by Matthew Dunn
Harry blew out smoke. “That was down to me. I established that before the concert the Metropolitan Opera House was to undergo some major renovations, particularly to the stage, the floors, and the auditorium and balcony seats. Because of the amount of mess caused by the renovations, I knew that the place would need extra cleaners during the week preceding the concert. I set up a company, approached the management office, said my company specialized in professional cleaning work, said I had a team of five people I could subcontract to the building, and said that they were very reliable and cheap, and could do aerial cleaning work if required. The management office snapped up my offer because they were desperate to get the place looking good for the event but were still short-staffed. Megiddo chose four of his men and one woman to bring in thirty bombs over the course of five days. The bombs were small-each of them is about the size of a thin paperback book, and the bombers could easily conceal them on their persons as they came and went from the building during the course of those days.” He massaged his temples. “The cleaning work required a thorough cleaning of not only the ground level but also the vast ceiling area. Most of the bombs were to be secreted in ceiling alcoves, much too high to be seen and detected, and in any case they were all caked in wax to minimize scent.”
“All the bombs were found and safely removed by the FBI.” Will frowned. “How did the bombers pass security checks to work there?”
Harry extinguished his cigarette with a shaking hand. “Megiddo identified a woman in the Western intelligence community who was senior, who had the ability to wipe clean the records of the bombers minutes before they entered this country-and who had financial problems.”
Will looked sharply at Harry. “Who is that person?”
“I don’t know. Megiddo decided that the woman was very useful and that her identity had to be protected. But I do know that the individual was not told why she needed to wipe clean the records. Instead she removed any traces showing that the bombers were IRGC, took Megiddo’s money, and kept her mouth shut.”
“Even though that woman did not know why the individuals’ records had to be erased, she’s still a traitor. She’ll be found and punished.”
Harry sighed.
Will gripped his gun. “How did Lana get into the opera house?”
“It was never the plan for her to be there.” Harry shrugged. “The easiest thing for her to do would have been to take the identity of the female bomber in my cleaning crew.”
Will nodded. “Megiddo came to me at the end. Why?”
Harry shook his head. “He was diagnosed with cancer. The assault on the opera house and the wars that would follow were to be his final work, his greatest masterpiece. He realized that he would not be alive long enough to fulfill his ambitions to lead the Arab and Persian nations.” He met Will’s eyes. “As soon as he found out who you were, it was always his intention to come to you when he felt that nothing could stop the bombs from going off. He wanted you to know about his father before he killed you. But he also knew that you might kill him, so his plan was to tell you about the opera house, knowing that you would go there and die. He had nothing to lose and everything to gain by coming to you.” He exhaled slowly and raised the palms of his hands. “That’s all I know.”
Will moved his finger over his gun’s trigger.
Harry looked at him and smiled. “You were not what I expected. You made me see things differently. That’s why I decided to tell you everything about Megiddo’s plan when I was due to meet you at my house.” His smile faded. “But Megiddo discovered my treachery and came to my house to kill me. I escaped only because you arrived and he had to hide himself.” Harry carefully withdrew another cigarette from the pack on the desk, lit it, and examined the burning tip before looking at Will. He smiled again, but this time the look held sorrow. “I worked for Megiddo because he told me that if I did not do so, he would release my name and location to various Bosnian Serb men who would take pleasure in tearing me apart for what my men did in that Serbian village during the war. I worked for Megiddo because I was a coward who wanted to protect my own neck, even if that meant the deaths of millions.” He sighed. “I couldn’t do it in the end.” He brought the cigarette to his mouth, inhaled smoke, and nodded once. “But I deserve to die in this house, and I am glad it is you, not Megiddo, who is going to be my executioner.”
Will glanced at the two Special Forces men. “Leave the room. I don’t want you to witness what is about to happen.”
The men walked out.
Will picked up a chair, positioned it directly opposite Harry, and sat down. He placed the muzzle of his gun against the agent’s forehead and asked quietly, “Are you ready for this?”
Harry nodded. “I am.”
“Is there anything you wish to say to me before I pull the trigger?”
Harry smiled. “Your men told me you killed Megiddo. I am glad that I am about to die knowing that you won and he lost.”
Will nodded, stood, held the muzzle flush against Harry’s forehead, readied his finger against the trigger, and braced his body so that it was still. He breathed deeply and relaxed his hand. “I am not going to kill you, Harry. You’re too useful to me.”
He lowered his gun.
Harry frowned.
Will looked toward the windows of the mountain chalet. He looked at the Alps beyond them. He looked over the Swiss mountains to the east. He smiled, turned, and looked at Lace. When he stopped smiling, he spoke with steel in his voice. “I have a new mission, Harry. You are a man of means. You have particular, rare talents and connections. You can help me.”
Spartan raised his gun again and pointed it at the agent. “People are either my allies or my enemies. Which one are you?”
FB2 document info
Document ID: fbd-ebdd59-e45f-024b-cab8-4df6-2cfc-9f44ff
Document version: 1
Document creation date: 25.06.2013
Created using: calibre 0.9.35, Fiction Book Designer, FictionBook Editor Release 2.6.6 software
Document authors :
Matthew Dunn
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