Al Andalus

How frustrating! I had legal grounds to divorce Ginny, but I couldn't prove adultery without bringing up classified information, and that would get me into a world of hurt. "Isn't there any way to get divorced without having to go through all that?" I asked.

"Actually, you can get a no-fault divorce in Maryland. But to do that you two have to have been living separately for at least a year," he told me blithely. "In the meantime you can file for a 'limited divorce,' which gets you into the queue for an absolute divorce after a year's separation."

So that's what I did, but it galled me no end to have to wait so long to be free of her. I also wasn't happy about having to pay Ginny temporary spousal support. After what she'd done it didn't seem fair, but my hands were tied.

As winter turned into spring, my mood did not improve; if anything, it worsened. I found myself increasingly isolated, both at work and at home. My job no longer provided any satisfaction. The one really good thing I'd accomplished had become a secret that nobody could talk about. It quickly became apparent that management was down on me, and my co-workers began avoiding me.

Outside the office it was a similar situation, but for different reasons. All the friends we'd cultivated were couples who were used to socializing in pairs. I was the odd man out. And since no one really knew the story about why Ginny and I had broken up, I think a lot of them thought it was my fault.

The end result was that I spent a lot of time brooding about my life. It seemed to me that every time I had tried to do the right thing I had been punished. I had tried to protect Ginny and take care of her. I didn't expect her to worship me for that, but a little marital fidelity would have been nice. Likewise I hadn't wanted to be thrown into the middle of a terrorist plot, but when it happened I thought I had responded pretty well. I didn't want the Medal of Honor, but some acknowledgement would have been appreciated.

Increasingly I began to feel that I had been used. Ginny had certainly done so. All she'd wanted from me was to support her while she got her laser treatments. Well, maybe that was a bit exaggerated - I guess she really had loved me at one time. But that sure did evaporate fast when her birthmark was gone and other men started to notice her. The same thing was true about my work. After humiliating me with the news that Ginny was cheating, my boss had proceeded to use me as bait for terrorists. And now he was the one getting rewarded.

For that matter, hadn't Esther used me as well? All she really wanted was for me to try to solve the Al Andalus puzzle. When she got what she needed, she jumped on a plane and flew home before I could even say goodbye. I'd never heard a word from her since.

I knew that wasn't entirely fair. After all, Esther had saved my life, and she'd put her own life on the line to do so. Still, she wouldn't have done that if she hadn't thought I could help her.

All in all, I was tired of being used, tired of being stuck in a marriage with a cheating wife, and tired of holding a job where I wasn't appreciated. I felt a growing urge to get away, to leave it all behind and start over somewhere far away, somewhere no one had any claims on me. And once I got there, I vowed to put myself first for a change. I'd spent way too much of my life trying to do things for other people; now it was time to do some things for myself.

The old me would have been appalled. "Don't do anything hasty," I would have told myself. "You have obligations to others," I'd have rationalized. Well, screw that! The few times in my life I'd made a big, impulsive decision, things had worked out alright, even if it looked like nobody else would ever know it. Now I was going to make another big decision that felt right for me. If anyone else didn't like it, screw them.

December 31, the next year

Cheers went up from the other people at the bar as we watched the fireworks explode over the Auckland Harbour Bridge. I smiled to myself: the scene looked exactly like it had on that display in the war room at the NSA a year ago.

I had a lot to celebrate. Basically I had left everything except my computer, a few personal items and a bag of clothing, and I'd bought a one-way ticket to Auckland, New Zealand. I'd chosen Auckland for three reasons: it was as far away as I could get and still speak English, I didn't know a soul there and didn't have any obligations to any one, and, yes, I admit it, I'd been blown away by the scenery in The Lord of the Rings movies.

Once again, it turned out I had made a very good decision. I discovered that the people in New Zealand were extremely friendly and welcoming, so I didn't feel as lonely as I'd expected. I also managed to find a job very quickly. I had come with enough money to tide me over until I could find work, but I fell into a good situation almost immediately. The ANZ Banking Group had had a cyber-security scare just before I arrived, and my experience with computer viruses and malware made me very desirable to them. After I started work I rented a little two-bedroom flat and set about becoming a Kiwi.

