by Matthew Dunn
“What do you mean, you and Alistair stepped in?” Will said the words slowly.
Patrick’s face was a mask of regret.
“What do you mean?”
The CIA man rubbed a hand over his chin and inhaled deeply. He then fixed his eyes firmly on Will, with a gaze that once again held steel. “What happened after you finished your five-year career with the Legion?”
Will looked at the man for a moment and then said, “I was approached by a woman representing MI6. She told me that I had to flex my brain and go to university. She told me that after I completed my degree, MI6 would give me a home.”
“How did that make you feel?”
“It made me annoyed, because the woman was the best thing I’d seen in a long time. I wanted to have sex with her.”
“But once she politely explained that that was not going to happen, you went along with what she offered.” Patrick shook his head a little. “Did you not wonder where the financial sponsorship came from to get you through Cambridge?”
Will frowned. “I did, but I assumed it came from MI6.” His voice grew quieter. “There were, however, times when I did ask myself whether it came from some fund my dead father had left for me.”
Patrick stepped forward quickly. “See, this is where Alistair and I disagree.” He brought his face close to Will’s. “We both do share the same amount of guilt about your father’s death, but unlike Alistair I also have an equal ration of anger.”
“Why anger?”
“Because his death led to a wife having to fend for herself and die and a son growing into something even more efficient than his father—but also something far more ruthless.”
Will closed his eyes for a long moment. When he opened them, he looked at Patrick. “Why should that matter to you?”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Patrick shook his head. “Alistair and I secretly paid out of our own pockets to put you through college and discreetly introduced you to MI6 in order to direct your talents away from what would inevitably have developed into criminality. We did this because, whether we liked it or not, we had a responsibility for your father’s son. My concern about you goes well beyond what you do as an intelligence officer. If you die, Alistair and I have failed in our pledge to stop more death in your family. This operation is yours because we know you thrive on what it delivers to you. But we also know that the things you thrive on both keep you alive and bring you closer to death. Among many reasons, I’m here to make sure that the one does not become the other.”
Will stepped back and pointed at Patrick. “You have no responsibility for me. You’re here because, while you know that I’m the one man who’ll stop at nothing to capture Megiddo, you also know that I’m the one man who’ll stop at nothing to kill him. And you can’t allow that to happen, because your priority is to keep him alive so that you can discover the details of his plot. You’re here to stop me from seeking my revenge.” He felt the anger raging through him. “You will fail in that task, and I will succeed in my task. When the time is right, I will do to him what he did to my father. I will make Megiddo beg me to kill him. I will ensure that there’s nothing left of the man who destroyed my father and ripped my family apart.”
Twenty-Five
Kljujic was executed by three men. The way he was killed by them clearly shows that they believed he was not working alone. They left a message intended to frighten off Kljujic’s associate or tell him that they were coming for him. Either way, you’ve got to take precautions to protect yourself.” Will looked at Harry to watch for the effect of his words.
“Can’t your organization protect me?” the agent asked.
Will shook his head. “I have people who could do that, but they are invisible.” He looked around the hill-situated tourist restaurant, Kibe. It overlooked Sarajevo and had good views of the city, although Will had chosen to meet Harry here because the route to it enabled excellent antisurveillance capabilities. “I need you to have visible security around you.”
“A deterrent?”
“Precisely.”
Harry nodded slowly but displayed none of his usual jocular or mischievous character. “I can arrange that, but it’s a big inconvenience. My business requires me to travel a lot.”
“Then keep traveling. Just make sure that you always take your men with you.”
“Sure. I’ll do it, but for how long?”
“Until I know that you’re no longer under any potential threat.”
Harry exhaled loudly. “My associate’s death must mean that the man in the HBF building is significant. Why don’t you just attack the place and finish this?”
“We can’t because we’d be attacking blind. If we had the photograph that Kljujic took, things might be different, but even then we can’t be certain that the man Kljujic spotted was Megiddo.”
The agent rubbed his face with two hands. He looked very weary.
“Is anything else troubling you, Harry?”
“Things could have gone much better for me in Finland.”
“A man like you always bounces back.”
Harry managed a weak smile. “Hey, does Megiddo have a price on his head?”
Will laughed a little. “If he does, I will never see any of the bounty.” He looked around the restaurant again. The place was beginning to fill with the breakfast crowd.
“Yeah, I heard you guys were underpaid and always in need of cash.”
Will shrugged and reached into his pocket. “I went to Kljujic’s house to find his photograph. It wasn’t there, but I came away with something else altogether. This belongs to you now.” He handed Harry the photograph of him and Kljujic.
Harry looked at the image and quickly secreted the photo into one of his own pockets. “Thank you for getting this. But when I’m home, I’ll burn it.”
He exhaled loudly. “Kljujic used to work with me in the war. He was my right-hand man, and he and his crew would do most of the . . . heavy work I needed done.”
Will waited silently.
“The photograph needs burning because it was taken just before we went to that village, taken before Kljujic ignored my orders to get his men out of there and instead did something truly unimaginable . . . But to my shame I’ve stayed in contact with him ever since.” He shrugged. “Men like him are always useful to men like me.”
