Conspiracy of Silence

by Ronie Kendig

  Kasey ignored it and exited. “I’m not incapable of watching out for myself.”

  “He just doesn’t want another black eye or broken bone.” Maangi pointed to a path that rose up a slight hill. “This way.”

  She wasn’t stupid enough to guess whether that was true or not. She just started walking. And as soon as they crested the incline, Kasey saw another group coming toward them: Tzivia, Chiji, and Dr. Cathey.

  “Keep moving,” Maangi said. “No need to draw attention.”

  Prompted by his warning, she fell into step behind him, more than half wondering about Cole and Ram. They rounded a bend, Maangi navigating as if he’d lived here. As if he knew this area. Ahead, down the sloping footpath, Cole folded his large frame through an arch and vanished. Reassured by the sight of him, Kasey quickened her step and arrived at the arch a few seconds later, just as the front door of a home opened.

  Cole’s gaze struck her—and she felt it to her core. She wished he’d open up to her, not shut her out. Especially when he looked at her like that.

  The team filled the courtyard as the door opened wider, a woman’s soft voice welcoming them.

  “We’re looking for Ti Tzaddik,” Ram said.

  She bowed in acknowledgment.

  “Are—are you his wife?”

  The woman laughed. “He would no sooner take a wife than a mistress.” She waved a dismissive hand. “I’m his housekeeper. He is where he always is.”

  Ram and Tox exchanged glances.

  “The citadel.” This time, she snapped her hand in the direction of the great stone fortress towering over the crumbling, bombed city. “He sits up there, as if king to rule it.”

  “Thank you,” Ram said with a sort of bow.

  They crowded out of the courtyard, Cole and Ram talking quietly. Finally, Cole stopped right in front of Kasey and turned, towering over her just as the citadel did. “Stick to your teams. Make your way into the fortress. Don’t cluster. But stay where you can see us.”

  His blue eyes met hers. He hesitated, then angled to Levi, and though she couldn’t be sure, it seemed a stern warning sailed from those ocean depths.

  Levi’s arm came around her shoulder. “This way,” he muttered.

  After an almost imperceptible, approving nod, Cole pivoted and strode away with Ram, leaving Kasey tugged in the opposite direction between Levi and Maangi.

  “You know,” Kasey said, irritation piqued, “I am not a child.”

  “Good,” Levi replied. When she looked at him, he smirked. “I’d have a hard time explaining that I dated a child.”

  Maangi skirted a glance between them, his brow knotted. She recalled his promise about not telling Cole when she fell into his arms in the car. Now Levi had implied they were dating. She hadn’t really dated Levi. But she couldn’t lie to herself or anyone else—she allowed his interest. They did things together. And she’d kissed him.

  “I meant, you do not need to hover like some protector.”

  “Wrong,” Maangi said. “If we want to live, we will.”

  She frowned at him.

  “Tox will kill us if anything happens to you.”

  “That! That’s what I’m talking about.” She bristled. Hated that she was being treated like an incompetent member of the team. “I’m with the FBI.”

  “And you’ve never been in the field,” Levi said.

  Movement snagged her attention, her heart in her throat as she spotted Cole stalking up around the bridge, entering the main area where they stood. And he strode right past them, as if they were strangers.

  “This way,” Maangi said, aiming them more to the left.

  It took only a few minutes to come around the side, lingering on a level lower than where Cole and Ram were searching for their contact.

  “We’ll keep walking.” Maangi guided them along a series of stepped walls that had at one time been dwellings. Rooms, though they didn’t look big enough for a single person to sleep in. She couldn’t imagine living like this . . . cramped. Shoulder to shoulder not just with stone walls but people.

  Blue eyes slid into her visual path. Kasey swallowed, realizing Cole watched her make the circuit around the citadel. Should they break away? Drawing attention would be bad.

  “Keep walking,” Maangi said, his voice really close.

  Kasey erased the half-dozen feet between them, noting that Ram inclined his head to someone hidden by a half wall.

  Cole angled toward Ram, then visibly jerked. He stumbled backward—right into Kasey. “You,” he breathed, the word filled with disbelief and fear as he stared at someone. He shook his head. “No. Can’t . . .” He pivoted, eyes in a wild panic.

