Double Impact Page 41

  The men who weren’t on guard duty were still in their respective rooms. The three on duty were roaming the grounds. Despite that measure of leeway, he took no risk that he would be overheard.

  “Napoleon is in the house.”

  Michal hung up without responding, his heart kicking into high gear. There was no need to respond. The message was definitely from Ron. The code phrase precise in its meaning: Short fused orders awaited him in the usual meeting place.

  This was the highest priority call. Anything but an outright emergency would have been handled in person at the usual time and meeting place.

  Depending on the nature of the order, tomorrow’s mission might have to be put on hold.

  Before leaving the estate, Michal awakened Thomas and stationed him outside Ami’s door with strict orders not to let her out of his sight.

  Thomas had always deferred to Carlos’s lead, partly out of fear, partly from necessity. But that was over now. Thomas was Michal’s new right-hand man. He had not grown so cold as Carlos. Like Michal, Thomas killed only when necessary. That, Michal decided, would be a change for the better.

  RON WAITED for Michal near the chapel, careful to stay out of sight since there was no church service this day. Meeting on Sundays had worked well so far. Risking a daylight rendezvous at any other time was dicey at the very least. Even in a city the size of Marseilles strangers behaving covertly were noticed in this time of heightened security all over the globe.

  One look at his old friend’s face and Michal knew that something more than simply new orders had brought him here today. Anticipation knotted in his gut.

  “You have orders for me?” Michal inquired in the same way he always did.

  “It’s a trap.”

  The weight of Ron’s words settled heavily onto Michal’s chest. He didn’t have to ask to know to whom he referred.

  “There are reasons she doesn’t remember her past.”

  “What reasons?” Michal moved closer so that he could see every nuance of his friend’s expression when he spoke.

  “Two and one half years ago Amira Peres was abducted from her university dormitory in the United States,” Ron explained. “She was a second-year medical student whose mother had recently passed away. She had reportedly suffered from bouts of depression for quite some time. Apparently her mother was the only family she had. Her grandfather, a former ambassador to Israel, had died ten years prior, as had her grandmother.”

  “What about her father?” Michal wanted to know. “Where was he during this time?”

  Ron scanned the area before continuing. He was more than merely concerned about being seen in the usual sense. Michal had a feeling he wasn’t supposed to be passing along this information at all.

  “Amira’s mother and father separated when she was only five years old. She had not seen him since that time. He had, apparently, been cruel to her mother and she had chosen to avoid him at all costs.”

  Michal ached for Ami and all she had lost. She must have felt so alone. “Is that why she chose to have him murdered?” He could understand how that kind of loss, combined with the depression, might have driven her to act in such an extreme manner.

  Ron considered his words for a moment before continuing. “This next part,” he said grimly, “could get us both killed.”

  Michal’s instincts moved to a higher state of readiness.

  “The CIA and our own people had decided that Peres must be stopped. He continued to secretly support anti-American groups, undermining the sometimes tenuous but forever necessary Israeli-American relationship. He had to be stopped. But, understandably, someone else had to take the blame.”

  Michal had known that part. “What is new about that?”

  “We couldn’t do it, of course, not officially,” Ron explained, looking suddenly uncomfortable.

  Michal shrugged. “That is why the order came to me.”

  “But first, you needed someone who could get you close enough to him.”

  A frown worked its way across Michal’s brow. No, that wasn’t right. He had met Ami first…then…

  “The CIA sent her to me,” he guessed, the full impact slamming into him at once.

  Ron nodded, his face grim. “They abducted Amira Peres and brainwashed her into thinking she was this nonexistent Jamie Dalton. Then, after they’d messed up her head completely, they trained her as a field operative. When she came to you, she truly believed she was Jamie Dalton portraying Amira Peres.”

  So, their former relationship hadn’t been real. That realization shook Michal when he’d felt certain nothing else could. It had all been lies…the betrayal had been deliberate from the beginning.

  “Michal,” Ron placated, “she did not know what she was doing. They set her up just as they set you up.”

  “And did you know?” Michal roared, every muscle primed and ready to hit someone…to do some kind of damage to relieve the raging emotions erupting inside him.

  “No.” Ron looked straight at him. “You can’t believe I had anything to do with this.”

  Michal looked away, though he felt certain that his friend spoke the truth. Ron might omit as required, but he would never lie to him.

  “There is more,” Ron said.

  His fury momentarily on hold, Michal turned back to hear the rest, though he could not see how it was possible to top what he’d already learned.

  “When the hit went down, Ami was captured. A CIA agent named Jack Tanner risked his life, as well as his career, to rescue her before she could be executed for the murder of her father. He had her memory erased using some experimental technology and left her in the care of the psychiatrist who worked from time to time for the Company.”

  That news quelled Michal’s fury and at the same time sent jealousy coursing through his veins. “Who is this Jack Tanner?”

  “The CIA operative your man discovered hanging around recently.”

