Spycatcher s-1

by Matthew Dunn

  “No, you don’t.”

  The man briefly looked over his shoulder before looking at Will. He was breathing fast. “I imagine that you came here to get on a flight out of Saranac Lake. But there won’t be any flights now while the local police think you’re still at large within their jurisdiction.”

  Will nodded. “I need your car, your cell phone, and the keys to this building.”

  The man appeared to be on the verge of panic. “If you take those things, I’ll have to try to walk back to the village with no means of letting anyone know where I am.”

  “That’s the idea.”

  The man looked up at the sky. “I’m overweight and unfit, and in this weather I’m not sure I’d make it. I’ll probably freeze to death.” He looked at Will in total panic. “Is. . is that what you want?”

  Of course the man was right. He was middle-aged, at least forty pounds overweight, and looked as though he’d dressed in a hurry and with no intention of spending more time than he needed away from his home or his heated SUV. Will kept his gun trained on the man. “Throw me your cell phone.”

  The man reached into a breast pocket, pulled out his cell, and tossed it onto the ground by Will’s feet. Will slammed the heel of a boot onto the phone, smashing it into pieces. “Stand up and walk two paces away from your vehicle.”

  The man hesitated for a moment before standing. “Please don’t do this.” One of his legs was shaking. “Please. I’ll die.”

  Will kept his gun pointed at the man and slowly walked around the vehicle until he was by the front passenger door. “You will if you stand there. Get back into the car. You’re going to drive me out of here.”

  Will entered the vehicle and gripped his gun over his lap, pointing at the driver’s seat. The man entered, exhaled loudly, looked at Will, and turned the key in the ignition. He drove the car forward.

  They moved out of the airport complex toward Route 186. When they reached the end of the airport road, the man stopped the vehicle and asked, “Where are we going?”

  “Anywhere away from Saranac Lake.” Will looked at the driver. “But I do need to head south.”

  The man looked to his left along Route 186. “Then we’ll have to drive through the village.”

  Will quickly placed his gun against the man’s temple and said nothing.

  The man glanced sideways but did not move his head. He looked terrified and spoke rapidly. “We can take a different route. We can go right instead, go southwest on one eighty-six and thirty so that we’re traveling on the west side of Upper Saranac Lake.”

  Will held the gun still for a moment before lowering the weapon. “All right.”

  The man swung the SUV right so that it was on 186. Will frowned in thought. “What did the police officers say to you?”

  “You saw them with me?”

  Will nodded.

  The man breathed in deeply as he drove. “They said that they were looking for an extremely dangerous man. They said that they were guarding another two very dangerous men at the Adirondack Medical Center. They said they were getting early reports that something very big had happened near one of the lakes.”

  Not good. Will had hoped that darkness and the severe weather would delay the police from finding out what had happened at Lower Saranac Lake until the morning. “How many cops will have been drafted into this area to look for me?”

  The man wiped his brow. “How would I know? I’m not in law enforcement.”

  Will shouted, “No, but you run an airport, which will have very close links to the emergency services! You’ll have some idea!”

  The man’s eyes widened, and he nodded quickly. “We had an incident a year back. The pilot of one of our planes radioed ahead that a passenger was acting suspiciously, that there were concerns he was a terrorist. We told the pilot to keep his course toward our airport. We also told the police, and within forty-five minutes they had thirty-five men and twenty vehicles encircling the airport. Most of them had been called in from the neighboring towns.”

  Will glanced at the speedometer and asked, “Is this route well used?”

  The man shook his head. “Most traffic will go via Saranac Lake. I doubt we’ll see many vehicles on this road at this time of night.”

  “Then drive faster.”

  The man accelerated. The car was now quite warm, and Will could feel his clothes defrosting.

  The man asked in a strained voice, “What should I say if we’re stopped by the police?”

  “If we’re stopped by the police, you won’t have to say anything, because by that time it will be too late for words.”

  The man darted a look at him. “Who are you?”

