The Syrian (Natasha Kelly, Mossad Spy)

by Felicia Mires

  She gasped, shaking her head. "No."

  "Natasha, I need you to be strong."

  Racking sobs shook her frame, and he wrapped her in a tight embrace. "I'm sorry, but you must listen. I have to attend to the situation, and I can't leave you like this. It's not your fault. You didn't cause Orin's death. He chose to serve his country and died an honorable death. There is nothing you could do to change this. "Yaakov is responsible. He's trying to tear your world apart. Don't let him! Come, we'll pray to your God."

  Natasha leaned against him, her shoulders shaking.

  "Yahweh who watches over Natasha. I thank you she is alive, and we have lost only one. I know you will continue to watch. The guardian of Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps."

  She peered at him through tear-filled eyes. "How did you know that? You said you didn't know any scripture."

  "I don't. That was engraved on the dagger given to the head of CIA spies, Allen Dulles, in 1954 by Isser Harel, director of Mossad."

  "It's from the 121st Psalm. 'I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills, from whence cometh my help. My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth. He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber. Behold, he that keepeth Israel shall neither slumber nor sleep.'"

  He reached up and wiped her eyes. "You are right to believe, Natasha. Believe, now."

  Never had she cared for David more.

  "Thank you, David. I do believe. God's work is perfect: for all His ways are judgment: a God of truth and without iniquity, just and right is He. Deuteronomy 32:4. No matter what happens, my life is in His hand. He will never fail me. Do you believe?"

  A shadow crossed his face, and his hand reached out then fell.

  "It's all right, David. You will."

  There was a knock at the door, and a voice called out. "Anya Perez here."

  David and Natasha shared a look, and Natasha rolled her eyes.

  "Be nice, little girl." He walked to the door. Natasha and David had spoken in English, and he continued when Anya entered. "Anya, thank you for coming. I'm very sorry."

  "It is no problem. The rest of officers are involved in training mission tonight."

  Obviously, Anya didn't often speak English.

  Natasha responded in Hebrew. "I very much appreciate you coming so quickly." She tried to smile, and her face quivered. "Excuse me…David…Ms. Perez..." She retreated to her room and shut the door.

  In the bathroom, she washed her face and tried not to think about anything. She didn't want to cry while David remained.

  When he leaves, I'm going to have a good, long cry.

  She was tired of worrying what Anya thought about her, but she didn't want David to worry. Through the door, she heard him calling her name.

  "Natasha, I must go now."

  "Coming." She opened her door, wondering how formal his goodbye would be in front of Anya.

  "Are you all right?"

  "That means I'm in trouble," she whispered then raised her voice for Anya's benefit. "I'm fine. Please call me later, or I won't be able to sleep."

  He winked at her discreetly and handed her the packet of photos. "I promise to call, tell you what I find, and ask if you're all right."

  "Thank you." Anya wasn't watching, so she kissed him on the cheek. He raised a brow, but smiled before turning to walk out of her apartment.

  Natasha took a step into the living room, where Anya was pulling out the divan to make a bed.

  "Is there anything I can get for you, Ms. Perez?" she asked in Hebrew.

  When Anya lifted her head, Natasha noticed red-rimmed, puffy eyes. Why had she been crying?

  "Please call me Anya. And no, I require nothing."

  "I'd appreciate it if you called me Natasha. I think I'll take a shower now. I haven't had time since we got back from the mission."

  "Of course, Natasha. I am sorry about the circumstances of Orin's death. But you must not blame yourself. Orin would not blame you. He chose to offer his life for his country. Well…I am sorry for your pain."

  She turned back to the fold-out bed.

  Natasha remained at the bedroom door for a few seconds. "Thank you, Anya…more than I can say."

  Anya glanced over and smiled with sincere warmth. Once again, Natasha's eyes brimmed with tears, and she hurried into her bathroom to take a shower. She must maintain control until she was alone.

