Within Reach (36 page)

“Beats me,” Michael said. “So where does that leave us?”

“Not much further than we were before. When I threatened to call a lawyer myself and file for divorce, he assured me that he’d fight it. He harped on how cruel I was to even think of hurting my parents this way, but I’m telling you, Michael, it’s getting to a point where I really don’t care.”

“You’re angry, sweetheart.”

“Aren’t you? It’s not fair that he can manipulate us this way. What does he hope to gain? What could possibly be in it for him?”

Michael thought for a minute. “If he had a mistress he liked but didn’t particularly want to marry, staying married to you would be a convenient excuse.”

“I asked him about that once, and he said that there wasn’t another woman. He seemed so repulsed by the idea that I believed him.”

“Do you think that his refusal to consider divorce may have something to do with his ties to your father?”

“I don’t see how. They were friends long before Blake met me. I’m sure my father pulled his weight when it came to getting Blake his appointment, but that’s a fait accompli. Blake has plenty of power on his own now.”

Michael blew out an exasperated breath. “So we
are
back to square one.”

“No,” she said. “Not really, because I’ve made up my mind.” She smiled gently at Michael. “Being without you helped in the perverse way I’m sure you intended.”

“Dani—”

“Shhh. I’m not criticizing. I’m admiring. You were right. I did function on my own. The publishing house is thrilled with James’s and my book. The radio station is pleased with my show. I know now that I can manage on my own, but the point is that I don’t want to simply ‘manage.’ There’s so much more. Am I making any sense?”

He slid his fingers into her hair and stroked her cheeks with his thumbs. “You’re making lots of sense. I think I realized many of the same things when I was abroad. It wasn’t the same without you.” His eyes explored her features. “Being away made me bolder, or perhaps just more desperate. I don’t care who in the hell fights us; we’ll somehow find away.” He kissed her once, then a second time when their lips didn’t want to part. At last, they sat back holding hands.

“Blake might come to his senses when he’s had time to think about what I said,” she ventured hopefully.

“Maybe, but I doubt it. This wasn’t the first time you mentioned divorce as a possibility, so he couldn’t have been totally stunned.”

“I just don’t understand the man. You’d think he’d have more pride than to want me now.”

“It can work the other way round, though. He may be too proud to admit that his marriage has failed.”

“But if that were true, you’d think that he would have been furious when I told him about you. I can’t figure him out! He’s making this all so difficult.”

“No one ever said life was easy.”

“I suppose. Michael?”

“What, sweetheart?”

“Will you wait it out with me? If nothing happens by the end of the summer, I’ll go ahead and see a lawyer, but I’d rather Blake could see his way to an amicable agreement.”

“So would I. And of course I’ll wait. That’s what my coming back was all about.”

She raised his hands to her lips. “You’re so special, Michael. You know how much I love you, don’t you?”

“I could use a reminder from time to time.”

“Now’s the time.”

“Where’s the place?”

She looked around. “That sofa looks about right.”

“Okay. How?”

She grinned and slid to his lap. “I think you’ll figure that out soon enough.”

Cilla joined Jeffrey at the restaurant in Georgetown where they had been meeting for dinner every Friday. They settled at a table in a quiet corner and ordered drinks. She smiled at him; he smiled back.

“So,” he breathed, “what’s doin’?”

She shrugged. “Not much. How about with you?”

“The same.”

“Nothing new at the Pentagon?”

“Nope. The city room’s still humming?”

“Uh-huh.” She took a long sip of her drink.

Jeffrey did the same, then set his glass down. “I bumped into Stefan Bryncek yesterday.”

“How’s he doing?”

“Great. Sheila had another baby. Their third. A boy this time.”

“Stefan must be pleased by that.”

“He sounded it. He’s been waiting for a boy.”

Cilla nodded. She spread some cheese on a cracker and handed it to Jeffrey, then made one for herself. “Did you read that Norman was promoted?”

“Mmmm. Managing editor to associate editor, isn’t it?”

