Spycatcher s-1

by Matthew Dunn

  “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 amp; 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.

  He heard a man shout, “Stop! Police!”

  Will exhaled slowly but did not move.

  He heard a different man shout, “Drop the weapon! Raise your hands and kick your weapon away from you!”

  Will did not move.

  “Do it or we will shoot you!”

  Will knew that there were at least two police officers behind him. He sighed, moved his arms outward, paused for a moment before dropping his Heckler amp; Koch MK23 to the ground. He turned quickly to face the police. Two male officers were before him, standing apart from each other at a distance of about thirty feet. They had handguns pointed straight at him. Behind them was their stationary police vehicle. Its doors were open, and police lights flashed silently on its roof.

  “Stand still. Nobody told you to turn around.” This came from the officer to his right. The other officer took two sideward paces, and Will knew that the man was creating a greater angle between him and his colleague so as to minimize the chance for Will to assault the men and escape.

  Will silently cursed. A moment ago he had been very close to Megiddo. But now the man would be rushing away with Lana and no doubt searching for a populated place to hide among other civilians. He cursed that the men before him were doing their job but were also unwittingly allowing the most dangerous man on the planet to escape in their village. He looked at the faces of the police officers. He could see no fear in their eyes, no hesitation and no uncertainty. They looked professional and competent. But he knew that he would be quicker; he knew he could pull Laith’s handgun from his pocket and put bullets into their brains before they could even blink. He sighed as he looked at them. He knew there was no way he could shoot dead two American police officers.

  “Keep your arms out. Get on your knees.”

  Will did what he was told.

  “Now lie flat, facedown and hands together behind your back.”

  Will moved his body into the position but kept his face forward. He could see the cop to his left take more sideways steps until he was out of sight, moving behind to handcuff Will. He looked at the other police officer. The man was motionless and kept his gun pointed at Will’s head.

  “I said facedown.”

  Will pushed his face into snow and waited. He felt a knee punch into the small of his back. He still waited. He felt strong fingers wrap around one of his hands, and he knew that the cuffs were about to be placed on him. He moved fast.

  He grabbed the police officer’s wrist, spun rapidly on the ground, twisted the man’s arm with the movement, forced him to spin with him until he was momentarily by Will’s side, heard shouting from the other officer, knew that the other officer would not shoot for fear of hitting his colleague, grabbed the prone officer’s throat, wrenched his head up and in front of him, moved onto his knees, pulled the man with him, moved into a crouch position, lunged forward with the man toward the other officer, and pushed his captive directly into his colleague. The two officers flew through the air before crashing to the ground. Will sprinted at them, kicked the gun out of one of the men’s hands, stomped on his solar plexus to render him temporarily immobile, moved to the other man as he was trying to get to his feet, jabbed an elbow down into the man’s collarbone, and simultaneously swept a leg around his ankles to force him back down to the ground. He picked up their guns and threw them down the street. Both officers were moaning in pain, but Will knew they would recover in minutes. He looked at them both, sighed, and said, “I’m sorry.”

  Then he turned and sprinted away. He ran knowing that he could not spend a moment longer in this place. He ran knowing that he now stood no chance of finding Megiddo or Lana in the village. He ran knowing that his only hope to finish everything would be for Megiddo to come to him in New York.

  He ran knowing that in just under twenty-four hours’ time he had to be face-to-face with Megiddo and that his quarry would be there to kill him.

  Forty-Eight

  Will headed north through forest but not too far from Route 86, where he had earlier seen signs for the Adirondack Regional Airport. Wind was blowing hard and sent snow and ice fast into his face. He moved, sometimes blindly, through the pitch-dark forest, using only the occasional road light on his right to maintain his bearings. He felt very cold, but he also felt angry and determined to keep moving.

  He walked for six kilometers, only occasionally stopping to crouch down when a vehicle passed on the road. He reached an area where he could see the road fork, adjusted his position, and continued his journey in a westerly direction, keeping the new road thirty meters to his right.

