Tess Gerritsen - Double Impact

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.

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 morning, 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.