Mission: Memory Recall

Her face radiated heat at the reminder of the fool she’d been for him. She’d cried for this man when she’d thought he died! Then to discover he’d not only survived but had had a hand in the ambush had nearly done her in. Only her anger and quest for revenge had kept her going. Now he was standing in front of her and, more than wanting to know why he’d betrayed his country, she wanted to demand to know why he’d betrayed her. But she couldn’t focus on that now. That wasn’t the important part of why she’d tracked him down. Betraying his country was by far the more critical issue.

“What have I done that the CIA is hunting me?”

“You’re a US soldier who went missing and was presumed killed in action. I have a duty to bring you in through the proper channels. Everyone is going to want to talk to you, to hear your story.”

“But I don’t know my story.” He grunted and spun away from her, his shoulders tense. “How can I tell anyone what happened when I don’t know myself what went down?” He turned back, looked at her and shook his head. “But you don’t believe me, do you?”

“That you have amnesia?” she scoffed. “Come on, Marcus, drop the act. We both know you’ve been in hiding for nearly two years.”

“I wasn’t hiding.”

“Whatever it was, I’m taking you in. The only question is how we’re going to do this.”

He saw her clutch the gun then hung his head and sighed. “You won’t need that.” He held out the rifle in his hand to her, butt first. “I’m not a fugitive and I’m certainly not dangerous.”

“But you are under arrest. Let’s go. You’ll pay for the crimes you’ve committed against your country.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I—I don’t even know—”

His lack of recognition hurt more than she cared to admit, but she didn’t let it show. “What? You don’t recognize me? That’s fine, Marcus, but I certainly remember you.”

“All I know is I woke up injured, with no memory of how it happened or who I was. The only reason I know my name is because the people who cared for me told me they overheard others calling me Marcus.” Exhaling roughly, he rubbed a hand across his face. “They told me the CIA was after me, so I went into hiding, but I couldn’t stand the hiding anymore. I came here trying to find answers to who I am and what happened to me. Then you showed up and the shooting started.”

Bethany was about to call him out on his fanciful tale, but the sincerity in his face stopped her again. Before she had a moment to steel herself from his eyes, the rooftop door burst open and six men dressed in local police attire, with weapons raised, stormed onto the roof.

“Stop right there,” one of them called. “Drop your weapon and step away from it.”

She did as the officer commanded and sank to the ground, carefully placing her gun on the rooftop. It was better to cooperate with the authorities because she knew they would eventually get everything sorted out. Marcus, too, raised his hands over his head and followed the officer’s instructions.

“My name is Bethany Bryant,” she called out. “I’m an agent with the CIA. If you’ll look in my jacket pocket, you’ll find my credentials and identification.” She’d given up field work for a desk job after the ambush in which she’d thought Marcus had died, but still maintained her field agent status.

The officer who searched her glanced at her CIA credentials then passed them along to his boss, who nodded and ordered her released. “We were responding to shots fired into the diner. Can you tell us what happened here?”

“I’ve been tracking this man on charges of treason and terrorist activities. I’d just made contact when the shooting started. It looks like someone was trying to take him out before he could talk to me. I’d like to have him placed in a jail cell and under close guard to await the arrival of Federal Marshals to transport him to Langley to stand trial. And, be careful, he’s highly trained and skilled in matters of combat.”

Bethany watched his face as the officers led him away. He looked resigned to being arrested. He didn’t struggle when they cuffed him or moved him along.

She was right beside him when the local police walked him through town and the man and woman from the diner approached, expressions of worry lining their faces. “Marcus? What’s going on? What’s happening? Why are they arresting you?”

“It’s okay, Milo. It’s all a big mistake.”

Marie approached Bethany and grabbed her arm. “Why are you arresting Marcus? You saw, he was the one who was helping get people to safety when the shots started. He’s a good guy.”

Bethany pulled her arm away. “I’m sorry, but you have no idea what kind of man Marcus Allen really is.”

She saw the looks of doubt on their faces. They didn’t believe her, but she didn’t hold it against them. She knew personally how easy it was to be fooled into thinking Marcus Allen was one of the good guys.