  It wasn’t necessary for Ron to explain what that meant. The possibility that the CIA was once again using Ami was too great to ignore. Every instinct told him that she was innocent, that she didn’t know she was being used. But he couldn’t be absolutely certain.

  “She has asked for nothing nor has she attempted to persuade me to track down anyone.” Michal shook his head, it didn’t fit together properly. “If what you’re suggesting is the case,” he offered, certain it couldn’t be, “who is the target?”

  Ron looked directly at him. “The target is you.”

  AMI STOOD BENEATH the hot spray of water and tried to wash away the tension…tried to erase the images that, once unleashed in her head, would not go away.

  Yael Peres had been her father.

  She swallowed tightly and squeezed her eyes shut to block the picture of him staring up at her…asking why?

  It couldn’t be right. There had to be a mistake. How could he be her father and she not know it until after she’d had him killed?

  She leaned her forehead against the cool tile and allowed the hot water to sluice over her back. She tried sorting the myriad emotions whirling inside her, but gave up when she couldn’t determine where regret ended and bitterness began. She didn’t understand the feelings. Couldn’t remember why she would experience them. Had she hated her father that much? Did it have anything to do with her mother? A mother she couldn’t remember any more than she could her father.

  Forcing the troubling thoughts away, Ami summoned the sweet memories of the last night she’d spent with Nicholas. Their bath together. Rocking him to sleep, softly singing his favorite lullaby.

  The hurt started way down deep, climbing up from her belly, twisting inside her chest until it lunged into her throat, forcing a sob from her.

  Somehow, for reasons she couldn’t remember, she had choreographed the murder of her father and the simultaneous betrayal of her lover, the father of her child.

  Michal was a fool for trusting her.

  She straightened, her eyes going wide with a new terror. All this time s
he’d worried about her son and the kind of life he would be exposed to were Michal to learn of his existence.

  What about her?

  Could she really be certain that Nicholas was any safer with her? What day-what hour-would her murky past come back to haunt her again? Who was to say that she hadn’t committed crimes much worse than even this? That she had been at work, away from her son, when the last run-in with her past took place was no guarantee she would be the next time.

  How would she ever walk down a street with him at her side, or get into a car and start the engine with him tucked into his car seat without worrying that some past sin of hers might catch up to them both?

  Fury tightened her jaw. There was only one way she would ever know the whole truth. She had to force Jack Tanner to tell her everything.

  She had to know or her son would never be safe.

  After her shower Ami dried her hair and slipped on a pair of jeans and a ribbed-knit blouse. There were thin, elongated bruises on her throat, but she didn’t care. She was thankful to be alive. Extremely thankful considering what she now suspected. She needed to talk to Michal. She saw no reason not to admit what she had remembered regarding Yael Peres. Maybe he could shed some light on the fragments of recall.

  When she walked into the great room, she pulled up short at the sight of his men gathered around him. Michal stopped speaking and looked directly at her.

  “I’m…sorry.” She glanced around the room, unable to ignore the unexpectedly thick tension. “I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Now is fine,” Michal said, stopping her before she turned away. He said to his men, “We will resume this briefing after lunch.”

  Ami glanced out the window, only now realizing it was past noon. She’d slept much later than she’d thought. But she’d needed the rest. The nightmares had haunted her relentlessly through the night. Even after Michal had made love to her, draining her physically, satisfying her so deeply that sleep had come swiftly.

  But it hadn’t lasted long.

  It warmed her now to think of how Michal had held her through those endless hours of tortured dreams.

  She managed a shaky smile for the men that filtered past her out of the room. Without Carlos the entire atmosphere was different…for the better.

  Michal approached her with slow, deliberate strides, her heart reacting in spite of her numerous troubles. How was that possible? she mused. No matter what happened, somehow he always had that effect on her.

  “I asked you last night if there was anything you needed to tell me,” he said, his voice cold and hard.

  She blinked, certain the ice she saw in his eyes was her imagination. “I remember.” As if she could forget.

  Silence lengthened between them for a second that turned to ten before he spoke again. “I will only ask you this once.”

  The arctic blast that accompanied his words had her stumbling back a step. “I don’t understand…what is it you think you need to ask?”

  The same old fears plagued her all over again. Had he somehow discovered Nicholas? Had someone told him about the woman who’d visited yesterday?

  “Has anyone from the CIA contacted you since I brought you here?”

  Bingo. She stiffened before she could stop herself. “Who?” Her voice sounded strained to her own ears and she couldn’t stop the trembling that traveled through her body like the rumble of a quake beneath the earth’s surface.

  He moved closer still and repeated through clenched teeth, “The CIA. You worked for them once before, are you working for them again?”

  She blinked twice…three times. “I…I don’t understand. Why would you think-”

  “It is not what I think.” He took her by the arms and shook her hard, forcing her gaze to meet his. “It is simply a question. Has anyone from the CIA contacted you in any manner?”

  Her head was moving side to side before she even realized her mind had formed some sort of response. Lying was her only protection in this case…wasn’t it? Could she tell him the truth? Right here? Right now? Would it matter?

