While Andrei spoke to the receptionist, Mikhail stepped behind her and stuck a hypodermic into her neck, pushing its plunger.
“Hey! What do you—”
The fast-acting poison made the woman shudder. Five seconds later, she slumped across her desk.
The other men took off their outdoor gloves, revealing latex ones. In a carefully rehearsed sequence, Mikhail grabbed the receptionist’s pass key off the desk, returned to the start of the corridor, and used the key to open a door to a custodial area. Kagan and Yakov picked up the dead woman and carried her through the open door, setting the corpse inside. When they returned to the corridor, they pulled the
door shut, automatically locking it.
Meanwhile, Andre and Viktor went up a curved staircase and faced the three doors that led to the target’s suite.
The others joined them.
Andrei looked at his watch and nodded. Everything was proceeding as planned. Six minutes earlier, at 8:00 P.M., they’d stood amid the snowfall on the tourist-crowded Plaza, watching Hassan, his wife, and four protective escorts get into a limousine bound for a reception at the New Mexico governor’s mansion. At 9:00, Hassan was scheduled to step before television cameras and deliver the first of many rousing speeches about his newborn child of peace and his hopes for the Middle East.
But just before the speech, Hassan’s wife would receive a call on her cell phone. She would answer because the number displayed on the phone belonged to her baby’s nursemaid.
The voice would belong to a man, however. It would explain in vivid detail what had happened to the baby. It would emphasize that if Hassan loved his child, he would cancel the speech.
And never make another one.
* * * * *
KAGAN STARED through the window, straining to distinguish shadows from illusions in the falling snow.
One of them will try to distract me in the front, he thought. Probably Andrei. I set up enough ambushes with him. That’s how he thinks. Meanwhile, Mikhail and Yakov will attack from the sides.
But wouldn’t they have made their move by now? Kagan wondered. Maybe I did fool them. It’s been a while. Maybe nothing’s going to happen. Maybe they’re back on Canyon Road.
The baby whimpered.
“Meredith,” Kagan said.
“He’s just restless. Probably having another dream.”
“Doesn’t sound like a happy one.”
“I put my little finger to his lips. He’s sucking on it. He’s quiet now.”
“You can’t let him cry.”
“He’s a good baby. He won’t cry.”
Kagan never looked in Meredith’s direction. With the gun on his lap, he focused intently on the window.
He continued with the story, working to keep Cole and Meredith calm, hoping it would overcome his fatigue and keep him alert.
“In those days, the capital of Israel was Jerusalem. The man in charge was a Roman puppet named Herod, who called himself the king of the Jews. He was seriously paranoid. Forty years earlier, a rebellion had chased him from Israel. The Romans had hit back viciously, using thousands of battle-hardened soldiers to return Herod to power. Thereafter, he squashed the slightest sign of a rebellion, even to the point of killing one of his wives, her mother, and several of his sons.
“Now, suddenly at dawn, the guards on the eastern wall of Jerusalem reported three strangers coming out of the distance, approaching on camels. Their confident bearing identified them as men of importance. When they reached the gate, they announced that they were priests on a sacred mission and asked to pay their respects to Herod. What do you suppose his reaction was, Cole?”
“He wouldn’t have liked them surprising him like that.”
You bet, especially when the Magi came from Israel’s biggest, closest enemy. He was furious and demanded an explanation from his security team. How had the Magi traveled all the way to Jerusalem without being detected? Why had the Roman soldiers failed to intercept them? What sort of protection did he have if foreigners could pass through the desert as though they were invisible?
“I told you that the Magi had a reputation for being a secret group with magical powers. Now, when they were brought before Herod, they described an amazing star that had led them to Jerusalem. Herod was astonished. ‘A star?’ he asked. ‘What kind of star?’
“The Magi answered, ‘A star that announces the birth of the new king of the Jews.’”