  “Cole?” As soon as his name slipped between her lips, she knew she shouldn’t have said it.

  “Walk,” Maangi hissed, prodding her along like a reluctant child.

  But she wheeled after Cole. He ducked around a corner. When she turned it, he was gone. The crunch of rocks pulled her to the left, behind a crumbling stone wall. Bent in half, Cole gripped his knees, his eyes closed, as if he might vomit.

  “Cole?”

  He snapped up, startled. Then relaxed. “You shouldn’t be here,” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He stood, his thumb pressed to his temple and finger to his forehead. “That man . . .”

  Kasey glanced back, though the wall blocked her view. “Tzaddik?”

  “Can’t be.”

  “Why?”

  “He . . .” His gaze grew distant. “I met him before. He was the man at the temple.”

  “In India?”

  “But he can’t be.” Again, he shook his head, but she saw the uncertainty. “I . . .”

  “Did he scare you?” It seemed impossible that anyone could scare Cole.

  “He just keeps showing up . . . the temple . . . here.” Cole’s gaze fell to the ground, his rapid eye movement seemed to search for answers his head couldn’t find.

  Cole was a rock, a fortress of his own. It terrified her to see him distressed. Kasey touched his face, hoping to draw his attention, help him focus. “Cole.”

  Those beautiful blue eyes locked onto her. So hard, so fast, she felt it deep, as if he’d dropped anchor in her soul. Drawing her in, deeper.

  “Talk to me.”

  Torment wormed through his expression. Fear lurked there. Haunting. Desperation. It surprised her that she could practically hear his thoughts, his anxious heart thundering one question: Can I trust you?

  “Let me help, please.”

  But he pulled free. And in the space of that heartbeat, Cole the Warrior was back. “I need to talk to Tzivia.”

  Kasey started, her heart thumping in hurt.

  “Tox.” Ram’s voice intruded. “This is Ti Tzaddik.”

  ****

  “We should go to the top of the citadel.” Neatly trimmed gray hair framed a face that seemed no more than fifty or sixty years old. Tzaddik stood even with Tox’s six-foot-two-inch height. Muscles filled out his chest and arms—not like a powerlifter, but like someone who knew the value of hard work and embraced it. Yet for all the man’s fitness and vitality, there was a hint of something . . . off. Something not right about him.

  Tox had to talk to Tzivia. Ask her about the Stranger—if this was him. It was the only thing that made sense. And yet . . . it made no sense.

  Ram and Tox flanked Tzaddik as they headed up another level of the citadel, tourists cluttering various sections and clamoring for the high vantages. As a cool breeze traced Tox’s shoulders, he looked out over the one-hundred-fifty-foot rock that loomed over Aleppo and saw the horizon blending into the sunset.

  “Fortresses have risen and fallen above the old city,” Tzaddik said in a soft British accent, sweeping his hand over the citadel. “Layer upon layer of civilizations—ruins of Ottoman palaces rest here, nestled below the walls from the times of the Crusades.”

  The words stirred within Tox a new respect for the hill. />
  “And over there, beyond the amphitheater”—he motioned to a Roman-era stepped theater—“a sphinx and lion guard one of the oldest great religious centers of ancient times.” Tzaddik seemed to revel in his storytelling. “The sanctuary of the storm god, Adda.”

  “We really aren’t here for a history lesson,” Tox said, scanning their surroundings, those nearby. He spotted some of his team loitering, trying to blend in.

  Tzaddik stood tall over the fortress. “‘Those who don’t know history are destined to repeat it.’”

  Edmund Burke. “‘History does not repeat itself. Man always does.’” Tox had long loved that quote by Voltaire.

  “‘To be ignorant of what occurred before you were born—’”

  “—‘is to remain always a child,’” Tox finished.

  Tzaddik almost smiled. “Good.” He gave a solemn nod. “You know Cicero, and apparently history.”

  “We’re here about—”

  “Not yet,” Tzaddik said as he thrust a finger upward, then shifted and peered out over the expanse, hands behind his back.