Two

Sheriff Ken Mills was a burly man who epitomized the stereotypical small-town Texas sheriff. But he sat and listened—staring at Bethany’s credentials instead of looking directly at her—while she explained the situation and asked for his help. Technically, he didn’t have to offer any assistance to her since the CIA wasn’t supposed to be operating on US soil, but most law-enforcement agencies shared so many common experiences that camaraderie was generally expected and usually given.

When she was finished, Mills leaned back in his chair and surveyed her. “I’ll agree to this on several conditions, Agent Bryant. One, you don’t interfere with our investigation into the shooting and, two, you offer up any and all information you know about it.”

She nodded. “Of course. I will.” That was a given.

“How long do you think you’ll need to house this prisoner of yours in our facility?”

“Not long at all. One night. Maybe two at the most.”

“Fine. My last condition is that my detectives want to question him about what he knows about the shooting without interference from you or the Agency. I don’t want to hear that we can’t solve a shooting in our own community because the CIA deems it sensitive information.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem, Sheriff. In fact, I would love to be kept informed about any information your detectives garner from Marcus.”

“I’ll let them know.” He stood and shook her hand. “It’s hard to believe that we had a fugitive from the CIA living right here in our community and no one knew it. Keep us updated and we’ll do the same.”

She left his office and was met by Detective Mercer, who told her they were still going through evidence and wouldn’t be talking with Marcus for several more hours.

Bethany took the opportunity to dial the number for Rick Eaves, her CIA department supervisor, to update him. When he answered, she spilled the news about finding Marcus.

She heard his sharp intake of breath. “Marcus Allen? You really found him?”

“I did. He’s alive. He was working as a fry cook in a town called Little Falls, Texas.”

“I’m in shock, Bethany. I confess I thought you were just chasing shadows. Are you certain it’s him? Maybe it’s just someone who looks like him.”

She remembered staring up into Marcus’s achingly familiar green eyes and mentally shook her head. She would never forget his face. “It’s him. I’m certain of it.”

“Okay, then we need to plan our next move. Do you want me to call in a team to bring him in?”

She’d gone against Agency protocols by not calling in a fugitive recovery team. But then, she hadn’t been acting in an official capacity, either. “That’s not necessary.”

“This is a dangerous man, Bethany. He’s been on the run for years. There’s no telling what he might do if you confront him.”

She grimaced, bracing for his reaction. “I already have.”

“You did what? Are you insane? You know our standard operating procedures for capturing fugitives.”

She couldn’t help the indignation that arose inside her. No one had believed her and now she was catching flack for being right. “I wasn’t operating under an official capacity, remember? I didn’t think I had the resources of the Agency to help with this.”

Rick took a deep breath as if realizing she was right and then continued in a calmer tone. “What happened?”

“Nothing. He claims to have amnesia. He says he doesn’t even know me.”

“Amnesia? Are you seriously buying that?”

She wanted to assure her supervisor she didn’t, but the image of Marcus’s green eyes looking at her so earnestly for answers as he’d sat across from her flashed through her mind and she couldn’t form the words. So instead of responding to his question, she moved on to the next issue. “We have another pressing problem. A sniper fired into the diner just after I approached him.”

“They’re trying to kill him before he can talk to us.”

Her mind spun at that notion. “Who is trying to kill him?”

“Bethany, you don’t think he’s been on his own all this time, do you? He must have been working with someone to stay under the radar.”

She didn’t bother reminding him that Marcus hadn’t managed to stay under her radar. “I haven’t gotten to officially interrogate him yet, but I will soon.”

“You do that. I’m going to start making preparations to get you both back here as soon as possible. I’ll call the Marshals’ office. I assume the locals will hold him until they arrive?”

“Yes, I’ve already spoken to the sheriff. He wants answers about this shooting just as much as we do.”

“Don’t let them take over. He’s our prisoner, not theirs. Make sure they know that. Do you want me to call the sheriff?”

