by Matthew Dunn
“But if that’s the case, why’s the team still holed up in the hotel?”
“Perhaps because Number 1’s hiding in a location that’s known to Mikhail. No doubt it’s an armed camp, too heavily defended for Mikhail and his men to go in there, but the moment Number 1 steps out then Mikhail will activate his team and go for him.”
“A standoff?”
“It’s possible.”
“It would also suggest that Mikhail’s got other assets in situ who are helping him watch Number 1’s place.”
Will agreed. Recalling what the injured Polish AW operative had said to him in Gdansk, he frowned. “Mikhail actively encouraged the Poles to stop Number 1’s men leaving Poland, and by implication he wasn’t concerned if the Poles took possession of the paper. Now we have a standoff between Number 1 and Mikhail, and that would suggest that the paper and Number 1 himself are no threat while they’re locked down in their current location.” He rubbed his face. “I suspect the Russians know that the paper’s useless to anyone except Number 1; and that it’s useless to Number 1 unless he has freedom of movement.”
“But how does Mikhail know the location of Number 1?”
Will shrugged. “Someone close to Number 1 tipped him off, or maybe he’s had him under observation for several weeks.”
“Neither makes sense. An insider would have also tipped him off that the paper was about to be stolen. The Russians would have shot Yevtushenko the moment he tried to get near it.”
“Maybe the insider wasn’t privy to that information.” Will shook his head. “No, you’re right. An insider would have tipped off Mikhail about Number 1’s location because that location had a precise value to the SVR. The value being that a highly valuable SVR paper was about to transit from Moscow to the location.”
Peter nodded. “The same logic would apply to the need to have Number 1 under SVR observation prior to the theft.”
“I agree.” Will was deep in thought. Speaking to himself, he muttered, “Come on. Think, think.”
Peter was silent.
Will frowned. Speaking slowly and deliberately, he said, “I think Mikhail already knew the location of Number 1, maybe had known for years, but had no specific concerns about him. But when the paper was stolen, Mikhail knew the only place it was headed was Number 1’s hands. The Russian tried to stop that happening in Gdansk, but failed. So he then raced to Number 1’s location and has been close to the place ever since.”
“He should have the shooters with him.”
“Yes, he should. Unless . . .” His voice trailed as new thoughts entered his mind. “Unless . . .” One thought stuck. “Movement remains the key. Suppose Mikhail knows that Number 1 has to take the paper to a place that crosses the path of the SVR team.”
“Gives the Berlin boys a head start?”
“Yes, though before you ask, I haven’t got a clue as to where that location is or why the paper needs to be moved.”
“But you do have an idea as to what message Mikhail was relaying to Number 1.”
Will moved right up to the board and drew a line between the last two questions:
Why did he tell Alina that his name was Mikhail?
Who is Number 1?
Will looked at Peter, then wrote three sentences alongside the line connecting these two questions:
My name is Mikhail. Your new Russian friend will tell you what I’m capable of. If you do anything with the paper, I’ll kill you.
Fourteen
Will waited in a side alley close to the Grand Hyatt. He wondered how Adam was faring doing his circuits of the hotel, as it was cold and wet and still very dark.
Roger and Mark walked quickly toward him; Roger was dressed in an expensive suit and overcoat, meaning he’d done the lobby shift; Mark was wearing clothes that were designed to keep him dry and warm, and allow him to move quickly if need be.
They stopped, their faces barely visible in the poor light, and formed a circle with Will.
Will asked, “Is there any pattern to the team’s activities in the hotel?”
Mark shook his head. “None, beyond that the team rarely shows itself.”
“What’s its setup?”
Roger answered, “The men have got four adjacent rooms on the fifth floor.”
“Are the rooms cleaned daily?”
“Yeah, but the men stay in their rooms when that happens.”
“Can we get a universal swipe key off one of the maids or another member of staff?”
“Should be easy, but it ain’t going to be any use while the rooms are always occupied.”
“Not always occupied.”
“True, but the men have appeared in the lobby on their own for no more than sixty seconds before they’ve disappeared back to the elevator.”
“Shit!”
“What would you hope to find in their rooms?”
“Anything that might tell us the whereabouts of their leader.”
Roger shook his head. “We have to assume they’re a professional unit. There just might be something on one of their cell phones, but I doubt it, and I doubt they’ll have anything compromising in their rooms. Plus, when they leave their rooms, they’ll have their cells with them.”
Mark suggested, “We could grab one of the men. Try to make him talk.”
Will looked in the direction of the hotel. “We can’t afford to show our hand. Not yet. Plus, we might actually need the Russian team.” He told them about Mikhail and the possibilities of what was happening.
Roger said, “If true, that means there’s a lot riding on this Mikhail guy. It’s all fine if he alerts his team that Number 1’s on the move. Then we tool up and follow the team. But what happens if Number 1 slips the net before either team gets to him?”
“I think Mikhail knows exactly what he’s doing.” Will looked at both operatives. “If the Russians move at short notice, can you guarantee you can get everyone on them?”