Once I had made the big decision to leave, it had taken a lot of work to get everything settled in Maryland. It's not easy to untangle yourself from old way of life, but I did it. Once I had quit my job, made arrangements to transfer my Thrift Savings Plan, paid my bills, and taken care of all the things I could do in the short term, I gave my lawyer power of attorney to handle the biggest problem of all: Ginny. I told him she could have the house in lieu of alimony, and left him to handle everything else as he thought best.

The only problem was that Ginny didn't want to accept the inevitable. She refused to cooperate with the divorce process and dragged her feet every way she could think of to slow things down. I'd told my attorney that under no circumstances was he to tell Ginny where I was or how to reach me. All that meant was that she began to badger him, and he in turn was charging me for all the time he spent dealing with her. After awhile it became obvious that I was going to have talk to her, like it or not.

Finally, I arranged for a Skype session with her. Although she didn't know it, I had to get up way before dawn to have the call. That didn't improve my mood one bit.

New Zealand is literally the last stop on the Internet, the dead end of the big fiber-optic undersea cables that link the globe together. That means that connections are often bad and interruptions are common. But somehow we got lucky, and when we finally had our "face-to-face" our link was rock solid.

When the connection went through and her face appeared on my computer screen, it sent a shock through me. She still looked beautiful and her image reminded me of the woman I'd fallen in love with so long. "This isn't going to be easy," I thought.

The call didn't start off well. She demanded to know where I was, and when I wouldn't tell her she alternated between anger and weeping. "Why did you run away?" she sniffled. "Why won't you tell me where you are?"

I sighed. "Honestly, Ginny, you broke my heart and I couldn't bear to be around all the places and things that reminded me of you. Finally I decided that the only thing I could do was to get as far away from you as possible."

To my surprise, she actually smiled. "That means you still have feelings for me," she said brightly. "Why don't you stop all this foolishness and come back to me?"

I tried not to get sarcastic. "Ginny, you cheated on me. You broke your marriage vows and had an affair with another man. How can I come back to you after that?"

Her face fell, but then she got a determined look on her face. "I know, Thomas, and I feel so terrible about that. But I was vulnerable."

"Why?" I demanded. "Why were you vulnerable?"

She shook her head as though I was dumb not to understand. "Well of course because I had just had my last laser treatment and I was still getting used to my new look. When he came along and told me I was beautiful, of course I was going to respond."

That really galled me. "But I told you you were beautiful," I said. "I've always thought so since the first time I saw you."

"Yes, but you told me that before I got my birthmark removed. He had never seen me before, so his compliments meant a lot more to me," she said brightly.

I couldn't even find the words to respond to that, but the expression on my face must have made my reaction clear because Ginny's tone suddenly changed and her face clouded up. "But I don't want to talk about that. I've been so lonely without you," she sniffled. "Literally there hasn't been a day go by that I haven't cried. I know what I did was terrible, and you don't know how many times I've kicked myself for being so stupid and so gullible."

She paused to dab her eyes and then went on. "But it wasn't really my fault. I had no way of knowing that Ameer was some sort of spy trained at seduction. To me he was just a handsome guy who filled my head with compliments and sweet talk. I got swept away before I even hardly knew it. And the thing was, he wasn't even interested in me! He was just using me to find out about you." She blew her nose and added, "I guess that's why he always wanted to go to our house."

I had calmed down, but when I heard that I got angry again. But before I could say anything she hurried on. "Anyway, I've learned so much about myself from all this, Thomas, and I know I'd be so much better of a wife if you'd only come back. Can't you find it in your heart to forgive me? It would make me so happy. Everything would be back the way it was. What do you think, honey?"

I'd been watching her as she spoke. Her appearance was exactly as I remembered it and her voice was the same, but now something was different. Then I realized what it was: I know longer loved her.