Kagan heard footsteps—Meredith bringing the coffee. He started to tell her to keep low, but he didn’t need to. She made him proud by crouching beside him, staying beneath the level of the window.
“Thanks.” Keeping his right hand on the gun in his lap, he ignored the pain of using his stiff left arm to raise the cup to his lips. He blew on the steaming liquid, then sipped, inhaling its fragrance, tasting the sugar.
“The water you put on the stove is boiling,” Meredith said.
“Good. Keep it boiling. Add more water if it gets low.” Kagan never removed his gaze from the window. He listened to Meredith as she crawled across the floor and sat next to the baby.
“Where was I, Cole?” Kagan didn’t need reminding, but he wanted to keep the boy answering questions.
“Herod and the star.”
“Right.” Again, the spymaster’s words came back to him from years earlier. “All through the Jewish and Roman world at that time, there was a growing belief that ancient prophecies were about to be fulfilled, that someone special would soon be born and the course of history would change. In the Old Testament Book of Daniel, which is set hundreds of years earlier, Daniel had a vision about a sign in the heavens bringing a mysterious leader who would establish a new, everlasting dominion.
“There were many similar predictions. Even contemporary Roman historians like Suetonius and Tacitus mentioned prophecies about a man from Israel who would rule the world. One of the great Roman poets, Virgil, predicted that a child would descend from the heavens, possibly from the constellation Virgo, or Virgin, and establish a golden age.”
“Sounds like he was talking about the Virgin Mary,” Cole said, puzzled.
“Or maybe there’s another explanation. Maybe Virgil was trying to impress someone of influence, a politician perhaps, whose wife was about to give birth and whom Virgil was praising for her virtue. Presumably the child would be the divine creator of peace that Virgil predicted in his poem. He might even have been referring to the Roman emperor.
“There can be all sorts of explanations for those prophecies. But that’s not the point. What matters is that two thousand years ago, people believed them—really believed them.
“Herod certainly did. When he heard about the magical star, he went berserk and summoned his priests, demanding to know what they thought of the Magi’s claims. ‘A star indeed exists in many of the prophecies,’ the priests agreed. Herod shouted, ‘But do the prophecies say where the new king will be born?’ The priests answered, ‘Yes.’ They quoted an ancient text that said, ‘And you, Bethlehem, are by no means insignificant since from you shall come a leader of Israel.’
“‘Bethlehem,’ Herod murmured. Now remember, Cole, this was a power-hungry sociopath who killed his own sons because he suspected they were plotting against him. What would he do if he believed a new rival threatened his throne? He was in his seventies, and terrified of losing control. Even though he’d probably be dead by the time the child was old enough to threaten him, the child’s followers were another matter. If a revolution was being planned, Herod needed to stop it with every means possible. Cole, what do you suppose was actually going on?”
“I don’t understand.”
“The Magi were spies. What do you think their mission was? They arrived as if by magic and told a story about an amazing star and a newborn rival. What was the point of telling him?”
“It sure made him angry.”
“And? Draw a conclusion.”
“Maybe that was the point—to make him angry.”
“Y
ou definitely have the instincts of a spy. Using prophecies, along with their reputation for secret knowledge that supposedly enabled them to predict the future, the Magi set forces in motion to destabilize Herod and his government.”
“Destabilize?”
“Make it fall apart. From an espionage point of view, the tactic was brilliant. If Herod ordered all his men to root out every sign of an imagined rebellion, if the mysterious child was reported everywhere throughout the kingdom, Hero wouldn’t be able to focus on ruling the country. Persia could intensify its attacks on Israel’s border while Herod’s defenses became so chaotic that the country collapsed from within. The Roman Empire wouldn’t know how to retaliate because the fall of Israel would have been caused by Herod himself.”
“It’s like you said.” Cole sounded impressed. “What they did was more powerful than fighting a battle.”
“If the plan had worked. But Herod showed how clever he was and why he’d been able to stay in power for so many years. His instincts warned him about the potential for a trap. Not that he suspected the Magi. Even his own priests admitted that the newcomers had the authority of the prophets.
