Die Twice (32 page)

I could see a pair of plump tears welling up in the corners of his eyes, so I asked him if he regretted what he’d done.

“Absolutely not,” he said, without even pausing to blink. “Because this is what you have to understand. A traitor doesn’t just betray himself. Or his friends. His family. His country. His queen. He betrays the whole service as well. That means you and me and everyone we’re sworn to fight for. So, no. I have no remorse about shooting him. None at all.”

I thought he’d finished, but after a long swig of beer he turned back to me and rounded things o?.

“Actually, there is one thing I regret,” he said. “Killing him once just isn’t enough. If I was God for a day, I’d make it so that traitors can die twice. Then I could blow his worthless brains out all over again.”

The night-duty receptionist was at the desk when I reached the fourteenth floor of the Wrigley Building, just after seven thirty. She glanced up at me when I came out of the elevator and then gestured vaguely toward the doors that concealed the sni?er machines. I was glad to be able to pick for myself. I wanted the same one that I’d used when I first came to the consulate, four days ago. I always like that kind of symmetry at the start and end of a job. The sense of balance continued when I reached Fothergill’s o?ce. He was standing at the same window. And he was wearing the same blue pin-striped suit. There were only two things that were different from the original picture. He had a large pilot’s-style briefcase on the floor at his feet. And he was surprised to see me.

“David,” he said, spinning around when he saw my reflection in the glass. “What are you doing here? I thought you were still at the Sears Tower?”

“I was there,” I said. “But everything’s squared away now, so I thought I’d come over here and tell you about it.”

“So what happened? You didn’t call. I was worried.”

“I had a couple of ups and downs, but nothing to lose sleep over.”

“What do you mean? Did you find anything?”

“I dug up a couple of things.”

“What things? Tell me.”

“Some people that shouldn’t have been there, for a start.”

“People? Who? How many? Where are they now?”

“Three of them. South Africans. They’re still there. And don’t fret. They won’t be leaving. Not under their own steam, anyway.”

“You killed them?”

“It seemed like the thing to do. Seeing as they were trying to flood the building’s ventilation system with McIntyre’s Spektra V.”

Fothergill sagged at the knees, half sitting down on the windowsill.

“They were? Why?”

“The usual. For money. They were mercenaries.”

“Who was paying them?”

“They didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know? Or wouldn’t say?”

“They didn’t know.”

“Maybe. But we can’t ask them, now, can we? I wish you’d learn to rein yourself in a little, sometimes, David.”

“Reining in wasn’t the problem. If they’d known, they’d have told me. Believe me. But we’ve prevented the immediate threat. That’s what counts. And the backroom boys can run down the whole network now, as quickly as they like.”

“I suppose. But what about the gas itself? Did you find it?”

“All three canisters. Unopened and intact.”

“Oh my goodness,” Fothergill said, getting back on his feet. “David, do you know what this means? It just occurred to me. We’re heroes. Superstars. We just saved countless lives. We stopped the next 9/11.”

“I guess we did,” I said.

“This is huge. Enormous. I’m thinking, medals. Maybe a trip to the palace. But we’re going to have to think very carefully about how we handle things. We want the kudos, but some parts of the story can never see the light of day.”

“Well, you worry about the milking the glory. I still have work to do.”

“We both do. But talking about the gas, where is it now?”

“Still at the Sears Tower.”

“What?”

“Don’t panic. It’s in a safe place.”

“You left it in a public building? Are you mad? What were you thinking?”

“Let me finish. I left it because I’ve got a lead on McIntyre.”

“You’re not serious? The gas, and Tony? In one night? Really?”

“Why not? I like to be thorough.”

“I was beginning to think we’d never get another sni?of him. What did you find? And is it solid, this time? I’d hate for him to give us the slip, again.”

“It’s beyond solid. I know exactly where he is. My information is accurate to within an inch.”

“Then why are we here? Come on. Let’s go. We need to grab him before he moves again. You know what he’s like. Always one step ahead.”

“Oh, I’m going to do more than grab him. Please. Have no doubt. Before nine o’clock tonight, he’ll no longer be a problem. To anyone. I guarantee it.”

“David, that’s excellent. But why nine o’clock? Can’t we move now? Holding back makes me nervous.”

