“Agreed,” Frank said crisply.
“We’ll go in, Winnie will get Kate back to his room, and I’ll stay behind, wait for Ghorbani to come back, and deal with him when he does. He can sit on the fucking floor for a change. Then we’ll wait until you—and whatever friends you can round up—come get him.”
There had been a short pause at the other end of the line before Frank offered a response. “I’m afraid I can’t approve that hypothetical plan.”
“Sorry? Can’t approve what, now?” Conor wasn’t conscious of offering anything hypothetical, or of asking permission.
“We’ve an opportunity for salvaging something from this fiasco. As soon as he’s captured, Ghorbani will shut down. We’ll get nothing out of him through ordinary interrogation methods. The enhanced measures are risky—they produce spotty results—but it’s vital to get him to talk. He’s had more than one British control officer handling him over the years and the devil only knows what he’s learned from them.”
“Fine. He can talk to me.” He’d heard Frank draw a breath and release it in a patient sigh.
“You are being purposefully obtuse, and of course I understand, but we both know these are ideal conditions. Ghorbani is relaxed and unguarded, thinking he has thorough control over his prisoner and his situation. He’ll talk to Kate. The only thing we need is a diversion long enough for you to get into that room. You’ll explain the assignment, put a wire on her, and get out again.”
At that, fear dropped down through Conor—a heavy stone falling through a bottomless void. “Jesus Christ, Frank. You can’t seriously expect me to—”
“To be a professional. Yes, I do expect it of you. You’re an intelligence operative, and your partner is well placed to exploit an opportunity that will help repair enormous damage, and possibly save lives. As I’ve said to you once before, Conor, I not only expect it of you—I require it. For now, you’re to do nothing. I’ll assemble what’s needed on this end, and you’ll be contacted again shortly.”
A direct order. Had he been tempted to disobey it? Indeed he had—sorely, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d been wearing away the threads of the carpet for the past hour—in between trips down the hall with the magic spying cylinder—tortured by idleness, and by a recognition that Frank’s logic was unassailable. The value of interrogating Ghorbani without seeming to was obvious, and if his partner in that room had been anyone else he would have thought of the idea himself.
“I don’t suppose a drink would help at all?” Sitting next to it, Winnie circled his palm over the top of the refrigerated minibar.
“It would, but I’ll pass on it. Have one yourself though. I think you’re probably off the hook for whatever’s left of this gammy production.”
Winnie had no sooner cracked open a Pilsner Urquell when there were two heavy thumps on the door, startling both of them. They looked at it and then at each other while Conor picked up the Walther from the bed. After a wary check of the peephole he relaxed, lowered the gun, and swung the door open.
“Special delivery from your neighborhood supply depot.” Lukas Hasek smiled, holding up a knapsack.
“I thought the Fermatures didn’t get their hands dirty with national agency operations.” Conor stepped aside, inviting him into the room. The officer, no longer in uniform, wore a gray fleece pullover and black jeans, topped by a New York Mets baseball cap that made him seem even more American.
“It’s a stretch, but technically this could still fall under the category of aiding an agent in danger.” Seeing the effect of his remark on Conor’s face, Lukas immediately grew serious. “Is she all right?”
“As far as I can tell.”
“Okay, we’ll make sure she stays that way. I’m actually here in a different capacity, representing the full support and cooperation of the Czech BIS. It turns out you were prophetic, Conor. We’ve patched up our relations with the British. At least in this instance.” Lukas turned and extended a hand to Winnie, who’d risen from his chair, beer can still in hand. “O’Shea, I think? A pleasure to meet you. The British Embassy sent a car for you that’s waiting downstairs. I understand they’d like to help you collect your things from your hotel and then relocate you to the Embassy.”
Winnie slowly put down his beer, his face distressed. “I was hoping to see it through with you, to be honest. Am I under arrest, now?”
“Of course not.” Conor pivoted to Lukas. “Is he?”
“No idea. They just told me to send him down to the car.”
