It's not a nickname, it's a codename."

Mother pursed her lips. "This is some business you've gotten yourself mixed up in."

"I know." I pulled the covers up around my chest. "It's funny how things turn out, isn't it? If Dean hadn't been so worried about the rain spoiling his new wax job, I might have had a nice, normal career at Honeycutt Typewriter, filling out forms and making coffee for some executive."

"Somehow I can't seem to picture that." Mother smiled grimly. "Of course, I never pictured my daughter as some kind of secret agent, either. At least a few things are a bit clearer now. Like why our house was overrun with federal agents last year."

"That was all a mistake."

"So you keep telling me." Her eyes pierced the distance between us. "And what about this, Amanda? Is this all a mistake, too?"

I clasped my hands together. "No, I'm afraid this is all too real."

"When I think that I could have lost you yesterday . . ." She sucked in a breath and gathered me in her arms. "I should be furious with you for keeping all this from me—I am furious with you—but all I can think about right now is how grateful I am that you're all right. You and that new grandchild of mine."

"I love you, too," I whispered. "And I really am sorry about this. Lee and I didn't intend for you to find out this way."

Mother pulled away. "Well, I suppose one good thing has come out of all this. I no longer feel such a pressing need to strangle that husband of yours. It's reassuring to know he didn't run off and leave you just to make some documentary film."

"In some ways, it would be easier if he had." I rubbed the gooseflesh on my arms. "I'm just so worried about him . . ."

She started to say something, but contented herself with patting my hand instead. "Did your Mr. Melrose tell you anything about what he's doing?"

"Only that he's working on a matter of national security and that somehow we've been . . . compromised."

"'Compromised.'" She snorted. "What a quaint way to say all our lives are in danger. Dare I ask what happens now?"

I looked away. "They'll take us to a safe house until all this is over."

"I see."

I poked my finger through the open weave of the blanket. Clearly, Mother was working hard to stay in control; that tiny nerve on the side of her neck kept twitching whenever she looked at me. I could understand. In the space of a few seconds, she'd become an unwitting casualty of this life I'd chosen—she and the boys both. I couldn't help but wonder if anything would ever be the same again.

"Amanda?" Francine stood in the doorway, her cheerful smile evaporating in the tense silence. "I hope I'm not interrupting," she said, looking at us both with wide eyes.

"Not at all," Mother responded, but her tone implied the opposite. Hands on her hips, she crossed to one side of the room and made a great show of studying the painting on the wall.

Francine shot me a look of sympathy. "Billy asked me to tell you he'll be in to brief you as soon as he finishes his conference with Dr. Smyth. I just wanted to see how you were doing."

I forced a smile. "Better than yesterday. How about you?"

"Oh, I'm fine," she said, with a laugh. "All in a day's work."

As I shot an apprehensive glance at my mother, Francine mouthed a quick, "Sorry." I shrugged and nodded my head in the direction of the door.

Francine took the hint. "Well, I'll give you some privacy. Amanda, Mrs. West." She'd almost made her escape, when she suddenly stopped. Retracing her steps, she dropped a manila envelope on my lap. "I almost forgot. This was delivered for you by special messenger."

My mouth was so dry I could barely speak. "Thanks. I've been waiting for this."

Nodding, Francine glanced at Mother one more time then beat a hasty retreat. My heart pounded as I turned the envelope over. The return address read "EAO" in large, bold print. Joe had sent the letter; he'd kept his word to me, at least. "I can't believe this," I said, both fear and wonder in my voice.

"More bad news?" Without any inflection, Mother's words sounded one-dimensional.

"It's a letter," I whispered, scarcely able to believe it myself. "From Lee."

"From Lee?" Mother turned and walked over to my bed.

I nodded. "He wrote it to me last June, just before he left."

Her frown deepened. "I thought he wasn't allowed to contact you."

Smiling to myself, I clutched the precious missive. "He wasn't."