  Underneath the warm spray, she scrubbed away all traces of desert sand and…Orin's touch on her back. But his face remained etched in her mind. She climbed out of the shower and toweled off, only to remember…Orin's laugh. She pulled on the fluffy, pink pajamas and robe Dirk had given her then remembered the kiss she'd blown Orin as he fell unconscious.

  At that, she broke down. "Oh God, it was my fault. I don't care what they say. I knocked that man out and left him there, and he died. Why? I don't understand. I know he was your child. I know you cared for him. Did he even know you, Lord? How can I live with this?"

  TRUST ME.

  As sobs shook her body, she slid to the floor. "Lord, I'm trying. Please help me. Take care of that man's family. If there's any way I can tell them how sorry I am-"

  The door opened. Anya dropped beside her on the bathroom floor to wrap her arms around Natasha. "You have already told them, Natasha. Orin…was my brother, and you have my forgiveness. But I never blamed you. No one does."

  What could be worse than killing Anya's brother?

  Having to face her now. Natasha tried to pull away, but Anya held her tightly, patting her on the back of the head while Natasha cried against her chest. At some point, Natasha realized Anya was crying with her.

  "Anya, I'm so sorry."

  "I'm sorry, too. But we will catch Yaakov, and he will die."

  Natasha reached for the box of tissues and handed some to Anya. Eventually, their flood of tears subsided to an occasional sniffle.

  "You would have loved my brother, Natasha. He was so much fun, and he loved Israel, not like some people today. He forgave what was wrong and longed for what was right. Orin felt a part of our future. And now…"

  They both began to cry again.

  Anya dabbed at Natasha's face with her tissue. "No, no, stop this now. We must stop."

  "I don't understand. How could they make you work after this? And how could they expect you to stay with me…the one responsible?"

  "Don't say that again. It's because you're not responsible that they expect me to continue my job." She leaned back to peer at Natasha's wet, tangled hair. "Come, let me brush out your hair and dry it for you." She stood then pulled Natasha to her feet. "Here, sit. Such a lovely color. I always wanted to be a blond."

  Natasha perched on the edge of the bed, and Anya dropped beside her. Natasha stared at Anya for several seconds. Anya acted nothing like the termagant Natasha usually saw.

  "You could be a blond, too. Or, at least we could put some blond streaks in your hair. I've done mine for years."

  "Really…you streak your hair…I will consider this." She walked into the bathroom and retrieved a brush and a blow-dryer.

  After a few minutes, she switched off the dryer. "Do you think you can sleep now?"

  "Not until I hear from David."

  Instantly, Anya's wall of reserve returned. "Of course. Good night."

  "Wait, can we talk about David Benjamin? There seems to be something between you two…"

  "No, there is nothing. He is a co-worker."

  "But, please don't be offended, you seem to care about him in a different way."

  "Did he say so?"

  "He's never spoken of you at all. I…I mean, he's never spoken of you in a personal way. We don't…talk that way, about his past…or his present. He doesn't talk about girlfriends. We're just friends. Know what I mean?"

  What a ninny Anya must think her after that babbling speech, but Anya smiled.

  "It's all right. I do care for him. There was a time, two years ago, when he found me a diversion. He wasn't ready for
something serious; I was extremely serious. And now you're here. I watch the way he looks at you. I've seen the way he talks about you. I long for him to care that way about me, but it's too late."

  Natasha shook her head vigorously. "I don't feel that way about him. I find him attractive, but, no. You're right about one thing, though. He does want to settle down. Don't give up. He just thinks he wants me. When I leave, he may look your way. "I'll tell you something else. He likes a challenge. Play hard to get. And make sure some other guy thinks you're attractive."

  The tip of Anya's mouth twitched.

  Natasha gasped with sudden inspiration. "I know. Dirk Sloan. They're constantly competing. The next time Dirk comes over to Israel, we'll get him to look your way. And wear your make-up all the time…like you've got someone special. That will drive David crazy."

  Anya laughed. "You Americans go to a lot of trouble to attract a man. But…it sounds fun."

  "Not all the time. You look very tired. Why don't you lie down? I'll bring the phone in here with me."

  "You're all right?"