  He thought about calling Patrick and telling the man everything that had happened on this day. He thought about telling Patrick where he was so that the man could send help to get him to New York immediately. He thought about Roger and Laith, and his next thought echoed the words they had earlier used:

  Fuck that.

  The night grew even blacker, and the temperature plummeted further. His clothes felt heavy now, and he knew that was because they were frozen.

  He saw the lights of the airport ahead.

  He jogged forward so that he was very close to the road. He looked up and down the route before walking quickly across it and into more forest. He kept moving forward until he was close to the airport perimeter. He breathed deeply, even though every lungful of icy air felt excruciating. He crouched down, lowered himself onto his knees, and fell forward onto his stomach and chest. He pulled himself a few feet along the ground until he was satisfied that he could see the complex properly.

  The airport had only one building, and it was small and clearly both the arrivals and departures area. But it was in total darkness. Beside it he could see glimpses of snow-covered single-engine planes on tarmac and three runways beyond them. He’d come here hoping to find a busy airport, active twenty-four hours, and maybe even a direct flight to New York City. The place before him was anything but that, though, and it was clearly shut for the night. He would have to wait in the freezing night until the airport opened in the morning.

  He heard cars, looked quickly to his right, and saw two of them move slowly along the narrow entrance road to the airport. He tried to focus his eyes through the snowfall and saw that one of the cars was a white SUV and the vehicle behind it was a police vehicle. He stayed still and watched them pull up close to the solitary building.

  The cars stopped. A man exited the SUV, and two police officers got out of their vehicle. Will could not see the officers’ faces clearly, but he could tell from their builds that they were not the men who had pointed guns at him on Olive Street. He knew that more police officers would have been drafted into the area to look for the man who had disarmed the two policemen. But he wondered what was happening in front of him right now.

  The civilian walked up to the reception building, paused by the door, seemed to be looking for something, and opened the door. He entered but stopped inside within a few feet of the doorway and looked at one of the adjacent walls. He raised his arm and spent a few seconds standing where he was before walking out of the building and nodding at the two police officers. They walked into the building with the civilian, and the three men momentarily disappeared from view.

  Will knew that the civilian was the key holder to the airport and that the man had punched numbers into a wall-mounted alarm unit to disable the security system. But he did not know why he or the police were here. He waited and rubbed his hands to try to aid his circulation.

  Lights came on in the building until the whole interi
or was illuminated. Will looked at the windows and saw glimpses of the men moving through the place before stopping in one room. The policemen seemed to be doing nothing other than standing by the civilian; the civilian was making telephone calls from different phones. He looked focused and picked up phones as quickly as he put them down. The men were in the room for maybe ten or fifteen minutes before lights were turned off and they appeared at the main doorway. The civilian tapped buttons on the alarm pad, locked the door, and headed quickly to his vehicle. The police officers joined him, shook his hand, and walked to theirs.

  Will now knew exactly what had been happening. The police had called the head of the airport, brought him to the place, and protected him while he made calls to other airports telling them that the Adirondack Regional Airport would be closed until further notice while authorities conducted a manhunt for the individual who had assaulted two police officers and was most certainly associated with two men who were currently in supervised medical care suffering from gunshot and knife wounds.

  He felt a surge of frustration. He rubbed ice from his face, watched the police officers enter their vehicle, saw one of them talk on their radio, watched them drive off with lights flashing. He imagined that with their task done, they would now be heading off to continue their role in trying to find him.

  The civilian paused by his car door, tried to light a cigarette, failed, opened the door, and sat for a moment in the driver’s seat. Will saw a glow behind the man’s cupped hands, followed by smoke from his cigarette. Will stood, pulled out Laith’s handgun, and ran toward the seated man. He slowed and held his gun in two hands. Falling snow swirled around him.

  The man glanced up, his eyes widened, and he looked very scared. “Are you the man they want?”

  Will pointed his gun at the man’s head and took measured steps forward. “Maybe. Are you armed?”

  The man shook his head. “Do I look like the type of person to carry a gun?”