  Agitation ate at Tox. Playing word games after appearing like a ghoul in so many places? “Look, we—”

  Without a word, Tzaddik walked away.

  In disbelief, Tox turned to Ram. “What’s with this guy?”

  “He’s . . . particular. Has rituals.”

  Interesting answer. A defense. “How do you know about him?”

  “He’s a legend,” Ram said. “Friends talk.” And by friends, he no doubt meant Mossad. That seemed to be the fare of the day when it came to Ram. “Half the stories they tell”—he shrugged—“seem too incredible to believe. The things he knows or can find out . . . one would think he had been there himself.”

  “Then why didn’t you suggest him in the first place?”

  “Because his knowledge is specific. Artifacts, history . . . the Levant.”

  “Levant?”

  “The historic name given to the entire region east of the Mediterranean from Egypt to Iran.” Ram glanced toward the old city. “Cyprus and parts of Turkey sometimes.”

  Tzaddik faced them, his expression betraying nothing. “We should go.”

  About time.

  Tzaddik’s gaze swung to Tox, who surveyed the path they would take to leave this place. Anything to avoid eyes that felt like a truth probe drilling right to his core.

  Tox shifted to walk next to Ram. “Where’s Tzivia?”

  “Down at the base with the professor. Seems he got distracted with inscriptions or something,” Ram explained.

  Tox needed to know if this was the same Stranger she’d seen in Paris while chasing down the mace that had devastated Kafr al-Ayn. “I’ll track them down. Meet you at the foot gate.”

  He hoofed it away from them, putting as much distance between himself and Tzaddik as possible. Tox had killer instincts and they’d rarely been wrong. He could sense in his blood something was off with Tzaddik.

  He hustled down the stepped path, scanning for Chiji, who would stand out with his six-five height and dark features. But at every turn, Tox only found more locals and frustration. “C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered, rounding a corner, visually sorting those in his path into groups—tourists and locals.

  A boom of laughter plowed into his hearing. Chiji.

  Tox wheeled around, scanning . . . local male, hijabbed woman . . . another woman, younger. A man, possibly tourist, possibly local. Hard to tell with the olive complexion. Another woman in an orange hijab. An older man—

  Professor! Tox threw himself in that direction, realizing before he took the second step that the woman in the orange hijab was Tzivia. Chiji emerged from a shadowed alcove, his white teeth bright in the afternoon sun as he smiled and spoke.

  Tox swept up to the trio.

  Tzivia flinched at his sudden presence, then smiled. “What—?”

  “Can we talk?” He gripped her elbow and guided her away before she could refuse.

  “What are you doing?”

  He angled her into a corner for privacy, then skated a glance around to be sure they were alone. “Kafr al-Ayn.”

  Eyes narrowing, Tzivia adjusted the hijab, careful to make sure her hair wasn’t showing. “What about it?”

  Tox huffed, hating that he had to cough this up now. But it had to be done to get to the bottom of this. “There’s something I didn’t tell anyone.”

  Her irritation slid into rapt attention. “Is something wrong?”

  He couldn’t help but draw a comparison to the way Haven had instinctively and immediately known something was wrong, very wrong atop the citadel. The way she’d reached for him out of concern.

  Then again, he’d been acting the fool, running from Tzaddik, though Tox Russell never ran from a fight. “In Kafr al-Ayn, when I was trapped in the tunnel after the missile strike—”

  She nodded, her brows knitted together now.

  Do or die, Russell. “—I saw . . . something.”

  Tzivia’s mahogany eyes widened. She went three shades paler than her normal, glowing complexion.

  Tox frowned, wondering how she could know what he was going to say already. But then he realized her gaze had shifted. She was focused over his shoulder. Tox turned. Tzivia grabbed his forearm, her nails digging into his flesh as she slid closer to him.

  Ti Tzaddik emerged from a passage with Ram, Haven, Maangi, and Wallace.

  “That’s him,” she breathed, all color now gone from her face. “That’s the man, the Stranger.”

  37

  — Day 12 —

  Aleppo

  This was neither the time nor the place to be jealous. With Evie in critical condition, a plague devastating India, and an organization hunting them down, Kasey knew she should be focused on those things, but all her brain could notice was that Cole went running to Tzivia. And the Israeli-American had latched onto him like a bee to honey.

