by Matthew Dunn
He walked through two offices and then another and another. They all looked messy and bore no sign of being sanitized to protect secrets. He reached the last office and realized that this was the place he needed to search. It was immaculate. There were two desks and chairs in the room, and aside from pens and other stationery items, each desk was empty. He examined drawers, cupboards, telephone message systems, and wastebaskets, but all contained nothing. He was swearing silently in frustration, but then a thought came to him, and he walked out of the room. He moved back and forth between the four genuine and cluttered HBF offices until he found a filing cabinet. He pulled it open, and as he did so, he heard Julian’s voice.
“The guard’s just left his building. He’s walking, but he’ll still be with you in thirty seconds.”
The cabinet contained labeled drop-down files, and Will scanned his eyes over them all. Most seemed to relate to HBF construction contracts or financial matters, but one did not. Will smiled as he read the title “Fire Roster” on the file’s label. He looked inside and saw one sheet of paper. He pulled it out and shone his flashlight over the contents. It listed the names of eleven people as well as other information about them. He withdrew a digital camera and photographed the paper.
“Come on. Time’s up.”
Will replaced the paper in the file, shut the cabinet, and walked through the office suite to the exit. He closed the door behind him and knelt in the corridor with his lock-pick set.
“Guard’s by the building. He’s seen the broken door. He’s speaking on his radio. He’s entering your building.”
Will maneuvered three of the pick levers until the door to the HBF suite was locked again. He pulled out his ram and walked along the corridor. The fourth door to his left bore a plaque stating that it belonged to a company called Adriatic Travels. Will smashed his ram against the door, stepped into the office, and grabbed two desktop telephones, which he placed in his pack. Then he moved out into the corridor and struck another random door belonging to a different company. He stepped into the room, stole a laptop computer, and stepped back out into the corridor. He walked quickly to the top of the stairs and looked down. He saw a flashlight beam and heard radio chatter. The light became stronger, and Will knew that the guard was moving up the stairs. He turned off his own flashlight just as Julian spoke.
“Two private security vehicles pull up outside your location. Three men exit. They walk to your building. They enter.”
Will turned and silently jogged back down the corridor. He wanted to avoid any contact with the guards, because to engage with them would produce adverse effects. An act of burglary, he had reasoned to himself before this evening’s venture, would probably be kept quiet by the building’s landlord from all but the victims, for fear of scaring off other tenants. But an assault on security guards would bring an intrusive police investigation that would inevitably come to the attention of all office tenants, including the HBF men and the two Qods Force officers who were hidden within their ranks. In turn those two men could very easily become suspicious of the event and disappear from the premises for good.
Will reached the end of the corridor and looked into the rear stairway. It was still dark, and he moved carefully down its steps until he was positioned on the first floor. He moved along the corridor until he reached a corner. A cone of light immediately hit the floor close to him, and he knew that it came from a guard who was now traveling along the corridor to his position. If the man turned the corner, Will would be seen and would therefore have to assault the guard. He turned to face the direction he’d just come from but then saw more light emerging from the previously dark stairwell. One of the guards was coming up from the ground floor, and if he stopped to examine the first floor, Will would be trapped between two guards.
He heard more radio chatter, and the flashlights stopped still. Will knew that the guard around the corner must have turned away, since his light was disappearing. The light from the man in the stairwell then increased and just as quickly decreased, and it was clear that he was now moving up the stairs and away from Will toward the top floor. It was also obvious to Will that both guards had been summoned by a third guard who had now discovered his forced entry into the two companies above him. Will ran to the rear stairwell, glanced down, and moved slowly to the ground floor. The place before him was in semidarkness, and he walked swiftly along its corridor before coming to an area where he could either turn left toward the broken side entrance that he’d used to enter the building or continue onward to the building’s sealed main entrance. He waited and then saw more beams coming from the side entrance’s corridor. It meant that the fourth security guard was standing in position at this portal and was blocking Will’s exit. The position of the flashlight meant that the man was facing forward and would see Will as soon he continued ahead toward the main front door. He thought fast. Julian must have been anticipating Will’s predicament, because his words echoed Will’s decision.
“Put your hood on. Keep your head low. Don’t stop for anything.”
Will covered his face as much as he could with his Gore-Tex winter jacket and pulled out his ram one last time. He looked at the main door. It was twenty meters ahead of him. He breathed in deeply and began to sprint, knowing that he had instantly exposed himself to the guard in the corridor to his left. He heard more radio noises and then shouting, but he ignored the sounds as he raced to the door, swung his ram at its thick glass panels, and smashed his way through the exit. His coat protected his head and upper body, but shards of glass lacerated his legs. He resumed sprinting as soon as he was clear of the door and the building. He ran in a northeasterly direction with no care for avoiding cameras and after four hundred meters he reached the business area’s perimeter. He momentarily slowed to look behind him before moving into streets and alleys and more streets. Only then did he ease up into a walk. He looked down at his legs and saw glass splinters the size of knives protruding from his thighs and calf muscles. When he stopped to pull out some of the splinters, his legs nearly buckled beneath him.