“Uh-huh. Jason Wile left to be editor-in-chief of a magazine in Minneapolis, so the space opened up. I’m pleased for Norman. He deserved it.”

“Do you ever think of editing?”

“Me? I’d make an awful editor. I get too involved. Besides, I like the action of chasing stories down. I can’t see myself in an editorial position.” Her eyes narrowed. “And if you’re thinking that I could have whatever position I want just because my father owns the paper, you’re wrong. He’s a chauvinist. In his mind, women are far too emotional. Many people think that.”

“Come on.”

“No, Jeff. Think about it for a minute. Don’t you feel the same?”

“I never said that.”

“No, but it has come across subtly at times. You feel women lack that certain…professionalism to be on top.”

“You’re putting words in my mouth.”

“But aren’t they true? Think back to when we were married. Wasn’t so much of the hesitation you had about confiding in me due to the fact that I’m a woman.”

“You’re a
newspaper
woman.”

“But if I was a newspaper
man
, wouldn’t it have been different?”

“Sure. I wouldn’t have been married to you.”

“You’re skirting the issue.”

He lifted his glass and took a drink, thinking that Cilla was right on the money. “Okay. Okay. It is possible that your gender had something to do with it. But I’m trying to change. It’s been six years since the divorce, and in that time women have popped up in some pretty responsible positions. I’d have to be blind not to see it, dumb not to try to accept it. But attitudes don’t change overnight. I grew up in a male-dominated household. It may have been wrong, but that’s the way it was. When I was in college, women were still looking first and foremost for that M.R.S. degree.”

“That’s because they were told that was where they’d have the best chance of advancement. It doesn’t mean that they weren’t intelligent or responsible.”

“I
know
,” Jeffrey stated quietly. “I
know
.”

He opened his menu and studied it. Cilla followed suit. When each had made a choice, the menus were closed and set back on the table.

“What are you having?” Jeffrey asked.

“Lemon veal. It was good last time. How about you?”

“Steak.”

She nodded, observing that he had chosen the most macho offering. She wondered what he would say next, whether he planned to share his work with her tonight.

Jeffrey took another drink and pressed his moistened lips together. He had no intention of saying something if she didn’t. If she wanted to be the liberated woman, he vowed,
she
could take the first step.

Cilla stared at Jeffrey, seeing that same closed expression he had worn so often during their marriage. It was unfortunate. For both of them, their work was nine-tenths of their lives. When they couldn’t share that, there was little left. But if he was disinclined to discuss things of substance, why should she?

Jeffrey stared at Cilla, willing her to open up. She was stubborn sometimes. Wonderfully so. Maddeningly so. He supposed he was no different, but, damn it, she should be more flexible. They were at an impasse again, sharing nothing but the same silence that had plagued their married life. He wanted more, though. He had already told her that. He wanted another try. There was so much to love in Cilla. Maybe if he bent a little…

Cilla began to waver when she realized what was happening. The same rut. The same brick wall. Neither of them giving in, therefore neither of them benefiting. One of them had to take the first step. One of them had to make a show of faith.

She opened her mouth and took a breath at the very same instant he did. They both smiled. He dipped his head in deference. “Ladies before gentlemen,” he said, then rushed on when she scowled. “Okay, I’ll tell you mine first, if you’d rather.”

Determined not to appear the weaker, she held up a hand. “No, no. I’ll go first.” She set her chin. “I heard from him again, the power-and-lust guy.”

Jeffrey’s eyes widened. “Good deal!”

“Uh-huh. He called two days ago.”

“What did he say?”

She hesitated for only as long as it took to remind herself that Jeffrey was interested, not prying. “It wasn’t what he said so much as how he said it. He wasn’t mumbling, and his speech wasn’t slurred. He sounded sober as a stone and very angry.”

Jeffrey reworded his question to sound less pointed. “He was coherent in what he said then?”

“Very. He said that he knew I was a responsible reporter and that he was sure I’d be interested in his story. Front page material, he said.”

“That’s all?”

She shook her head. “He said that there were compromises being made in high places. That sexual favors were being traded among some very powerful factions.”

“So what else is new?”