Will kept his eyes fixed on his agent. “Harry, you did not kill those women and children.”
Harry looked at him sharply. “No, but I damn well profited out of people thinking I did.”
The two men shared a long silence.
“Only you know how long is your road to redemption, Harry, but I have a task for you which might shorten that journey.”
Harry frowned.
Will bent close. “During the wars in Bosnia, a woman was raped by five Bosnian Serbs fifteen kilometers outside Sarajevo. I want you to find out who those men were.”
Harry looked incredulous. “You are asking the impossible. Rape was commonplace then. How can you expect me to pinpoint this specific act?”
“The event would have happened a few days after a Bosnian Muslim unit fought and captured strongholds from the Serbs in Mount Vlašić. Find out when that happened, and you will have a fairly precise idea of the date of the rape. The five men who raped the woman belonged to a terror unit called the Panthers. The leader of the five men was a man called Captain Princip. Do you think you can trace that name and the men who were with him?”
Harry nodded. “Without the name it would have been impossible. But you know I have my connections, and that includes connections to”—he sighed—“former members of units like the Panthers. After the war many surviving members changed their names to avoid punishment for war crimes. But that does not matter, because some of my other contacts”—now he smiled—“were the people who arranged new identities for those kinds of men.
” He shrugged. “But it is probable that some or all of those five men were killed in the war.”
“I know. But can you at least find out for me?”
Harry nodded again. “Leave it with me. If at least one of them is alive, I’ll track him down.”
“Discreetly, Harry. Just a name and location. Do nothing else.”
“Of course. Who was the girl?”
Will held up his hand. “We have enough secrets binding us already. Just focus on finding these men for me. Who knows, if you succeed, you might get a good night’s sleep for once.”
By lunchtime Will was back in Zagreb. He looked at Roger and frowned. “Thirteen men?”
Roger nodded. “They came into town this morning. Three of them have immediately taken up duties in the Iranian surveillance team to replace the men you killed. But the other ten don’t look like they’re here to monitor Lana.”
“No. They’re here to capture, interrogate, and kill me.” He swore softly and checked his watch. “I’m seeing Lana after this meeting. She’ll be sending a letter that we hope will heighten her value to Megiddo and stop him from trying to get to me without using Lana. But that letter may not reach Megiddo until tomorrow. Where are the men staying?”
“They’ve taken a rental home on the outskirts of the city.”
Will narrowed his eyes in thought.
“I’m not on surveillance for another fourteen hours,” Roger told him. “If you need my help, tonight might be the best time to resolve this problem.”
Will sat before Lana reading her words once again.
Dear Megiddo,
I met him yesterday, and he told me about Berlin. I did as you asked and said that I would do whatever I could to help him get to you. He told me that he had new information about your intentions.
But what have you done? He came to me again some hours ago and slapped me several times. He said that I had set him up and that he had been attacked by Iranian men. I was very frightened, but I told him the truth, that I had done no such thing. He seemed to believe me after a while, but he then told me that I must have been followed to my meeting with him. He asked me if I had done anything to cause Iranian specialists to be interested in me. I told him that I had done nothing.
I trusted you to leave Nicholas Cree alone until I was under your protection. I cannot allow you to use me like this again. I am confused and feel betrayed.
Lana
“Excellent.” Will handed the letter back to Lana. “You need to get this to the embassy straightaway.”
“You were really attacked?”
He smiled. “Sort of.” He rose from his chair and nodded toward the door. “I’ll go first. You leave in fifteen minutes.”
“His people are watching me, aren’t they?”
“Not as far as I know.”
“Don’t take me for a fool.” Lana’s words were forceful, but the anger didn’t show on her face. She walked up to Will and touched his arm. The action caused him to wince in pain. She spoke in a hushed but urgent voice. “Nicholas, you are hurt.”
“It’s an old injury that’s just been acting up lately. I’m fine.”
She shook her head, then kissed him gently. “Why don’t you wait for me here so that when I return from delivering the letter I can attend to your wound?”
Will sighed. “Lana, you know I can’t.”
Lana walked toward the door, then turned to look back at him. “One day you’ll be here for me. I know you will.”
As Will exited Lana’s hotel, his cell phone rang. He listened to Roger’s voice.
“The surveillance team has immediately changed formation and has certainly spotted you. One of them has made a call. They must have put the hit team onto you.”
Will nodded. “Let’s hope they bring their passports with them. I’ll wait here for an hour so that I can be certain the hit team has me in its sights. Then I’ll move and meet you there.”
“Understood. Hold on.” Roger was silent for nearly thirty seconds before speaking again. “I’ve just heard from Laith. He’s been watching the hit team’s house. Six of them have just left, but the remaining four are sitting tight.”
“Damn it. I was hoping they would put the whole team onto me.”
“It looks like they’re too professional to take that kind of risk. They’ve kept some men behind as backup should things go wrong.”
Will thought for a minute. “Can one of your team get me a weapon for when I return to Zagreb? Preferably something better than a handgun.”