"Ginny, I've been listening carefully to everything you've said," I told her. "In all the time you've been talking, there are two things I haven't heard. You've made very clear what you want and how you feel, but you haven't once mentioned me and my feelings," I said.

"Well of course I'm concerned about how you feel," she interrupted. "I know you were very hurt and upset, and you had every right to be. But if we get back together I'll spend all my time making it up to you and . . ."

I held up my hand and she finally realized that I wasn't through. When she stopped, I went on. "There was something else I didn't hear either. I heard you say a lot of things, but you never once said, 'I love you.'"

She gasped and then blurted out, "But of course I love you. That's a given. I've always loved you and . . ."

Now I was the one who interrupted. "No, Ginny, love is not a given. It's not something you say, it's something you show in your actions. It's not just what you do but also what you don't do. And you don't show your love by cheating with someone else just because he fills your ears with pretty words. I'm sorry, Ginny, but this call has made me even more certain that we aren't ever getting back together. Goodbye, Ginny."

I broke the connection, leaving the image of her tear-stained face on the screen. It still hurt to lose someone who had meant so much to me at one time, but after listening to her I knew I had done the right thing.

December 31, two years later

I'd been at a party with friends earlier in the evening, but it somehow seemed appropriate to spend the New Year's Eve countdown at the bar I'd found that first year in New Zealand, the one overlooking Auckland Harbour. The other patrons had welcomed me back then, and I felt welcome again as I lifted a pint and stared out at the fireworks display.

The last two years had been good to me. Ginny had finally bowed to the inevitable and agreed to the divorce. I'd given her the house in lieu of further spousal support, and I was now legally a free man. My career was also doing well. After a year with the bank I'd built enough of a reputation as a cyber-security expert to begin consulting on my own. Once again, luck gave me a boost when the National Cyber Security Centre in Wellington came to me asking for help. That had given me a kind of semi-official stamp of approval, and now my business was booming. It also gave my permanent residency application the push it needed, and I was now officially a Kiwi. And thanks to the money my consulting business was earning, I was able to buy a nice home with a view of the Auckland Harbour. All in all, I was glad I'd made the big move.

They'd darkened the bar for the fireworks, so at first I had a hard time recognizing the woman behind me. But when she said, "Happy New Year, Thomas Selfridge," her accent was one I'd thought about often over the last three years. I turned and embraced her without hesitation. "Happy New Year to you too, Esther."

After a minute we separated and I was able to look at her. The sleeveless black cotton sweater and the skin-tight jeans she was wearing made it clear that she was still as fit as the last time I'd seen her. I could even make out the thin scar on her right shoulder. But this time her dark hair was tucked under a baseball cap with a long brim pulled low. When she raised her head to look at a big explosion over the harbour, I saw the black patch that covered her right eye.

The bar crowd was cheering and growing rowdier, so I smiled at Esther and leaned near her ear. "Would you like to go some place quieter so we can catch up?"

She smiled. "I'd like that very much."

We got in my car and I drove her away from the downtown west to Herne Bay. When I pulled into my driveway, she gave a low whistle. "You must really be doing well, Thomas. I'm happy for you."

I poured us another drink and led her out onto the deck. From there we had a view of a different part of the harbour, but we could see the fireworks in the distance. It was still warm despite the sea breeze. Even after three years, it seemed strange for the New Year to arrive in summer.

After a few minutes she turned to me and pulled off her cap. "Well, aren't you going to ask me about my eye?"

Without the cap I could see a diagonal scar that started below the patch and ran all the way up through her eyebrow. It had carved a white line deep in her olive-colored skin. "Tell me what happened," I said.

She put her cap back on and took a seat on one of my deck chairs. "Actually it was my own damned fault. After I got back to Israel, I managed to find one of the ISIS leaders who had planned the Al Andalus attack. Unfortunately, I didn't find the knife he had hidden before it was too late." Then she gave me that wolfish grin of hers. "But I can promise you that he'll never hatch another plot."

