by Matthew Dunn
Patrick exhaled slowly. “An NSA report like this is automatically sent to the Central Intelligence Agency, the Federal Bureau of Investigation, and the Department of Homeland Security.”
The anger in Will was immediate. He jumped up and kicked his chair away from him. “How could you let this happen, Patrick? The Iranians will be grabbed, and then everything will be lost.”
Alistair shouted, “William, shut your mouth!”
Will had never before heard the man raise his voice.
Alistair came very close to him, cupped a hand around the back of Will’s neck, and quickly pulled his head within inches of his own. His next words were quiet and strong. “Don’t presume anything.”
Will pulled away from him and looked at Patrick. His heart was now pounding with emotion. “I told you to have confidence in my abilities.”
Patrick remained silent. He sat, crossed his legs, and placed the tips of his fingers together. Then he looked at Will. “The NSA report was shown to me two days ago while it was still in draft form. I read it and came to a conclusion. I got into a car and drove to Baltimore to see the director of the NSA. Because of who I am, the man gave me an audience, coffee, and some nice cookies. I gave him an ultimatum: destroy this report, or I would destroy the whole Hubble project on the basis that one percent of it was absolute rubbish.”
Will frowned, looking at Alistair and Patrick.
His Controller nodded once at Will and spoke quietly. “Patrick has prevented the Iranians from being touched. He has prevented the operation from faltering. He has done something that you do not have the power to do.” He narrowed his eyes. “We both have confidence in your abilities, William. But we do not wish to see our dead friend’s son be torn apart by others if he fails.”
He exchanged a brief glance with Patrick and then continued. “Patrick and I are untouchable. You are not. If there is any doubt in your mind”-his voice sounded forceful-“any doubt that you may succeed given the greater odds you now face, then you must be honest with us. If we wish it to happen, the NSA report can be recycled through CIA channels and the twenty-five men can still be arrested upon arrival here. We still have time to thwart Megiddo’s plan temporarily.” His voice softened again. “If you have absolute conviction that you will succeed, then the men must be untouched by others. But if you do have any doubt, we can arrange matters so that you can still walk away from this operation with dignity. The alternative to both is beyond our control.”
Will narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “If you touch those men, Megiddo will disappear. Leave them alone, and leave me alone.”
“What happened to you, Nicholas?” Lana’s eyes watered as she looked at his head.
Will had decided not to wait until the morning to remove his bandages but instead had taken the padding off and cleaned himself up as much as possible before meeting his agent in this Plaza Hotel room. “I made a mistake.”
She came to him and placed an arm around his back. She pressed against his body, raising her other hand close to the gunshot wound. Will could feel her breasts and her warmth, and he could smell lotions on her skin.
Lana touched the wound. She moved her fingers and touched his lips. She looked at them, then at his eyes. She pulled him even tighter against her beautiful body and shook her head slowly. “Piece by piece you are being broken.”
Will was alone in his own hotel room. It would be hours before the sun rose and many more before Lana needed to make her walk, but Will had no thoughts of sleep. He stripped and cleaned his P228 handgun, he paced the room, he studied his maps of Boston Harbor again, he poured and drank tea, he showered, he packed and unpacked and repacked ammunition clips, he checked his communications equipment, he exercised, he showered again, and he sat.
And then he wondered what mattered to him the most: getting his revenge on Megiddo or keeping Lana safe. He decided both mattered in equal measure. Both mattered to him more than anything else in his life right now.
Forty
“It’s started. She’s on her way.” Roger’s voice was clear and measured.
Will pulled his windbreaker’s hood up over his earpiece so that his head was covered, and he began to jog slowly down Boston’s Boylston Street. The road had been partially cleared of snow, but to his left he could see that Boston Common, populated with daytime strollers and frolicking families, was still carpeted with the stuff. He crossed the street and slowed to a walk until he was at the southeast tip of the Common. He checked his watch and listened.
“She’s moving up Charles Street toward Boylston. Will, get off that street and move up Tremont. Everyone else, maintain your positions.”
