Dark Spies

by Matthew Dunn

  He turned to leave but froze as he saw the woman who’d answered the door, standing in the entrance. Her eyes showed fear and uncertainty.

  “I’m not going to hurt you. I came for these men, and now I want to leave. You’re safe.”

  Tears were streaming down Lindsay Sheridan’s face as she asked, “Safe?”

  Will nodded. “Safe.”

  “Safe . . . safe . . .”

  Will watched the woman.

  Her voice strengthened. “You’re the man on the news. I thought they killed you today.”

  “Not yet.” He sighed. “I’m sorry I took your husband away. He killed a woman I cared about.”

  Lindsay moved into the room, picked up her husband’s brandy glass, sipped from it, and spat the liquor into the fire. The flames roared up from the fuel as she said, “He killed me a long time ago.” She moved back toward the door. “I saw an intruder enter my home this evening. He wasn’t Caucasian, over six foot, or English. And I’ll stick to that version until my dying day.”

  “Why?”

  Lindsay shrugged. “Because you’ve done what I didn’t have the courage to do. I’m going out now—late-night shopping—and I won’t be back for a few hours. That’s when I’ll discover that my husband and Jellicoe were murdered by a burglar who was still ransacking the place and fled when he saw me. In the meantime, I suggest you make a mess of my house and steal something.” She nodded toward a side table containing the dead men’s car keys. “Maybe something you can use.”

  Lindsay Sheridan left the room, feeling that finally someone had made the decision for her.

  No more bastard husband.

  And a future that was hers.

  Two hours later, Will drove Sheridan’s car very slowly along a farm track, headlights off, before bringing the vehicle to a halt and getting out. Most of the remote farmstead’s buildings were in darkness, though lights were on in the barn and the main house. The barn had a large annex alongside it, and Will could hear snorting and grunting coming from inside. The noises had to be from the huge boars Sheridan had told him about; their sulfurous stench poisoned the forest’s air. As Will walked silently past the annex, the boars sounded agitated and anxious.

  It was, after all, nearly eight P.M., meaning they were desperate to be released into their feeding pit where the twins would drop their delicious mix of scraps, blood, and flesh.

  He drew nearer to the farmhouse and could see the twins in the kitchen, standing at either end of a large table, chopping vegetables into chunks with meat cleavers before tossing the food into a barrel of blood. The twins’ long black hair thrashed in time with each downward stroke of the blades.

  He knew it was impossible for them to see him or anything else outside the brightly illuminated room, but nevertheless he moved cautiously in case an external security light came on, or he accidentally made a noise that would alert them.

  Everyone Will had killed during his career had been given a quick death, because he took zero pleasure from that side of his job. On the contrary, it gave him great sadness and guilt, which is why he let the souls of his victims waft around him, sometimes to torment him, other times to forgive him. But he never forgot that they were there.

  Yet these mad men in the kitchen had no souls.

  They were rabid beasts.

  Murderers who relished their job.

  Foul demons who were willing to desecrate something pure and lovely.

  Right now, Will was about to cross the line that divided right and wrong.

  And he didn’t care.

  Couldn’t care.

  Avenging Ellie Hallowes was all that mattered to him right now.

  He had to make the twins’ evil savagery pay in a way that was fitting.

  He pulled out his handgun, walked to the kitchen door, opened it, and held his weapon at eye level. He stood stock-still as Augustus and Elijah ran toward him, shrieking some kind of war cry, their eyes wild and crazy, their meat cleavers held high. His first shot struck Augustus in the arm, causing him to drop his weapon and scream. His second shot did the same to Elijah. Both stopped dead in their tracks, their good arms clutching their burning injuries. But Will knew they were still dangerous, and so shot their good arms as well.

  As he drew nearer to them, they spat, uttered obscenities, and tried to kick him before realizing the sudden movements were causing them agony.

  Will pocketed his weapon and withdrew from his jacket two lengths of rope, at the end of which were choker nooses. He placed the loops over the twins’ heads and said, “Let’s go.”