“I’ll see what can be done.”
Will closed his phone and sighed. He knew that whatever happened, there would be a lot of death this night.
Twenty-Six
It was evening now, and Will dined alone at a rear corner table in the prizewinning Steirereck restaurant in Vienna. He had decided to dress appropriately for the venue and wore a Manning & Manning suit, a Dunhill French-cuff shirt, and a silk tie that he had bound into a Windsor knot. He ate smoked catfish on a hot artichoke salad, paprika beef goulash with toasted bread wrapped around leek and pumpkin, and a warm damson tart. He drank a glass of Grüner Veltliner with his food and ordered a glass of Hine cognac when he had finished.
As his digestive was delivered, some new diners arrived at the empty table nearest to him. Judging by their attire, they’d just come from the opera. They were a middle-aged couple and a boy, probably their son, of twelve or thirteen. The boy seemed bored and tired. Will asked the waiter for his bill and found himself observing the trio. The mother was animated, and though Will’s German-language skills were limited, he was able to ascertain that she was explaining the opera’s story to her son, laughing and waving her arms in the air while reenacting the dramatic climax. The father sat quiet, smiling gently at them. Will watched the man reach a hand across their table and squeeze his boy’s shoulder. The boy looked at his father’s hand and then grinned. He suddenly seemed reinvigorated and happy.
Will took a sip of his cognac and then exhaled slowly. He wondered what the future held for the young Austrian boy at the next table. He hoped it was a good future and that the boy would never have to say a routine good-bye to his father only to hear days later that he’d been killed in an accident, would never have to feel ashamed that his youth prevented him from looking after his mother, and would never grow into a man who would do things like what Will had to do this evening.
Will’s feet crunched over snow as he walked across the Stadtpark before exiting into Gartenbaupromenade. He walked quickly in a northwesterly direction across the city center. Despite its being near midnight, there were too many pedestrians on the streets, and Will knew he had to find a place where he could be alone and unobserved. But the place also needed to be public, so as not to arouse suspicion. He went past hotels, shops, restaurants, and bars, and then, as freezing weather seemed to be finally driving people off the streets and back to their homes, he spotted a small café. He entered and ordered an espresso, which he drank while perched on a window-facing stool. He made the coffee last fifteen minutes before he stepped back out onto the city streets. All around him was now nearly deserted, and he continued his journey northwest before arriving at the place where he hoped things would happen.
Before traveling to Austria, Will had carefully studied the route he’d just taken and the grounds of the building now before him. The church was called Votivkirche, built in 1879 at the request of Archduke Ferdinand Maximilian Joseph after his brother, Emperor Franz Joseph I, was stabbed in the throat on the site by a Hungarian nationalist. Votivkirche was tall, with two illuminated towers, but its base and the expanse of snow-covered woodland before it were dark. Will could see no one around him.
He stood facing the church and listened, but aside from occasional distant traffic noises he could hear nothing. Although his legs began to ache from the cold and lack of movement, he ignored the discom
fort and tried to remain as still as he could. He counted seconds and minutes in his head, then finally gave up when he realized he’d been in this position for close to half an hour.
Doubt overwhelmed him. He wondered if he had overestimated the Iranian hit squad’s ability to follow him to Vienna. He wondered if he should have waited longer at Lana’s Zagreb hotel to allow them to pick up his trail. Either way he began to wonder if his trip to Austria had been in vain. He waited, still listening, for what seemed like another ten minutes. He took his cold hands out of his pockets and stretched his arm to expose his watch, flicking on a lighter to illuminate the watch’s surface. It was nearly midnight. He sighed and placed both hands back in his pockets. That’s when he was struck from behind with terrific force.
For a split second, Will was aware only of the sound of rapid breathing, the weight on him, and the sensation of snow against one side of his face. He tried to move his limbs but could not do so, and the pain from the impact shot up his spine. He shook his head and struggled desperately to think. More noises. They sounded like rapid footsteps, and then he heard two distant snapping sounds, followed by two louder thuds. He summoned all his strength and forced himself to focus. He managed to twist slightly, catching sight of the man who was pinning him down with a viselike body hold. The blurred image of a second man’s face appeared and seemed to be saying something, then disappeared. The man holding him adjusted his position slightly and jammed an elbow against Will’s throat and pressed down. Will knew that his attacker was trying to render him unconscious.
The man raised himself a little to improve his leverage. But the action and the increased distance between the two men gave Will the chance he needed. Pulling one arm loose, he punched the palm of his hand repeatedly upward into the base of the man’s nose. It took seven strikes before his assailant fell limply over him. Will pushed the dead man aside and immediately rolled before standing. One other man was standing twenty meters away, with his back to Will. Two men lay dead on the ground at his side, and Will knew they’d been shot by Roger. He also knew that the man standing over them was most certainly not Roger and was probably scanning the area to find his colleagues’ killer. And the fact that Will could account for only four rather than six of the unit meant that in all probability the other two were now engaging with Roger near his out-of-sight position by the church.