“A spy? I don’t believe you.”

“Of course you don’t believe me. He was a good spy – in fact, he was the best. He left the business before he got married though, and as far as any of us knew, his spying days were over.”

“Then why did he have information that someone is trying to get?”

“Listen, let’s get out of here. The place will be crawling with police officials soon.”

“Should we take the boat?”

“No, leave it here. We don’t want there to be any sign that we survived the blast.”

“We want to fake our deaths?”

“More or less. Now, let’s go!”

The next two hours were miserable as the couple walked through dense foliage, avoiding the roads, and they wound their way around the lake to his cabin.

They slipped in through the back door, and Sam found some dry clothes that she could change into. Sam let her use his room, and he changed in the bathroom.

She was dressed before he came out, so she took a look around the place. She was impressed – Sam had kept it clean and reasonably tidy. She also looked for pictures, letters, anything indicating whether he might be married. On a desk in the living room, she found a framed photograph of an attractive young woman hugging Sam.

She sighed and her heart sank. She knew it was silly that she still had feelings for Sam, especially if Jim was still alive. Jim wasn’t there, though, and she didn’t know for certain if she would ever see him again.

Sam came out of the bathroom and found Mary staring at the photo. He smiled.

“So there is a Mrs. Sam after all.”

“Not really. I’d call her a Miss Sam, I guess.”

“You’re not married yet?”

“No, and we never will be.”

“Why not? She’s beautiful, Sam.”

“Oh, she’s beautiful and she’s perfect in nearly every way. I love her more than life itself. But she’s my daughter.”

“Your … daughter?” Mary smiled and laughed. “But she must be nineteen or twenty in this picture. Sam, how old are you?”

“She’s eighteen in the picture. I’m thirty-eight.”

“Were you married ever?”

“Yes, I was. I was happily married.”

“And?”

“And … “ Sam choked.

Mary detected a tear in his eyes. “Sam, you don’t have to …”

“Mary, my wife was killed, murdered, I think by the same people who blew up your house tonight. They kidnapped her three months ago and we found her body a couple days later.”

“Oh Sam …”

Mary hugged Sam. Sam squeezed Mary hard.

"Mary, there's some things you need to know. Jim ... someone had sent him a piece of information about three months ago. He called me and told me he had information – he also couldn’t tell me over the phone what it was, but he said I wouldn’t believe it.”

“Three months ago?”

“Three months ago, just a little bit before his world – and yours – went haywire.”

“What was the information about? Do you know that much?”

“I think so. For a long time, he had been investigating the JFK assassination.”

“Really? I thought that was pretty much a done deal – Lee Harvey Oswald. I know there have been conspiracy talks and all that, but those are just speculative rumors. I mean, wasn't half the CIA investigating this thing, and they never found out anything to indicate otherwise, right?”

“I can’t tell you too much, but I'll tell you this. Jim and I were part of a small group called Red Four. There other two guys were Buzz and Rich. We were above the CIA ..."

"Were you ... are you ... in the National Security Agency?"

"Nope ... we were above the NSA."

"Wow, so you reported directly to the president?"

"Well, we were above ... listen, I can't tell you more about the organization ... but I’ll tell you this much: we proved Oswald didn’t do it."

"When did you prove that?"

"Winter of 2000 - 2001."

"More than thirty-seven years after the assassination? Wow."

"There's still evidence out there. Funny thing is, right after we proved it, Buzz was killed."

"Leaving you, Rich, and Jim."

"Right -- then Jim gets kidnapped."

"Leaving you and Rich. You both are in danger."

"Jim's still in danger, don't forget."

"I'm not forgetting that."

"The thing is, I think this is happening on the inside."

"How inside?"

"Way inside."

"You think Rich kidnapped Jim and blew up my house?"

"Rich or people he works for, maybe. At this point I don't know for sure."

"Can't you take this to the authorities?"

"I am 'the authorities.' And I can't raise the flag on it until I know for sure who was behind it.”

“Does it really matter at this point? That was so long ago.”

“From the national security perspective, yes it matters, especially if I’m right about whom I think your husband thought was behind the assassination.”

“Tell me.”

“I can’t, you know that. If you knew the information – or even my guess about who it is – you’d be a marked target.”

“I already am a marked target.”

Ring!

The phone startled Mary. Sam took a step toward the phone and then stopped.

The phone didn’t ring again.

“One ring? Weird,” said Mary.

“Maybe a wrong number,” replied Sam.

“What do we do now?”

Ring!

Mary jumped. Sam looked at his watch, but again he didn’t answer the phone.

Sam stood still for an agonizing thirty seconds, and then the phone rang a third time. Sam picked it up.

“Hello … Yes, that’s right … no, she’s with me … yes … yes … no, I didn’t … are you sure?”

Sam put his arm around Mary and squeezed her shoulder.

“Okay, I will … okay … oh, could you leak the story? Yeah, two … all right, thanks.”

Sam hung up the phone. He had tears in his eyes.

"Mary, we've got to get out of here. I'll explain later."

He took Mary by the hand and hustled her out the back door. Behind a utility shed, underneath a tarp, Sam revealed a non-descript sedan. He motioned for Mary to get in the front passenger side, and she complied. Moments later they were racing down the dirt road toward the highway.

They both were silent for the first thirty minutes -- Sam because he was thinking, Mary because she didn't know what to think.

"Mary, that phone call ..."

"I take it that it wasn't a wrong number?"

"It wasn't a wrong number. But at this point I don't know whom to trust, and we had to get out of there. As long as anyone knows where I am, we're not totally safe."

"What did they tell you?"

"I'll tell you in five minutes."

With that, Sam pulled off the road and into the parking lot of the Clover Leaf Motel. The sign out front advertized Vacancies at $19 per room.

Sam thought better about leaving Mary in the car.

"Come with me," he ordered. They both went into the office. Sam registered and paid for a room.

The clerk gave them a quizzical look, but he didn't say anything.

Sam and Mary hurried into the room. When Mary saw herself in the mirror -- her hair was a mess and she looked comical wearing Sam's clothing -- she laughed. "I'm ready for the Academy Awards, I think," she smiled.

Sam didn't return the smile. He pulled Mary toward him.

“Mary … your husband … my colleague … is dead.

"Oh!" Mary gasped.

Almost without thinking, she turned and buried her head in Sam's chest, wrapping her arms around him. He held her tightly, kissing her on the top of her head. She looked up, and their lips were drawn closer, irresistably. The time that Mary normally would have spent mourning the death of her husband had already been spent in her emotionally during the month that she thought he had abandoned her; Sam had long suspected that Jim was dead and wasn't surprised at the revelation. The news, then, didn't so much unsettle them as it did to free them.

There was nothing holding them back now, and in moments they were locked in a torrid kiss, sharing the mingled feelings of passion, fear, confusion, and exhaustion all at once. They didn't stop kissing until they fell asleep in each other's arms.