by Tom Wood
‘Just don’t upload any selfies until you’re back, okay?’
‘I hear you. Will I see my truck again?’
Victor shook his head. ‘I’m sure your sister will wire you money for a replacement.’
‘I don’t want her money.’
The sun was low. A single cloud drifted in front of it, haloed in blazing yellow against the pale sky. Mayes glanced around, then turned; looking, remembering.
‘Hey, where’s my dog? Where’s Archie?’
‘I’m sorry, Ben,’ Victor said.
Mayes’ face pinched. He put his hand over his mouth and turned away from Victor. He stayed turned away for a while.
Victor said, ‘If I could have let you keep him with you in the steading, I would have. I like dogs.’
When he turned back, Mayes said, ‘He was a good dog. The best.’
Victor continued: ‘But if he had made the slightest noise, we’d both be dead and Suzanne would have been next, along with anyone else they found at her sister’s place.’
‘I loved that dog,’ Mayes said. ‘But I understand. He would have laid down his life for us if he could have. He was that dog. In a way, I suppose he did. Where is he?’
‘I buried him,’ Victor said. ‘Out back, under the tree.’
Mayes thought about this, and nodded. ‘Thank you for that.’
Victor shrugged to say You’re welcome.
‘Would you tell Constance something for me?’
‘Sure.’
‘Please tell her I hate her guts. Tell her once all this – whatever it is – is over, I never want to hear from her again. She’s dead to me.’
Victor nodded, then gestured to the truck. ‘I’ll dispose of those bodies elsewhere. I’ve cleaned up inside your house as much as possible, but you’ll need to keep the windows open for the smell. I’ve also had to burn some of your clothes and some of your sheets.’
‘I don’t care about stuff like that. It’s just stuff. Besides, Suzanne is always telling me to update my wardrobe.’ Mayes spotted the wrecked Explorer. ‘What’s that?’
‘It’s their vehicle. It’s a problem. You’re going to have to help me hide it until a more permanent solution can be found.’
‘Can’t you drive it away?’
‘It has four blown tyres and a lot of bullet holes.’
‘Oh,’ Mayes said, then: ‘I have a winch for my pickup. It’s not currently attached, but that won’t take long. If you steer it, I can drag it pretty much anywhere.’
‘Perfect,’ Victor said.
‘We can put it in the barn. No one will find it in there.’
‘The barn’s no good.’
‘Why?’
‘I’ll come to that in a minute,’ Victor said. ‘What about that outbuilding?’
‘It’s full of stuff. Junk. All sorts. We use it as storage.’
‘Can you move things into the house to make room?’
Mayes nodded. ‘Sure, I guess. It’ll take all morning to clear out though.’
‘You don’t need to clear it out, just make enough room for the truck. Do you have fuel for the farm machinery? Gasoline? Diesel?’
‘Of course. Both, why?’
‘You’re going to need to raze the barn to the ground.’
‘What does that mean?’
Victor said, ‘I need you to burn it down.’
Mayes was open-mouthed. ‘You want me to destroy my own barn?’
Victor nodded again, and glanced at where Mayes had vomited. ‘Whatever you do, don’t go inside.’
FIFTY
Victor landed in Helsinki on a flight from Oslo. He had left Scotland later than he would have liked, but disposing of six corpses took time, even for someone as practised as Victor. He arrived tired. It wasn’t a long journey from Scotland, but he hadn’t slept in almost two days. He knew well enough how fatigue not only drained his body but his mind. His alertness was impacted. His awareness reduced. He was used to operating on little-to-no sleep, but it was always to be avoided if possible.
The cold afternoon helped keep him alert as he performed counter surveillance.
When he was satisfied, he bought a prepaid cell phone to check if Leyland had made any progress with Phoenix. She had made significant advances in finding links in the intel from Wilders’ safe. Victor didn’t analyse it yet, because there was a second, more recent message. This one wasn’t an update on Phoenix, but on his other problem. The message was concise.
Alvarez came to see me. He claims to know your identity.
He destroyed the phone, because he always did, and took a breath. He fought the instinct to think about his past, about himself, about who he had been before. It felt so long ago he didn’t have to fight hard. He spent so much energy and thought on surviving the present that his past became ever more distant, ever hazier. But it was real. It existed. He could hide almost every aspect of himself from the world, but not all. He was a killer now, living under a myriad of false identities, but it hadn’t always been that way. If Alvarez knew who he had been, he could find who Victor was now.
He located a payphone to call Raven. She would need time to sync up with him while he considered his next move. ‘I need you in Helsinki.’
There was a pause before she replied, ‘I’m already here.’
Victor didn’t like coincidences. They were almost always bad. He said, ‘Where are you?’
‘Holed up at the safe house.’ She gave him the address.
‘I’ll head straight there.’
Victor didn’t like to hurry, even when he wanted answers. He didn’t know the city well, but he knew it enough to get around in the same way he knew almost every major city in Europe. He spent his life moving from place to place, whether he was working or not. He hadn’t been to Helsinki for a while, but not much had changed since his last visit. It was still clean, still attractive. He saw none of that beauty as he made his way to the address Raven had given him.