  “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Well, I can tell that you’re not from around here.”

  Will pressed his gun hard into the man’s flabby belly. “Just drive.”

  There were no road lights on the route. Windshield wipers were straining to try to combat the snowfall, and the car’s headlights were their only guide on the lonely road. Soon they were traveling beside a very large lake, which Will saw from road signs was Upper Saranac.

  Will looked at the man. “Have you got a map of the state?”

  The man nodded toward the dashboard. “My GPS is the best route finder.”

  “That’s no good to me. I just need a map.”

  “There should be one in the glove compartment.”

  Will opened the compartment and found the map. He studied it for a while and made a decision. “You’re going to drive me to Albany.”

  The man shook his head. “In this weather that could take up to three hours.”

  “You’d better drive quickly, then.” Will rubbed his face and felt his muscles and skin tingle as coldness within them was replaced with warmth. “What time are you expected home?”

  The man shrugged. “In my line of work, I’m often called out at odd times and I often have to stay out for chunks of time.” He smiled a little. “I run an airport. Many things go wrong.” He glanced at Will. “I’m not going to lie to you and say that my wife will call the police unless I’m back soon.”

  Will studied the man. He knew that someone would have to be smart to do the job he did, that he would be rapidly assessing Will and his situation just as Will was now assessing him, that the man had just told him the truth because he’d decided that Will would have spotted a lie, and that the man had decided to cooperate with him in full so that he could stay alive and return home safely. But he wondered if the man now suspected that Will was not a criminal, that something unusual was happening in this part of the country.

  Will said quietly, “I have no intention of hurting you. Just get me to Albany, leave me there, and go home.”

  The man chuckled, although he still sounded nervous. “You know I’ll call the cops once you’re gone.”

  Will nodded. “Of course you will.”

  They drove for an hour and saw no other vehicles on the road. They drove for another hour and during that time saw only three vehicles pass them from the opposite direction, but all of them looked normal. Forest and mountains and occasional strips of water straddled their route. Everywhere looked uninhabited.

  Will checked his watch. It was now 3:00 A.M. He asked, “How long before we reach Albany?”

  “We’ve made good time. I’d say another twenty to thirty minutes.” The man glanced quickly at his rearview mirror and frowned before returning his eyes to the road ahead.

  Will instantly looked at the mirror on his side and saw headlights behind them. They were approximately four hundred meters away, but they seemed to be moving fast. He gripped his gun and ordered the man next to him, “Keep going the way you are unless I tell you otherwise.”

  The lights were drawing closer. Will desperately tried to establish what kind of car the lights belonged to, but the glare and the driving snowfall made his task impossible. The vehicle was now about three hundred meters behind them. Will checked the speedometer. They
were currently traveling much faster than the road’s speed limit, moving at nearly 150 kilometers per hour. The car behind them was clearly traveling faster.

  Will gripped his handgun and said, “Pull over quickly and stop.”

  The driver’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, and he did as Will instructed.

  “Turn the engine off and give me the keys.” He looked at the man and smiled. “I’m going to get out of the car and wouldn’t want you driving off without me.”

  The man turned off the ignition and handed the keys to Will. Will exited the SUV and walked to the rear. He faced the oncoming vehicle. He kept his gun hidden in one hand behind his back. He waited.

  The vehicle was about two hundred meters away but was still hidden behind its headlights. Will watched it come closer, watched it dip its headlights, moved his gun a little, and now clearly saw that the vehicle had the markings of a police car.

  Will stood still. The vehicle was now about five hundred feet away. He kept still and waited. It moved toward him until it was three hundred feet away. Will decided that now was the moment for him to act. He dropped into a crouch, swept his gun in front of him, shot the front near-side tire, saw it skid and swerve to the left, shot the front far-side tire, watched the vehicle slump forward a little and swerve back toward the center of the road, sent three shots into the car’s engine block, and watched it shudder to a halt. He turned, walked back to the SUV, entered the vehicle, handed the keys to the driver, and said, “Let’s go.”

