Spycatcher

by Matthew Dunn

  Yours,

  Megiddo

  Lana leaned forward, her head in her hands. “I promised my mother that I would be returning to Paris to care for her in the next day or two.”

  “You should not have done that.”

  She looked up quickly. “Why not? What reason did I have to think that you would fail?”

  Will felt anger surge through his body. He breathed slowly and said as calmly as he could, “We both desperately wanted the man you met today to be Megiddo.”

  Lana shook her head, and Will could see that she, too, felt anger. “But he’s always one step ahead.”

  “He is just being cautious.”

  “Cautious?” She laughed. “As far as he’s concerned, you have information that could stop his plan to commit an atrocity. You’d think he’d have no time for caution.”

  “I think he has no time for impatience.” Will sighed. “But you’re right. I failed to anticipate that Megiddo would be able to hold his nerve to this extent.” He went to her and crouched down, taking her hands in his. “I need you to go to America. I’m sure it will all end there. And you know, you really know, that I will take steps to make sure your mother is comfortable in your absence.”

  “We don’t need your help now.” She spat the words.

  Will knew that whatever he said would be wrong or misinterpreted. He spoke anyway. “I do want your help. I want you to help me become a different man. But I want that to happen in the right way. I want that to happen”—he looked around before returning his gaze to Lana—“when nothing else matters.”

  Lana yanked her hands from his. “For a man like you, there will always be other things that matter. There’ll always be other bad men for you to catch, other dangers for you to fight.”

  “Maybe, but you won’t be involved in any of those. You are, however, very involved in what’s happening right now. Let’s not confuse things.”

  “ ‘Things’?” Lana shook her head, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

  Will drew in a deep breath. “I want you to find peace, Lana. And even though I did not want you involved in this mission, maybe you were right to do this. Maybe you need to do this to put your hatred to bed, to find peace.”

  “And what about you? If you capture Megiddo, will that give you peace?”

  For the briefest moment, Will wanted to tell her everything. He wanted to tell her about his father. He wanted to tell her why Megiddo was so important to him. He wanted to tell her why trapping and punishing the man could well give him some strange kind of meaning and tranquillity. Instead he said, “Maybe.”

  They were quiet for a long time. Lana’s anger seemed to recede.

  She sighed. “I try to imagine what Megiddo is like now.”

  “Do you think he is dedicated to the Iranian regime?”

  Lana shook her head. “He never gave much away. I know only a bit more about him than I know about you. Which is nothing. But no, he has no allegiance to the current regime. He once told me that his father had served under the shah but secretly, toward the end of that era, was helping the revolutionaries plot the shah’s overthrow. He told me that his father had been extremely brave but also foolhardy to do what he did. He told me that his father’s secret work was discovered by people close to the shah and that he was killed.” She narrowed her eyes. “When that happened, the young Megiddo was working with the revolutionaries, but even though his father had helped them, they still did not fully trust Megiddo because of his father’s previous work for the shah. So in the early days his masters would give Megiddo tests just to see how committed he was to their new regime. His first task was to capture and slaughter an American. When he told me what he did to the man, I was revolted.”

  Will’s stomach muscles tightened with a surge of anger and adrenaline.

  “They kept giving him more and more new tasks, and Megiddo would complete them with such exceptional brutality that he came to the attention of the senior revolutionaries and was rapidly promoted through the new regime’s ranks.” She smiled. “But Megiddo was using them and had no real allegiance to the revolutionaries. He thought they were ideological fools. He needed them, though, because they gave him the power to do what he enjoyed.”

  Will shook his head. “The power to be an unbridled psychopath.”

  Lana frowned. “I saw no signs of that when I knew him in Bosnia. He was certainly ruthless and cunning and exceptionally clever, and he obviously had the blood of many men on his hands. But I did not see a deranged murderer.”

  Lana stood and looked at Will. “I don’t think I’d hate him as much as I do if he were simply a madman.” She bent and kissed Will briefly on the lips. “I’m sorry for my harsh words. Maybe you are right. Maybe now is not the time. Maybe the ‘things’ that are weighing so heavily on our minds do need to be fully resolved before we can have the peace to know each other properly. Maybe I do need to let my hate for him run its true course so that I can be a better woman. A woman for you.”

  Will sat alone in Lana’s hotel room. She’d been gone for fifteen minutes, and he had just been informed by Laith that the Iranians were with her and that he was free to leave. He tried to think of many other things, but what Lana had told him of Megiddo’s past kept repeating itself in his mind. He stood, walked to the door, and heard his cell phone ring. He recognized the number and answered immediately.

  “Harry.”

  “Charles. Sorry to bother you.” Harry’s voice sounded uncharacteristically weak. “I was calling to see whether my equipment was up to the job.”

  Will paused for a moment. “It was not fully used.”

  There was a long silence at the other end before Harry spoke again. “I see.”

  Will frowned. “Is something wrong?”

  Another long silence, and then Harry said, “Did you mean what you told me? The passport?”