“No, it was Bethlehem that bothered him. Only eight miles south of Jerusalem, the town lay in a rich agricultural area, where the inhabitants had ample money to organize a revolution. It was nestled among hills that would be easy to defend and difficult to attack. Its proximity to Jerusalem made it all the more suspect, since raids on the capital would be easy to stage from there.
“In his rage, Herod almost ordered his army to ransack Bethlehem until they found the child and killed him. But he feared he might cause the rebellion he wanted to suppress. So he decided to try a different approach, and the idea he came up with was so unexpected that even the Magi were caught unprepared.
“He tried to recruit them as his own unwitting spies. ‘The child you came looking for has a magnificent destiny,’ he told them. ‘Continue your journey. Go to Bethlehem. Find the savior that the star predicted. Worship him. Then come back here and tell me where the child is so that I, too, might go and worship him.’
“How classic. The Magi were so convincing that Herod didn’t realize who his true enemies were. They became what intelligence experts call double agents: spies pretending to work for one side when they’re actually working for the other.
“They must have been terribly pleased as they traveled south to Bethlehem. Now that they had Herod’s trust, they could tell him anything they wanted to, and he’d believe them. More than they’d originally hoped, their made-up reports would cause Herod to order his soldiers back and forth across the kingdom, fatally weakening his defenses as he chased a phantom. But something remarkable happened in Bethlehem, something that changed everything.”
“What was that?” Cole asked.
“They began to believe that the disinformation they’d given Herod was in fact the truth.”
* * * * *
“You understand what you’re supposed to do?” Andrei asked Brody. “Learn as much as you can. Talk about it as naturally as possible so the suspect doesn’t realize we’re listening. We’re particularly interested in any defenses he set up.”
“Yes,” Brody said, “but . . .”
“Are you having second thoughts? You don’t want to help your wife and son? You don’t want to make up for beating her?”
“Honest to God, I’ve never regretted anything more in my life.”
“Then prove it to them. Maybe you can convince the suspect that we’re not out here, that he’s safe and he can let your family go.”
“But...”
Andrei cut him off. “Okay, if you don’t want to help your wife and son, fine. I can understand why you don’t want to risk your own neck. It’s human nature to look out for number one. When the SWAT team gets their snipers set up, I’ll figure another way to handle this.”
“Snipers? For heaven’s sake, no.”
“Mr. Brody, I don’t have a lot of alternatives.”
“All right, all right. I’ll go in there.”
“You’re sure? No second thoughts?”
“I said I’ll do it!”
“Keep your voice down. The suspect might hear you.”
“Sorry. This is all too—”
Andrei put a steadying hand on Brody’s shoulder. “Your family’ll be proud of you. That’s what matters. Now there are just a couple of other details. Give me your keys.”
“My keys? Why?”
“Is there a vehicle in your garage?”
“A Range Rover.”
“The suspect might try to escape in it. Canyon Road should be open to traffic by now. He might be tempted to take the chance.”
Brody gave Andrei the keys. “But if Canyon Road’s open to traffic now, why hasn’t the SWAT team gotten here? It’s been a long time.”
“Good question. I’ll call headquarters and find out.” Andrei pulled out Brody’s cell phone, opened it, started to press numbers, and again deliberately lost his grip. As he intended, it fell in the snow.
“Damn,” Andrei said. “I wish I’d worn thick gloves. My hands are so cold I can barely hold anything.”
He reached into the snow, groped, and pulled out the phone. He brushed snow from it and pretended to try to use it.
“Shit. Now this phone’s not working, either.” He didn’t want Brody going into the house with a phone. Pyotyr would no doubt find it and use it to get help. “I’m awfully sorry about this. You’d better lend me your wife’s phone.”
“Lend you . . . ?” Brody tensed. “What’s going on here?”
“Don’t worry. The police department will get you a new one,” Andrei promised.