  As he dragged them out of the kitchen and headed toward the barn, their legs moved fast to avoid strangulation and their arms were limp and useless by their sides. Will pulled them into the barn and opened an inner door that led to a pit surrounded by an eight-foot concrete wall. In the center of the pit was the steel stake that the twins used to tether live animals. Will lashed the ropes around the stake, so that the twins couldn’t escape.

  He looked down at them.

  Their eyes were still wide with astonishment.

  And now they had grins on their faces, continuing to spit and curse.

  Will ignored them as he ripped off their upper garments, exposing their blood-covered torsos. “You’re monsters.”

  Augustus laughed.

  Elijah’s expression was intense as he said, “And right now, what are you?”

  “I don’t know.” Will walked to the door leading to the pigpen, slid back bolts, pulled the door open, and sprinted to the pit’s exit as he heard the boars charge in, their grunts replaced by shrieks of ecstasy.

  When Will reached his car, he heard another sound rising over the noise of the boars.

  Two men screaming.

  Will drove off the road, ten miles away from Arlington, and gripped the steering wheel tight. The vehicle shuddered while it moved over rough land and into a wooded area of deserted countryside. When he was satisfied he was far enough in, he stopped the car in a clearing. From the trunk, he removed two jerricans of spare fuel he’d stolen from Sheridan’s garage, doused the gasoline over the inside and outside of the vehicle, removed the car’s gas cap so its fuel tank was exposed, and tossed an ignited Zippo lighter onto the passenger seat.

  He ran fast.

  In part to get away from the burning vehicle in case it exploded.

  But far more important, he needed to cover ten miles on foot to finish a journey that had started in Norway.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Although it was five minutes after midnight, Ed Parker had no thoughts of going upstairs to join his wife in bed. In less than two and a half hours, it would be noon in Afghanistan.

  The time when Cobalt would be blown to pieces.

  A defining moment in history.

  The CIA director turned the TV off and rubbed his clammy face, feeling restless and impatient, willing time to move more quickly. A glass of milk, he decided, might calm him down. He went into the kitchen opened the large refrigerator door, withdrew a milk carton, shut the door, and dropped the carton.

  Will Cochrane was standing before him.

  His pistol held in two hands and pointing at Ed’s face.

  Ed showed fear but also resignation. “Looks like you struck a deal with Marsha Gage. And in order for you to get her to agree to that, you must have told her the truth.”

  Will nodded. “Sit at the table and put your hands flat over it.”

  Ed did as he was told. “My wife’s asleep upstairs. Please don’t let her see anything . . . bad.”

  “I won’t kill you unless I have to.” Will stood on the opposite side of the table, keeping his gun trained on Ed. “You’re Ferryman. Antaeus’s spy. And your treachery is about to trigger something that will devastate the United States.”

  “I’m not . . . not Ferryman. Gregori Shonin is that man.”

  “He doesn’t exist, and you know that! As far as the Agency was concerned, Ferryman was the link to Antaeus. What it didn’t know was that in
truth, you were that link.”

  All trace of resignation was gone from Ed’s expression and was replaced by what looked to be genuine confusion. “No, no. This can’t be right. I thought you’d come here because you’d discovered that—”

  “Enough, Ed!” Catherine was standing in the entrance, pointing a handgun at Will. “Keep your mouth shut!”

  But Ed spun around to face her. “What is he talking about? Shonin doesn’t exist?”

  The questions made Will’s mind race. As he kept his eyes on Catherine and his gun trained on Ed, he stated, “Catherine Parker is Ferryman.”

  Catherine laughed. “I don’t have to say anything. Looks to me like we’ve caught ourselves America’s Most Wanted.”

  Ed stood and looked imploringly at her. “What’s going on?”

  Catherine’s expression was venomous, but she stayed silent.

  Things were starting to make sense to Will. “It appears, Mr. Parker, that you didn’t recruit Shonin. Your wife did, while you were both posted to Prague in 2005. I’m guessing she told you back then that Shonin would only work for her, but that didn’t matter because you could pretend to the Agency that it was you who were running Shonin.”