Will followed Roger’s instruction and came to a stop when he was three hundred meters along Tremont Street. A northerly wind coursed along the route and brought with it new and heavy snow. People were moving around him, and some, it seemed, had decided to get off the streets and out of the park to take shelter in shops and cafes. He rubbed his bare hands together and waited for Roger to speak again.
The man did so within a few seconds. “I’m behind her on Boylston, and so are three of her watchers.”
Will knew that right now only Roger could see Lana and the Iranians who were following her. Ben would be waiting in a vehicle to the south on Washington Street, Laith would be on foot to the east on Essex Street, and Julian would be standing over the dead in the Common’s Central Burying Ground. Will scrutinized the people around him, but nobody here looked out of place.
“She’s moving south down Tremont Street. Hold.”
Will waited thirty seconds until he heard Roger’s voice again.
“She’s gone left onto Lagrange Street. I’m going to stay back for a while. Laith, move to the end of Essex Street and then move to a stop on South Street so that you’re ahead of her. Julian, take over Laith’s current position on Essex and move as quickly as you can. Everyone else, hold.”
Will looked back down the street. In the distance he saw a man sprint across the road and knew that the man was Julian.
“Okay, she’s moving ahead onto Beach Street and Chinatown. Ben, get your vehicle onto Hudson Street.” Roger’s audible breathing suggested he was either walking quickly or running. “I’m moving closer to her now.”
Laith spoke. “Two men are waiting near me. They’re definitely part of the team.”
Five members of the Iranian surveillance team had now been spotted.
Roger spoke. “Will, time for you to move east. Your destination is Milton Place. Try to be there in three minutes.”
Will immediately sprinted. He headed off Tremont Street and past the Ritz-Carlton Hotel before moving onto Essex Street. He dodged pedestrians and cars, trying not to lose traction on the ice- and snow-covered pavement. He knew that passersby were watching him and no doubt wondering what he was doing, but he didn’t care. All he did care about was meeting Roger’s exacting deadline. He ran up Lincoln Street and Devonshire Street before turning right onto Milton Place and stopping. He checked his watch, panting. He had completed the thousand-meter run in just over two and a half minutes. He depressed his pressel switch and gasped, “I’m here.”
Roger replied, “Excellent. Laith, move up to the InterContinental. Ben, get your vehicle onto Matthews Street. Our lady’s now going north.” There was silence for a while before the CIA team leader spoke again. “Yes, the other two men have joined my three. Julian, get down onto the Harbor Walk. Will, go to the Langham Hotel on Franklin Street.”
Will sucked in a lungful of air and ran again. He moved up Federal Street before turning right toward his destination. As he neared the Langham, he heard Laith’s voice say, “I’ve got another one at the InterContinental.”
Six members of the Iranian surveillance team were now accounted for.
Will brushed snow from his shoulders and waited several minutes. He watched people coming and going from the Langham, watched them moving along Franklin Street carrying bags and with their heads low to shield themselves f
rom the driving snowfall, and saw cars moving tentatively forward with headlights switched on to guide their path through the blizzard. He watched all those things, but he did so while mentally picturing the surroundings of the InterContinental Hotel.
“Laith, a vehicle’s just passed me and our lady.” Roger spoke quickly. “It’s a Dodge Durango SUV and is moving toward your position.”
“Seen.” Laith picked up the commentary. “One man in the vehicle. His vehicle slows. It stops by the hotel. The other man moves up to it and waits.”
The driver had to be the seventh man of the surveillance team.
Roger spoke. “You should have sight of our lady.”
Laith replied, “I do. Hold.” The radio went silent for a few moments. “My man on foot is walking away from the vehicle. The driver remains inside the vehicle. The engine is on.”
“Yeah, I’ve got him.” Roger’s voice sounded tense. “He’s coming straight toward us. My five are moving closer to her. So is the man. He stops before her. Everyone stops. I can see him talking to her. He places a hand on her elbow. He walks with her toward the vehicle.” There was a split-second sound of nothing before Roger said loudly, “They’re going to put her in the car. Ben, pick Will up now.”
