Spycatcher

by Matthew Dunn

  He walked quickly to Laith and said, “I’ll carry him. You do the talking.” He looked down at Roger, nodded at the man, and said, “One last journey to make, my friend.”

  Laith and Will secreted their handguns. Will lifted Roger onto his shoulder. The three men left the darkness of the forest and entered the village of Saranac Lake.

  Forty-Seven

  There weren’t many people on the streets, but those who were brave enough to be out in the driving snowfall and the dark looked at the odd trio as they moved carefully through the village. Will examined them all and didn’t care that they were staring at Laith, at him, and at the man he was carrying, but he wondered how much they would care if they knew that the men they were staring at were armed and extremely dangerous. He walked with Laith along a road called Olive Street. It took them into what looked like the center of the village, and it was clear to him that the whole place was a popular tourist destination, because the few people they did see were dressed in winter sports attire. Will knew that Laith would be ignoring them, that he would be looking for someone who looked like a local resident.

  Will checked his watch and cursed. Time was running out.

  Laith stopped, waved a hand by his waist to signal Will to wait, then walked quickly ahead to a man and woman on the other side of the street. He spoke to the couple for a few seconds, pointed in the direction of Will and the man he was carrying, shook his head, pointed in another direction, and nodded at the couple before leaving them. Will expected Laith to come straight over to him, but instead he stood in the street and looked up and down its length. A car approached him, and Laith walked out into the middle of the street, waving his hands. The car stopped, Laith spoke to the driver, then stepped back as the car sped away. He then repeated the action with another oncoming car containing a solitary male driver. Laith pointed at Will and Roger, gave the driver something from his pocket, and jogged back to Will. “Not good. The nearest hospital is the Adirondack Medical Center, two kilometers away on Route Eighty-Six to the north. But for fifty dollars I managed to persuade the man in the car to take us there. I told him there’s been a hunting accident.”

  Will moved quickly to the car. Laith opened the rear door and helped him get Roger into the passenger seat. Will sat next to Roger and held the injured man against him with both arms. Laith jumped into the front passenger seat and began telling the driver all about the hunting accident as he drove along. The driver looked like a clerk or a shopkeeper, and most of what Laith said to him seemed repetitive and unnecessary, but Will knew that Laith was simply minimizing the opportunity for the driver to speak to Will—or to speak at all.

  Within a few minutes, they pulled up at the medical center. Laith turned to the driver. “You heading back into the village?”

  The driver responded, “For sure.”

  Laith nodded. “I’ll give you another fifty dollars if you wait for us and take us back there after we check our friend into this place.”

  The driver seemed to hesitate. “How long would I have to wait?”

  Laith smiled. “Hardly any time at all.”

  The man looked unsure but nodded.

  Laith jumped out of the car and helped Will get Roger out. Instead of putting him onto his shoulder, Will lifted Roger into his arms. While Laith stayed by the car, Will walked alone, carrying his precious burden into the small reception area. A solitary woman was sitting behind a counter, but otherwise the area was empty. The woman looked at them and instantly slammed a hand down onto a buzzer. She had clearly called for immediate medical assistance. Will set Roger down on the floor, looked at him, and fought back an overwhelming urge to stay. Roger shook his head and gave the tiniest of smiles. Will nodded at him, smiled, turned, and jogged out of the hospital, ignoring the calls of the woman behind them. Laith slapped the roof of the car just as Will approached the vehicle. Both men got back in, and Laith told the driver they’d been instructed by the hospital to report the incident to the local police in the village.

  Within minutes they were back in the heart of the village and on foot. Will checked his watch again. He looked at the police building in front of them and said, “I need you to find out about transportation links out of here. Find out where Megiddo and Lana may now be waiting. But we can’t be seen right here.”

  They darted into the darkness and emerged into Woodruff Street, adjacent to a wide, sweeping river. Laith looked up and down the street before walking briskly up to a group of three men. He spoke to them and returned to Will. “Megiddo’s out of luck. There are three public transportation services in the village—the Franklin County Public Transportation bus service, the Greyhound coach service, and the Adirondack Scenic Railway—but they’re all closed right now. The buses will be running in the morning, and the railway is closed for the winter season. There’s also an airport, but it’s seven miles away.”

  “Taxis?”

  Laith shook his head. “There are a couple of local private firms, but they’ve shut up shop while the weather’s this bad.”

  “It’s us who are out of luck,” Will said urgently. “If any of the village transportation services were open, we could hope to pin Megiddo down at one of their locations. Instead”—he looked around—“he could be anywhere here.”

  “Maybe he’ll wait until morning and get a bus then.”

  “I doubt that. He’s got Lana with him and won’t want to hang about and risk her screaming for help. And if they wait out the night back in the forest, they’ll freeze to death.”

  “Maybe he’ll do what we did—pay someone to drive them out of here. Maybe he’ll head to the airport.”

  “Maybe, maybe.” Will kicked the snow-covered ground in frustration. “Maybe.” He looked around again and grew calm as a thought came to him. “Maybe he doesn’t know what to do yet.” He looked at Roger. “Just like us. Maybe he’s still on the streets trying to work out what to do.”