Will pressed his throat pressel switch and spoke to Julian in a rushed and breathless voice. “I’ve got them. I’ve got the bastards’ names.”
Thirty
“We’re dealing with professionals.” Will pulled out his digital camera. “At the end of each day, the Qods Force men leave their room with no telltale evidence of their activities. But they made one mistake.” He brought up the image of the paper he’d photographed. “Or rather I suspect a mistake was made without their knowledge.”
He handed the camera to Patrick. The two men were in the CIA safe house in Switzerland.
Patrick looked at the camera for almost a minute before speaking. “That was quick thinking to check the fire roster. And I suspect you’re right: I’d bet that somebody in the HBF complied with the building’s fire-drill safety protocols and supplied all this information to their administrative department without even first clearing it with the Qods Force men.” He smiled as he looked at the photographic image showing the sheet containing the names of three females and eight males as well as all their passport numbers and dates and places of birth.
Will pointed at the camera. “Judging by the layout of the HBF office suite, I’m certain two of those people on the list are Qods Force.”
Patrick nodded and pulled out his cell phone. He made a call and relayed all the information contained in Will’s photograph to somebody who would most certainly be based in Langley. “I should have an answer in ten minutes.”
Will poured himself some coffee and gulped down the brew despite its heat. He rubbed his eyes and walked to a window just as the sun exposed a fraction of itself to the snow-drenched Zurich morning. He felt detached from time and the mechanics of normal day-and-night routines, and the sunrise had no meaning to him other than to clarify that he had one less day to capture Megiddo. It could have been five or ten minutes before he heard Patrick’s phone ring quietly. He turned and watched the CIA man
stand motionless as he listened to whoever was speaking on the other end. When the call was over, Patrick picked up Will’s camera. “We can’t identify which of them are Qods Force men, and that comes as no surprise. But we can identify which ones are, without doubt, not members of the Human Benevolence Foundation.” He nodded at the digital image. “Jamshed Alavi. Male. Born thirteenth of June, 1979, in Bandar-e ’Abbas.” He smiled. “Gulistan Nozari. Male. Born twenty-ninth of April, 1956, in Esfahan.”
Will exhaled and smiled. Due to his age, Gulistan Nozari was the one man on the eleven-person list who was senior enough to be Megiddo.
“We should put him under immediate surveillance, get a photograph of him, and show that shot to Lana.” Patrick’s voice was strident. “If she says it’s Megiddo, we don’t have to wait for her to meet him. Instead we grab him and interrogate the man.”
Will spoke quietly, deep in thought. “That’s not the correct course of action.”
Patrick looked sharply at him. “Why the hell not? Harry’s given you a damn good lead that has potentially enabled us to bring a quick end to Megiddo’s mission. Give me one reason”-he paused for a moment-“that my instruction is not correct?”
“I can give you three reasons. One: Lana knew Megiddo when he was a much younger man. Even if we get a good photo, she still may be uncertain that it’s him. Two: We know from the Kljujic experience that Megiddo is savvy to the threat of potential observers.”
“Roger, Laith, Ben, or Julian would not be spotted. They’re in a different league from someone like Kljujic.”
Will held his hand up in protest. “But the risk is still there, and if there is some compromise while trying to photograph him, we may lose Megiddo for good.” He cleared his throat. “Three: We’ve got no need to make such a reckless move when we have Lana in direct communication with Megiddo. I remain convinced that this is the only true route to guaranteeing his capture.”
“How long, though?” The anger in Patrick’s voice seemed coupled with frustration.
Will studied Patrick briefly before saying, “Are you under pressure now to get this finished?”
Patrick laughed, but the sound was false and sarcastic, and he stopped abruptly. “Alistair and I have always been under pressure to get this finished. Megiddo is holding a mighty sword over the United States or the United Kingdom, and both my president and your prime minister know that he could strike at any time. Our premiers are both leaders of men, and they trust Alistair and me to do our job. But they’re waiting day and night by their phones to get the call from one of us saying it’s done.” Patrick pointed a finger at Will. “A call telling them that Will Cochrane has done his job.”
Will nodded understanding and checked his watch. “Then let me do my job. My breach of the HBF offices has given us insurance. If all else fails, we can always blow open this operation, track Gulistan Nozari via his passport, and then lift him with the help of Central European forces. But all else has not yet failed.”
“Do you expect the premiers to share your confidence?”
“I don’t care what they think. But I demand that you share my confidence.”
Will opened his cell phone and listened to Harry’s information. The agent spoke for nearly two minutes. Will closed his phone and smiled.
In her hotel room, Lana lit a cigarette and brushed her hand over the letter. She inhaled deeply on the glowing tobacco and looked apprehensive. Then she pushed the letter across the table toward Will.
