“Nothing. She remembers nothing of the past, she does nothing.” He splayed his hands in confusion. “Nothing.”
“What is your point, Carlos?” Michal warned, his patience at an end.
“My contacts in the village tell me that there has been CIA activity.” Carlos cocked his head and said the rest with far too much pleasure. “It started about the same time she arrived.”
A new kind of tension wormed its way into Michal’s already rigid muscles at that news. “What activities have your contacts reported?”
“Only that a man—an American—has been asking questions, hanging around, watching, pretending to be a tourist.”
“This man,” Michal prodded, “what does he look like?”
Carlos shrugged. “The description is vague. Dark hair. Tall. Lean.”
Michal filed the description for later use. “But you have no direct link between Amira and the CIA or this man you believe to be CIA?”
Fury erupted in Carlos’s eyes once more. “What will it take to convince you? You are not thinking straight? Raoul is dead! You were almost killed. If you do not get rid of her, she will be the death of us all!”
Michal advanced on him then, going toe to toe, eye to eye so there would be no misunderstanding. “This discussion is over. If—” he continued when Carlos would have argued “—you broach this subject again, I will consider it an outright act of insubordination.”
Deep, dark red rose from Carlos’s neck all the way to his forehead, but, to his credit, he remained silent.
“You will keep me informed as to any further CIA activities in Marseilles,” he added in case there was any question. “Unless, of course, you no longer wish to pursue this working relationship. Am I clear?”
The standoff lasted all of ten seconds.
“You have made yourself crystal clear.”
Carlos walked out of the room as if all was understood, but Michal had the distinct feeling this battle had only just begun. He hoped for Carlos’s sake he was wrong. His gut told him that the issue went far deeper than Ami’s presence.
Whatever the case, if the man forced his hand, it would not bode well for him.
AMI GINGERLY DRIEDher body. Every reach, every bend, was agonizing. When she’d swabbed herself dry as best she could, she wiped the foggy mirror with the towel and studied her reflection. Most of the swelling had gone down in her cheek, but the bruise was an ugly shade of yellowish purple.
Varying shades of purple and green dotted her arms and sides. The worst of which was where the jerk had kicked her in the ribs, fracturing one, making even a deep breath uncomfortable. At least she could hear again. The proximity of the gun blasts had all but deafened her.
Ami closed her eyes and braced herself against the basin. The events of the past thirty-six hours shook her to the very core of her being. She was certain she had never known such brutality. She flinched at the memory of that gun barrel aimed directly at her face. It was insane. Michal had given that man his freedom and he’d used it to try to kill her.
Michal had explained that the group the man represented hated Americans in particular. To die while attempting to rid the earth of one made him a hero.
Ami shivered. This was crazy. She wasn’t indifferent to the happenings in the world. She watched CNN from time to time. But seeing it flash across a news screen and living the actual events were two entirely different things.
How could people live this way?
She had seen Michal murder a man with her own eyes. She’d witnessed his cunning when they had traveled to Libya. There was no doubt in her mind that he could be incredibly ruthless when he chose to be.
But he had saved her life.
He’d stepped in front of that bullet with no consideration whatsoever of his own survival.
It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out that he had released the man in part to appease her.
And it had almost cost him his life.
She shuddered when the pictures flashed one after the other through her mind. Blood…there had been so much blood. She’d seen blood before. She was a nurse, for God’s sake! But this had been Michal’s blood. An inch or two lower and slightly to the right and he wouldn’t have survived.
No amount of training or experience as a nurse had prepared her for that moment. Even the remote possibility of his dying had been more than she could bear.
How could she hope to follow through with Tanner’s plan?