  Laith nodded. “Neither of us knows the layout of this village.” He looked at the river. “But I’d say this river runs northeast. I’d say that the best we can do is split up. You cover ground on the east of the river. I’ll cross it and cover the west.”

  Will agreed and said, “If you see him, don’t engage the man, because he’ll use Lana as a shield. Just stay out of sight and call me.”

  Laith sprinted up the street and broke left along another street to cross the river. Will looked around, pulled out his gun from the small of his back, and stashed it in a lower front jacket pocket where he could reach it quickly. He jogged forward before running at a full sprint. He ran left onto Main Street and left again onto River Street, where the icy river beside him immediately widened. His boots crunched on thick snow as he moved over road and pavement and dodged parked vehicles, slow-moving pedestrians, and dim streetlamps. The wind dropped, and snow now fell fast and vertical. As he raced forward, he looked at every man, every woman, every house entrance, every shop façade, and every vehicle interior. He looked at everything but saw nothing that made him want to pull out his gun and shoot.

  He moved away from the broad river and headed up Shepard Avenue, crossed onto Clinton Avenue and Franklin Avenue, moved northeast along Helen Street, and north along Pine Street until he was back at the river and not far from where he had started his search. He cursed aloud.

  A siren sounded very close by, and Will immediately ran off the road and dived behind an empty car. He lay on snow and heard the siren come closer. He watched a police vehicle speed past him, and he stayed still until it was out of sight. He was certain that it was heading to the Adirondack Medical Center and that doctors had called the police after taking charge of their strange new patient. He was also certain that the police would return quickly to the village to search for the man who had delivered Roger to the hospital and then disappeared.

  His cell phone vibrated silently in his trouser pocket. He withdrew it and saw that the caller wa
s Laith. He answered.

  Laith’s voice was barely audible. “Can’t be sure, but I can see two people who could be them. They’re about one hundred meters from my position on Prospect Avenue. If it is them, then Megiddo’s discarded his rifle. But the man I’m looking at is holding the woman very close to him, and that could mean he’s got a handgun trained on her.”

  Will spoke quickly and with no effort to hide the urgency or tension in his voice. “Stay on them, but for God’s sake keep your distance. I’m coming to you. Guide me in.”

  “Okay. Prospect Avenue is about four hundred meters northwest of the river. As soon as you hit either William Street or Leona Street, slow down or you’ll run into them.”

  Will kept his phone in his hand, sprinted across a road over the river, and headed west. He ran along Bloomingdale Avenue and could see shops closing for the evening and restaurants and diners opening. He ran into a quieter street and immediately recognized it as Olive, the route they’d used to enter the village. He slowed, looked around, and decided he needed to head north to find Laith’s approximate location. He jogged up William, and all around him was now quiet and deserted. He slowed to a walk, called Laith, gave his location, and listened to his colleague’s quiet instructions.

  “Turn left onto Neil Street. Take the second turn on your right, onto Fairview Avenue. You’ll then see me about a hundred meters ahead of you. But go slowly. If they move, I may need you to change direction quickly and flank them from the east.”

  Will placed his spare hand into his pocket and gripped his MK23 pistol. He walked slowly, resisting every urge to get to Laith as rapidly as he could. He moved onto Neil Street and could see that houses were evenly spaced to his left and right and that most of them had inside lights on. He imagined that the families within were now settling down to dinner. On the other side of the street, a group of four men and one woman walked quickly in the opposite direction. They had their heads low and scarves and hats wrapped around them to shield them from the weather. Will kept his own head down low, too, until they were behind him. The street was now deserted.

  He passed the first turn on the right and kept walking ahead, pulling out his handgun and keeping it flush against his stomach. He breathed evenly and saw his breath turn to steam in the icy air. He made himself slow his pace even further in case he received an instruction from Laith to reverse direction and sprint up one of the routes he’d left behind. He gripped his gun tighter, glancing around.

  He drew close to the corner where he needed to turn in order to see Laith. He knew that the couple being observed by the CIA man was still in situ, or else Laith would have urgently told him otherwise. He looked back down the route he’d just taken before looking ahead again. He flicked off the safety catch on his Heckler & Koch and decided to make the turn. He walked carefully forward, went right onto Fairview Avenue, and stopped.

  He could see Laith. But he appeared to be sitting on the ground, leaning against a low retaining wall beneath the dim yellow glow of a streetlamp. Will frowned and began jogging toward him. After twenty meters he began to sprint, holding his gun directly in front of him.

  He reached Laith, swung his weapon toward Prospect Avenue, swung it in the opposite direction, could see no one, and crouched opposite his colleague. Laith was smiling, looked calm, held his phone in one hand against the ground, and held his other hand against his stomach. The snow around him was red. The ex–Delta man looked down before looking up at Will. He pulled his hand away from his stomach. His jacket had been ripped through with something sharp. His stomach had been slashed open.

  “Oh, my God. What happened, Laith?”

  Laith shrugged. “The couple walked toward me.” He enunciated each word as if he had to force it out of his mouth. “I didn’t want to call you, since that could have looked suspicious. So I moved and casually walked toward them. As we passed each other, the man pushed the woman to the ground and rushed toward me. I dropped low to take out his legs, but he must have anticipated that, and he dived over me, grabbed my throat from behind, and stabbed me.”