  “I meant it.” Patrick had been furious at the request, but Will had garnered the CIA man’s confirmation that the passport could be issued, provided that Harry’s information led to the capture of Megiddo and prevention of his attack.

  Harry made a sound like a sigh.

  Will repeated, “Is anything wrong, Harry?”

  “We need to meet. There’s some new information I have which I must share with you.”

  “Where and when?”

  “First thing tomorrow morning at my house. It will be safe there. I can SMS you the address.”

  “Sure. But can’t you tell me about this new information now?”

  “Not on the phone. Only in person. But I can say that what I now know will turn everything upside down.”

  Thirty-Six

  Will drove north and then east alongside Sarajevo’s Miljacka River. He had previously memorized the route and now mentally crossed off road and street names as he traveled.

  Bulevar Meše Selimovića, Zmaja od Bosne, Obala Kulina Bana, north on Sagardžije, Vrbanjuša, Kulenovića, Skenderaj, east on Sedrenik, north on to Pašino Brdo, then exactly three point four kilometers up that hill route.

  Harry had forewarned Will that his house was isolated and deliberately difficult to find, because it was set back in a wooded area away from the quiet road. But Will measured the distance up the hill, and at the correct point he found only one track leading off his road. It was a track that was clearly used by vehicles and was nearly hidden by overhanging trees. Will did not enter the snow-covered track but instead went on driving up the hill for another four hundred meters, until he came to a place that could have once been a sniper post but was now a natural observation spot for hikers. A spot where one could stop and eat sandwiches and rest up. He exited his car and checked his watch. He was eighty-eight minutes early for his arranged meeting with Harry.

  Will looked around. From this vantage a proficient sniper would have been able to strike the northeast tip of Sarajevo. He would also ha
ve a very clear sight of the city’s road leading to this place. Will didn’t have a sniper rifle, but he did have a small set of 10×25 bird-watching binoculars. He examined the road and could see no vehicles or persons. He walked back along the hill road and to within two hundred meters of the track leading to Harry’s house. He stepped off the road and into the woods, where he walked parallel to the track. When he came to within one hundred meters of the house, he sat down. He stayed in this position for twenty minutes before moving to study the house from a different angle, where he again waited for the same duration. He repeated this process twice more, so that by the end of his eighty-minute watch he had observed the full perimeter of the property.

  The S-Class Mercedes and Jeep Grand Cherokee were parked in an open garage toward the front of Harry’s house. The house’s windows had external wooden shutters, and all were open. Will could see no movement inside. He listened but could hear no human sounds.

  He walked out of the wooded area and onto Harry’s driveway. Then he put his gloves on and walked directly up to the front door to ring the bell. There was no answer, so he rang again. Again nothing. He pulled out his phone and tried to call Harry. The phone rang eight times before being directed to Harry’s voice mail. Will replaced his phone and slowly walked around the house. He peered into ground-floor windows and knocked on a rear door. He continued to be met by silence.

  He tried to open the rear door, but it was locked. He looked around the back garden and spotted a small hut. The door to the tiny building was unlocked, and within it he found what he was looking for. He returned to the rear door of the house and swung the mallet at the area around the door handle. The door crashed open instantly, and he stepped into the house. He walked through the spacious kitchen before him and into a hallway. To his left was a big, open living and dining area. There were three separate sofa-and-chair groupings, plus a heavy wooden dining table surrounded by eight seats. A sixty-inch flat-screen television was wall-mounted near one of the sofa areas, and a Bang & Olufsen stereo system was positioned adjacent to another. Gilt-and-marble coffee tables were scattered throughout, on top of huge woven silk rugs in red and gold. There were large paintings that looked to be originals and old. It was early-morning daylight outside, but had the room’s lights been turned on, the room would have been illuminated by the glow from crystal chandeliers. Harry clearly liked luxury.

  Will moved quickly through the rest of the house. The place had six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, two other lounge areas, and three studies. It was very big for one person, but Will imagined that Harry was the type of man who would like to throw parties for glamorous women. Will paid particular attention to the upstairs study and found lots of documentation and paperwork. But he decided it would take him hours to go through the stuff. He looked in the more obvious areas but could find nothing of immediate interest.

  He returned downstairs. Everywhere seemed immaculate, and he could smell alcohol-based polish.

  He walked back into the main living area and looked at the bodies he had earlier stepped over. Harry’s four bodyguards had all been shot in the head and torso. They must have been dispatched with extreme swiftness, for none of them showed signs of having had time to arm themselves.

  Will placed his hand on his throat pressel switch to speak to Roger. “Four bodies, but no sign of Harry.”

  “Understood.” Roger spoke quietly, and Will knew that he would be hidden somewhere halfway along the three-kilometer hill route.

  Will checked the pockets of the dead men but found nothing of interest. He heard Roger’s voice again in his earpiece.

  “I can see a four-seater sedan driving up Pašino Brdo. Three Iranians are inside. One of them is Nozari, and the other two are from the team. They’re driving slowly and they’re two point eight kilometers from your position. They’ll be passing me in two minutes and you in five. Let me know if you want me to stop them.”

