“The price I was offered to execute him was very high.” He glanced at her. “More than ever before.”
The fact that his fee was higher than usual only heightened her already monumental anxiety. Didn’t he see that there was something wrong with that picture?
He maneuvered along the back road that wound through the pine and oaks soaring on the lower slopes as they climbed upward. As he spoke, he continuously surveyed his surroundings to ensure that they were not being followed. “I will be ridding the world of a serious threat and getting paid at the same time.” He laughed, but the sound held no humor. “They call me a murderer and yet I wipe evil from the face of the planet. How ironic is that?” He laughed again and shook his head.
“Michal-”
“When this is over…” He cut her off again, unable to bear whatever excuses she intended to give for her affiliation with the CIA, for her lies, and for stealing his heart once more. His words drifted off as reality crashed headlong into him again. She’d refused to tell him about their son, obviously considering him unworthy. Perhaps he was.
All this time his superiors had insisted that the role he played as the Executioner was far too important to risk. They needed him to stay under just a little longer. His cover would not be jeopardized under any circumstances. And yet, the CIA was plotting his assassination and no one had warned him. He had, obviously, outlived his usefulness.
Each time he was ordered to kill, they told him that his impressive record made his performance unparalleled. No one had gotten this deep and accomplished this much.
Not once had they told him that when it was over he would be terminated for fear that their ruthless tactics would be discovered. No one could ever know that the Mossad had sanctioned Peres’s murder.
Ron had risked everything to warn Michal that today was the day Michal Arad, the Executioner, was to die.
Amira Peres would take the blame, as she had for the death of her father. An old lovers’ quarrel, people would say. Michal’s assets in the numbered account would be seized and put to good use in fighting terrorism in his homeland. That was supposed to make him feel better. But who would ever know the real story?
“When this is over-” he repeated, getting his thoughts back on track “-you will need to keep moving until you’ve found a safe place to relocate. Take this.” He passed a small folded paper to her that contained the banks and account numbers he used. All his assets had been transferred in such a way that, without the account numbers, no one would ever locate them. He was one step ahead, just barely.
“There is enough money there to take care of all your needs for a lifetime.” And for my son, he didn’t add. He fought back the agony of realizing he in all likelihood would never know his son. But, if he did not survive this day as so many hoped, he had to be certain she and the boy were cared for. Even if she had chosen not to tell him about his child. That wasn’t the child’s fault. It probably wasn’t even Ami’s fault. Her mind had been tampered with, there was no way to know the full extent of the damage. She might never regain all that she’d lost.
“Why are you telling me this?”
It only took one look into her eyes for him to know that his coldness toward her had hurt her deeply. His pride had kept him from making amends with her last night. Had kept him from her bed.
Now he regretted that.
But it was too late for regrets.
“I’m sending you away,” he said bluntly. “This life is too dangerous for you.”
His words stabbed deeply into her heart. “Why now?” What had he learned to change his mind? To set him on this course? Somehow he had discovered that she was involved on some level with the CIA, but why didn’t he just tell her what he knew? Why all the secrecy?
Realization dawned.
He knew he was going to die.
The coldness might very well have something to do with his suspicions about her, but it could also be related to what was about to come.
He was disengaging emotionally, even going so far as to prepare for her future financial well-being. She looked down at the folded piece of paper in her hand. He wanted her to be safe and cared for whatever happened to him.
The Jeep stopped and Michal climbed out before she could think of the right words to say to keep him from going. She wanted to physically restrain him, to hold him back from danger. But she knew that would be impossible.
He offered her the perfect out. Her freedom as well as the money for Nicholas and her to disappear.
But her son would never know his father.
She would never again know his tender touch.
She watched as Michal walked toward his men. Did the others know, as well? Was that why only three men had accompanied him?
She had to do something. She couldn’t just sit here and let this happen. But what could she do? She glanced around at their hilltop setting. Trees provided ample camouflage from the valley below. Was Jack Tanner here watching? Would he know if she made some move to warn Michal? Would he see that she never found her son again if she didn’t obey his original orders?
Dear God, what did she do?
After a few minutes of discussion, Thomas trotted back down to the Jeep where she waited.
“Michal asked me to take you back to the village. He-”
He was sending her out of harm’s way. Fear slashed through her, sending her pulse into an erratic rhythm, blotting out whatever else Thomas said to her. She couldn’t let Michal walk into this deathtrap. She had to do something. She thought of what he’d told her about the man he was supposed to execute. An evil man…one who sold weapons of mass destruction. She shuddered. Michal was right, he really was ridding the earth of evil.
…the rider of the white horse judged and made war…
…Faithful and True…
Suddenly she understood.
The Bible verse had referred to Michal.
Fran was letting her know that he wasn’t the bad guy he portrayed. Somehow, and Ami could only guess at how, he was working for the good guys. A knight on a white horse making war on the side of truth.
Despite Thomas’s protests, Ami barreled out of the Jeep and ran toward Michal. She would not let it end this way. She had to help him. She had to tell him everything.