“Look, I don’t think you need to worry.” Conor gripped Winnie’s shoulder, trying to reassure him. “I hardly think of you this way now, but you’re a civilian. They’re only trying to clear the decks of any non-operatives. It’s for your own safety really. Kate and I will catch up with you when it’s over. I owe you a lot. I promise to make good on it.”
“All right then. Good luck to you both.” Winnie picked up his sports jacket, still too wet to wear, and solemnly shook hands with both of them. Before pulling the door shut behind him, he looked back at Conor with a faint smile. “You know, I was surprised you didn’t ask me about her—what Kate’s face looks like when you’re not watching.”
Swallowing, Conor nodded for him to continue.
“Same thing as you, mate. Exact same thing.”
With Winnie out of the picture and on his way to the Embassy, Lukas turned to business, unzipping the knapsack and unloading its contents. When he’d finished, an array of electronics littered the top of the bed and he began a tutorial to explain each item.
The body wire, a compact arrangement of technology, was tucked into a wide strip of elastic fabric to be wrapped around the body like a sturdier form of ace bandage. A laptop and two sets of headphones would allow them to be networked to the same transmission going into the more elaborate system in the BIS van down the street. There were also radios to connect to other team members on the same secure channel. Conor was assigned Radio 1.
While Lukas brought the laptop online, Conor broached the topic of a plan for getting Ghorbani to leave his room. “I thought about pulling the fire alarm but that was rubbish. He’d have to bring Kate with him, and I’d be stuck with trying to get her away from him with a lot of other people around. I got stuck on the alarm idea though. His car is parked in front of the hotel. Winnie said the front desk took down his plate number when he checked in, so they must have Ghorbani’s as well. I’m thinking if we can activate his car alarm, they’d probably call him to come down and turn it off.”
Lukas didn’t look up from the keyboard but he smiled, his fingers continuing to fly over the keys. “We can make sure they do, and we’ve got a few technicals in the van who will love this. It’s like a practical joke. They can rig it up without breaking a sweat.”
Within fifteen minutes, the technicals had done their work. When the alarm went off at high volume, they could hear it clearly, even three floors up, and Lukas let it go on for a minute before reaching for the phone. He dialed the front desk and unleashed a furious barrage of Czech on whomever answered. After listening briefly, he followed up with more outrage, slammed down the phone and grinned at Conor.
“They think the car belongs to a guest. They’re searching their records as fast as they can. We’ve got an agent in the lobby ready to signal us when Ghorbani gets there, but would it buy more time if I go down the hall and wait for him? He doesn’t know me. I could pretend I was getting off the elevator.”
Although he liked the idea of having more time, Conor vetoed the suggestion. “Too risky. This is the only chance we’ll get and I’m afraid of spooking him. Give him a clear road to the lobby.”
Fitting his gun into its holster, he picked up the room key and the elastic fabric with its hidden electronics and went to stand by the door. The car alarm continued blaring. The minutes ticked by and the atmosphere in the room grew tense.
“He might have refused to go down,” Lukas speculated. “If he does, it’s possible he could still bring Kate wi
th him.”
Conor shook his head. “He’ll go down. He doesn’t want anyone to come bang on the door, and if he was going to take her along he’d have done it by now.”
“Why this delay then?”
“He’s tying her up.”
“Of course.” The officer ducked his head in apology for forcing him to name this disturbing reality. A second later he surged to his feet and Conor yanked the door open, both of them hearing the command from their earpieces.
“Target acquired. Go, Radio 1.”
He didn’t consciously register his passage down the hall or the act of fitting the key into the lock. Conor’s brain returned from oblivion only after he’d entered the room, which was completely dark. He banged a fist on the light switch next to the door without effect. Moving forward, he had better luck with the bathroom switch. The slender tubes bracketing the mirror flashed before steadying, and its stark glare had enough wattage to cast a shadowed light into the rest of the space. Conor stared at the empty corner where he’d seen Kate previously, then realized Ghorbani had moved her. She was positioned awkwardly on the floor behind the chair, tied to the radiator.
