After the Fall (2 page)

Nothing suspicious. Go!

The Jeep shot forward in a direct trajectory. The man reacted, turned, his chest exposed to the oncoming vehicle. The impact was direct, flinging Minn onto the adjoining sidewalk. Jake felt and heard a thump, but had no time to glance back. The puny guy was either dead or a bag of broken bones and crushed organs.

Jake sped on, just a few blocks west to 22nd Street. The Jeep was the lone car on the road. A right on 22nd would take him to the Vine Street Expressway. With ease, he merged with the few cars heading east toward the Delaware River. At this time of night, a five-minute shot to I-95, his route back home to Rockville. As the Vine Expressway took him over the Ben Franklin Parkway, Jake glanced furtively off to the right for signs of police activity.

No tail. He drove with caution, attracting no attention,
fitting in among the lanes of scant traffic. Somewhere on the way home, he'd pull over, reattach his own Maryland plates, and lose the Pennsylvania plates he'd lifted from a car in an off-airport parking lot. He'd check out the Jeep body. The vehicle already had its share of dings, but any damage from ramming the old man could be covered up by a tussle with a tree trunk.

Snow started to accumulate on the drive back home to Rockville, and Jake kept to the speed limit. He'd had a tense day at the office, trying to dampen his agency's enthusiasm for Keystone's new drug. The FDA Advisory Committee yesterday had been overwhelmingly positive. For the first time in his project management career, an advisory committee had wholeheartedly endorsed a drug, pressuring the FDA to approve it expeditiously. As the assigned FDA New Drug Evaluation manager for this project, Jake had organized the public meeting. He'd tried to insert as much pessimism as possible, but once the pro-approval frenzy started, Jake knew he'd have to come up with a new plan to slow the approval process. By chance, in the elevator on his way out of the FDA Parklawn Building, Dr. Fred Minn, Keystone's key scientist, and his consultant, Dr. Laura Nelson, were discussing their dinner appointment for Sunday night in Philadelphia. Perfect timing: get rid of Minn.

He was ready now for his next step, but Karolee might not go down so easily.

S
UNDAY
, F
EBRUARY
16

Laura and Tim Robinson met when they were in medical school in Detroit. That'd been twenty-five years ago. Laura had been married. Tim had been, and still was, single. They'd reconnected on and off ever since Laura's husband, Steve, died fourteen years ago. A long-distance relationship since Laura was chief of surgery in Tampa and Tim a pediatric heart surgeon in Philadelphia. But a relationship that had progressed from platonic, to intimate, to romantic, to what? Love? Could that even be possible for her?

Now, as they snuggled on Tim's living room sofa, each with a brandy snifter in hand, Laura told him about her dinner meeting with Paul Parnell and Fred Minn.

“You wouldn't believe Keystone's agenda,” Laura told Tim. “They want me to be vice president of research.
Me
. I almost laughed in their faces, but they were dead serious.”

She set her drink down and lifted her blond hair off the collar of the bulky robe that Tim had lent her. “Imagine me wearing a suit every day. A big office in the Executive Suite. Jetting off in the company plane. Of all the perks, that definitely would be my favorite.”

Laura looked up at Tim, expecting an incredulous grin. No grin. A serious, concerned expression, instead.

“What did you tell them, Laura?”

“I told them ‘no-way.'”

“Why?”

“Because I don't want to be a bureaucrat.”

“You should think about it. Think about the influence you'd have in developing new drugs that would save thousands of lives. Right now, when you operate, you have a direct impact on several patients' lives a week. But when you develop a new drug, like Immunone, you'll save so many more patients who would have died from organ rejection.”

“Tim?” Laura said, reaching over to tousle his rust-red curls. “Of all people, you should know what it's like to be a surgeon. There can be no better career. I take out diseased lungs and insert new ones. That's what I do. I'm good at it.”

“But you did enjoy organizing that big clinical trial for Immunone, right?”

“Sure, but the company did most of the organizing. I just helped out. Gave them advice when they needed it. Convinced all the other surgeons to come on board.”