Mother cocked her head, obviously puzzled by the rules of a game she didn't understand. I couldn't fault her for that; these days I was a little short on understanding myself. "Evidently Lee paid Joe a visit before he left town," I explained, repeating my ex-husband's astonishing confession. "He gave Joe this letter and asked him to wait twenty-four hours before giving it to me, but—"

"Let me guess. Joe decided to keep it from you 'for your own good.'"

I wrinkled my forehead. "How did you know that?"

"Well, you didn't get all of your training to be a spy—pardon me, 'intelligence operative'—on the job, you know. Some of it you came by naturally." She quirked her eyebrows. "Besides, Joe has always been pretty easy to read."

"Joe thought Lee was running out on me. On all of us. He felt the kindest thing to do was to let it be a clean break. He always did have this ridiculous need to make my decisions for me." I smiled ruefully. "And he used to call me stubborn."

"What made him finally decide to give you the letter?"

"I told him the truth."

Mother cocked her head. "The whole truth?"

"He already knew about the job. Lee and I helped him out when he had all that trouble with the Estoccian government."

Mother set her jaw. "I see."

"This isn't all Joe's fault," I said, trying to turn the focus from my job. "He did have some reason to believe Lee was acting strangely. I just wish he hadn't taken it upon himself to keep this from me."

"Well, at least he decided to do the right thing now."

I moistened my chapped lips as I looked down at the envelope. "I'll give you some privacy," I heard Mother say as she headed for the door.

"Please don't . . . leave." My voice cracked on the last word. I didn't want to be alone; my emotions were too raw. I'd spent long days, and even longer nights, searching for answers I thought I might never find. And now that I held in my hands the tangible proof that Lee hadn't abandoned me, I was shaking so badly I could barely hold onto it.

"Here, Amanda. Let me." Mother easily worked the clasp I was struggling with. Handing me the manila envelope, she crossed the room to study the painting again.

I murmured a quick, "Thanks," as I extracted a folded sheet of paper. It was addressed simply to "Amanda," in the bold, slanted handwriting I instantly recognized. Holding my breath, I slowly opened the letter, squinting sharply as I struggled to make sense of the words.

But I couldn't do it. My vision was just blurry enough to make reading impossible. Tears filled my eyes as I set the paper down in frustration. "Mother," I cried, "would you please help me?"

Her eyes widened as I held out the letter. "Are you sure, Amanda?"

"Yes, I'm sure." My words were thick with emotion. "Please, I need to know."

She hesitated for another beat then slowly walked over and took the paper from my unsteady hand. "Okay, if that's what you really want."

Sitting down in the chair beside my bed, she began to read. "Amanda. . ." Her eyes darted up at me uncertainly. I nodded once more. Clearing her throat, she started again. "Amanda . . ."

"I hardly know what to say to you. Honestly speaking, I shouldn't say anything at all. What I should do is follow through with the cover I've created, walk out that door without a word and let you hate me. I thought it would be easier on you that way, but after what happened tonight, I realized that I wasn't trying to make it easier for you—I was trying to make it easier for me. I'm probably not making much sense right now, but it's hard for me to think straight when you're lying there, looking like that."

Mother stopped. "Go on," I urged, beyond caring if the letter might be too personal. "Please."

She took a deep breath and continued.

"I can't tell you where I'm going or what I'm about to do. Know that I'm not leaving because I want to, but because I have no other choice. Those dreams I had—the horses, the softball games in the backyard—they were built on fantasy, not fact. That's the trouble with this business, you see. We live so many lies every day that it becomes impossible to know what's real and what's not. The world of counter-espionage isn't a pretty one, Amanda, but it's the one we chose. Or, at least, I chose it. And the reality is, there are people in that world who would hurt you, hurt Phillip and Jamie, just so they could get to me. I can't let that happen, so I've agreed to take this assignment."