Quickly crossing the room, he paid little attention to the radio traffic streaming in sporadic bursts into his ear. Some of it commented on the effort to keep Ghorbani distracted with the short-circuiting car alarm, but Conor finally noticed one of the repeating commands was meant for him.
“Radio 1, report, please. Position and progress. Repeat, report your position and progress, Radio 1.”
“Radio 1 is in the room. Now shut your fucking gobs for a minute, all of you, or I’ll turn this bloody thing off.”
“All units. Hold traffic.” Following Frank’s curt order, the radio fell silent.
Motionless until now, Kate stirred, and he saw the explanation for why none of the lights worked. Ghorbani had cut the electrical cords from the lamps and used them to tie her.
“Conor?” Her voice caught, but although half-concealed behind her tangled hair, he could see Kate’s incomparable smile. “I knew you’d find me.”
There were few tears while he knelt on the floor, cradling her head against his neck. He couldn’t tell if she was being impossibly brave, as usual, or if she was too tired for emotion. Passing his hands over her, Conor noted both her hair and dress were still damp from the rain. Her hands felt ice cold, bound tightly together and to the radiator with the translucent yellow lamp cord, but the rest of her seemed a little too warm. He worried Kate was becoming ill as well as exhausted and in that moment came close to weeping himself. He realized he could do nothing for her. Nothing to warm or console her, nothing to make her more comfortable. Absolutely nothing.
Kate sniffed and lifted her head. “Do you have a knife to cut these off? I think something happened to his car. Did you do that? Anyway, he’ll be back soon, so we need to hurry.”
He’d already considered ignoring his orders. Now Conor thought about throwing them over to her, giving her the choice to accept or refuse them, and was immediately disgusted by his own cowardice. He cupped her face in his hands—too flushed, definitely too warm—and forced himself to meet her eyes.
“Kate, there’s something I need to ask you to do.”
As soon as Lukas radioed with the news of his arrival back in the room, Conor’s mobile phone rang. He picked it up from the desk, and seeing the number on the screen, almost dropped it again without answering.
“Conor, how is she?”
“Exhausted, and I think she’s running a fever. I don’t feel like talking to you, Frank. I’m not sure when I will.” He rang off and hurled the phone against the wall. It didn’t break, but he probably wouldn’t have felt any better if it had.
“Have a seat.” Lukas pushed a chair forward and tossed him an offering from the minibar. Conor caught it and dropped into the chair, peering at the ridiculous, elfin liquor bottle.
“Tia Maria. Are you having me on? Throw me the feckin’ Crown Royal.”
The whisky burned going down and hours later still smoldered in his hollow stomach like the embers of a fire, but had no other effect. Conor imagined he could have emptied the minibar without achieving the smallest buzz. He didn’t test the theory, but sat instead in front of the laptop next to Lukas, holding the headphones tight to his ears. The transmission quality was fine, but he kept the cushion-rimmed cups jammed against his head like they were the only thing holding it together, as though releasing the pressure meant letting it split and fall to the floor in two neatly sliced halves.
There was no reason to be looking at the laptop either. There was nothing to see but spiky dancing lines against a black background and numbers that meant nothing to him. Yet Conor nearly sat on top of the thing, never taking his eyes from it. He couldn’t have got any closer to the sound of Kate’s voice.
She’d known immediately, probably from the look on his face, that what he needed her to do would be difficult, and that he was struggling to make the words come out of his mouth. When he’d finally managed it, Kate actually relaxed.
“I was afraid you were going to ask me to seduce him.”
Conor sat back, slack-jawed, horrified. “Holy Mother of God, Kate. There is nothing … nothing … that would make me ask you to—”
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry, but that’s all I was thinking about, so I missed half of what you said. Give it to me again.”