  Ed took a step closer to Catherine, and Will let him do so. “We knew the Agency would never let Catherine run someone so important, since she’s not a trained case officer. But we also knew the wonders it would do to my career if there was some way we could keep Shonin on board. I thought you’d discovered this and that’s why you came for me tonight. Catherine, what does he mean when he says Shonin doesn’t exist?”

  She remained quiet, a hostile look on her face.

  So Will answered for her. “Antaeus was pretending to be Shonin. Catherine knew that from the outset, or he told her sometime thereafter when he had his hooks into her. Either way, he recruited her rather than the other way around. Your wife’s been working for Antaeus all along. She’s a Russian spy.”

  Catherine placed her finger on the trigger to shoot Will, but as she did so Ed rushed at her, screaming, “Spy?”

  There was no doubt it was an accident.

  She didn’t mean for it to happen.

  As she pulled the trigger, Ed moved in front of her, staring into her eyes with an expression of shock on his face.

  Too late, she realized he was in her line of fire.

  And too late, Ed lowered his gaze and saw what was happening.

  Urgently, she released her finger, but the trigger was by now too far back.

  Her gun fired.

  She screamed and dropped her gun as Ed fell to the floor.

  Tears poured out of her as she cradled her husband. “What have I done?” She looked up and didn’t care that Will had his gun on her. “Oh. Dear God, no! What have I done?” Catherine rocked back and forth while holding her dead husband.

  Will rushed forward and grabbed her gun. “There’s no time for this!”

  Catherine looked at her husband with tear-filled, bloodshot eyes.

  “In two hours, Cobalt’s not going to be at the Afghanistan meeting. Someone else is. Who?”

  Catherine looked around, desperation and misery written across her face.

  “It’s all over for you now. Time’s running out!”

  Catherine used the back of her sleeve to rub tears away. “The Russian deputy prime minister and the head of the United Nations. It’s a top-secret meeting. They’re trying to negotiate with the Taliban to ensure free movement of international aid into Afghanistan.”

  Will nodded. “Antaeus knew about this meeting and told you to tell the Agency that Cobalt was the person going there. But Antaeus only recently found out the exact day, time, and location of the meeting.”

  “Two days ago.”

  “How could you do this?”

  Catherine started slapping her forehead, her face screwed up. “In 2005, Antaeus discovered that I’d been unfaithful to Ed. He used that against me, seduced me. We had a brief affair.”

  “And after that ended, he told you who he was and you went along with that because it gave the Parkers a chance to make it big time in the Agency.”

  “That was the main reason. I told Antaeus that I wanted to get my marriage back on track, and he told me that was a good thing but we’d need all the help we could get.” She lifted her head. “Another reason was that Antaeus gave me something that Ed couldn’t.”

  “A child.”

  “Crystal.”

  “Did Ed know?”

  “He didn’t know, and Antaeus didn’t know. As far as Ed was concerned, Crystal was his. Anyway, a few months later Antaeus got married and had a child of his own. It wouldn’t have served anyone’s interests for me to share the truth. To this day, Antaeus doesn’t know he’s Crystal’s father.”

  Will placed his finger over the trigger. “When the bomb drops, big time in the Agency comes to an end. You must have known that, so why agree to pass on false intelligence about Cobalt’s presence in Afghanistan?”

  Catherine held her husband’s hand while smoothing her thumb over his skin and staring at him with glazed eyes. When she spoke, her voice sounded distant. “Antaeus’s strategy about reputation building. He had to make Project Ferryman an irresistible and fundamental truth to the CIA so that when Ferryman said Cobalt was in Afghanistan, the United States wouldn’t hesitate to act.”

  “Colby Jellicoe, Charles Sheridan, and your husband all had their careers accelerated on intelligence fed to you by Antaeus. Good intelligence.”

  Catherine’s voice was dead, her tears still streaming. “It was good intelligence—genuine Russian operations that Antaeus was willing to sell out to make Project Ferryman the Agency’s most credible and vital mission.”

