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.
“He sells arms and various other items from our friends in the former Soviet Union.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “He has made himself quite a reputation in the past six months. But recently he auctioned a small stock of weapons-grade plutonium, which garnered some ill-will toward him from those who deal in that particular merchandise on a regular basis.”
Ami stared at him, wondering why he was telling her all this and at the same time relieved that he was even speaking to her. She couldn’t say how much time she had left, but she had to try until the very last. When she opened her mouth to speak, he continued.
“The price I was offered to execute him was very high.” He glanced at her. “More than ever before.”
The fact that his fee was higher than usual only heightened her already monumental anxiety. Didn’t he see that there was something wrong with that picture?
He maneuvered along the back road that wound through the pine and oaks soaring on the lower slopes as they climbed upward. As he spoke, he continuously surveyed his surroundings to ensure that they were not being followed. “I will be ridding the world of a serious threat and getting paid at the same time.” He laughed, but the sound held no humor. “They call me a murderer and yet I wipe evil from the face of the planet. How ironic is that?” He laughed again and shook his head.
“Michal—”
“When this is over…” He cut her off again, unable to bear whatever excuses she intended to give for her affiliation with the CIA, for her lies, and for stealing his heart once more. His words drifted off as reality crashed headlong into him again. She’d refused to tell him about their son, obviously considering him unworthy. Perhaps he was.
All this time his superiors had insisted that the role he played as the Executioner was far too important to risk. They needed him to stay under just a little longer. His cover would not be jeopardized under any circumstances. And yet, the CIA was plotting his assassination and no one had warned him. He had, obviously, outlived his usefulness.
Each time he was ordered to kill, they told him that his impressive record made his performance unparalleled. No one had gotten this deep and accomplished this much.
Not once had they told him that when it was over he would be terminated for fear that their ruthless tactics would be discovered. No one could ever know that the Mossad had sanctioned Peres’s murder.
Ron had risked everything to warn Michal that today was the day Michal Arad, the Executioner, was to die.
Amira Peres would take the blame, as she had for the death of her father. An old lovers’ quarrel, people would say. Michal’s assets in the numbered account would be seized and put to good use in fighting terrorism in his homeland. That was supposed to make him feel better. But who would ever know the real story?
“When this is over—” he repeated, getting his thoughts back on track “—you will need to keep moving until you’ve found a safe place to relocate. Take this.” He passed a small folded paper to her that contained the banks and account numbers he used. All his assets had been transferred in such a way that, without the account numbers, no one would ever locate them. He was one step ahead, just barely.
“There is enough money there to take care of all your needs for a lifetime.”And for my son,he didn’t add. He fought back the agony of realizing he in all likelihood would never know his son. But, if he did not survive this day as so many hoped, he had to be certain she and the boy were cared for. Even if she had chosen not to tell him about his child. That wasn’t the child’s fault. It probably wasn’t even Ami’s fault. Her mind had been tampered with, there was no way to know the full extent of the damage. She might never regain all that she’d lost.
“Why are you telling me this?”
It only took one look into her eyes for him to know that his coldness toward her had hurt her deeply. His pride had kept him from making amends with her last night. Had kept him from her bed.
Now he regretted that.
But it was too late for regrets.
“I’m sending you away,” he said bluntly. “This life is too dangerous for you.”
His words stabbed deeply into her heart. “Why now?” What had he learned to change his mind? To set him on this course? Somehow he had discovered that she was involved on some level with the CIA, but why didn’t he just tell her what he knew? Why all the secrecy?
Realization dawned.
He knew he was going to die.
The coldness might very well have something to do with his suspicions about her, but it could also be related to what was about to come.
He was disengaging emotionally, even going so far as to prepare for her future financial well-being. She looked down at the folded piece of paper in her hand. He wanted her to be safe and cared for whatever happened to him.
The Jeep stopped and Michal climbed out before she could think of the right words to say to keep him from going. She wanted to physically restrain him, to hold him back from danger. But she knew that would be impossible.
He offered her the perfect out. Her freedom as well as the money for Nicholas and her to disappear.