They’d had only a few minutes for him to get the body wire fitted around her waist under her dress, and then to think through some strategies for getting Ghorbani to talk. Conor checked the minibar and saw a full-sized bottle of vodka inside, half-full. They agreed that exploiting the man’s enormous arrogance and his weakness for alcohol might help loosen his lips, although he didn’t love the idea of Kate being in close quarters with a drunkard holding a gun. With little time left, he’d spent a minute massaging her freezing hands, trying to get some circulation moving, while an agitated BIS agent yammered warnings in his ear.
“Radio 1, confirm position. Target is moving to elevator. Confirm position, please. Radio 1.”
“Jesus, all right. I’m going.” He put his lips to her forehead. “I’m going. Make him untie you before anything else.”
“I will. I’ll be okay, Conor, and I’ll do my best.” She angled her face up to him, demanding a better kiss. “Whatever secrets he’s holding, I’ll try to get them out of him.”
And she had. After convincing Ghorbani to give her a drink and encouraging him to have one as well, Kate spent the next two hours in a tour de force performance. It was a different sort of seduction, and a delicate balancing act, coaxing and cajoling the Iranian to dazzle her without rousing his suspicion. She began with skepticism, goading him to prove his brilliance, and then affected a growing interest and grudging admiration that kept him talking. All of it excited his conceit, and made him eager to confirm his greatness. So Ghorbani talked. And talked. And talked some more.
At one point, during one of his many long soliloquies, Lukas had removed his headphones and poked Conor on the shoulder, forcing him to tear his eyes from the laptop and lift one side of his own headphones.
“I know this is hard for you, but do you understand how much Kate has gotten out of him? She’s amazing. Did you ever expect she would be so good at this?”
Conor raised an eyebrow at the officer, struck by the idiocy of his surprise. “Of course I knew she’d be good at it. She’s a trained intelligence agent, you eejit.”
At three in the morning, Ghorbani finally ran out of steam. Announcing he intended to go to bed, he moved closer to Kate, his voice growing louder, and Conor held himself very still. The body wire picked up his inebriated grunts and panting breath as he tied her up again.
“There.” Conor and Lukas both jumped at the volume of his voice, indicating Ghorbani was inadvertently speaking directly into the wire’s microphone. “That will hold you, I think. So, goodnight. I’ve enjoyed the conversation. It would be a pity to kill you. We’ll see what tomorr
ow brings, shall we?”
“Yes.” Unlike his, Kate’s voice sounded small and weak, completely spent. “We will.”
Within minutes Ghorbani was snoring, and she spoke again, to her larger audience this time. “I’m not sure what happens now. I guess I’ll try to sleep.”
Conor ripped off the headphones and bolted from his chair, drawing the Walther. “I know what happens now.”
“Conor, wait.” Lukas reached for his arm, grabbing only air. “We need to get people into position. I need to get clearance.”
“You do that, Lukas. Tell them to get into position. Tell them to do it very fucking fast, because I’m not waiting.”
He did pause for a minute outside the door of Ghorbani’s room. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, and when he opened them he was calm again. The key slid soundlessly into the lock, and by slow, careful degrees, he pressed down the handle and entered the room. Inside, he removed his holster and wedged it under the door to keep it open. He heard it quietly swing inward again before he reached the bed, and glanced back to see Lukas coming through, gun drawn.
“Right,” Conor said at a normal, conversational volume. “I’ve had about enough of this carry-on.”
Moving to the bed, he stood over Ghorbani and slammed the side of his hand like a hatchet into his stomach. He jackknifed up from the bed with a choking gasp, his face caught in the blinding white beam of the flashlight Lukas trained on him. While he gagged and squinted against the brightness, Conor placed the muzzle of his gun against the Iranian agent’s temple.
“Rise and shine, Farid.”
It didn’t take long for a BIS response team to arrive on the scene. They swarmed up the stairs and down the hall, rapid and silent. A few remained outside while others moved into the room, closely followed by Frank. Together with Lukas, one of the operatives took charge of Ghorbani, and before the agent could catch his breath they’d slapped a piece of tape over his mouth, a pair of zip-tie handcuffs on his wrists, and had hustled him out of the room.
The Conor McBride Series Books 1-3 Page 89