Page 16 of The Atlas Maneuver

“Excuse me. Last I looked there were two people in this relationship.”

That was the problem. There was no relationship. Only sex. And she was the latest in a series of affairs that started in law school. Women here and there who meant little to nothing. Why did he cheat? He had no idea. He’d tried to analyze it. Understand. Stop it. But nothing had worked. True, his relationship with Pam had been strained for some time. Did he still love her? Hard to say. But she did not deserve what he was doing to her.

Did Pam know?

He didn’t think so.

And he wanted to keep it that way.

What an idiot he’d been.

A selfish, narcissistic fool.

Twenty years had passed and he still felt the guilt. Even with all that happened between him and Pam since that time, he’d never been able to shake his failings. The hotshot law student, then naval officer, thinking himself the cock of the walk, able to do whatever he wanted. He’d cheated on Pam with four women.

Suzy the longest in duration.

“What’s happening, Earl?” she said to him. “You growing a conscience?”

His real name was Harold Earl Malone, but he’d been called Cotton since childhood. There was a story to that. A long one. He’d told it to Suzy, but she’d still insisted on using either Harold or Earl. Terms of endearment? Maybe. More a sign, at the moment, of her growing anger.

“Can we make this easy?” he said.

“What’s going on with you? You act like neither of us knew you were married. Why now? What’s different?”

He wasn’t going to explain himself. Feelings were hard for him. The last thing he wanted was to discuss them with someone else. That was another problem between him and Pam. Neither of them was good at sharing. “I’m really sorry. But I can’t do this anymore. I should have never done it in the first place.”

“Get out.”

Anger had arrived. Bold and clear.

“You’re not going to make any trouble, are you?” he asked.

“Is that what you’re worried about? That I won’t tell anyone? That your wife won’t know. Or your commanding officer. You don’t give a damn about how I feel, do you?”

“Of course I do. I don’t want to hurt you. Not at all. But I also don’t want to hurt my wife anymore. Can’t you understand that?”

She pointed at the door.

“Get. Out.”

They never spoke again.

A few weeks later she was gone from Pensacola. Now here she was, two decades later, in Basel, Switzerland, with a new name, new face, and people trying to kill her.

“You and I were a long time ago,” she said to him. “I’m over it. A lot has passed by since then, and I want to tell you all about it, but this is neither the time nor place.”

An old reality, from long ago, returned in a steaming wave of uncomfortableness. He hadn’t thought about that part of his life in years, and he felt strange as those distant, disturbing memories flooded back. A familiar shallow righteousness ripped through him that left his gut empty and weak. Once a struggle had raged within his brain—one of right or wrong, happiness or misery—but he’d long since acquired a hold on the anchors that now firmly rooted his life. He’d known, even as a young man, that there’d be a moment when he’d be tested, a moment when he would come face-to-face with the truth, when his actions would affirm or deny everything.

Suzy Baldwin had been his moment.

He was no longer the man who’d cheated on his wife, having learned his lessons and never repeated them. He was now an honorable soul. More than that. He was a cautious soul, careful abouthis mistakes and mindful of others. And here, standing before him, was a vivid reminder of his former shortcomings.

People were again coming and going through the bakery’s front door. Beyond the front windows he saw the street returning to normal, the police leaving. She was right. This was not the time for reunions. But—

“What have you gotten yourself into?” he quietly asked her.

He saw the concern on her face.