  Anya cocked her head sideways, and Natasha thought how really cute she was.

  "Yes, because of you. I don't know how to thank you."

  Anya ducked her head, apparently uncomfortable with such praise. "You just streak my hair."

  "Really, that would be nothing. Good night."

  "Shalom." Anya closed the door.

  After placing the phone in her pocket, Natasha climbed on the bed. It was after two in the morning. She wanted to pray, but her stomach still churned.

  She found the antique amethyst earrings Dirk had given her and screwed them into her ears. She felt a little safer knowing a tracking transmitter was buried in the setting of each earring. Only Dirk and David knew how to track the signal. By screwing them on, she'd activated the homing device. If either of them cared to listen to the right frequency, they'd know how to find her.

  Natasha snapped off the lamp and leaned against her pillows.

  Ok, Lord. I've done what I can. That feeling is back again. I know something's wrong.

  She prayed for every member of her family. She prayed for David, for Dirk, for all of Orin's family. But still, she felt uncomfortable.

  When she heard a boom like someone busting through the wall in the outer room, she jumped off the bed and threw open her bedroom door. With only the light from the windows, it took several seconds for her eyes to adjust and recognize Anya fighting for her life against black-masked attackers.

  Natasha plunged past an overturned coffee table, narrowly missing the shattered lamp to jump into the melee.

  Anya had other ideas. "Natasha, run. Agents…outside…"

  There was no way she would leave Anya.

  The door to the hallway remained closed, so that wasn't what made all the noise. As these facts registered, she struggled with a solution. Anya was busy pelting some big brute. Each time he fell, he struggled back up for more. To the right, another guy stumbled across the floor. Natasha rushed to his side and smashed the lamp over his head. He stilled.

  The dark shape of a gun caught her eye, so she bent to pick it up. From nowhere, someone kicked her hand. She cried out but forced herself to focus on training. Before they could reach her again, she dropped down and rolled across the floor. But the gun was now way out of reach. She couldn't let anyone else retrieve it, so she turned on her assailant. She kicked his back, using her weight against him. He went down on top of the gun.

  Sounds of Anya's continued struggle reached her, but she had to concentrate on her own predicament. From behind came the sound of the door opening and shutting quickly. The dulled shot from a silencer sounded nearby, and she dropped to the floor. Anya cried out in pain. Natasha tried to see across the room but too much furniture blocked the way.

  Then she heard a voice she didn't recognize. "If you don't want me to kill this agent, you better not move."

  Natasha froze. The phone, still in her pocket, chose this inopportune moment to ring.

  "Well, Miss Kelly? Shall I shoot her?"

  "No, I won't fight you. Leave her alone."

  The phone kept ringing. If she didn't answer it soon, David would have the area surrounded by armed Mossad agents. That could get Anya killed.

  "Very well. Can I trust you to behave yourself on the phone?"

  "Yes, I promise."

  "Stand up carefully. There is a gun pointed at your friend and another at your own head. Choose your words carefully."

  Natasha slowly rose with both hands in the air. "The phone is in my pocket."

  Her assailant twisted one arm behind her back, until Natasha was turned toward Anya. Light streamed through the window, revealing several dark streaks on her face.

  Blood. Her white pajama top showed a small circle with dark red coursing down the side. Anya had been shot!

  They had Anya's hands yanked over head, and a gun pressed against her temple. Her face remained utterly calm. Natasha took strength from that face.

  "Please put something over her wound. I promise not to say anything on the phone."

  "We'll see how well you do." He yanked her arm. "Answer the phone."

  She winced but pulled the phone from her pocket with her free hand.

  "Keep the phone where I can hear, or the other one dies a painful death."

  Natasha prayed as she held the phone out from her ear so the assailant could listen to every word.

  "Hello?" Her voice sounded shaky even to herself. Her assailant twisted her arm again.

  "Natasha, what took so long? You had me worried. The phone rang a dozen times." David's voice sounded so close, but she knew it wasn't.

