Surveillance at Sunset

The pool water rippled like liquid mercury, each swell catching the dying sunlight in desperate flashes of gold. Elena sat at the edge, her legs submerged to the calves, watching him swim lap after endless lap. Marcus moved through the water with that same relentless precision he applied to everything—his job, their marriage, his lies.

She adjusted the wide-brimmed hat she'd bought specifically for these afternoons, a camouflage device that let her watch without being watched. The other hotel guests assumed she was reading, or perhaps resting. They didn't know she'd become something else entirely: a spy in her own life.

Three weeks ago, she'd found the encrypted messages on his laptop. Not infidelity—she almost wished it had been that simple—but corporate espionage. Marcus had been selling pharmaceutical research to competitors for two years. The money had gone into offshore accounts she wasn't supposed to find.

He finished another lap and pulled himself from the pool, water cascading down his sculpted back. Elena felt that familiar tightening in her chest, that awful combination of love and revulsion that had become her constant companion. They'd been together seven years. How much of it had been real?

"You're watching me again," Marcus said, toweling his hair. He hadn't looked at her once since climbing out.

"Just admiring the view." Her voice sounded light, practiced. She'd become an actress too.

He laughed, but his eyes darted toward the hotel entrance where a man in a gray suit stood checking his watch. Marcus's handler, probably. Or perhaps a competitor's spy. It didn't matter anymore.

Elena stood up, water dripping from her legs onto the concrete deck. She'd made her decision last night, after he'd fallen asleep beside her, his breathing rhythmic and peaceful, while she lay awake imagining the handcuffs, the indictment, the public humiliation.

"I'm leaving you," she said.

Marcus froze. The towel slipped from his fingers. For the first time in their marriage, he looked truly afraid.

"Elena—"

"The FBI comes tomorrow morning," she continued, adjusting her hat one final time. "You should probably swim while you still can."