Will felt his heart start to race. He reached for his pressel switch and was about to tell Roger to stop the Iranians. He thought, he cursed, he knew it was probable that Lana was simply being taken to another predetermined location in Boston, and he knew that if he did anything now to stop her, he would not only destroy the mission but also endanger Lana. He withdrew his hand from the radio mike. He looked up and down his street, and as he did so, he heard Laith again.
“She gets into the vehicle. So does the man, and so do two of the five walkers.”
Will saw Ben’s Range Rover Sport driving toward him at speed and in the wrong direction on the one-way street. The car skidded a little as it came to a stop, and he jumped into the vehicle. Ben said nothing and drove on.
Will depressed his pressel switch to speak to Roger. “We’re mobile.”
“You’re in luck. They’re moving toward you along Pearl Street.”
Ben braked, and their four-wheel-drive vehicle shuddered to a halt. Will looked at Ben and saw that the man was staring ahead grimly. He also saw Ben’s hand reach down next to him toward the vehicle’s handbrake and a sawed-off Remington 870 shotgun.
Roger sounded nearly breathless. “You should be able to see them at the Pearl Street and Franklin Street intersection any moment. .”
Ben looked in his rearview mirror.
“. . now.”
Ben forced their vehicle backward at speed and swung it around to face the intersection. He moved the car quickly forward, and they reached the intersection in seconds. They turned right onto Pearl Street, driving in the wrong direction on the one-way street for about one hundred meters before Will could see the large Dodge Durango. Ben had the windshield wipers at maximum power to try to aid his vision through the snowfall, but the weather was becoming so bad that the car ahead of them appeared and disappeared with each movement of the wipers.
Ben muttered, “We’ve got to get closer to them.”
They watched the vehicle turn right onto Milk Street, and for a moment they didn’t see it at all. Ben made the turn so that they were on the same street. Will frowned. The Dodge was stationary and had its hazard lights flashing.
“Fuck. I’ve got to keep driving.” Ben kept the vehicle moving forward, and Will knew that he was doing so because to stop would look suspicious.
They drove steadily toward the Dodge, and Will didn’t dare look at it as they cruised past the target vehicle. As they reached the next intersection, Ben turned right onto Oliver Street and stopped their car. “Get out and get close to their vehicle on foot. Something’s wrong.”
Will walked steadily back up Oliver Street until he was at its junction with Milk. There were sufficient pedestrians and other vehicles on the route for him not to seem out of place, and he scanned left and right before crossing. That brief look had allowed him to see inside the target vehicle. His heart began pounding as he reached the other side of the road, but he kept his pace normal, and instead of walking toward the Dodge he continued up Oliver Street until he felt sure that he couldn’t be seen by anyone in the vehicle. He spoke to Roger. “There’re only two people in the target vehicle, and our lady’s not one of them.”
“Damn. Laith, move up Pearl Street. Ben, get onto Federal Street and wait there. Julian, move up the Harbor Walk until you’re parallel with Oliver Street. Will, you’re the only man to the north, so cover what ground you can there in case she’s gone in that direction.”
Will thrust his hands into his pockets, where he could feel his handgun. He walked quickly but could not run now for fear of tripping over Lana and her two Iranian custodians. He moved west along Kilby Street, Hawes Street, then Congress Street before turning east along Exchange, then Water Street, then turning south on Broad Street and then west again, so that he was back where he’d started. On this route he had seen two buses, eighteen moving cars, sixty-three pedestrians, and one Boston PD vehicle, but he had not seen what he was looking for. Snow fell around him, and he cursed the weather and everything else. He spoke to Roger. “Nothing.”
“Understood. Ben, anything?”
“Nothing.”
“Then we must assume she’s traveling back toward the harbor. Laith, stay still on Pearl Street. Julian, don’t move. I’m going to Batterymarch Street. Will, I need you in Christopher Columbus Park to the northeast, and get there fast.”