“We’re not holding back. I just need a couple more pieces of background.”

“Why? Don’t you have enough already?”

“Think of it as setting a trap. The jaws are open. Now we need to oil the hinges. Make sure they’re good and ready. I want them to snap shut, all the way.”

“Well, OK, I suppose. We could do that. What do you need to know?”

“Come over here. Let’s sit.”

I took the easy chair on the far side of the co?ee table, away from the door. Fothergill didn’t move for a moment. Then he picked up his case and came over to sit next to me, on my right. That was another difference. At our first meeting, we’d been facing each other.

“What are you waiting for?” Fothergill said. “Ask away. Anything.”

“Let’s start with
A,
” I said. “Afghanistan. You told me McIntyre was stationed there.”

“He was. That’s right.”

“What exactly was his job?”

“I don’t know.”

“Don’t be pedantic. I don’t literally mean his job title. I want to know what he was doing that brought him into contact with illegal weapons.”

“The weapons weren’t illegal, actually. Not all of them. Most of them had been given to the Afghans by the Americans, in the first place. Or by us.”

“Back in the Soviet era, do you mean?”

“Yes.”

“And since then?”

“The game has changed. The people we gave them to have swapped sides. The old good guys are the new bad guys. They’re using the weapons against us. So we either need to confiscate them, which is hard. Or get them back another way.”

“Was Tony involved in getting them back?”

“Yes. It was a joint operation with the U.S. They put up the money. We did the legwork.”

“We were buying them?”

“Yes.”

“From the people we gave them to, who used to be our friends, but are now our enemies?”

“David, I hope you’re not expecting me to make this sound sane. Because you can cut this or slice this any way you like, and it’s still ten kinds of crazy. But you have to be practical. And the thing to remember is that this does work.”

“This is something working? McIntyre? The Myenese? The guys in the Sears Tower?”

“Well, it works to an extent. Until people start stealing the weapons and skimming the money, at least. The system struggles a little, then.”

“Was that McIntyre’s game? Stealing weapons and skimming money?”

“Yes. I believe so. And when he stumbled across the gas, he figured he’d hit the mother lode.”

“Wait. You said the weapons were Soviet era, handed out to the Taliban when we were all friends. Spektra gas isn’t that old.”

“No. It’s a couple of years, max.”

“So what was it doing there? How did McIntyre get his hands on it?”

“Who knows? This is Afghanistan we’re talking about. Nothing makes sense, there. Most likely it was part of a sample batch, sent over for covert evaluation. It doesn’t really matter. The point is, all that American cash was like a magnet. It brought all kinds of things out of the woodwork. A lot of it was junk, by all accounts. But if a case of Spektra crossed Tony’s path, he’d know enough to see the potential for extra profit. And extra risk.”

“Which is why he needed to cover his tracks a little more thoroughly.”

“Exactly. And why he tried to frame me.”

“You think he was selling to the Myenese?”

“I think that was his original idea, yes. I think he started with a deal to sell to those guys in their own backyard. Then he got a better o?er from someone else—the Sears Tower guys, I guess—so he did a runner over here. He could make more money. And lay the blame on me more e?ectively. Which he needed to do. ’Cause let’s face it, dead Americans make bigger headlines than dead Africans.”

“So he double-crossed the Myenese, and they chased him here to force him to make good on the deal?”

“Right.”

“What evidence have you got for any of that?”

Fothergill was silent for a moment.

“Richard?” I said. “What evidence?”

“Well, no actual evidence,” he said. “But that’s pretty much what he told me, when he was here. Before he tried to murder me.”

“When he spoke to you, how was his accent?”

“What?”

“You told me he was Scottish.”

“He was. Is. So what?”

“I noticed Young’s Geordie accent was fading a little. He was probably out of the country too long. So how about McIntyre. Did he still sound like he was from north of the border?”

“Goodness, yes. You know what those accents are like. People never lose them. Not completely. But how is this relevant? If you know where Tony is, what does it matter what he sounded like to talk to?”

“You’re right. I’m just curious. Because I was talking to someone who’d spoken to McIntyre on the phone, and they thought he was English.”

“That’s no big deal. Most foreigners can’t tell the difference between English and Scottish, or even Welsh. Someone thought I was Australian the other day, for goodness’ sake.”