  Kasey looked away, unable to watch Tzivia cling to Cole in front of God and everybody. At least they hadn’t stopped to dialogue. The team and Dr. Cathey kept moving, Mr. Tzaddik leading them back out of the citadel and through the crowded city to his home. There, the woman who’d met them earlier delivered a tray of fruit, dates, figs, baklava, and other sweets before bustling away. Dejected, Kasey sat on a cushion in the corner, ordering herself to tamp down misplaced feelings. All these years later, and the end result with Cole was the same—he didn’t want her. He wanted someone older, with a little more experience . . . a little more . . .

  What?! What did Tzivia and Brooke have that she didn’t?

  Levi lowered himself to the cushion nearby, hand resting on the floor behind her. “What’s eating you?”

  She snorted. How did Levi always know? And why was it him who noticed while Cole remained oblivious? If nobody else did, Levi knew. Always knew. But she gave herself away when she glanced again at Tzivia and Cole whispering in the corner.

  “Don’t let him get to you,” Levi said.

  “Those words sound more like ‘I told you so,’ than encouragement,” Kasey said. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not,” Levi said. “And I could kill him for it.”

  At the venom in his words, she met his blue eyes. Touched by the ferocity she saw there. The mild-mannered agent-boyfriend-who-wasn’t-a-boyfriend had transformed into a fierce force.

  “I’ll give him a piece of my mind when I get a minute alone with him.”

  “That might not be the best plan,” she said, nodding to his nose and puffy eyes. Images of Cole flattening those men in India slid through her mind. “He . . . he doesn’t understand. I don’t even think he knows . . .”

  “That’s what ticks me off most,” Levi said. “Any guy with eyes—actually, every guy here—can see it.”

  Guilt churned like thick yogurt through her veins. So everyone here knew she had feelings for Cole. Great. She must look so unprofessional and just plain stupid.

  “I’d give my right arm to have you look at me like that.
”

  His words stabbed her conscience, especially since there had been a day she had looked at him that way. But the more time she spent with him, the more he felt like a brother.

  He shifted, hooking an arm over his leg. “Why? Why on earth do you care about him so much? He abandoned you and your family when your sister married the president, right?”

  She snickered. “Galen wasn’t the president then.”

  “What was it about him that made you believe in him so wholly, so much that you’d dedicate your career to clearing him when all evidence points to his guilt?”

  “But it doesn’t,” Kasey said, vehemence the bedrock of her words. “If you saw the documents I managed to get hold of, it’s clear he wasn’t responsible, not entirely. Facts were redacted. That report had so many blacked-out lines—”

  “You’re doing it again.”

  “What?”

  “Defending him.”

  “You don’t understand—”

  “You’re right. I don’t.” He angled toward her. “Kase, he’s everything we fight, everything we as agents work to subdue and restrain.”

  “Everything we fight? Are you kidding me?” Disappointment tugged at the corners of her heart. “You really need to stop looking at this as us against him. We’re working with him, and it has to be that way if we’re going to stop this threat.”

  “I didn’t mean it like that.” He studied the rug beneath them, his dark, strong brow knotted. At this angle, wisps of gray were barely evident in the dying light of the day. “You told me once you didn’t want to be like your mom. Isn’t that where you’re headed, chasing after Russell?”

  Breath stolen by the accusation, Kasey drew up straight. “This is light-years from my parents’ situation.”

  “How?”

  “My father was a hard man, unforgiving and—” The word driven dangled on the tip of her tongue but she knew it would only fuel Levi’s stance. But as she scrambled for the right word to describe her father’s character, Kasey had the unsettling feeling that maybe her father and Cole were more alike than she’d realized. “My father was cruel. Cole isn’t.”

  “I think your father was just trying to look out for his daughter.”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged. “You asked why I believe in him?” Her heart jostled in her chest, irritated with his tone and cutting comments. “I saw him. I saw how he remained honorable and true to his word when my sister was so horrible to him. And during the trial . . .” It surprised her how much the memory of his trial still wounded her. “It frustrates me that you and others can’t see what I see in him.”