She was waiting for him when he arrived.
She didn’t say anything. She hurried towards him as soon as he was through the door and he had to stop himself launching into a pre-emptive attack as she raised her hands. She hugged him. He managed to let her, enjoying the feel of her against him. He placed a palm on her back.
‘Thank you for saving my brother.’
He nodded. ‘You’re welcome.’
‘Is he okay?’
‘Physically, he’s fine.’
‘Mentally?’
‘He’s a normal guy who has experienced his first taste of the real world. He’ll develop some paranoia and mild PTSD. Maybe drink too much. He’ll pick arguments with Suzanne. Usual stuff.’
‘You couldn’t have just pretended, could you?’
‘I’ve told you nothing you didn’t already know.’
She stepped back. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I’ll be forever grateful for what you did.’
He nodded again and backed away. He didn’t like praise at the best of times. He told himself he had never needed it, so it was unnecessary.
Victor said, ‘What are you doing in Helsinki?’
She gestured at the apartment. ‘This is where I ended up. The phone call in Prague was, as we both expected, to give me further instructions. I was told to come here to prepare and wait.’
‘Alone?’
She shook her head. ‘There was a babysitter.’
Victor understood. ‘Where is he now?’
She showed him a corpse in the bathtub. ‘You look worse than he does.’
‘I am a little tired,’ Victor admitted. ‘Is this place safe?’
‘It’s safe enough for now. This guy was here for a few days, as far as I can tell. Seems he arranged it himself. He brought an arsenal with him. There’s been no further contact from the old man or anyone else. I imagine they don’t yet know what happened in Scotland and assume everything is going to plan. But we should go after you get some rest. You look like you could use it.’
‘I do, but it
can wait. I don’t like us being in the same city at the same time.’
‘It was bound to happen, sooner or later. Our worlds cross over, don’t they?’
‘This is too much of a crossover for my taste. I’d like to know why.’
‘Is there a why for people like you and me? Ever think we’re meant for something better? Ever think you were meant to be more than you are?’
Victor shook his head. ‘I’m doing exactly what I was designed to do.’
‘You’ve never wanted to retire?’
‘Sure. Of course. In the early days, when I was beginning to understand that this was not a sustainable profession to be in long term. So I began saving more money, stockpiling resources, preparing a way out. When the job in Paris went wrong, for a moment afterwards, I was out. I was done. I’d decided that was it. I was going to teach climbing or languages or something similarly deluded.’
‘So what changed?’
‘I was shot about a second later.’
‘That would do it.’
‘It made me realise that the world I’d built for myself had become a prison. I told an… acquaintance… of mine I couldn’t retire. But I could. Maybe it would take a week or a month or maybe it would take years, but it wouldn’t last. Eventually they would find me, like they did after Paris. And in retirement I would lose my edge. I wouldn’t see them coming.’
‘There is a certain sense in that attitude, I grant you.’
He said, ‘But that’s all you’re getting from me. Don’t think because we’ve been helping each other I’m going to suddenly reveal the inner me.’
‘It was worth a shot. But okay, enough with the touchy-feely stuff. Let’s talk about the plan. How do you want to do this? I figure keep it simple, but messy. Draw some blood. Wear a vest. I shoot you with plenty of witnesses. You stagger away. Something like that?’
He shook his head. ‘There’s been a change of plan. I need answers before I do anything else.’
‘What answers?’
He nodded. ‘I’ll explain, but later. Now, I need to sleep.’
FIFTY-ONE
There had been a time when Muir had been terrified of public speaking. She hadn’t been outgoing when she was young, she hadn’t been confident; the thought of standing before her peers, looked at, scrutinised, judged, had been her worst nightmare. Those teenage drama days were long gone, and now she couldn’t understand why her younger self had ever been afraid. She didn’t stutter. She didn’t mumble. She wasn’t disfigured. She knew what she was talking about. She could imagine a career post-CIA, lecturing and giving speeches, seminars and classes. She fancied herself touring universities and institutes the world over, teaching what she knew about security, intelligence and terrorism. She knew some ex-Agency staff who earned a small fortune that way. Money had never been a driving factor for Muir, but a nice house in a nice part of town never hurt anyone.
This particular lecture theatre was packed. Mostly students studying for degrees in politics, international relations and other boring subjects, but there were a few scattered adults and she tried to guess which ones were there to make notes for the SVR or PRC or whoever else had too much money and too much paranoia, hoping she might give away a few classified secrets.
Her lecturing style was conversational. She had bullet points projected on the screen behind her, but she had no lengthy notes. No one learned anything from transferring spoken words to paper or digital documents. She tried to engage as much as possible, encourage debate and even argument. She remembered her favourite professors, who had provoked more than taught, conducted more than dictated. She tried to emulate them.
The Finnish students all spoke excellent English. They enunciated better than her for the most part. She enjoyed talking with them.
She knew she had them fully engaged when they spent more time with their eyes forward than at their notebooks and computers. She would go so far as to say they were having fun, if not as much as she was having. It was all going so well until a door at the back eased open and a late arrival slipped through. There were no spare seats so he just stood at the back, arms folded across his chest, and peered down at her.