“Without a doubt. Whichever of us is back at Auguststrasse can be with us in ten minutes max with all our kit. We’ve timed it during peak and off-peak hours. And we can do rolling pickups, on foot or public transport surveillance, plus if the Russian team’s heading to the airport, we reckon we can get there twenty minutes quicker than a taxi driver.”
“Good.”
Mark said, “It’ll all be fine, but we’ve got a lot of eggs in one basket. Mikhail may know what he’s doing, but we’re depending on his not being distracted or overstretched.”
“He won’t be . . .” Will’s stomach suddenly knotted as a realization struck him. “Oh. Fuck!”
“Will?”
Will ignored his colleagues. His mind was racing and panicking. He cursed his stupidity.
If Will’s theory was correct—that Mikhail had given his name to Alina in order to send a message to William and produce a standoff—William would do everything in his power to destabilize Mikhail.
Just as he’d done with Will.
He’d go after Mikhail’s loved ones.
Fifteen
Will couldn’t sleep during the flight. He was tired, but his mind was too active and his emotions confused. He tried not to think about Sarah, about the disgust he felt toward himself for putting her and her husband in danger, about the way she’d held him and asked, Where have you gone, my little brother?
But those thoughts remained. As did the worry that sometime over the coming days, a man with a gun could be walking toward a house in suburban Moscow, kicking the door in, and shooting Mikhail’s family.
Until now, the right thing to do had been to allow the standoff between the SVR officer and William to continue until Will could establish William’s location and the significance of the paper in his possession. But things had changed. He was totally reliant on Mikhail to keep William pinned down, and he was totally vulnerable to the possibility that Mikhail could
lose his nerve, if he realized his family was under threat, and return to Moscow.
If no threat had yet presented itself to Mikhail’s family, Will had one option available to him to accelerate matters. But that option would also place other people’s lives in extreme danger.
That afternoon, Will stood outside a faculty building belonging to the Belarusian State University, Minsk. Students were leaving the building, carrying books and bags, some of them holding hands, all of them dressed in scarves and hats and coats. They all seemed carefree and full of joy, and as Will watched them he hoped that none of them would make the kind of choices he’d made toward the end of his degree program.
Alina exited the building, carrying Maria in one arm and a folded baby carriage in the other. She stopped and tried to open the carriage but appeared to be struggling.
Will walked quickly across the street. “Hello, Alina.”
She barely glanced at him, looked annoyed with the carriage, and continued to try to release catches. “Damn thing. I think it really has broken this time. Here.” She handed Maria to him. “Keep her warm.”
Will took her, wondered what to do given he’d never held a baby before, then unbuttoned his thick overcoat, placed her inside, and drew the coat around her. “Thanks for meeting me at such short notice.”
Alina was bent over the baby carriage, trying to yank bits of it apart, clearly on the verge of losing her temper. Something snapped close to her hand. She rose, holding a jagged piece of plastic tubing. “Shit!” She tossed the tubing away and kicked the carriage. “Another expense!”
“Come on.” Will looked at the dark clouds above. “We need to get inside before the heavens open.” He started opening his coat.
But Alina said, “She seems happy with you.” She grabbed the carriage, walked up to a university security guard who was attempting to light a cigarette in the bitterly cold easterly wind, spoke to him, and left the useless carriage in his care. Returning to Will, she muttered, “I didn’t bring Maria a waterproof coat because the carriage keeps her dry. If we walk quickly, we can be home in twenty minutes. But watch out for patches of ice.”
She led the way, with Will anxiously scouring the ground for signs of anything that would cause him to slip with his precious burden.
They walked past shops and parkland before moving into residential streets. “I’m not sure I can be of any further help to you.”
Will gingerly stepped onto a sidewalk and replied, “You may be right.”
“Aren’t you supposed to tell me that you know I’m hiding something from you?”
“I’d be relieved if you were; it would mean this trip hasn’t been a waste of time.”
“I’m going to disappoint you.”
Maria seemed to be waking up. She was emitting small sounds and starting to move. Will held her close to his chest, hoping that his coat was keeping her warm and that she didn’t try to wriggle out of her wrappings.
When they reached Alina’s apartment building, snow was starting to fall. Will placed his big arms farther around his care. Alina tapped numbers into a security pad while cursing and shaking.
The warmth was immediate as they entered the building. Thirty seconds later, they were inside Alina’s apartment. Alina took Maria, placed her in a high chair, and disappeared into the kitchen. As Will dumped his coat over the sofa, he could hear Alina putting a kettle on to boil and rummaging through cupboards. When she returned to the living room, she was holding a small plastic bowl containing a spoon and baby food. Placing the food in front of Maria, she looked at Will and frowned. “You’ve got Maria’s dribble on your suit. Start feeding her; I’ll get a sponge.”
Will grabbed a chair and positioned it in front of the child. Sitting, he looked at Maria, saw the child bang her fists expectantly on the high chair’s tray, and tentatively raised the spoon to her mouth. Maria swallowed the food, banged her fists again, and beamed.