  Will looked up Prospect Avenue. “Which way did they go?”

  Laith nodded toward Fairview Avenue behind him, the street Will had just sprinted up. “You must have seen them.”

  Will frowned before widening his eyes in absolute frustration at his stupidity. “Oh, fuck.” Will recalled the group of five hatted and scarved people on the opposite side of the road on Neil Street. He recalled the man and woman at the back of the group. “I walked right by them. They attached themselves to three random walkers. Megiddo might even have had a gun trained on them.”

  Laith breathed deeply. “My wound is bad. My liver is punctured. I’ll be dead without urgent treatment.”

  Will nodded. “And that’s exactly what you’re going to get.”

  Laith exhaled slowly. “I know, but I don’t need your help to get it. I need you to get after that bastard and finish this.”

  A distant siren wailed. It sounded different from the one Will had heard from the passing police car.

  Laith smiled again and raised his phone a little. “I knew that when you found me like this, you would never leave me until I had medical help. So I took the decision out of your hands and called them myself to let you get on with the mission. That siren belongs to the ambulance coming to get me. I said I was mugged. When the police arrive at the hospital, they won’t believe that story considering everything that’s happened here tonight. But what the fuck can they do to me?” He smiled wider. “If I’m still alive when I reach the hospital, maybe I’ll get a bed next to Roger. I hope not, though. The man snores like a buzz saw.”

  Will tried to smile but felt utter desperation. “Keep applying pressure on your wound. Stay conscious.”

  Laith responded in a firm, stronger voice. “I know exactly what to do, Will Cochrane.”

  Will nodded. “I know you do.” The noise of the siren was drawing nearer. “Have you got anything compromising on you?”

  Laith shook his head. “No ID, only cash. But you better get rid of my phone, gun, and clips.”

  Will took them, glanced over his shoulder, then back at Laith. “Thank you for everything, Laith.”

  “There’s no need for thanks. If I’m still alive and my liver’s up to it, just buy me a beer when this is over.”

  Will was about to go, but Laith grabbed his hand, holding him firm with incredible strength. “After he ripped open my stomach, the man crouched before me. He said he knew that Nicholas Cree was close by. He told me that I needed to stay alive long enough to tell you that I’d been gutted by a man called Megiddo, the man you seek.” He winced in pain and coughed. “He wants to meet you alone in one day’s time in New York City. If you don’t meet him, many innocents will die.” He spat a clot of blood away from him onto the snow and cursed. “If he has the slightest suspicion that the meeting is being watched or that you have others with you, Lana will die.” He sucked in air between gritted teeth and was clearly in severe pain. “You must be in a private location, or the meeting will not take place. You’ve got to send Lana a message saying where you will be.” His breathing became shallow, but he gripped Will even harder. “He said that you must make the most of the next twenty-three hours, because on the twenty-fourth hour he will come to you, talk to you, and kill you.”

  Will checked his watch. It was just after 6:00 P.M. He shook his head. “What the hell is he doing? He’s risking his own operation. What’s his game?” He felt a rush of adrenaline. “Whatever is going on, the attack must be taking place in New York City.”

  Laith nodded, released his grip, placed his hand over the other hand that was pressing against his wound. “There’s something else you should know.” He spat more blood. “I’ve beaten or killed every man who’s ever pissed me off. No one’s ever been stronger than me, faster than me, or better trained. But”—he coughed again and winced—“Megiddo was
different. Will, listen to me. The man was so fucking fast, so damned deadly.”

  The siren was very close now. Will nodded, stood, looked at Laith, turned, and ran after the man who had killed or severely injured the best special-operative team he’d ever worked with.

  He ran back down Fairview Avenue and moved onto Neil Street. He kept his gun held forward and didn’t care if he was spotted holding a weapon. He scoured the area before and around him for the group he’d seen earlier. Two hundred meters ahead, he saw an ambulance speed across the road and up William Street before it disappeared from view. He kept running until he reached the intersection, looked left and right and ahead, cursed as he saw nothing, wondered which of the three routes Megiddo would have taken, and decided that the man would have headed south along Leona Street and away from the area where Laith had been stabbed. He moved quickly down the street until he was at the junction with Olive. He looked right and saw nothing. He looked left and saw them.

  The group of five was approximately 150 meters away from him. Will raised his weapon, breathing fast, and pointed it at the man at the rear of the group, walking next to the woman. He focused his eyes through the snowfall. He knew that he could make the shot and send a bullet into the man’s brain. But he also knew that in doing so he would kill all remaining hope of stopping Megiddo’s assault, that his bullet might cause Megiddo’s hand to squeeze tight around a handgun pointing at Lana and send a bullet into her, that Will’s high-velocity projectile might pass though Megiddo’s skull and enter any of the three innocent men in front of him. He cursed and lowered his weapon slightly, taking several steps forward. He saw the man and woman break away from the group and start walking to the other side of the road. He quickly raised his weapon again. He heard noise. He saw flashes on the ground around him.