I remembered how she'd withstood my fumbling attempt to stitch up her arm, and I could easily believe that she could take such a devastating wound like the one to her eye and still be able to strike a fatal blow at her enemy.

"Couldn't the doctors . . .?" I asked, gesturing at the patch.

She shook her head. "The wound was too severe, and besides, it was eighteen hours before I was able to get back to my team and be airlifted to a hospital. By then . . ." She shrugged.

I thought maybe I should change the subject, so I asked, "Are you still in Mossad?"

By the expression on her face I knew immediately that I'd asked the wrong question. "They kicked me out," she said in clipped, bitter tones. "With this face there was no way I could ever go undercover again. And since I'm right-handed, my marksmanship has gone all to hell. They offered to try to find me a desk job elsewhere in the government, but I wanted no part of that."

She fell silent, but I could still sense her unhappiness.

After a few moments she looked up at me again. "The last three years have been hard in several ways. I had . . . well, I guess you'd call him a lover back in Tel Aviv, and we had talked about something more permanent once I left the service. But when I went home to recuperate from my wound, he couldn't take it. He never said anything, but he would never look at my face. I guess he wasn't the man I thought he was."

I could tell that she was trying to pass off what had happened as insignificant, but her expression told me she was still hurting. I pulled up a chair beside her and put my arm around her shoulder. We sat there in silence for a long time, looking out at the city and the harbour below.

Finally I asked the question that had been on my mind the whole time. "So how did you find me here in New Zealand?"

"I pulled a few strings with some old contacts and tracked you down." She gave me a little smile. "You certainly did a good job of getting away."

I smiled back. "At the time I just wanted to put as much distance between me and my old life as I could. But I've built a new life for myself here, and now this is home." Then I looked at her carefully. "You haven't told me why you tracked me down."

Her face grew pensive. "You were such a surprise to me, Thomas. When I first met you I thought you were just a nerd who was clever with computer code. But I kept discovering depths in you that I never expected. I saw you face danger and handle situations that would have made most people falter. I was sorry when I had to leave that I didn't get the chance to learn more about you."

She paused and stared out at the darkness. "The other reason is that the time we spent together, as crazy and dangerous as it was, was better than any time since." She turned around to face me. "I missed it and I missed being with you."

Then her face took on an expression that I didn't recognize at first. "Besides," she said huskily, "we still have unfinished business. We never got a chance to celebrate." Suddenly she pulled my head toward hers and kissed me with so much passion that it was hard for either of us to breathe. I stood up and pulled her body to me, and we clutched each other like we were drowning. After a minute I led her inside and back to my bedroom, both of us panting and aflame with desire. It took us three tries to douse those flames.

When I woke up the next morning, dawn was pushing through the windows, casting a reddish light in my bedroom. I felt Esther's body snuggled up to me and I smiled as I remembered our celebration.

Carefully I sat up, trying not to wake her. As I did, I noticed that her eye patch had slipped off her head during the night, and I picked it up curiously. Just then she woke up, and when she saw what I was holding, she cried out, "Give it back!" Then she sat up and snatching the black band out of my hand. "Don't look at me!" she said desperately as she turned away and tried to get the band around her head and the patch back over her ruined, empty eye socket.

Once she had it back in place she bent over at the waist and began to sob, holding her hands over her face. I put my arm around her and let her cry. As I felt her shudders, I began to feel emotions that I hadn't remembered in a long, long time. "This woman saved my life once," I thought, "and now I have the chance to save hers." And what was so equally unexpected was my absolute certainty that this was what I really wanted, not just for her sake but for mine as well.

I turned her around to face me and gently pulled her hands away from her face. Then I reached up and lifted her eye patch off again. "No!" she whimpered, "I'm so ugly."

"You're wrong," I said gently. "You look at your face and the only thing you can see is your eye. I look at you and see a beautiful, courageous woman. You see the scar; I see all of you."

She looked at me with doubt that slowly changed into wonder and hope. Then she threw her arms around me and kissed me, and I knew that I had made another very good decision.