“That’s not necessary. I can handle it.”

“Okay. I’ll be in touch once the arrangements for the Marshals are under way.”

She hung up but instead of feeling proud of herself for finally capturing Marcus after all these years, she felt as if she’d just been scolded by her supervisor. And it rankled because she’d accomplished something no one else at the Agency had been able to do.

Rick Eaves and the rest of the CIA had underestimated her and now she’d proved them all wrong.

She should have felt vindicated. So why then did it feel like her heart was breaking?

* * *

The local cops paraded him inside like a common criminal. He didn’t like it, but he allowed it because Bethany was right about people wanting to question him. And maybe they could help him recover some of his memories.

Their sheriff offered his help and had a deputy escort Marcus to a jail cell. He sat on the cold, hard seat and waited. None of this had gone as he’d anticipated. He’d certainly not expected to be sitting in a county jail awaiting transport to CIA headquarters.

He closed his eyes and lifted a prayer to God. Surely, He hadn’t brought him all this way to make him a prisoner. Bethany had called him a traitor to his country. He didn’t feel like one, but how could he really know for sure?

Flashes of the past hit him. Gunfire and running. Pain bursting through him. A woman staring up at him, awaiting a kiss—He jolted awake at that last image, realizing he’d dozed off. The woman reminded him of Bethany, like it could have been her sister, but her eyes had been different, a deep brown color instead of the vivid blue, and her face and hair had been hidden under a tunic. But the resemblance was uncanny. He wiped his face, trying to rub away some of the fogginess that clouded his memories.

“What are you thinking about so intently, Marcus?” Her voice came this time not from his memory but from behind the wall of bars separating them. Her eyes were once again their bright glory blue.

“You, actually.” He stood and approached her. She held the answers to all his questions. “How do we know each other? I mean, I know you’re a CIA agent hunting me, but are we more than that?”

She chewed on her bottom lip in a telling fashion. “Why would you ask me that question?”

“I keep seeing this woman flashing before my eyes.”

“So you admit you remember me?”

“I guess I do. It’s just a glimmer, but I remember seeing you.” And kissing you. What was that about? “But the woman looked different...the eyes?”

Bethany gave a weary sigh. “They’re called contact lenses, Marcus. You know very well that I wear them when I’m on assignment.”

Her words flowed back to him, words she’d spoken years and several thousand miles ago. “Because who would believe an Afghani woman with blue eyes?”

She stared up at him, those same eyes flashing with anger. “So you do remember?”

He rubbed his eyes, pain shooting through his head as he tried to concentrate. “I don’t know. Maybe.” He saw the doubt on her face. “I’m not lying to you, Bethany. My past is a blank slate. You have no idea how frustrating that is. I remember how to walk, talk, drive a car, shoot a gun, but when I try to recall who I am or where I come from or what I’ve done, there’s nothing.”

“We’ll see. The CIA has methods to obtain information.”

“I’m sure they do.”

She waved her hand at the camera and the electronic lock released. “I have a few of my own methods right now. Will you follow me to the interview room?”

He allowed her to cuff him and lead him down the long hallway then turn right into an interrogation room. When they entered, Marcus saw what looked to be the content from the shooter’s nest.

“What’s all this?” he asked.

She motioned toward the weapon. “You tell me. Everything has been unloaded, of course.”

“Of course.” He picked up the rifle and checked the mag. “This is a .300 Win Mag sniper rifle with long-range scope. The most accurate sniper’s rifle on the market.” He glanced at the other equipment on the table. It was all top-quality gear. “Aside from the working on his own part, I’d say our sniper is a professional assassin.”

She nodded. “I agree. And you let him get away. Who’s after you, Marcus?”

He sighed, already weary of her not believing him, and sank into a chair. “Why do you think he was after me? You were in that diner, too, as were a handful of patrons. Any one of them could have been the target.”

“That’s highly unlikely. You’re a fugitive on the run. I feel certain you were the mark. Besides, he didn’t target anyone else as they were fleeing the building, only you.”