“What did you say your name was?”
“I didn’t. It’s Detective Parker.”
“You told me your microphones and earbuds allow you to communicate with headquarters, so why do you need my wife’s phone? This is . . . Something’s wrong. Let me see your badge.”
“Badge?”
“All of you. Let me see your ID.”
“I told you to keep your voice down,” Andrei warned. “My identification’s under my coat.” He brushed snow from the front. “Do you really want me to freeze, just so you can—”
Brody backed away.
“What are you doing, Mr. Brody?”
As Brody turned to run down the shadowy lane, Andrei shoved him hard, knocking him into the snow. He bent down, braced a heavy knee on Brody’s back, and rammed his face down into a drift. Andrei’s powerful hand kept Brody’s features submerged in the snow.
Brody struggled, gagging, but Andrei ignored his efforts and pressed his face down harder into the drift.
“Listen to me,” Andrei whispered close to Brody’s left ear. “You’re going to do what I want, or I’ll smother you. Do you feel the snow clogging your nostrils? Some of it’s melting. You’re inhaling the water. Soon you’ll be choking.”
Pinned in the drift, Brody started coughing. The sound was muffled by the snow. His back arched—or tried to. His chest heaved.
“Are you listening?” Andrei asked quietly, applying more weight to his back. “Do you want to die in a snowbank on Christmas Eve, or would you like to spend the holiday with your wife and son?”
Brody choked as he tried to speak under the snow.
At once, Andrei reached under Brody’s hat, grabbed his hair, and jerked his head up. Brody’s cheeks were covered with snow. He strained to clear his nose and mouth, but Andrei pressed a glove over his face to diminish the sound.
“What are the names of your wife and son?” Andrei murmured. He took his hand from Brody’s mouth while he pressed his Glock to Brody’s right temple.
Snot clung to Brody’s mustache.
“Meredith. My wife’s name is Meredith. My son . . . my son is Cole.”
“Nice names. I bet they’re wonderful people. Are they?”
“Yes.”
“Do you love them, Ted?” The tip of the sound suppressor on Andrei’s
Glock made an indentation in Brody’s skin. Andrei imagined how hard and cold the metal felt.
“Love them?” Brody managed to answer. “Of course.”
“Prove it, Ted. Prove that you love Meredith and Cole. Prove how much you wish you hadn’t punched your wife. This is your chance to be a hero. Save them. Save your family, Ted.”
“Yes.” Brody trembled. “I’ll do anything for them.”
“Then nothing’s different. You’ll go in that house. You’ll notice whatever defenses have been set up. You’ll ask about them. We’ll hear you talking. We’ll know what to expect.”
“Meredith and Cole . . .”
“We take care of people who cooperate, Ted. I just thought of something.” Andrei felt a sudden terrible doubt. “Is there a computer in your house? Could the man in there have e-mailed for help?”
“I use a password lock.”
Andrei breathed out, releasing some of his tension.
“Good,” he said. “Before we go into the house, I’ll tell you we’re coming. You’ll have plenty of warning. All you need to do is get your family down to the floor. As soon as we teach a lesson to our friend in there, and retrieve something he stole from us, we’ll leave. You and your wife and son can have a nice life.”
“God, don’t I wish.”
“What he stole from us is crucial. I want you to make sure we get it back alive.”
“Alive?”
“It’s a baby.”
“A . . . What’s a baby doing in there?”
“That’s not your concern, Ted. Just talk about the baby when you see it. Tell me where it is. When we go inside, I want to make sure it isn’t injured.”
“But what about my family?”
“I told you, just get them onto the floor. I promise, you and your wife and your son will be safe. An hour from now, this’ll be over. We’ll be gone. Your family will owe their lives to you. You’ll be a hero to them. Your wife won’t have any choice except to forgive you for hitting her. Do you understand, Ted? Is everything clear?”
The Spy Who Came for Christmas Page 12