He read it and immediately felt a jolt of nausea and panic. It was all he could do to try to control the overwhelming fear he now had, fear for Lana’s safety. He looked at her and asked, “How do you feel about this?”
She tapped ash from her cigarette, and Will noticed that her hand trembled a little. “How do you feel about this?” She smiled. “Of course, I know how you feel.”
Will said nothing. He felt helpless.
Lana said, “You knew that it would come to this. You knew that I had to meet him. You know that it’s what I want. And I know you did everything you could to stop me from doing this.”
Will shook his head. “None of which changes anything. I don’t want to lose you.”
Lana sighed. She crushed her cigarette and immediately lit another. “It will seem odd to meet him in that city.”
Will tore himself away from his thoughts and fears. “It makes sense. After all, it’s where this whole thing started for you.”
Lana huffed. “He chose the location because for some reason it will be convenient to him. He’s not the type of man to place stock in symbolism or symmetry.”
Will observed her for a moment. “You don’t have to do this. You still have the chance to walk away.”
Lana took another drag and looked intently at Will. “But if I did that, I would be walking away from the one chance I have to take my revenge on Megiddo.” Then she smiled. “And I would also be walking away from you.” She shook her head. “I’m not going to walk away. I need to do this.” She drew a deep breath. “I received a call from my mother this morning. She sounded like she was in a state of exultant shock. She said an anonymous donor had sent her thirty thousand dollars.” Lana smiled. “You told me that you would help us only when this was finished. But it must have been you who gave her the money.”
Will felt uncomfortable. He wondered what he should say. He looked at his hands. “The money is simply to help her while you are away. But what I really want to give her. . what I really want to return to her safe and well. . is you.”
Dear Lana,
You are right to feel anger and frustration. My imperative to speak to the British man drove me to impetuosity and momentary lack of care for our arrangement. That will not happen again.
I will give you the protection and counsel you need. I will give you the chance to know me again.
Time, however, has become a crucial issue. The embassy can no longer be used to reach me, but that is of no concern, because we must now progress matters beyond written communication. We must meet in three days’ time at ten A.M. in the Black Swan cafe on Ferhadija Street in Sarajevo. I will expect to see you there.
Yours,
Megiddo
Thirty-One
Will drove for four hours on hill and mountain roads before he arrived at the place. It was nearly dark now, but the church before him had exterior lights illuminated, and they cast a dim glow over the area around the building. Beyond the place there was nothing but mountains and forest.
He turned off the ignition and stepped out into an icy Bosnian wind. Everywhere was thick with snow, and the wind blew snow dust into his face. He looked around. There was only one other vehicle near the church, and it was caked in ice. He wondered if it had been abandoned due to the weather. He could not imagine even the most devout person making the journey up to this isolated mountain church on this night. It seemed to him that God had momentarily abandoned the religious site and everything around it.
Will trudged through the snow with his head tilted low to try to protect his face from the needles of ice that were now shooting horizontally at him and to force his way through the power of the wind until he reached the church and the shelter its walls provided. He brushed off ice and water, then looked around again. The place did feel as if it were beyond life and normality.
He turned the handle of the church door and welcomed the warmth and silence that greeted him from within. He stepped forward, stamped his shoes to release them from clinging snow, and the noise of his doing so reverberated around the church’s inner walls. The place was small, and Will estimated that at full capacity it would be able to hold no more than fifty people in prayer. He shut the door and chafed his icy bare hands to restore some circulation. The space was quite dark, but there were some corner lamps that gave sufficient light for him to see the empty wooden pews, the altar, the religious icons, and little else. He removed his overcoat and walked a ways up the center aisle before stopping. Everything within the thick walls was quiet. He la
id his coat over the back of one of the pews and stood still in his immaculate bespoke suit. He had dressed to show respect for this place and his presence here.
He breathed deeply and moved along a pew before sitting to face the icons. A statue of Mary Magdalene seemed to be staring at him. Her face looked sorrowful and scared.
A noise came from Will’s right, and he half turned to a light and a man. The light belonged to an oil lamp, and the man holding it was clearly this church’s priest. He approached Will and said something in Serbian. Will shrugged in a way that he hoped looked apologetic and said, “I am sorry, I don’t speak your language.”
The priest came nearer and frowned. He looked middle-aged and had a smooth face and lacquered hair. He smiled. “I have some English-enough English to advise you that you must be mad to have made this trip here tonight.”
Will also smiled. He wondered why this church had been built in such a harsh part of this country. He wondered if it had been done in order to test people’s commitment to their faith. He returned his gaze toward the figure of Mary.
The priest sat on the pew next to him, placed the lamp between them, and followed Will’s gaze. “She is in need of some new paint.” The priest’s voice echoed a little. “She carries a heavy burden and has grown tired. But her eyes still see and understand everything.”
Will nodded and looked back at the man. “Am I intruding here?”
The priest shook his head. “The doors to my church are open to everyone.” He smiled crookedly. “Even though most people choose not to come here anymore.”