“Well, I haven’t been targeted until today. Believe me, nothing like this has happened to me before you arrived in town. I was hoping you could provide me answers, but it seems you provided a lot more than that.”

Anger flashed on her face. “Are you implying that I led someone to you who wanted you dead?”

She stood and walked to him, opening a folder. “Are you aware that all but six of your army ranger team died in an ambush in Afghanistan two years ago? All including you...or so everyone believed.” She leaned over him, speaking directly into his ear. “You had us all fooled, Marcus. They all thought you’d died that night on that mountain. These men were your teammates, your friends.”

He glanced at the file. “I didn’t lie to anyone,” he insisted.

“Then tell me what happened over there.”

He dug through his memory, but only flashes came. Firefights. Cries of pain. And the soft skin of lips caressing his. She was all jumbled up in there, but even those fragments didn’t provide the answers he needed. “I—I don’t know. All I know is I was injured. The first thing I remember clearly was waking up in a hut. The villagers took care of me and treated my wounds. They sheltered me. But they kept saying I was in danger, that someone was hunting me, that someone in the CIA was after me.”

“Why weren’t they afraid of you? The CIA was the good guy.”

“They didn’t think so. They seemed frightened, so I was frightened, as well. I figured they were the ones who knew the good guys from the bad guys.”

“Why didn’t you report to a US military base? You would have been safe there.”

“I had no idea who I was. For all I knew, I was on the run from the US government. I thought I would be arrested, or worse, killed.”

She gave him a disgusted look and shook her head. “You have a US army ranger’s tattoo on your left shoulder. No one could mistake that. You had a duty to return to the base when you were able and let someone know you were alive.”

He pulled up his sleeve and showed her his shoulder. There was no army ranger tattoo, but the scarred flesh suggested that something had once been there. He’d never thought about it being a tattoo of any kind. Had just chalked the scarred flesh up to his injuries. Had someone burned off his tattoo to keep him safe? “I depended on those people to keep me alive. I did as I was told. Besides, they were right. The CIA was after me.”

She stood and gathered the items, placing them back into an evidence container. “Tomorrow, the US Marshals will arrive to transport you back to CIA headquarters, where you’ll be fully briefed about what happened the night of the ambush. There will be a lot of questions about how you survived and why you haven’t come forward. I suggest you come up with a better story than this amnesia one.”

“I can’t tell you anything that isn’t the truth, Beth.”

She stopped, turned and glared at him. “You don’t get to call me that.”

Her words held a bite that chilled him. He’d hurt her. Badly. In his heart, he knew it hadn’t been on purpose, but how could he prove it? How could he exonerate himself from a jail cell?

“I’m sorry.” He spoke softly. “I don’t mean to cause you more pain. I don’t know how to prove to you that I’m not lying, but I promise you I’m not.”

She folded her arms and gave him a stern look. “You may have made a fool of me, but don’t worry, Marcus, you never hurt me.”

She opened the door and called to a guard who grabbed him by the arm. He couldn’t miss the pain simmering behind her eyes as he was led out of the room and back to lockup.

* * *

She was in her hotel room when her phone rang and she looked at the screen. It was Dillon Montgomery, her former partner in the CIA. They’d worked many operations together, including the one they’d been on when the ambush occurred. Dillon was one of the few agents in her division who hadn’t forgotten about her when she’d accepted a desk job and he was the only one who still called her regularly and tried to encourage her back to field work.

She noticed she’d had several missed calls from him. She pressed the on button. “Dillon, hi.”

“Where are you? I’ve been phoning you all day. I was starting to get worried.”

These days, it was nothing for her to wake up to a text or email from Dillon that he was going on assignment. He could be called to a mission at a moment’s notice and be gone for days or weeks. Bethany knew the routine well—she used to live it. But since she’d stopped doing field work, her job kept her closer to home, so her disappearing without a word was considered unusual by Dillon.

“I’m in Texas,” she told him. “I decided to take a few days off.”