“Michal!”
He turned just in time for her to skid to a stop without slamming into him. He glared past her in Thomas’s direction, clearly not pleased with his failure to get the job done.
“I can’t let you go until I’ve told you everything,” she said in a rush, her voice breathless.
He gestured to his men and they moved on without him. To get into position, she assumed. Thomas returned to the Jeep to wait for her.
“I don’t have time to-”
“Your son’s name is Nicholas,” she blurted, her heart too full to wait a second longer. He had to know. She needed him to know. “He looks exactly like you.” She smiled, remembering her baby’s sweet scent, his wobbly walk and his constant jabbering. “I would look at him sometimes and wonder if the dark man in my dreams was his father.” Her gaze locked with Michal’s, and somehow the ice there melted just a little. “And he was. That man is you. When we made love that last time…before…I got pregnant. When we made love the first time after you brought me back here I knew it was you. A part of you was always with me.”
Michal was still reeling from her words about their son when she rushed on.
“You were right. The CIA did contact me.” She shook her head shamefully. “They’ve been using me…or trying to since this whole crazy thing started with the shooting of Nathan Olment.” She looked directly into Michal’s eyes and told him the truth he already knew. “They wanted me to help them set you up for assassination. It’s supposed to happen today.” She blinked back the tears shining in her eyes. “But I couldn’t do it. I told them no.”
That part was news to him. With every fiber of his being he wanted to believe her, but remembered betrayal held him back. “Why wo
uld you do that?” he asked cautiously, determined to have solid evidence of what she appeared to be professing.
“Because I’m in love with you and you’re the father of my child. I don’t want you to be hurt.”
Her arms went around him and she hugged him with all her might. “I love you, Michal, please don’t go. Let’s just get out of here.”
He pulled away slightly, his eyes searching hers for any hint of deceit. He found none. “How could you love a man who kills for money…who martyrs whatever cause offering the highest price?” His breath stilled in his chest as he waited for her reaction to what she surely considered the truth about him.
She melted against him, the heat of her body warming the cold that had settled over him forty-eight hours ago. “Because I know you’re not what you seem.” She lifted one delicate shoulder in a shrug. “I know you’re the rider on the white horse.”
Need, desire and love-definitely love-welled inside him, bringing the sting of moisture to his eyes. He had no idea what she meant about the white horse, but he understood perfectly the rest of her words. Pulling her to him once more, he kissed her with all the emotions churning inside him.
“Go,” he said, pulling back before it was too late. “Thomas will take you to a safe place.”
She shook her head. “I’m not leaving without you.”
He set her away from him. “You must.”
“They’re going to kill you! You can’t go through with this,” she pleaded, tears sliding down her cheeks.
If Michal did not survive this day, he would carry this moment in his heart to whatever reward or punishment lay in store for him. She was willing to risk everything to save him. Ron had told him how the CIA had threatened to keep her child from her if she did not cooperate.
“I cannot abort this mission,” he explained as Thomas made his way back to their position. “It’s too late.”
Thomas urged her to come with him, but she resisted. “It’s only too late if you let it be.”
“The decision is made,” Michal said more firmly. “Thank you for telling me about my son.”
He walked away then, knowing Thomas would not allow her to follow. It was time for him to be in position. The hit was a relatively simple one.
The complexity lay in what came after that.
He was not afraid of death…but he did resent its source under the circumstances.
But it was past time this life was over…well past time.
AMI WATCHED him move out of sight…nothing she could do to stop him. She’d told him all that she knew and still he’d maintained his course. A sob knotted in her stomach as Thomas drove away. Fear that she would never see Michal again quivered inside her. Her heart squeezed painfully.
Would she ever know who Michal Arad really was?
JACK WAITED for Fran to reach the rendezvous point. He glanced at his watch. The final mission of the Executioner was about to go down.
One way or another Jack had to see that Ami didn’t get caught in the aftermath as was planned.
But he couldn’t do this alone.
Fran parked her ancient Audi near his rental and quickly emerged from the car. In four long strides she stood face-to-face with him.
“Why’d you move the time up?” she asked, taking a look at her own watch.
“I need your help.”
A well-honed guard slipped into place, concealing whatever she might be thinking. “The last time you needed my help you almost got me killed.”
She didn’t have to remind him of the incident. He’d hoped she’d forgotten that by now. Jack had been new to the Company back then. Things were different today.
“It’s important.”
Fran cocked an eyebrow. “I can see that. You wouldn’t have called otherwise. What is it you need me to do?”
“I don’t want Ami to take the fall for this,” he said, knowing that what he was about to ask her to do risked not only her life but also her career. Something he was fully prepared to do, but Fran was nearing retirement, she might feel entirely different about the situation.
She looked at her watch again. “It’s a fine time to make a decision of that magnitude. What did Fowler say about it?”
Jack had known Fran long enough to surmise that though she was clearly suspicious, she wasn’t opposed to a change in plans. She would have balked at the first suggestion otherwise.