Will moved now with no care for accidentally betraying his presence to the Iranian team. He ran back up Kilby Street and along State Street and Atlantic Street until he was at the small harbor-adjacent park. He bent forward and placed his hands on his knees while inhaling rapidly. Then he stood upright and looked around. Children were throwing snowballs. Adults stood nearby watching them. But there was nothing else. He kicked at snow.
“Possible sighting.” The voice belonged to Laith.
Will froze and quickly pressed a hand against his hood and the earpiece beneath it. He waited and counted in his head. He ignored the freezing air that came from the harbor waters to hit his face. He ignored all things that were not relevant. He listened and waited for Laith to speak again.
“One woman and two men. They’re walking toward my position, but on the other side of the street.” Laith’s voice was quiet, and Will strained to hear him over the wind and the city noises. “I can’t yet confirm it’s them.”
Will took two involuntary and pointless steps forward while continuing to hold his hand against his head. Nobody else spoke. They would all be waiting for Laith to speak again.
“Getting closer. Give me ten seconds.” Laith’s voice was even quieter.
Will counted the seconds. He imagined that his whole team would be doing the same.
“It’s them. It’s definitely our lady.”
Will inhaled deeply.
Roger’s voice was instant and urgent. “Laith, let them pass and then follow. Julian, get alongside Seaport Boulevard. Ben, get your vehicle onto Atlantic Avenue and hold wherever you can. They might go mobile again.”
“Where do you want me?” Will pictured the layout of the area they were in.
“Stay where you are.”
“I should be closer to her.” Will could feel the tension in his own voice.
“Stay where you are.”
Will was about to speak again when he heard Laith’s voice. “They’re going straight toward the harbor.”
Will felt useless. He looked along the Harbor Walk before him, but he knew that Lana and her escorts would be at least nine hundred meters away from him.
Julian spoke. “I see them. They’re coming right at me.”
“Okay, Julian. Laith, hold back and let Julian pick up the slack.” Roger’s voice sounded calm again. “I’m holding position to their northwest in case they double back.”
Will walked back and forth to get his circulation moving.
Julian spoke again. “They’re breaking left along the Harbor Walk.”
Will stopped moving. Lana was walking toward his position along the harbor.
“I’m ahead of them.” Julian sounded relaxed. “Suggest you put two others in so that we have a three-man perimeter around them.”
“Agreed,” replied Roger. “Laith, get in behind. I’ll move in closer to cover their west.”
Will smiled for the first time on this day. Lana and her shepherds were now trapped between Julian, Roger, Laith, and the waters of Boston Harbor. He listened to commentary from Laith and Julian.
“She’s on Rowes Wharf.”
“She passes the Boston Harbor Hotel.”
“Three members of the team have just overtaken me. They’re joining our lady and the other two.”
He heard Roger’s voice. “I’ve got one man heading toward them along East India Row.”
He heard Ben speak. “I’m in position on Atlantic, but it’s difficult to remain static here. Hold.” Will heard engine noises behind Ben’s voice. “The Dodge Durango has just passed me. But it’s going slow.”
“A mobile extraction is still probable.” Roger’s voice was no longer calm.
“She’s just broken right onto the Central Wharf.” Laith’s voice was also tense. “Julian, you should have her.”
Julian’s voice responded immediately. “Of course. Our lady and team are sixty meters behind me. They’ll be passing the aquarium now.”
Will stamped his feet against the cold. Children were still playing around him, and their noises were interspersed with the whistles of the harbor’s winter wind. He looked out at the water and saw that despite the blizzard and the cold and the rocky sea, the place was alive with vessels carrying cargo and tourists and workers. He rubbed ice from his face and turned back to look at the Harbor Walk. Its zigzag path and intervening buildings prevented Will from having a clear sight of it, but he knew that Lana was now only two hundred meters away from him and less than a hundred meters from Long Wharf. He stared at the pier and saw Julian walking slowly toward him. He heard Roger speak.