  Will opened his jacket and turned the radio set that was attached to his belt off Transmit and onto Transmit and Receive. Loudly, he asked, “You getting all of this?”

  Out of the speaker, Marsha’s voice responded. “All of it. And the attorney general and heads of the Agency and Bureau did too. They’re witnesses, and we’ve recorded everything that’s been said. We’re calling off the drone strike right now.”

  Will felt total relief. “I’ll keep Mrs. Parker here. Come and get her.” He switched the radio back onto transmit.

  Catherine looked perturbed. “Prison, not death? Right now, I’d prefer the latter.”

  “Not tonight. One thing that’s always interested me about Cobalt is that a lot of the intelligence pertaining to him has been Russian information that we’ve intercepted or learned about from Russian sources. I’ve got a hunch you might know something about this.”

  Catherine was silent.

  “Speak!”

  Catherine looked at him, no terror in her eyes, instead a look that suggested her mind was disassociated from her body. “Antaeus used me to feed intelligence about Cobalt into the CIA. I’m not stupid; I thought something was odd about it all. One day I confronted him about it, told him I thought he had big lies up his sleeve. He didn’t grace me with an answer.”

  “Of course not.”

  “So, when he instructed me to pass on the intel about Cobalt’s location in Afghanistan, I told him no.”

  “Because you suspected something was wrong with that intelligence.”

  “It sounded to me like a setup. I quickly decided that Ferryman had always been about this. I’ve always worked for Antaeus because of what it could give my family. But I’ve never hated my country. On the contrary.”

  Will lowered his gun because Catherine was no longer a threat. “You knew that if America dropped its bomb, the backlash from the international community would be severe. At best, America would be kicked out of the UN Security Council, made to abandon every overseas U.S. military base, and have its balls cut off to the extent that its days of being a superpower were forever dead. At worst, Russia, its allies, and countries that were previously not its allies, would go to war with the States.”

  Catherine bowed her head. “It was Antaeus’s master plan. Crippl
e America.”

  “A country you love. I’ll ask you one last time: How could you do this?”

  Catherine kissed Ed’s forehead and began rocking back and forth. “When I told Antaeus about my suspicions that something was wrong with Cobalt and that I wouldn’t tell the CIA that Cobalt was going to be in Afghanistan, Antaeus looked genuinely flummoxed. But he’s clever, very clever. He asked me how my husband was faring in the spotlight of Ferryman glory. I told him the truth.” She held her husband close. “That Ed hated being overpromoted and this exposed; that he was a good man.” She started crying uncontrollably.

  “If I were Antaeus, I’d have seen that as an opportunity to tell you the truth and give you and Ed a way out.”

  “Seems you and Antaeus are the same man.” Catherine was shaking. “He did tell me the truth. Said he’d manipulated me to feed crap about Cobalt, but had also used other means to build Cobalt’s profile. He called them his ‘dominos’: snippets of intelligence, conversations that he knew could be eavesdropped, information placed in certain places that could be picked up by others. All of it was crafted by him. He could stand his dominos up facing the West, and with no effort he could make them topple over toward you. You see, he’d spent years planning this. Of course, it was only recently that he learned about the joint Russian-U.N. trip to Afghanistan. But he’d always believed an opportunity like that would one day come along. When it did, he had to have Cobalt right where he wanted him.”

  Will nodded, because this was the final missing piece of the jigsaw.

  One that had been crafted by a brilliant Russian spymaster.

  “Your sole motivation to work for Antaeus was to better your family. But over time you realized the one thing you hoped for your husband was the one thing that he hated. Promotion. So, Antaeus told you the truth to change your mind about not relaying the intel about Cobalt’s Afghan meeting. And the hook was that the fallout after the bomb was dropped would destroy Ed’s career, and give you your husband back. I suppose there was an SVR retirement fund in place too.”

  “Ten million dollars.”

  “Where do you think Cobalt is right now?”