The hesitation before he responded meant he knew why. Her obsession with finding Marcus was a constant source of tension between the two of them. Dillon had been the only one in the department to encourage her to follow her gut when it came to her investigation into Marcus. Everyone else had considered her obsession with finding him nothing more than a hopeless pursuit. But even Dillon’s encouragement had waned recently.

“When are you going to give this up, Bethany?”

“I’m not giving up, Dillon. In fact, I found who I came looking for.”

“What do you mean you found him?” His voice perked up. “Are you serious? Marcus Allen? You found him? Are you sure?”

“I am. It’s definitely him.”

He gave a low whistle. “Unbelievable. You always believed it, Bethany, even when the rest of us tried to dissuade you. Impressive. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Dillon. I still can’t believe I found him after all this time.”

“A soldier presumed killed in action discovered alive? I, for one, can’t wait to hear his story.”

“Well, there won’t be much of a story. He has amnesia.”

Dillon snickered. “Amnesia? Really?”

“That’s what he’s claiming. Right after I confronted him, someone started shooting at us. He insists he has no idea why someone would try to kill him and no knowledge of who the sniper is.”

“Of course he would say that,” Dillon stated. “He’s wanted by more than the CIA.”

She frowned. Rick had alluded to something like that, too. “What do you mean?”

He laughed. “Come on, Bethany. What do you think he’s been doing all this time? He must have been working for someone. Probably weapons traders, if I had my guess. If he’s back in the States and someone is trying to kill him, he probably betrayed them, too.”

“But why did they wait until I arrived to take those shots?” she asked. “Were they following me? Did I lead the shooter to him?”

Dillon gave a disgruntled sigh. “I doubt anyone in the CIA was following you around on the off chance you found a presumed-dead army ranger.”

When he said it, it sounded so implausible that she blushed even thinking it.

“And who else would know about your investigation? I don’t mean to put you down, Bethany, because you did it, you found Marcus Allen. But your investigation into this matter has been like a wild-goose chase. No one in the Agency or any other government agency gave your conclusions any merit. Certainly there was no one here waiting around to see if you found him.”

He was only stating what she already knew to be true. It was silly to even think differently. Marcus was a target and had been for a while. He’d probably gone into hiding to begin with because someone was after him and thus had been dodging bullets for years. That certainly made more sense than that she’d led someone to him. She grimaced to think she’d let him plant doubt in her mind.

“Of course. You’re right.”

“Tell me where you are,” Dillon said. “I’ll hop a flight and be there in a few hours to help you bring him in.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ve already made arrangements. He’s being held in the local jail and Rick has arranged for the US Marshals to escort us back to Langley tomorrow morning.”

“Are you sure? I don’t mind making the trip.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll see you when I return.”

“Okay...have a safe trip,” he said. “I’ll see you when you get back. We’ll celebrate this victory. Steaks on the grill at my place. Sound good?”

“That sounds nice.”

“Seriously, Bethany. Good job.”

She felt her face redden. She and Dillon had become very close over the past year. He’d indicated he wanted more than to be just friends but she’d put him off several times. She just didn’t believe she was ready for that even though deep down she knew he was a great guy.

He was handsome and charming and one of the more successful agents in the terrorism division. They were well matched and she knew the job often caused trouble in marriages, but marrying a fellow agent meant being with someone who understood the job. And he was the one who continually encouraged Bethany to return to the field.

She hung up with Dillon, still pondering the state of their relationship. She’d spent months putting him off because of her obsession with finding Marcus. Now that’s she’d done it, was it time to give Dillon the attention he deserved?

She sighed.

The truth was that she’d never felt the spark with Dillon that she’d felt with Marcus. She knew it was silly to feel this way. Dillon was perfect for her.

She reddened again, remembering that what she’d felt for Marcus had been fabricated. It hadn’t been real, only a con she’d fallen for.

That was enough. It was time to stop focusing on Marcus. She took some satisfaction in knowing she’d been right...that she’d been vindicated. Now her life of living in limbo was over. Though, what did that mean exactly? She’d spent so much time and energy hunting for Marcus that it had consumed her life for the past two years. It would take a while to adjust to her new normal.