“Fowler doesn’t know,” he stated flatly, not bothering to pretty it up.
She didn’t look surprised. “Well, he always was a stick in the mud when it came to human needs and basic emotions.”
Ire kindled low in Jack’s gut. “This isn’t about emotion,” he protested, setting her straight. “This is about what’s right. She’s already sacrificed far too much. It isn’t right to take anything else. I want her back with her child. I want this nightmare over for her.”
“What about Arad?” she countered. “Doesn’t he deserve a reprieve, as well? Let’s face it, the past three years haven’t exactly been a frolic through a rose garden for him.”
“That’s out of my hands,” Jack snapped.
Fran nodded sagely. “I see.”
She was enjoying the hell out of this. Well, Jack didn’t have time to amuse her, nor did he give one shit if she derived pleasure from his squirming. “Look,” he pressed. “We have to move now. Are you in or out?”
She propped her elbow on her arm and tapped her cheek. “What’s it worth to you, Jack? I can always use a field supervisor in my pocket.”
“Now, Fran. I need a decision now,” he growled.
She grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes.” She angled her head toward her antiquated Audi. “Let’s get going before the concept becomes moot.”
As usual Fran could always be counted on for a quick analysis of the situation.
They had to get to Ami now…before it was too late.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MICHAL PAUSED before climbing into the Jeep. He stared back at the villa some twenty or so yards away. Even the air around it seemed to still. He surveyed the hillside to which they would retreat, and then the grounds surrounding the villa once more.
“Something is wrong,” he said, his tone matching the somber mood that had abruptly settled over him. More wrong than his men could possibly guess.
This was the defining moment.
“What is wrong?” the Spaniard demanded. “The bastardo is dead and the electronic transfer is complete. We have confirmation. Nothing is wrong,” he insisted, clearly ready to leave the scene of their most recent kills.
Michal shook his head. “We can’t take that risk.”
“What risk?” Kolin prodded.
He wanted to get the hell out of here, as well, Michal would wager, but his years of experience over the other man’s would not allow him to so easily dismiss the possibility Michal had suggested.
“I have to go back in.” Michal did an about-face and started toward the villa.
“What the hell are you doing?” The Spaniard moved in front of him, blocking his path. He glanced up the hill, scanning cautiously. “We must get out of here. You know that, Michal. Going back inside is not necessary.”
“Mother of God,” Kolin swore between clenched teeth, his gaze fixed on the second story of the grand villa. “Someone’s in there.” He pointed to one window in particular. “I saw him in the window.”
The Spaniard threw his hands up. “We have accomplished our mission. It is time to go. Whoever else is in there is none of our concern,” he persisted.
“Go,” Michal said to them, his full attention locking onto the second story. “I will tie up this loose end and meet you in Marseilles.”
“How-”
Michal cut off whatever else Kolin intended with a look. “Go now. Wait for me in Marseilles.”
“This is loco!” the Spaniard snarled before double timing it toward the Jeep. He didn’t like what Michal was about to do, but he liked the idea of hanging around to watch even less.
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Kolin reluctantly followed.
Michal didn’t look back. Not once. He strode quickly to the villa and disappeared inside.
Looking back would not have fit the character of the ruthless Executioner.
Michal Arad never looked back, he moved forward constantly. Always accomplishing his goal.
He had never failed.
Not once.
Fifteen seconds after he passed through the arched portal that separated the courtyard from the shadowy interior of the villa an explosion shook the very foundation of the massive structure. Glass and bits and pieces of decor burst from the windows…the doors, spraying down a lethal rain of razor-sharp edges and spearlike material. After a moment’s groan, the walls fell inward, burying all that was inside.
The Spaniard and Kolin watched from the safety of the hillside. They had scarcely chugged up the road half a mile when the unexpected tragedy struck.
The two men exchanged looks of sheer terror and then the Spaniard floored the accelerator.
Getting the hell out of here was their only priority now. The import of the news they carried would reach the farthest corners of the globe before the sun set.
The Executioner was dead.
THE HOUSEKEEPING CART stopped near Room 214 and the maid rapped on the door.
Thomas cautiously pulled the door open, but only a fraction. He had no intention of letting anyone get close to Ami. Michal had given him specific orders that her safety was to be considered above all else.
Unlike his predecessor, Thomas would not fail.
“What do you want?” he demanded of the maid before she could articulate a syllable.
“Yours is the only room on the floor I have not cleaned,” the woman said in French, her abuse of the language making him wince. “My work is not complete until I have cleaned all the rooms,” she added with a stubborn tilt to her chin.
Thomas didn’t want anyone else in the room, but he supposed this was necessary. He grunted an affirmative she would understand as he pulled the door fully open.
Ami lifted her head from the pillow when she heard the squeaky wheels of the housekeeping cart. She’d heard the voices, but the words hadn’t really registered. All she could think about was Michal. Why hadn’t they heard something already? How long would it take?
Double Impact Page 42