  Will frowned. He had no doubt that the men who had killed Harry’s bodyguards were the same people who had killed Kljujic, and he knew that Nozari had been directly or indirectly involved in both acts. But it made no sense to him that they were driving back to Harry’s house at such a casual pace. If they’d been stupid and left something in the house to compromise themselves, they would be driving with haste. Likewise, if Will had been spotted by them going to the house—and he thought that impossible—they would be after him with speed and in greater numbers. But they were driving as if they were unafraid of time or consequences.

  Suddenly the realization of what was happening hit him. He cursed silently and pulled out his SIG Sauer handgun at the same time as his free hand flew to his throat pressel switch. “They’re coming to collect the assassin. He’s still here.”

  “There could be more than one.”

  “There’s only one empty seat in that car.” Will swung his gun around. He could feel his heart race, and he kept moving. “But whoever’s here is good enough to take out four men in the blink of an eye.”

  “Then I’d better be on my way.”

  Will held his gun in two hands and walked quickly but lightly across the room and into the downstairs hallway. Opposite him was one of the two smaller studies, and he reentered the room, walked around its perimeter, and then returned to the hallway. He stopped to listen but could hear nothing. The upper floor of the house contained the most rooms, closets, and other areas where a man could hide, and Will decided that unless the assassin had left the house already, he must be in one of those places. He ascended the stairs until he was back on that upper floor. Beams of white daylight traversed the expansive corridor area before him and came from open doorways and the external windows beyond them. He narrowed his eyes to try to focus through the strobelike effect they created, and he started moving through the floor, checking each room to his left and right. The smell of the polish was even stronger here, and he didn’t remember noticing its pungency when he’d been up here a few minutes earlier. He exited the final room on the right side of the corridor and moved to the master bedroom at the end of the floor. It was the last room to be checked. He crouched low and to one side of the double-door entrance. He slowly turned the handle and pushed the door inward while remaining in position and out of sight of anyone inside the room. Within a split second, he poked his head into the room and out again. In that time he had seen no one in there, although he knew from his earlier search that there were at least nine places inside it large enough to conceal a man. He counted ten seconds while listening before moving steadily into the room with his gun held in front of him. He examined all nine places and then kicked at the bed in frustration. He was now sure that the killer must have left before he’d entered the house. He looked around the room one more time and sighed.

  A loud thud came from behind him, and he instantly spun around to face the direction of the noise. It had come from the end of the long corridor, and through the fragmenting splinters of daylight he saw an open attic hatch and a man standing beneath it with his back to Will. The man turned toward him. Even though he was approximately thirty meters away from Will and partially disguised by the distorting effect of inconsistent light and darkness, he could see that the man was tall and middle-aged. He could also see that the man’s arm was outstretched. Will raised his gun to shoot, but a tiny flash of another kind of light descended quickly from the man’s hand toward the floor. Too late Will realized that the tiny glow belonged to a cigarette lighter and too late he understood that the pungent alcohol smell belonged not to polish but to a fire accelerant. The lighter hit the floor, and blue flames instantly engulfed the corridor and sped along it toward the master bedroom. Will flinched slightly as the fire dazzled his vision. When he looked up again, he was surprised to see that the man was still standing in the same position. It then registered that the man was pointing a handgun in his direction. Will saw the gun’s muzzle flash, sensed the tiniest moment of absolute pain in his head, and then felt and knew noth
ing.

  Thirty-Seven

  “I need you to live.”

  Will saw his body move away from the floor. He saw black swirls, he saw yellow and red, and he smelled roasting flesh. Something sharp repeatedly banged against his chest and produced pain. But the pain on the side of his head was much worse. He felt things were moving, and he felt out of control. He closed and opened his eyes, and each time he did, he saw different images. He heard breathing and felt something wrapped tight and unforgiving around his back. Movement increased and became as rapid as the breathing he heard. He saw things and then no longer saw or heard anything.

  “You’re not safe yet.” The voice sounded different.

  Will’s head whipped back, and he saw white light. It slumped forward, and he saw snow and feet and legs quite close to him. Again something angular banged against his chest, and the images before him jarred in time with each small impact. He felt that he was moving fast. He felt helpless. His eyes closed even though he did not wish them to do so. His brain began to fall into some kind of strange sleep.

  Will opened his eyes and saw sky. Underneath him everything felt cold. He focused on his hands and pushed with them without knowing what the action would do to his body. It forced him up into a seated position and into a place that at first he did not understand. He was seated in thick snow and on a steep hillside. He shook his head quickly to try to focus his mind.

  “Don’t do that.”

  Will stopped. He looked toward the voice, which seemed real. He saw Roger, but the man was not looking at him and was instead crouched on one knee while looking back up the hill. He held a rifle and was peering through its scope. Will shook his head again.

  “You’ll lose consciousness if you do that. And I’m not going to haul you back onto my shoulder for another thousand-meter run if you ignore me.” Roger pulled away from the scope and looked toward Will. “We must go.”