  "Oh, hi, David. I was just in the shower and couldn't find the phone. It was wrapped in my towel. How are things going?"

  "Not well. I may be here a while. How are you?"

  If only David would remember her distress signal without giving anything away.

  "I'm all right. Anya is here. Everyone is all right."

  There was a slight pause.

  "I'm sorry, Natasha. I missed that. It's noisy here. How is everyone?"

  Oh, thank God, he understands.

  She repeated the words with emphasis, ostensibly so he could hear. "Everyone is all right."

  "Well, if you really are all right…"

  The assailant twisted her arm a little harder.

  "Yes, I'm all right. Look, I'm wet and need to go."

  "Sure. I'll see you as soon as I can, Natasha. Relax and rest. Shalom."

  "Shalom." Natasha turned off the phone.

  "That went well," growled her assailant.

  You have no idea.

  "We're leaving now. Get dressed." He pushed her into the bedroom.

  "What about Anya? Can I put something on her wound?"

  "We'll take care of the girl."

  That didn't sound good. Natasha grabbed the first pair of pants she found. She turned her back to him and dropped her pajama bottoms to the floor. Her robe shielded her body from his eyes, and she yanked the pants up as fast as she could.

  "Put this on." He threw a shirt at her.

  This presented more of a difficulty. She took her arms out of the robe and hung it across her shoulders. She got the pajama top off and pulled the shirt over her head without losing the robe.

  He laughed. "How modest. From all those hot pictures, I wouldn't think you care who looks."

  Rage rose within her, and she whirled to confront him.

  "Watch it, Miss Kelly. Your little friend's life depends on you. Let's go." He grabbed her hand and drew her out of the bedroom. "So fix her up."

  Natasha bent quickly over Anya. "I need a towel." She looked up at the main assailant holding the gun, and he nodded. Someone else went into her room and came back with a towel. He dropped it at her feet then stood over her, blocking the others from her vision.

  She sighed. She needed to concentrate on Anya anyway.

  In seconds, Natasha ripped the towel, covering the entrance
and exit wounds of the gaping bullet hole. Not long ago, she'd done the same for Dirk. This would turn out as well.

  She took the rest of the towel and tied it around Anya. As she bent over her, she caught a faint whisper. "Trust him."

  Natasha finished tying the towel, then leaned back with a questioning glance at Anya. Anya's white eyes jumped to the man who'd dropped the towel, then back to Natasha.

  With all the attackers wearing a black mask, just how was Natasha supposed to know who he was? How did Anya know? Perhaps this was the insider the Mossad had sneaked into Yaakov's organization. With only seconds to identify him, she studied his shoes--brown leather boots. That was no help. They all wore boots.

  "That's enough. Stand up and start walking."

  Natasha stood as close to the "trusted friend" as she could. He rubbed his hand across his other arm, revealing a long, uneven scar.

  Natasha walked forward until she stood in front of the assailant who did all the talking.

  He shoved his face against hers. "We're leaving now. If you attempt to cry out, I'll kill you."

  She nodded. He took some white bandage tape and wrapped it round and round her head, not caring that he trapped hair in her mouth. After securing it so she couldn't speak, he taped her wrists together behind her back. Then he dragged her to the door with one final taunt. "No one will help you because students are supposed to get kidnapped from this facility."

  He opened the door and pushed her forward. After inspecting the hallway, he turned back toward the room. "Shoot the friend."

  Natasha tried to scream, tried to yank away from him, but he pulled her savagely to his side. Her eyes sought the "trusted friend." He nodded at his leader.

  While he hovered over Anya, his body blocked her from view, but Natasha heard the silenced shot and saw Anya's body jerk.

  Natasha screamed, but nothing got past the tape but a whimper.

  She felt a jerk and brought her eyes to the leader. Her own dart pen hovered over her neck. She heard the click, felt the prick, then drifted into oblivion.

  Chapter 6

  Natasha stood teetering against the edge of a precipice. Though she couldn't see them, she sensed the presence of a great throng of humanity, some friends, others not, but all hemmed in by a wall of fire over a hundred feet high.