Tess Gerritsen - Double Impact

She shook herself and pushed the concept aside. She had to focus here. Finally she had a plan. One that might just work. She pulled in a deep, steadying breath. One that could just as easily get her killed. But then, she was dead anyway, right?

She had to make this work. However she had to approach this new avenue cautiously. Too abrupt a change in her behavior would give her away. She had to proceed very, very carefully. If he suspected for one second that she was up to anything…

He would kill her. He wanted to already, but something held him back. A number of his men, especially the one named Carlos, didn’t like her being there. She’d have to see what she could do about that, as well. Win them over, in a manner of speaking.

You were undercover for three months…

Jack Tanner’s words echoed inside her. According to his side of all this she’d agreed to work for the CIA as some sort of undercover agent. She still couldn’t believe she’d done all that and had no memory of it. The last thing Robert had said to her reverberated through her with the force of a physical blow.

Whoever you were before is gone for good.

The realization hit with such intensity…such clarity that she stumbled from the weight of it.

Everything Tanner said could be true. She had no idea who she was before she was found wandering in that park two years ago. She blinked and peered more intently at her image in the mirror. Was she capable of being a spy? Setting up a man, no matter how ruthless, to die?

Tanner had said that she’d done it because this man, this Yael Peres, had her father assassinated. She supposed that revenge could motivate a person to do most anything. Somehow it just didn’t feel right…but that didn’t make it wrong.

Whoever she was and whatever she’d done in the past had gotten her into this predicament. It was no longer reasonable to assume that it was all a matter of mistaken identity. Too many people recognized her…too many verifying memories flickered through her mind for it to be mere coincidence or subliminal suggestion. This whole scenario held more merit than she wanted to admit. So she wouldn’t. She would simply use the situation to her advantage. She would assume that if she’d worked as a spy before, she could again. That if she’d been her captor’s lover before, she could now. That if she could fool them all, including her lover then, she could now.

She had to try.

She remembered now that Tanner had warned her there would be no way back if Michal Arad or the Israelis got their hands on her first. Bottom line: she couldn’t count on the CIA to come and rescue her.

She had to do this herself.

For Nicholas.

AT THE END of a narrow brick-and-stone street between the tightly packed old houses and refurbished ancient buildings in the Panier district of Marseilles, Ron Doamiass stood in the shadows. But not so much so that Michal could not discern the expression on his face. Ron did not like where this conversation was going. The brooding medieval village on the north side of the Quai du port, which Michal had chosen for the rendezvous, did not help his mood.

Too bad. Michal had had enough.

“I want out.” He looked straight into his old friend’s eyes and made the statement that had been a very long time in coming. “Three years is too long.”

Ron sighed and shook his head. He had worked for the Israeli Mossad twice as long as Michal’s seven years. Ron had moved up the ranks quickly. His knowledge of on-going operations and level of clearance marked him as a member of the chosen few in the hierarchy of the covert organization. His influence could very well sway the decision by those in power as to Michal’s fate.

“I can no longer do this.” Michal turned away, unwilling to allow his friend to see the depth of the pain he suffered. He had become one of “them.” His entire existence sickened him. He’d lost count of the number of men he had killed. All in the name of the greater good. At first he had anticipated this assignment with the kind of excitement borne of naiveté. Wished for the occasion to rid this earth of the scum that he now lived among. His burning need to right at least a few of the world’s wrongs and to serve his country to the fullest extent possible had driven him to excel beyond all expectations. The high of success had carried him the first year under deep cover. He’d utilized his American education in international law and his privileged Israeli upbringing among the politically elite to make himself indispensable to those who obeyed no man’s law.

Michal Arad had not only infiltrated the international terrorist group led by the Wolf, he had become the ruthless leader’s right arm. He had worked his way to the top of the food chain, devouring anyone who got in his way. Then, utilizing the intelligence he’d gathered, the Wolf had been assassinated during a particularly ingenious operation masterminded by top Israeli strategists like Ron himself. A feat neither the Americans nor the Europeans had been able to accomplish.

Michal was a hero.

But no one could ever know. He had been ordered to retain his cover…to live with those he despised and to continue to provide the intelligence no one before him had ever been in a position to know. The very people he risked his life to protect, feared and despised him the most. The fewer people who knew the truth, the less risk to his cover. Less than half a dozen men were privy to Michal’s actual status.

“No one has ever been inside this deep,” Ron, his only friend as well as superior, said, echoing Michal’s thoughts. “You know how important the intel you provide is to the security of not only our country, but also numerous others. Look at the number of catastrophes we’ve been able to avoid in the past two years. All because you are trusted by those who wish to do harm and ravage our American friends as well as our own people.”

Michal whipped around and glared at his old friend. His posture went instantly to that of the ruthless savage he portrayed each day. It was second nature now. He had to consciously restrain the fury as well as the urge to grab his friend and shake him. “Do you think I don’t know that? I have risked my life dozens of times to provide those warnings. Even now Carlos grows more suspicious of me each day. When is it enough?” He looked away, battling the rage that he so liberally unleashed on a regular basis amid his cutthroat associates.

“Michal.” Ron gripped his arm reassuringly; Michal flinched and pulled away. “No one understands more than I what you have sacrificed. But your role is far too vital to our continued stability to allow the mission to come to an end. You must not waver.”

Michal unclenched his hands and scrubbed them over his face then through his hair. Could he do this another day? Another hour? His thoughts went immediately to Amira and he forced the resulting images away. With every fiber of his being he wanted to believe that she was one of those he hated, but his heart would not allow him the luxury. His men were already suspicious of his allowing her to live this long. Carlos, in particular, had pushed the issue. This continued unrest among the ranks of his followers would undermine his absolute control, ultimately getting him killed. To a degree, death would be a relief. It was the other that kept him from simply shirking off all cares. The vow he had made to serve his country.

The damage control he could assert from the position he held as Michal the Executioner was priceless. Even he could see no way anyone else could match the level of power he had attained.

He almost laughed out loud when he considered how the Americans likened their CIA to the Mossad. If they only knew. The Mossad was more aggressive and more ruthless than the CIA could even imagine. Even those CIA officers who worked closely with their Mossad counterparts had no idea just how far the Mossad would go to accomplish their intended mission.