"I know I don't have the right to ask it, but I need you to do something for me. Destroy this letter as soon as you read it and don't try to find out where I've gone. Your safety depends on people thinking we mean nothing to each other. That's why I've gone to such lengths to make sure you believed it, too. I'm not proud of the things I've done, but please realize that everything I said, I said because I love you, not because I don't."

"I'm sorry. That sounds so inadequate, I know, but it's the only thing I can offer now. You see, when it comes right down to it, I'm nothing but a coward. I'm a coward for choosing to follow the rules of the game. I'm a coward for hiding behind this damnable charade. And, finally, in the end, I'm the biggest coward of all for not being able to follow through with it."

"You see, tonight, after we made love, I finally knew. It's like that moment of truth all the manuals talk about—the one where you know whether or not you can pull the trigger. I can't. Despite all the years of training, despite my high-level contact zero orders, despite the fact that the very existence of this letter could put you in danger, I just can't disappear from your life with all these lies between us."

"I wouldn't blame you if you couldn't forgive me for what I've done, but please know one thing. There was one day I didn't lie to you. You are the best, the bravest, the smartest, most beautiful woman I've ever known. And nothing will ever change that.

Lee."

Mother's voice faded, leaving a silence so thick you could almost touch it. When at last I found the courage to meet her gaze, there were tears in her eyes, too. "Oh, Amanda," she whispered, her voice fragile and shaking. "I'm so sorry. I didn't understand."

Unable to form words, I simply nodded. She got up then and took me in her arms, rocking me gently. She didn't need to say anything; that simple gesture told it all. We stayed that way, silently holding each other, until an embarrassed cough shattered the moment. Pulling away, I stared up into the kind-hearted smile of my friend and supervisor.

"Excuse me, Mrs. West," he said. "I need to talk to Amanda alone."

Mother wiped her eyes as she released me. "I think I'll go find the boys, if that's okay."

"Certainly," Billy said, obviously surprised at her politeness. Mother usually treated him to the sharp side of her tongue. "Agent Patterson will escort you. He's waiting at the end of the hall."

Mother turned to me. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes," I replied, making the transition from daughter to agent with an effort. "I'll be just fine."

As she left the room, Billy approached my bed. "I've just come from a two hour conference with Dr. Smyth," he began, not mincing any words. "Certain arrangements have been made, plans set in motion that I need to brief you on."

As I nodded, he continued. "In about an hour, you and your family will be escorted to Mrs. McMurty's. It's not an ideal situation, I know, but we haven't been able to find a safe house large enough to accommodate all of you. At least, not one with adequate security measures in place."

"Will we be able to get some things from the house . . . clothes, personal effects?" I asked, as casually as I could manage.

"Make a list. I'll get them to you."

"There's no chance of going myself?" It was uncomfortable enough to think about someone else searching through my private things, but I couldn't bear to send an agent off to retrieve our wedding rings. "I'm not a civilian, sir. Maybe, with an escort, I could—"

"I'm afraid that won't be possible. You're under alpha class protection until such time as we can assess the severity of the threat. I'm sorry, Amanda," he added, his tone softening. "I'm sorry it had to come to this. If it will make you feel any better, I'll go myself."

"Yes, sir. Thank you." I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Can you . . . can you tell me anything about what Lee is involved in? I know I shouldn't ask, but it's just so hard, not knowing if he's okay or if he's in trouble. I'm so used to watching his back . . ."

"Everything was 'on the wire' at his last check-in. As for what he's involved in, I'm sure Lee will be able to answer those questions for you better than I can."

A gasp escaped my lips. "Lee?"

"Yes. I thought you understood. 'Operation Reclamation' was activated as of three a.m. this morning. Yesterday's run on you means that Scarecrow's cover could be compromised, too."

My heart beat wildly as I stared at Billy. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

"Yes, Amanda." He abandoned the role of section chief to pat me lightly on the shoulder. "We're pulling him out."