  The man started the engine, fully depressed the accelerator, and shook his head as the vehicle lunged forward along the road. “What the hell did you just do?”

  Will responded calmly, “The occupants of the car behind us were police officers. Things would have been very bad if I’d allowed them to get too close to us. So I just saved their lives.” He glanced behind him and saw men exiting the police car, but he knew that they were too far away now for the men to shoot them. But he also knew they would radio for help. “Drive very fast now.”

  Within ten minutes the lights of the city of Albany were before them. Will looked at the driver. “Are you familiar with this city?”

  The driver nodded. “I come here about once a month.”

  “Good. Use any route you can find to get me into the city, but get off this road as soon as you can.”

  Within minutes the man took a right turn so that they were on a different road. Within another few minutes, the man had changed roads twice more. Buildings were now around them. The city was now around them.

  “Now drive at normal city speed limits.” Will pulled the bullet clip out of his gun, checked its contents, and replaced the clip into the MK23. He looked at the man. “Your journey’s nearly at an end.”

  The man glanced down at the gun before looking at Will. He had an expression of pure terror.

  Will shook his head. “In a moment you are going to stop your car, watch me get out of it, and walk away. You will then drive home.”

  The man’s fear seemed to recede. “The police told me that you disarmed but didn’t kill their colleagues in the village. And I just saw you stop a police vehicle but not harm its occupants. Are you sure I wouldn’t believe you if you told me who you are?”

  Will slid his gun into his jacket pocket. He pointed ahead. “Stop over there.”

  The man slowed the vehicle and stopped it on a deserted side street.

  Will sighed and looked at the man. “I brought you here at gunpoint, but nevertheless I’m grateful for your help.” He drew a deep breath and smiled. “You would not believe me if I told you who I am. But you might believe one thing. In less than twenty-four hours’ time, I’m certain all the media channels will be filled with news of an event that will shock the world.” His smile faded. “If I fail in my task, that event will be terrible.” He steeled his expression. “But if I succeed, the media will tell how a terrible event was averted. Either way, you can watch that news and know that you were part of that story, that for a few hours you helped the man who tried to save hundreds, maybe thousands of lives.”

  The man looked back at him, narrowed his eyes, and gave the briefest of smiles. “Even though I come here every month, I always get lost in this city. It’ll probably take me at least an hour to find a public phone to call the police. By that time, if you keep off the streets for the remaining few hours of darkness, you should be nearly impossible to find in this place.”

  Will returned the smile and said, “Drive safely.” He got out of the vehicle, walked, and then jogged away.

  He emerged from the shadows of an alley as early-morning sunshine hit the city of Albany. The sidewalks and roads of the metropolis were caked in frozen snow, and the temperature was still well below zero, but the sunlight made the place look picturesque. Will tried to remember when he’d last seen a sky filled with anything other than snow, clouds, or darkness.

  He checked his watch and saw that it was nearly 8:00 A.M. He felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket and pulled it out. Patrick was calling him. He cursed but knew that the CIA man would have spent a sleepless night wondering what was happening, would have broken operational protocol to call him because he was under immense pressure by the president of the United States and the prime minister of Great Britain to give them an update and was one of the few remaining allies Will had. He wondered what to do. He decided, took a deep breath, answered the phone, and spoke before the man on the other end could say anything.

  “I am alive, Ben and Julian are dead, Roger and Laith are severely injured and are being kept in the Adirondack Medical Center. You need to get them out of there so that they can be taken to an Agency facility. I am in pursuit of our target, but anything else I say at this moment may compromise this mission.”

  He closed his phone and turned it off before Patrick could respond.

  He looked around him. People and cars were moving on streets and roads, and Will joined them. He decided that he needed to buy new clothes and a few other things to make him look normal. He decided that a flight out of Albany’s airport would be too risky. He decided that he would make the final leg of his journey to New York City by train.