“I rest my case, babe. You did a hell of a job.”

Laura was about to say something, but stopped when she felt Tim lean into her, lift her face to his and kiss her. The kiss lasted quite a long time, the longest and best kiss she'd had for way too many years. And it made her feel dreamy and sexy and…
I'm a forty-eight-year-old woman for God's sake
… But she did not pull back. After the longest time, Tim pulled her even closer and whispered, “Will you marry me, Laura?”

She froze. Didn't say anything. Couldn't breathe. Couldn't look up at him.

Time passed. He finally said, “Laura, did you hear me?”

“I did,” she whispered.

More silence as she struggled for what to say. She'd suspected that someday Tim would ask her to marry him. He'd hinted at it. He'd joked about it. He'd even clowned around with her kids about it. They loved “Uncle Tim”; he was like a surrogate father—albeit long distance and occasional.

“And?”

“Tim,” she said, her eyes meeting his. “I've been single for so long, raising five kids on my own. I don't know if I would even be a good wife.” She didn't know if she even wanted to be a wife ever again. Sure, she'd thought about having a partner. When the kids were younger, she worried that she owed them a father figure. But she'd gone it alone, and now they were grown and launching their own separate lives.

“What about you, Laura? You've always been there for your kids. But what about you? You and me? You must know I've loved you for a long, long time. Maybe since that trip to Montreal when we were surgery students.”

“You were dating my best friend back then,” she reminded him. “And I was married.”

“Yes,” Tim said.

Laura wondered whether he knew more about what else happened to her on that fateful trip to Montreal. The falling snow outside, now huge flakes, reminded her of that snowbound experience twenty-three years ago.

In silence, they stared at the window, the ledge covered with white fluff. Tim took her left hand and gently rubbed her ring finger. She'd put away the ring long ago, without regret.
What would it be like, married to Tim?

“I love your kids, Laura, and I think they like me, but it's not about them. This is about you and me. Do you love me? There, I've asked you. The question that scares the life out of me.”

Tim, the entrenched bachelor, scared?
Scared that I might say “no?”

In the silence, she wondered,
Do I love him?
Truthfully, she didn't know. She'd never allowed herself to indulge in thoughts of love. Maybe she did. But one thing was sure. She couldn't hurt him. Tim had been there for her whenever she needed him. Back when her son Patrick had needed heart surgery. Back when her daughter Natalie had nearly died. She
had
to say something. “Yes, Tim, I do love you. I really do.”

“Then marry me.”

“Can you give me some time to think about it? I mean, you caught me by surprise. I'm a little overwhelmed.”

“Let's finish our brandy and then go to bed.”

Yes, go to bed. Over the past few years, Laura had gradually slipped into an intimate relationship with Tim. When she visited him in Philly. When he visited her in Tampa. They never slept in separate beds anymore. Yes, sleeping with Tim every night would be beyond wonderful. But marriage? Giving up her freedom? Giving up her surgical practice in Tampa? Giving up the department chair she'd worked and fought for?

Nestled in the crook of Tim's arm, hearing his soft, regular breathing, Laura tried to relax, to just give herself time to consider Tim's proposal. Tomorrow she'd be back on her own in Tampa, facing the usual round of problems that crept up in her absence. One problem, especially. That message from Lonnie Greenwood.

S
UNDAY
, F
EBRUARY
16

Jake had planned to return to his home in Rockville, Maryland, after he sped away from what was left of the old man in Philadelphia. Lights off, he'd park the Jeep in his driveway, let himself inside, and hunker down. His wife was away and, for all appearances, he'd have spent the night home alone. But as Jake got closer, he found himself diverting off course. With Karolee away, he could spend what was left of the night with Addie. Tonight, of all nights, he needed her. Reaching Addie's apartment in nearby Bethesda, he took the elevator to the fourth floor of the high-rise. He tapped on her door with his fingertips. Tonight was not a night to draw attention to himself.
Open the door, Addie
.

No response. Should have made a key for himself. Jake knocked and waited, knocked again. Addie was a light sleeper. Certainly she'd hear him.