I nodded as if I was thinking about his answer, then shut my eyes for a moment and didn’t speak. I started to sway slightly, back and forth. Then I let myself flop forward, nosediving toward the surface of the co?ee table. It would have hurt, if I’d made contact. But I didn’t, because Fothergill had shot his left arm out to save me. I looked down at his hand. It was pressed against my chest. Palm out, as I’d expected. That only left me with one question, and even though I already knew the answer—or perhaps because I already knew the answer—I was reluctant to ask it.

“David,” he said. “My goodness, are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” I said. “Really. Thank you. And thanks for saving me from going face-first through your table. That really would have left some broken glass to sweep up.”

“Don’t mention it. My pleasure. But what happened to you? Are you feeling faint?”

“It’s nothing. Something came over me, but I’m OK now.”

“Maybe you should go back to your hotel. I told you not to push yourself.”

“No. We’ll carry on.”

“David, you’ve had a hell of a day. You’ve just saved thousands of people’s lives. It would be OK to have an early night. No one would think badly of you.”

“I don’t need to, honestly. Let’s wrap this thing up, and I’ll sleep late tomorrow. I promise.”

“It’s a deal. And I’ll make sure you stick to it. So. Shall we go and close Tony down now, once and for all?”

I waited another moment.

“One last thing, before we do,” I said. “What’s in the bag?”

He took his time to reply.

“That’s none of your business,” he said. “I can’t tell you, I’m afraid. The contents are classified. You’re not the only operative I look after, you know.”

“Richard, I need you to open the bag and show me what’s inside,” I said.

“Don’t be crazy. That’s never going to happen. Now drop it. Let’s go to work.”

“This is the last time I’m going to ask nicely. The bag. Open it. Please.”

Fothergill didn’t answer, and he didn’t move.

I reached inside my jacket and took out my phone.

“McIntyre texted me yesterday,” I said. “It seemed plausible, because this is actually Young’s phone. It was natural that McIntyre should know the number, right?”

Fothergill nodded.

“Only someone else knew the number, too,” I said. “You did. Because I’d called you from it.”

He didn’t respond.

“You knew the conclusion I’d reach when the texts came, because of the phone belonging to Young,” I said. “And just remind me—where were you at the time?”

“In here,” he said. “With you. I remember when they arrived.”

“No. You were out of the room. With the IT guys, allegedly. I wonder if you were really there, that day. I wonder if you were really there at all. I wonder how much they’d know about the Myenese guys’ laptop and hard drives, if I went and asked them.”

“They’d back me one hundred percent of the way.”

“There’s an easier way to find out the truth,” I said, holding up the phone. “Look. Here’s McIntyre’s number. The one the texts came from, yesterday. The one the guy from the Sears Tower was supposed to use today, after he’d killed me. Shall I call it now? I wonder if I’d hear ringing from anywhere close by?”

“No.”

“What’s in the bag, Richard?”

Fothergill didn’t answer.

“Let’s call him, then, after all,” I said. “We could put him on speakerphone and see how Scottish he sounds. Or whether he’s suddenly developed an English accent. Like yours.”

“David,” he said. “Drop this. Don’t call that number. Please.”

“Open the bag.”

He didn’t respond.

“Open the bag,” I said. “Open it now. My finger’s on the call button. You should save yourself the embarrassment.”

Fothergill looked me in the eye to see if I was serious, then leaned forward and clumsily unclipped the case’s two brass catches with his unbandaged left hand.

“All the way,” I said.

He pulled back the lid.

“Take it out,” I said.

He waited for a moment, then reached into the case with both hands and lifted out a green metal canister.

“Put it on the table,” I said.

“OK,” he said, setting it down between us. “There it is. What now?”

“We wait.”

Fothergill stared at the floor for a couple of minutes, then his gaze was drawn to the clock on the wall behind his desk. It was ten to eight. The second hand crawled inexorably around, and I noticed that the pulse in Fothergill’s neck was jumping twice for every move it made. I remember thinking that kind of heart rate couldn’t be healthy for a man of his age, and wondering if nature was going to do my work for me. But he survived fifteen complete revolutions, and then dragged his focus across to my face.