Volcano by Gabby Grant Page B

doors, have moved things about,
misplaced, reset and tampered with appliances...
    He’d played the lunatic, fairly railed at his wife
for her inefficiencies. And when she’d looked at him with that blank stare,
he’d found himself beginning to doubt so many things. Not just her competency
at home, but the essence...Mark felt his slackened jaw tremble...of who she
was.
    Mark pressed his palms to his temples and cradled his head
in his hands, elbows down on his desk. In the blur of time that had clipped
past since Isabel’s birth, Mark had scarcely slowed down enough to notice the
change. Though Ana , he now saw, had tried to tell him,
he’d been oblivious to the welling darkness around them. Oblivious, or
purposely ignorant, Mark wondered, feeling the shame break over him like a
wave over the bow of a sinking ship.
    Sure, Mark had perpetuated the motions: the routine evening
kiss, the love-making , infrequent though it was. But
in those motions, the tenderness had somehow gotten swept away like dew drops
in a sweltering storm.
    Swollen heat pressed from his eyes as Mark recalled the girl
he’d convinced to become his wife. The woman to whom he’d promised the moon and
for whom he could no longer guarantee tomorrow.
    It would soon be Christmas morning, a time for gifts of life
and renewal. A time to wake up one’s beliefs.
    Mark squeezed shut his filming eyes and wished for one
present and one present only- to wake up from this nightmare and, once again,
find Ana in his arms.
    Mark righted himself with a catching breath and ran his
fingers through his stubbly hair, the one thing about him that hadn’t changed
in these past three years. The rest of him had grown weak, both in spirit and
in body. At forty-three, Mark was getting older... Older, and less efficient,
he thought, slamming himself for his inadequacy.
    Mark collapsed into the chair behind him, wondering how he
could have missed it. Every damn bit of it- including Maria?
    Mark had to get back to the DIPAC. Had to find a way to make
the baby safe. Tomorrow would be impossible, with next to everybody on leave.
But Mark could still make some necessary calls, wrap
things up here at headquarters. Brief Albert on what was
going on and leave the greater operation in his capable charge. Then,
once he’d secured Isabel, Mark could get back to Washington, and focusing on
Ana. Like where in the world she was.
    Mark swivelled his chair and looked out the window,
searching for an answer. All he had was the mysterious scrambled message from
yesterday, demanding his and Albert’s resignation, her coat bloodied, as it
turned out, by pig entrails, and a mysterious hank of Joe McFadden’s hair that
happened to match up perfectly with the DNA samples he’d left on record at the
CIA. But somehow, even before the results of the hair analysis had come in,
Mark had instinctively known to whom the reddish-brown lock belonged. And
somehow, Mark had the gut-wrenching feeling Ana was no
longer in danger, at least not from the terrorist threat.
    Though Mark had once considered Joe a comrade, truth be
known, they’d never been the best of friends. It was hard to put too much stock
in a friendship when the other man had once slept with your wife.
    Mark balled his hands into tight fists, wanting so badly to
pound something... Anything.
    But the only thing that came to mind was the sorry image of
Joe McFadden’s face.

 
    ***

 
    Carolyn checked on the baby for the umpteenth time and
tucked her in under the covers of her porta-crib.
    Merry Christmas, to you, sweet Isabel, she thought, giving
the sleeping cherub a sad smile.
    Too young to know what was going on. Blissfully unaware of her mother’s danger. That,
Carolyn supposed, was baby Isabel’s greatest gift for the season.
    And soon, at least, Isa was to see her father. Not tomorrow
probably, Mark had said. But most certainly the day after
that. Neal was bound and determined to get down here to his daughter,
but faced a tally of