  “Since you are having difficulty with your memory,” he said with the same kind of bitterness he’d worn like a shield when they’d first met just over two weeks ago, “you will let me know if your answer changes.”

  He sidestepped and walked past her, leaving her standing there ready to crumple with the anguish bursting inside her.

  He knew. And she sincerely doubted he would ever trust her again. That nothing she could do would buy his confidence.

  Now, even if she tried, she would never convince him that she wanted to help…that she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

  She was the enemy…again.

  AMI LAY IN BED alone that night.

  Michal had avoided her all afternoon and evening. And then tonight he had opted not to sleep with her. She assumed he had taken another of the rooms or maybe the couch.

  She eased over onto her side and struggled with the tangle of emotions pulling her first one way and then another. One moment she was certain she should have told him the truth, the next she was just as convinced otherwise.

  Two days, Fran had said.

  That meant tomorrow. That’s why Michal had been meeting with his men. Some sort of new mission was happening tomorrow and that’s when the CIA planned to strike.

  She turned on the bedside lamp, threw the covers back and climbed out of bed. How could she lie there and sleep knowing what might be in store for him come morning?

  But what could she do? How could she stop it? She couldn’t. Fran had said his number was up. That it was going down.

  Revelation 19:11.

  It wasn’t until that moment that Ami remembered the Bible verse. She hurried over to the table near the bed and opened the top drawer. The black leather-bound Bible that Fran had given her was there where Ami had put it when she’d noticed it in the kitchen after lunch. After Michal’s complete about-face where she was concerned. She shivered at the remembered iciness he’d emanated. Even his posture had been cold and unyielding, brutally so.

  She quickly flipped through the pages until she located Revelation, the final book of verses. She slid her finger down the page until she came to Verse 11 of Chapter 19.

  And I saw heaven opened, and behold a white horse; and he that sat upon him was called “Faithful and True” and in righteousness he doth judge and make war.

  Ami shivered as she read the words once more. She considered each part alone, then the verse as a whole. What did it mean? Fran Woodard was too smart to drop a clue that meant nothing at all. There had to be some connection to the mission and/or to Michal.

  But what?

  She read the verse again.

  Okay, the white horse. That generally denoted goodness. The rider was called “Faithful and True,” that definitely was good. In righteousness he sat, judged and made war. That was the part that she didn’t fully understand.

  Was Fran somehow trying to make her see that what the CIA had in store for Michal was necessary? Did she mean that Jack Tanner judged rightly? Or the CIA in general.

  Did it even have anything to do with the CIA?

  Ami hugged the Bible to her chest and did the only thing she knew to do.

  She prayed.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  DAWN HAD SCARCELY climbed the treetops when Ami was roused from her bed and told to be ready in fifteen minutes. She pushed off the covers and sat up, struggling to think past the fog in her brain.

  Another sleepless night had rendered her sluggish and barely able to form a coherent thought, much less deal with what the day would bring.

  Fear shuddered through her.

  She had prayed last night until she’d exhausted herself.

  Still there was no divine epiphany.

  No strike of inspiration.

  Just a hollow sense of defeat.

  By the time she was ready to go, Michal and his men were already climbing into the Hummer. Only three men accompanied them this mornin
g, Thomas, the Spaniard and Kolin.

  Ami tried not to read too much into the fact that the usual number wasn’t on board for this mission.

  Michal had done this numerous times before, she reminded herself. He knew what he was doing.

  Besides, what good would it do her to suggest otherwise? The few words he had conveyed to her were cold and unfeeling, leaving her to struggle with the hurt as well as the fear for what was about to happen.

  After what felt like an eternity on the road, they stopped in a small village and picked up different transportation. This time they loaded into separate vehicles, both Jeeps and more than a little rugged-looking.

  To her surprise, Michal had insisted that she ride with him. The others rode together in the second Jeep. The journey took them through the low-lying yet steep hills above the rich vineyards of wine country. To the west, across fertile plains, the Rhone flowed. The beauty of their surroundings did little to slow the pound of anticipation inside her. She tried to turn it off. To focus on anything else, but it kept breaking through the surface. Emerging with renewed intensity each time.

  “Michal,” she began, desperately seeking a way to warn him that he would trust.

  “This man-” he reached into a folder between their seats and withdrew a photograph and handed it to her “-will die today,” he told her frankly.

  Startled, she stared at the picture of the man. He was thirty to thirty-five, she guessed. Tall, thin with angular features. He looked ruthless.

  “He sells arms and various other items from our friends in the former Soviet Union.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “He has made himself quite a reputation in the past six months. But recently he auctioned a small stock of weapons-grade plutonium, which garnered some ill-will toward him from those who deal in that particular merchandise on a regular basis.”

  Ami stared at him, wondering why he was telling her all this and at the same time relieved that he was even speaking to her. She couldn’t say how much time she had left, but she had to try until the very last. When she opened her mouth to speak, he continued.