the-secret-crusade-oliver-bowden

Jonas was pinned by his blade, blood slowly spreading from the wound
at his neck. Still in the crouched position he’d adopted to hide, the
merchant cut a desperate, pathetic figure. And though Altaïr knew he
was a traitor, and that information he gave to the Templars had no
doubt been used to kill, capture and torture members of the Resistance,
he pitied him, so much so that he removed the blade gently, shoving
aside the remnants of the boxes so that he could lay Jonas down and
bend to him.
Blood oozed from the neck wound. ‘What’s this?’ wheezed Jonas. ‘An
Assassin? Does Salah Al’din have his eyes on poor Cyprus too?’
‘The Assassins have no ties to the Saracen. Our business is our own.’
Jonas coughed, revealing bloodied teeth. ‘Whatever the case, word of
your presence is widespread. The Bull has put a bounty on your head …
and on the head of your female companion.’
Altaïr saw the life bleeding out of him. ‘I’m worth more and more
every day,’ he said, and delivered the killing blow.
When he stood up, it was not with the satisfaction of a job well done,
but with a terrible sense that something was amiss. The Bull Jonas had
mentioned. Whoever he was, he was loyal to Armand Bouchart and he
knew of Altaïr and Maria’s presence in Kyrenia. Was that the source of
Altaïr’s disquiet?
He took to the rooftops, meaning to find Markos and Maria at once.
‘Well, Maria, it seems there’s a hefty price on both our heads,’ said
Altaïr, when he’d found her. Just as he’d imagined, she was sitting on a
stone bench between Markos and another Resistance man, wearing the
glowering look to which he was becoming accustomed.