After that, she couldn’t concentrate. She would lose her train of thought and forget what she was saying. Questions had to be repeated before she understood what she was being asked. Debates lost their fire. Discussion became monotonous. The applause at the end was perfunctory. She didn’t bother to ask if there were any follow-up questions because the students couldn’t escape fast enough.
Only the man at the back stayed behind. He approached down the steps as she collected her things and shook the hands of the university staff who had arranged the visit. She had no doubt they were sincere in their thanks, but she couldn’t take their praise seriously.
After they too had left the lecture theatre, Alvarez said, ‘Fascinating talk.’
‘Is that a joke?’
He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry I missed the start.’
‘That was the best bit. You killed my rhythm.’
‘And why would I do that?’
‘Cut the crap, Antonio. What are you doing here? Are you my stalker now? I have nothing to say to you.’
‘Your travel schedule is no secret. This lecture series has been well advertised. Thought I’d check it out while I was in town.’
‘Why are you in town? Did you think he would be in the audience too? You got the university surrounded by SWAT trucks?’
‘Not exactly, but I have an SAD team on campus for your protection.’
She couldn’t be sure if he was serious or not.
‘What’s going on?’
‘Well, that’s what I intend to find out.’
‘I don’t understand you, because sometimes you act like a certified moron when I know you’re actually quite smart.’
‘Quite,’ Alvarez echoed.
‘You know full well this lecture was scheduled a long time before you came to me. Yet you still felt the need to see it with your own eyes. You couldn’t be sure it was genuine without being here personally. Did you really think it was all an elaborate charade and it would be just me and Tesseract chatting over coffee? Catching up about old times?’
‘Didn’t you tell me you had nothing to do with him?’
Muir scoffed.
‘I’m serious, Janice. This is it. This is the line. You either stay on my side of it, or you cross it and you can never come back over.’
‘Is that the best you can do? Really? Grow up.’
Muir finished collecting her things into her bag, slung it over one shoulder, and headed for the exit.
‘Tesseract’s in town,’ Alvarez said to her back.
It made her stop.
He said, ‘Or he will be real soon. He’s here to take care of some business.’
She turned to face him. ‘I don’t believe you.’
‘I know. Why would you? But why else am I here? I didn’t come all this way to listen to you mumble about the importance of quiet diplomacy. No offence.’
‘What business?’
‘Not fun, being out of the loop, is it?’
‘I don’t have time for this.’
‘I have a feeling you’re going to be missing your flight back.’
‘What business?’ Muir said again.
‘I guess you could say it’s half personal, half business. Maybe unfinished business?’
Muir waited.
Alvarez said, ‘You know something, I never liked to hunt. My dad tried to get me into it, once upon a time. I have too much empathy to enjoy it. Deer have such big brown eyes. Fishing’s different. Hard to care about a fish, right? Turned out to be a pretty good fisherman too. I’ve tried to get my kid interested in it like my dad tried with me and hunting, but sitting patiently with a rod and a line can’t compete with video games, can it?’
‘I wouldn’t know. I don’t have kids. What does any of this have to do with what you’re doing here?’
‘This, all th
is, really comes down to a single, simple question that I asked myself long ago, long before I got this job. How do you find a man without an identity? How do you find a man that doesn’t exist?’
She shook her head because there was nothing else to do.
‘The answer’s simple,’ Alvarez said. ‘In fact, it’s the easiest thing in the world.’
‘I’m listening.’
He stepped towards her. ‘The only thing anyone really knows about this guy is that they don’t know anything. What does that tell you? That there’s nothing to know? No way. He was born somewhere. He had parents. He grew up. He had some kind of life. He has a name. But that no one knows any of these details tells us everything. It tells us that this someone, this Tesseract, this Mr Eighty-Seven Per Cent, is a man who more than anything else wants to be anonymous. This is someone who values that anonymity first and foremost and has constructed his existence so carefully, so precisely, that he’s managed to achieve it. No one knows who he is. He hasn’t done that just by using an alias. He’s erased each and every trace of his identity. He’s killed to protect it. He will kill to protect it.’
Muir was beginning to understand. ‘What have you done?’
‘It’s more a case of what we have done, Janice. You opened up a channel of communication with Monique Leyland, which in turn gave me a direct route to Tesseract himself.’
‘You’ve spoken to her then,’ Muir said, and he nodded. ‘What did you tell her that she told him?’
Alvarez shrugged, like it didn’t matter. ‘Oh, nothing really. I just happened to mention I know who Tesseract really is.’
Muir stared. ‘You lied.’
Alvarez nodded. ‘Of course I lied. No one knows who this guy is. But I want him to think I do – or just that I might. I thought there was a chance that he might come here to talk to you in person, but I know for certain he’ll come here now. He’ll need to know. He’ll have to find out if it’s true. It’ll eat him up otherwise. He can’t live with that risk.’
Muir’s eyes were wide. ‘That’s why you came to Procter, and that’s why you came to me.’
‘You got it. I knew you would encourage him to disappear with me putting pressure on you both, but what you were actually doing was setting things in motion so he would come to me. Kind of thing Procter would do, right? Guess we’re pretty similar after all.’