The Ajax Protocol

CHAPTER 11

The haunting voice of Sarah McLachlan filled the elegant rooms of Selena's luxury condo. Her drink sat untouched on the end table beside the couch. She'd been staring out the windows for the best part of an hour, trying to make sense of the conflicting thoughts and feelings swirling through her mind.

Selena's home was on the top floor of one of Washington's exclusive residential buildings. The wall of the living room was all windows from floor to ceiling. A wide, private balcony with an ornate, wrought iron fence ran outside the glass. The windows afforded a spectacular view of the Virginia countryside across the Potomac. Potted trees and a variety of colorful, flowering plants were spaced at random intervals along the balcony. It was the kind of city living space that inspired the covers of architectural magazines.

Usually the impressive view calmed her and reassured her that there was stability and order in her world. Not today. Today the foundation of that order had crumbled.

Her father was a traitor.

The word traitor echoed in her mind. She remembered the last time she'd seen her father. She'd been 10 years old. Her mother, her father and her older brother were going to Big Sur for the weekend. She'd been looking forward to the trip. But she'd caught a cold and had a fever and couldn't go. Her father had come into the bedroom. She'd been sitting propped up against the pillows, playing with her favorite doll. She remembered he'd smelled of aftershave and cigarettes.

"How's my girl feeling?"

"I'm much better, daddy. Can I go?"

"Not this time, pumpkin."

"Joe." Her mother had called up the stairs. "We need to get going."

"Uncle William will be here with you. We'll be back Sunday night, before you know it. You'll be all better by then. Next weekend we'll go to the beach."

He bent over and kissed her on the forehead.

"Bye, daddy."

"Bye, pumpkin."

He'd gone out the door. That was the last time she'd seen him.

It had taken more than a year and a lot of love from her Uncle William to bring her out of her shell after the death of her family.

The contents of the file Nick had given her had been a series of shocks, one after the other. The first shock was that her father had worked for the CIA. She'd never dreamed he was a spy. According to the file, he'd been under surveillance for almost 3 years before his death. That was a long time to let someone hand over important secrets. It reinforced her belief that the file was false, meant to cover somebody's tracks.

The file contained dates of clandestine meetings with enemy agents. Records of suspicious deposits into his bank account. Old black-and-white photographs showing drop points and meetings in San Francisco and Washington. Records of phone calls. A damning chain of evidence that led to what seemed an inevitable conclusion, that her father had been selling classified material to the enemy.

Langley knew her father was working with the Russians and had allowed him to continue. The only thing that made sense to her was that his involvement with the KGB was a sanctioned CIA operation. If that were the case, he wasn't a traitor, he was an unacknowledged hero. Just because the file accused Joseph Connor of treason didn't make it true.

Nick had said the file was the only record of her father's activities. If that were so, there was no way to prove her father's innocence or guilt, one way or another. Worse, there was no one she could ask to look into it. Except Nick.

Nick.

Selena picked up her drink. The ice had melted. She stood and went to the kitchen sink and threw away the old drink, got some ice from the refrigerator door and poured herself an Irish whiskey. It was a taste she had acquired since she'd met Nick. She walked over to the windows and stared out over the city and sipped from her glass.

Nick had kept the file from her. She didn't know if she should be mad at him or grateful. How had she ended up in love with a man who seemed unable to make up his mind about what kind of relationship he wanted from her? She knew he loved her, she was certain of that. At least most of the time she was certain of it.

She was in love with him, wasn't she? Maybe she should be asking herself what kind of relationship she wanted with him, rather than the other way around.

Lately she'd found herself thinking about children. If she wanted to have children, time was running out. At 35, it was already a little late to be having kids. Not so much because of physical reasons but because of personal ones. She was used to doing things pretty much as she wanted. It wouldn't be exactly right to say she loved her work with the Project, but there was no denying she loved the excitement the unpredictability of it. How could she give that up? Children would change all of that. It would change her entire life, really.

She had a hard time picturing Nick as a father. As far as that went, she could barely imagine herself as a mother. If she did decide to have children, it would mean leaving the Project. She wouldn't be able to accept the risk if she had a child to think about.

Her thoughts turned back to the file.

The KGB killed my family.

Her hand tightened around the glass. It wasn't that long ago, she thought. If the people who did this are still alive, I'm going to find them.

She downed the rest of her drink and poured another.