“That’s what
I
said, only not in so many words. But when I tried to push him for details, he got nervous. When I suggested we meet somewhere to talk, he didn’t respond. Unfortunately, I let my eagerness get the best of me and I asked for his name. I told him that his call lacked credibility if he wouldn’t identify himself.”

“What did he say to that?”

She sighed. “He hung up.”

“Oh. Y’ know, Cilla, it really isn’t a new story. Everyone’s heard of Elizabeth Ray. Wheeling and dealing with sex isn’t unusual.”

“No.” She grew defensive. “But what if we’re talking about a spy plot? What if there is
real
compromising going on? You know, secrets being passed around that threaten this country’s security?”

He arched a brow. “Did this fellow give you any hint that that was what was happening?”

“No, but he didn’t say it wasn’t. I’m telling you, Jeff, I feel something. Call it instinct or intuition, but there’s something behind this. You’re right, everyone does know of the Elizabeth Rays of the world, and I’m sure this fellow must too, but he still felt that what he had to offer was front page copy.”

“He may just be a crackpot.”

Cilla knew Jeff was playing devil’s advocate, and she wasn’t offended. He was saying nothing more than her editor had said. Of course, she didn’t agree. “That’s possible. But I do have this feeling. More than that, I still think the voice was the same as that of the man I spoke with at that reception a while back. I’ve been poring through stacks of file photos, trying to recognize a face, trying to think about who might have been at that reception.”

“Did you call the embassy where it was held?”

“The attaché I spoke with wasn’t much help. He had the list of official guests, but he wasn’t eager to hand it out, and even then he said that each of the invited guests had been given
several
passes, so the possibilities were much broader. I explained that I desperately needed to locate a man I’d seen there, but the attacheé wasn’t terribly sympathetic. I think he thought I was on the make, trying to track down a gorgeous, nameless, would-be lover.”

Jeffrey grinned. “I think I’d think that, too, if I’d gotten a call from you like that. You have a damned sexy voice, Cilla.”

She was feeling light-headed and strong now that she had taken the first step in communicating with Jeff. “I think you have a one-track mind.”

“Not really. I can appreciate your sexy voice even while I’m thinking about your call and my lead.”

“Your lead?” she asked. “In the Maris case?” When he shook his head and put on a smug grin, she sat straighter. “Okay. Your turn. What lead?”

“Remember I told you about the high-tech theft that’s been going on?”

“Sure.”

“Well, I think we’re finally onto something. A shipment of sensitive microchips—a restricted commodity—was stopped at the Swedish border before it made it into the Soviet Union. We’ve traced it through several mediating companies to one in South Africa that actually exists.”

“No dummy storefront this time?”

“Nope. That’s what’s so promising. We have a team in Capetown working on it now. It may take a while because our guys are working undercover, but we suspect that this particular company may be the source for a whole batch of similar shipments.”

“And you want it all.”

“You bet. It’s possible that only one American company has been repeatedly involved, though I can’t believe any one company would be so stupid. More likely, the South African firm has multiple contacts here—scientists, business people, diplomats, students—each of whom has a shopping list of what the East wants. It’s mind-boggling when you think of it.”

“Frightening.”

“Very. The problem is that if we rush and close in on the South African firm based simply on the one shipment we stopped, the contacts will only sell to someone else. Money talks, and there’s a whole load of money in illegal export.”

“So the motives aren’t political?”

“In some cases they are. In many, they’re financial. A true patriot wouldn’t be tempted regardless of the amount of money offered, but we’re not dealing with true patriots here.”

Cilla nodded her agreement. “It’s disgusting when you think of it. There are so many legitimate ways to earn a living. I was talking with a fellow last week who used to be one of the biggest bookies around. He earned a bundle, then one day wiped his hands clean and got out. He’s in real estate development now, and while I detest what he did, and the fact that he founded his business on dirty money, I have to respect him more than someone who would knowingly jeopardize the country’s security. Bookmaking may be illegal, but at least its victims are willing ones. In the case of something like what you’re talking about,
all
of us stand to lose.”