LITMIR.BIZ

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each other. By the way, it’s Agent Cassidy. I’m not in the military, Mrs. Manning.”

      He lay back down and closed his eyes.

      “Agent? You mean you’re one of these CIA agents, too?”

      With a resigned sigh, he opened his eyes and sat back up. “I work for the CIA if that’s what you’re asking, Mrs. Manning. I’m not with intelligence.”

      “I think I have a right to know what went on there, since the CIA apparently believes I’m involved in the murder of Ali bin Muzzar.”

      “I can assure you, Mrs. Manning, you weren’t. Bin Muzzar was still alive after you passed out. I informed them of that during the debriefing. Now, if you don’t mind.” He stretched out on the bench again and closed his eyes.

      “I suppose your squad killed him?”

      He stiffened with annoyance and sat up. “No, my squad did not kill him. Ask your husband, Mrs. Manning, maybe he can tell you.”

      “Are you saying Robert killed Ali?”

      “I didn’t say that. I can only tell you that the last time I, or any member of my squad, saw bin Muzzar he was still alive.”

      At that moment Robert Manning came into the room and took a seat. Trish made no move toward him, but went over and sat down on an empty chair.

      They waited another half hour until all the squad members were debriefed, and then they were driven to a hotel.

      Chapter 3

      Trish balked when they started to assign her and Robert to the same room. She insisted upon a separate one and won the argument.

      Once alone, she flopped down in relief on the bed. Despite everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, the hardest thing to bear was the change in Dave.

      Seeing him again had been the answer to her prayers. But he was so different from the man she remembered. Granted, he had good reason not to greet her with open arms, but remembering the love and tenderness they had once shared, it was hard to believe he held so much bitterness toward her.

      She yearned to sit down and just talk to him again. After all, even if they were ex-lovers, they also had been good friends. They had always enjoyed each other’s company. They had not only loved each other, they had liked each other as well.

      But now, she could see the loathing in his eyes when he looked at her. And that hurt. That hurt badly. She was helpless to avoid reacting negatively to it, so they’d ended up snarling at one another.

      As if that wasn’t staggering enough, there was all this mystery surrounding Ali’s death. Could it be that Robert had killed Ali?

      Trish shook aside the thought. Ali was probably the only friend Robert had. And although she held no one in lower esteem than Robert, she couldn’t see him in the role of a murderer. Liar, conniver, rapist, yes. But murderer, no.

      A light knock sounded on the door and the chambermaid came in.

      “Frau Manning, I am Helga, the chambermaid. The gentleman in the next room told me to bring you these items.” She handed Trish a brown paper bag.

      “Thank you. Helga, I’m so sorry,” Trish said, embarrassed. “I don’t have a purse with me. Perhaps I can put a tip on the bill.”

      “That is not necessary, Frau Manning. The gentleman has taken care of it. If you need anything else, just ring for me. Have a pleasant evening, madam.”

      Trish gratefully dumped the goody bag on the bed and out dropped a plethora of useful items: a comb, shampoo, toothbrush, toothpaste, a compact of pressed face powder, a tube of lipstick, a pair of panties and a bra. There was even a black and white jogging suit in her size.

      Trish was so grateful she could have shouted with joy, and the thoughtful gesture was so unlike Robert. As difficult as it would be, she would have to swallow her pride and thank him.

      She gathered up several of the items and headed for the shower.

      After fifteen minutes of hot water and swirling steam, Trish felt like a new woman. She dried off, combed her hair and while it dried, she rinsed out her underclothes and hung them up to dry.

      As she struggled with the decision of whether to go down to dinner or settle for room service, the telephone rang.

      “Mrs. Manning, this is Justin Addison. We’re going down to dinner soon and Dave wants to know if you’re ready.”

      “I was just considering ordering room service,” she said.

      “One moment, ma’am.”

      She could hear him consulting with someone in the background, then he came on the line again.

      “Ma’am, Dave says that’s not a good idea. We’ve been ordered to keep an eye on you, so if you don’t go down to dinner, a couple of us will have to remain up there with you.”

      “And you’d have to be one of them, isn’t that right, Mr. Addison?”

      “I’m afraid so, ma’am,” he said.

      Apparently the decision had been made for her. “Okay, I’ll be ready in five minutes.”

      The new underwear and jogging suit were a perfect fit. Leave it to Robert to be able to appraise a woman’s figure.

      She pulled her hair back into a plain ponytail and tied it with a piece of white ribbon that had been wrapped around the jogging suit. After adding a light dusting of powder to her nose and cheeks, a dash of gloss to her lips, she was ready when the rap came on the door exactly five minutes later.

      Dave, Justin Addison and the agent they called Kurt Bolen were in the hallway.

      “Gosh, gentlemen, are you sure three of you big, macho males are enough to keep li’l ole me from escaping?”

      “I guess we’ll just have to risk it, Mrs. Manning,” Dave said. “Your husband preferred to eat earlier so we were forced to split up the squad.”

      She was pleased to hear she wouldn’t have to have dinner with Robert. Two consecutive nights facing him across a table would have been a tough row to hoe. Granted, she was grateful for the goody bag, but it fell far short of erasing the sordid memories of the past two years.

      Deciding to try a restaurant elsewhere, the group strolled along casually, peeking into shop windows. They finally settled on a quaint rathskeller several blocks from the hotel.

      Despite her hunger, Trish was unable to finish the tasty baked apple stuffed with pork that she had ordered. The men however had no problem consuming large plates of thick slices of sauerbraten served with plump dumplings and steins of dark beer.

      When it came time for dessert, Kurt insisted they order one called Zwetschgenkuchen. The guys went along with his selection, and as they drank steaming hot cups of strong coffee, the waitress brought them the dessert.

      Trish already had had enough to eat, but Kurt insisted she try a small piece.

      “You’ll love it, Mrs. Manning. When I was young, I remember my German grandmother used to make it all the time. I haven’t had a piece since she died.”

      Trish relented. “Well, out of respect to your dearly departed grandmother, Kurt, I’ll take a tiny piece.”

      “This isn’t bad,” Justin declared after taking a hardy bite. “What am I eating?”

      “It appears to be a puff pastry and the filling tastes like plum,” Trish said.

      “Trouble with plums, Mrs. Manning, no matter how juicy and sweet they taste, they shrivel up into prunes,” Dave said.

      The comment was too deliberate to be casual. Then she recalled he’d talked of plums and prunes the last time they’d made love. She raised her head and looked at him. His gaze was fixed on her. So he too was remembering

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