CHAPTER 7

Mike jerked the telephone to his ear. “Hello?”

“Mike, I’m sorry I won’t be able to join you for dinner.” It was Barbara. “Dad’s sequestered me until nine, at the earliest.”

“You lose, Barb. I’ve got the biggest, thickest pizza you ever saw.”

“Damn! Will you save me some?”

“Sure. See you later,” Mike said.

He glanced at the evening newspaper and his jaw dropped as he focused on the front page. There before him were the pictures and names of the five people who had been spared from the tragic explosion that had allegedly killed all passengers aboard Olympic Airways Flight 806. Karen’s plane. The story confirmed that all five had been held as political prisoners in Syria. Informed sources speculated that the information had not been disclosed to the world pending a resolution of differences between the Palestinian terrorist organization Angels of Freedom and the Syrian government. “One of the five survivors was Karen Taylor, of Toronto, Canada, daughter of wealthy industrialist George Taylor.”

Mike was stunned. Over and over again the pictures shot through his brain like an electric shock. “She’s alive!” he shouted.

He raced to the telephone, his fingers trembling as he dialed Karen’s home number. “It’s Mike King calling, Mrs. Taylor. I had to call. I just read the—”

“It’s true, Mike. She’s alive.”

“Do you know how she is?”

“No. The Canadian government contacted us this morning and advised us that a British Air Force plane will fly her to London today. She’ll be placed in a hospital there for observation. Karen’s father and I are flying to London tomorrow morning. Is there something you would like us to say to her?”

Mike was temporarily speechless. He wanted to tell Jean Taylor how much he loved and missed Karen. This was the one thing he could have ever hoped for, and yet he never believed it was possible. He felt a sudden choke in his throat as he remembered Barbara.

“No thank you,” he said instead. “I think it would be better if I told her in person. When do you expect to be able to return her to Canada?”

“If there are no complications, I expect we’ll be here by Monday morning.”

When Barbara returned to the apartment, Mike rushed to greet her. He hugged and kissed her with aggression, hating himself for his feeble attempt to justify his decision to marry her. “Something incredible has happened, Barb. I… do you have a few minutes?”

“I don’t want to hear it if it’s bad news. I’m on a high and I want to stay there.”

“It’s not bad news,” he insisted, although he was fully aware that she might take it badly.

She grinned. “Then what is it?”

“Karen Taylor’s alive.”

Barbara’s complexion was suddenly ashen. “How do you know?” she whispered.

Mike pointed to the newspaper on the coffee table. “She was taken off the airplane before it blew up. The story’s right there on the front page.”

Barbara glanced at the paper and then stared into Mike’s eyes, her face pained. “Does this… change anything?” she asked.

“I won’t let it,” Mike promised, shaking his head. “I also won’t lie to you. I won’t try to deny that the news affected me… I don’t think it’s possible for a caring human being to turn emotions on and off like a light switch. I loved Karen, but that was in the past. You’re my wife, and I have no intention of ever changing that.”