Page 14 of Covert Past

Boone sat across from her and sipped the dark-roasted coffee. It was so strong it had him cringing.

She smiled. “Sorry, it takes some getting used to. It’s called, botz or ‘mud coffee.’”

He recognized the term immediately from his time in Israel, where he’d had the espresso once. He nodded without questioning her and wondered what her connection was to the country. The strong coffee worked its way down to churn up his stomach. He waited. Something told him her story wasn’t going to come quickly.

“To answer your question, his name was Daniel,” she said so softly he almost didn’t catch it. “We were going to be married. He was murdered.”

Hearing the truth spoken so calmly and without emotion was a shock, but he had a feeling Ellie had gotten good at holdingback emotion.

“What happened?” This was the question that would either prove she trusted him—or at least wanted to trust him.

She fiddled with the rim of her cup. “We worked together. We were on a mission, and he was killed.”

A mission. He put two and two together. “You’re Mossad.”

Ellie seemed to be in a struggle within herself. Would she tell him the truth or deny it? He had a feeling there was so much more to the story than what she’d told.

She kept her attention on the cup. “IwasMossad until Daniel died.”

“Who killed him, Ellie? What happened to you?”

Her startled expression went to him. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been hurt, and I don’t believe you fell. Did someone do this to you?”

She blew out a breath and rose, pacing the small kitchen. “Daniel was killed but I have no idea who was responsible for his death. Either Syrian Intelligence or . . .”

“Or who?” he said softly.

“Or our own people.”

Soon, the whole sordid tale began to unfold, and he tried to take it all in. She’d been set up to take the fall for Daniel’s murder. Ellie was being hunted by her own people as well as others.

“I’m a wanted person. My former comrades believe I killed Daniel. They’ve been searching for me for seven years.”

His heart went out to her. Sure, he didn’t know her that well, but being in the CIA had taught him quickly to trust his gut. She wasn’t a murderer.

“I’ve moved more times than I can say, changed my name just as many times, yet they keep finding me.”

“Who? Mossad or Syrian Intelligence?”

“Both. Mostly Syrian Intelligence.”

His frown deepened. “There has to be a way. Do you have anything from the past that they could use to track you?”

She shook her head. “I left everything behind except for the engagement ring Daniel gave me.” She returned to her seat. “When I escaped the box, after I was shot, I somehow managed toget away. I had the clothes on my back and my weapon.” She told him about going to her director only to be told he couldn’t help her. He believed her guilty.

“How did you get away?”

“I had an asset that Daniel and I used from time to time. He was able to get me a new identity. I wanted to stay close to Israel to work some of our other assets, hopefully discover who was behind the plot to kill Daniel.”

“And did you?” He knew the answer. Why else would she be on the run?

“No one knew anything, or perhaps they weren’t talking. I never knew the name of the asset Daniel used to get intel on the Syrian Intelligence Agency and their efforts to corrupt one of our own.”

Boone sat up straighter at this. “So, you were told someone from Mossad was dirty?”

She nodded. “According to Daniel, his contact told him he’d give us the name of the person when we met. That meeting never happened. We were set up. Daniel died. Shot with my weapon.”

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