  Will entered the train’s bathroom compartment, shut the door behind him, and locked it. He grabbed a handrail to steady himself as the Amtrak train moved forward toward Manhattan. He placed two shopping bags on the floor and pulled out all the items within one of them, setting them on a shelf. The contents of both shopping bags had cost him over fifteen hundred dollars and had been sold to him by Albany shopkeepers who had looked at him as if he were a homeless man who had wandered into their shops from a local shelter. He filled the sink with water, removed his watch, and stripped naked. He soaked his face and applied gel to his stubble. He shaved carefully, then rinsed his face. He filled the bowl with fresh water and used a large towel to soak his entire body. He thrust his head into the sink water and shampooed his hair, then ran the tap and rinsed. He brushed his teeth. He used a hand brush to clean his fingers and under his nails. He dried his head and body with a hand towel before taking lotions from the shelf and applying them to his body and face. He squirted men’s Chanel Platinum Egoiste eau de toilette onto his throat, neck, and wrists. He brushed his short hair and looked at his reflection in the bathroom’s small mirror. His face bore deep lines of fatigue, and his body looked battered, bruised, and broken. But he now looked and smelled very clean and despite appearances to the contrary still felt strong and focused. He pulled out brand-new clothes from one of the other bags and dressed in underwear, a crisp white French-cuff shirt, a black Hugo Boss suit, and matching brogues. He looked at the pile of soiled clothes on the floor and rummaged in their pockets. He pulled out the silenced Heckler amp; Koch MK23 handgun, the three spare clips of bullets, a waterproof plastic envelope containing approximately two thousand dollars, and his cell phone. He secreted them all into his new suit, gathered up the soiled clothes, and placed them in one of the empty bags. He swept the toiletries from the shelf i
nto the other bag, studied himself again in the mirror, decided that he looked good, and walked out of the compartment carrying the two bags. He dropped the bags into an empty part of the train car he was now walking through. He continued forward so that he was heading to the very front of the train. When he reached the lead car, he chose a vacant seat, and looked around at the other passengers. They were reading or talking to one another or looking out the window or sleeping. He checked his watch, and knew that the train would arrive at New York City’s Penn Station in fifty minutes.

  He wondered if he should sleep. He decided that sleep was the very last thing he needed, given that he might be dead in seven hours’ time.

  Forty-Nine

  Will stood on a side street just off Broadway in Washington Heights, Manhattan, and decided that the small hotel before him looked perfect. There were backpackers, badly dressed tourists, and dubious-looking women attached to dubious-looking men constantly coming and going from the place. It looked cheap, and its occupants looked cheap. In Will’s experience, cheap hotels were anonymous and often the best places to go to disappear from unwanted intrusion or to conduct covert meetings. He stepped across the street and entered the building.

  A man stood behind a small reception desk and looked bored as he fiddled with room keys and papers. He glanced up at Will and continued to look bored as Will asked for a room for one night and said that he would be paying with cash. The man took two hundred dollars from Will and asked him for ID. Will told him that he’d lost his ID but was willing to pay him an extra fifty dollars just to get the room. The man hesitated, took the additional money, and gave him a key. He told him that there might or might not be hot water in the room’s bathroom, and that the room’s door lock was sometimes a bit temperamental. He announced that Will was not allowed visitors in his room after 7:00 P.M. but that in truth nobody here would give a damn how many guests he had in his room during the night or when he had them.

  Will took the key and walked up narrow creaking stairs to the hotel’s second floor, squeezing past a short-skirted woman with generously applied makeup as she tottered down the stairway in high heels. He reached the top of the stairs and saw that his room was immediately to his right. He fiddled with the door lock until he felt the bolt snap open and entered the room. It was larger than he expected and had a lounge area, which led to a double bed on the far side of the room. But it smelled musty, and aside from the bed it had only one armchair, a couple of lamps and side tables, a minifridge, and an old-looking TV. He looked out of the room’s window, saw the daylight of New York, and heard the city’s noise.