Alina reentered the room holding two mugs of tea. After placing one of them next to Will, she crouched down beside him and smoothed a damp sponge over his jacket’s lapel. “It should be fine.”
“I don’t mind.” Will placed another spoonful into Maria’s mouth.
“You have children?”
Will shook his head.
“Your wife is one of those busy career woman types?”
Will smiled. “I don’t have one of them either. I live alone.”
She stood and glanced at her baby. “Well, you’re not doing a bad job. Sometimes it takes me an hour to get her to take her first mouthful. The cold must have built up her appetite.” She sat on the sofa and took a gulp of her tea. Keeping her eyes fixed on him, she asked, “Have you come back because you’re suspicious of me?”
Will laughed gently. “I have to be suspicious of people.”
“Is that why you don’t have a wife? You have trust issues?”
Will’s smile faded.
“Must be an occupational hazard, I guess.”
Will scooped the spoon through more baby food. “From what you’ve said, Lenka was different.”
“Was?”
“Is.”
She was silent for a moment before saying, “He’s always been an academically intelligent man, but not smart. Does that make sense?”
“I know what you mean.” He gave Maria more food.
“His flaw, and I’ve always loved him for it, is that he’s too trusting of people. He should never have joined the SVR.” She gripped her mug, allowing its warmth to soothe her cold hands. “You’re obviously different.”
Will held the spoon in midair, feeling a moment of sadness. “Yes.” He placed the spoon into Maria’s mouth.
“What suspicions do you have about me?”
Will scraped the last of the food onto a spoon and said, “I had to consider whether you were a Belarusian security service or SVR officer planted here to meet whoever came knocking on the door after Lenka disappeared, or a freelance agent for one of those services, maybe that you aren’t Alina Petrova. So I checked up on you. While I can’t discount the possibility that you’re an agent, I do know for certain that your identity checks out and that you’re not an intelligence officer.” He placed the spoon into the empty bowl and turned toward her. “But I don’t think you’re an agent or have previously had any kind of relationship with intelligence services. The relationship that matters to you is the one you have with Lenka. I think that if anyone had approached you and asked you to spy on your lover, you’d have told them to go to hell.”
Alina nodded.
“But I could be wrong.”
She was motionless.
“Though I hope not.”
Quietly, she said, “I’m not a spy.”
“Many spies say that.” Will grabbed his tea and nodded toward Maria. The girl was now playing with different-colored plastic shapes that were looped on a wire attached to her chair. “Has she had enough food?”
“Yes. Thank you, I . . .” Her voiced trailed and she lowered her head. “I too have to deal with possibilities right now.” She looked at him. “You can’t deny that it’s possible Lenka’s dead.”
“Or that he’s alive.”
Alina shook her head. “He stole a piece of paper and delivered it to someone. What use is he to that person now?”
Will knew that she was right, but he could also see that she was becoming tearful. “Killing a man is not an easy thing to do.” He pictured the armor-clad private contractors attempting to slaughter anything that moved in the Gdansk port. “We don’t know if we’re dealing with a killer.”
Alina looked desperate. “Should I send him another message? Should you send him a message?”
“Saying what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Have you sent him any messages aside from the one about the contents of the note?”
She
hesitated. “I sent him one right after Mikhail came here. But he didn’t reply.”
“What did you say?”
“The truth. That a Russian intelligence officer called Mikhail had been asking questions about him.”
Will’s heartbeat increased. “Any since?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because . . .” She drained the last of her tea. “Because I’m not sure the messages would be read by him. Maybe his phone is now with . . . them.”
Will nodded.
Her expression changed, and she said quickly, “Couldn’t you give me words to manipulate them? Anything that might keep him alive.”
Will didn’t answer her. Instead, he looked around the tiny but well-maintained home, then let his gaze rest on Maria. “If I can bring Lenka back to you, do you think he’ll stay?”
“Of course. The only reason he hasn’t lived with us was because he had a wage coming in. But whatever happens, there’s no going back to the SVR.” Alina smiled. “I think he’ll be relieved that the decision’s been made for him. Somehow, we’ll make ends meet. He’ll stay.”
It was the answer Will had expected. “I did consider asking you to send Lenka another message, knowing it would be read by the man who’s got him. Your message would have said that I’d visited you and advised you that I knew Lenka’s location, that matters would be concluded tomorrow and that I would try to keep Lenka alive, but that it was imperative that you went somewhere safe until all of this was over in case there were repercussions. You would have added that you didn’t believe that I was going to keep him alive, that Lenka should keep his phone safe and that you would contact him as soon as you were safe.”
“What purpose would such a message have served?”
“It might have caused the men who are holding Lenka to panic and move.”
And in turn to mobilize the SVR team, and to enable Will’s team to follow them and gun down William and anyone working for him, all before William had time to threaten Mikhail’s family and cause the SVR officer to back down from his vigil on William.
“But that’s good! They’ll abandon Lenka.”