The door across the hall opened a crack. “What's going on?” The voice was cranky and he couldn't tell if it was male or female. “It's the middle of the night. Give it up. Go away.”

“Shit,” he muttered, turning, keeping his back to the crack.

Then Addie's door opened. Her hand grabbed his coat sleeve and pulled him inside.

“It's me, Addie,” he said. Unnecessary. Who else would it be? “I tried not to wake you.”

“What are you doing here?” Her eyes blazed and her words
sounded cold, unwelcoming. “You woke my neighbors. I don't need anybody gossiping about my night life. You know that—”

“I couldn't sleep, I needed you.” Jake held out his arms for her, but she backed away. Her lustrous black hair hung wild and wavy, her skin a rosy bronze, her breasts peeking out from under a flimsy pink negligé. Jake could not resist a grin. When it came to sexy and expensive adornments, Addie definitely enjoyed Western culture. How could she go back to a burka, covering her beautiful face, exposing only those soulful, dark eyes.

“What about your wife?” Addie took another step backward. Normally, his wife worked late into the evenings with Jake needing to leave Addie to be home when Karolee returned.

Tonight Jake didn't want to discuss his wife. Not at this hour. Not after what he'd just executed.

“Karolee went to Florida to see the granddaughter. Baby's two weeks old already.”

“I can't believe you're a grandfather. And not a good one. You should have gone with your wife.”

“I want to be with
you
. She'll be gone for two days. We'll have two days and two nights.”

“Why didn't you tell me earlier? What time is it, anyway?” She answered her own question. “Two-thirty in the morning.”

Addie's English was near perfect, her voice naturally husky, and with her lingering hint of an Arabic accent, she sounded very sexy. He hadn't planned to have her tonight, but—

“I'm awake now,” she announced. “I need to talk to you. You didn't call me after the Advisory Committee on Friday. I waited all day yesterday and today. But no call. Why? Is something wrong? I expected you to call and tell me what the FDA decided to do, and when.”

“Addie, not tonight. I'm beat.” Jake took off his coat, hung it in her entry closet, and started toward her bedroom. “Let's—”

“Something must be wrong.” Addie edged in front of him, blocking the doorway. “I know the committee voted to approve Immunone. So what's happening? I need to know when the
approval will come through. My family wants me back in Iraq, but I want to wait for the approval, to collect my share of the money Replica will owe me.”

“Addie, please, let's get some sleep.” Jake squeezed past her, brushing against her breasts.
Maybe more than just sleep
, he thought, starting to unbutton his shirt.

“Things are getting worse for my country every day. The United Nations just sent the ninth inspection team in. This time looking for centrifuge components to produce enriched uranium. What if they find something bad? Could I be deported?” Addie paused to take a breath. “Immunone's approval is so important to me.”

“It's important to me too,” Jake said, now undressed, moving toward the bed. Addie followed him, and he took her hand, eased her down beside him, stroking her thigh as they sat, waiting for her to stop her rant so he could kiss her.

Addie sat beside him, but did not stop. “Despite tearing the country apart, they haven't found anything, have they? Now they're focusing on this centrifuge bullshit.”

“Addie, would your father approve of your crude language?” Jake wanted to distract her from the return-to-Iraq theme.

“Bullshit?” she said. “No, and he wouldn't like ‘fuck' any better, and if he knew that you and I were fucking, he'd have to kill you, and maybe me too. That's why you cannot be careless like this. You could have called. Not good that you woke the old lady across the hall. Everyone knows I'm a Muslim. I'm expected to live up to Muslim standards.”

“Standards?” Did Addie seriously think she could go back to Baghdad, live like a Sunni woman, stripped of her basic human rights and all the Western privileges and conveniences and independence she enjoyed here?

Addie stood up, facing him. “Yes, Jake, standards. And one of them is respect. And when you ignore my questions, you are not giving me respect.”

And she actually was talking about returning to the Muslim culture, where respect for women was nonexistent?

“I ask you again: where is the FDA with Immunone's approval? Tell me.”

Jake stood to face her. “Addie, you know I can't reveal—”