Spycatcher (23 page)

Her expression turned from longing and loving to confused and cold. She muttered, “You don't want me.”

Will frowned and shook his head. “That's not right, Lana, I—”

She stood quickly, and in doing so she banged against the coffee table, knocking over her glass and spilling its contents. She turned and looked down at Will. She shook her head slowly, and her eyes now seemed completely devoid of any of the emotion she'd shown a moment ago. “Then all I have left is hate.”

Thirty-Five

S
arajevo was awake, and people and cars were on its streets despite the blizzard that was now hitting the city with ever-increasing intensity.

Will and Laith were standing on Zelenih Beretki. They both carried pastries, tourist guides, and cameras. They wore jeans and winter jackets with the hoods up. They smiled and laughed and took in the views of the Old Town and hoped that they seemed like a couple of men who were passing time while their wives shopped. Under their jackets they had skin-colored Motorola communication cords that emerged at the collars to earpieces and microphones. Within their pockets each of them had silenced SIG Sauer pistols and two spare clips of ammunition.

While gazing around and occasionally pointing at something or nodding, Laith spoke to Will. “Ben's in an SUV on Mula Mustafe BaÅ¡eskije, Julian's taken up a sniper position inside a building on Sarači, and Roger's on Ferhadija itself.” It would be Roger who would be watching the position of Lana's handbag. From their own position, Will and Laith could not see the Black Swan café. “All seven of the Iranians are around her, and all are on foot.”

Will did not look at his watch, but he knew that it was nearly ten o'clock. He took another bite of his pastry even though he was not hungry. “What shape are they in?”

“Too close to each other for good surveillance. They're just focused on protection now.” Laith's head moved slightly, and Will knew that he would be scanning their surroundings. It had become a busy place. All around them, vehicles and shoppers and workers were battling their way through the weather. “Let's hope it's just protection. You know the last time seven assassins were sent to this city?”

“I do not.”

“In 1914. They killed an archduke just upriver from here and sparked a world war.” Laith pretended to examine his tourist guide.

“Thank you for reassuring me.” Will tried to grin again.

Roger's voice came on the air. “Vehicle's just pulled up. Two men. One gets out. He's middle-aged. It could be him.” He went quiet again before quickly relaying further updates. “Vehicle drives off. The other man enters the Swan. It means he's likely to be mobile after the meet.”

Ben's voice. “Understood.”

Will kept his breathing as regular as he could. He ignored his surroundings; for the moment that was Laith's job. His mind focused purely on the microphone in his right ear and any sounds coming from it, which would determine success or failure.

Roger's voice. “She stands. Hands are shaken. Hands are held. She kisses him on a cheek. They sit.” Silence. “Vision blocked. Waitress.” Silence.

Will counted seconds. He stopped counting. He could not count.

“They talk.” Roger's voice was calm and authoritative. “He hands her an envelope. He stands. She remains seated. He makes cell-phone call. He speaks on phone. End of call. Glance at his watch. More talk.”

Will scuffed his boots in the snow impatiently. All he wanted to hear was that Lana had set her handbag on to the table. All he wanted to know was that she was leaving the place safe and alone.

Ben's voice: “Same vehicle as before passes me. Heading south. Turning left onto Mula.”

“Got it.” Roger's voice was quick. “It's now on Ferhadija. It stops outside the Swan.”

“Her handbag?” Will's voice was urgent.

“I'm waiting.” Roger's voice remained calm. “Hands are shaken again. Man turns. He walks away from her.”

Will glanced at Laith and could tell that the man was poised to run to the café as soon as the command was uttered.

“Lana removes her bag from her shoulder. She holds it away from her. She places it on the floor.”

L
ana was standing smoking in her hotel room and appeared to be on her second or third vodka and tonic. She looked at him and shook her head. “It was not him.”

“Are you absolutely sure?” Will had a hard time not shouting the question.

Lana huffed and waved her glass at him. “You know I am the one person who can positively identify Megiddo. The man I saw today was too short. He spoke differently. He had different features. It was most certainly not him.” She lowered her glass and slumped into an armchair. “Megiddo is playing with me.”

Will stood silently examining Lana. She wore an expression he thought could be disappointment. His own emotions were numb with disbelief that he had not cornered Megiddo today.

“Did the man you saw give you his name?” he said at last.

Lana fluttered a hand. “He introduced himself as Mr. Nozari.”

Will nodded once. The man had to be Gulistan Nozari. Which just confirmed what Ben had concluded when he had followed the man and his vehicle back to the Human Benevolence Foundation building, where Nozari was registered.

“He gave me that.” Lying on the coffee table between them was a plain white business-size envelope. It was fat and had been opened. Lana nodded at it, and Will picked it up. Inside were dollars and a folded letter.

Dear Miss Beseisu,

You are reading this letter because you told the man you met today that he was not me. It means you genuinely want to see me. This in turn means that your motives are probably not driven by monetary requirements. Otherwise you might have said nothing to the man and hoped that he would give you something for your efforts.

But you will also understand that I have needed to be very cautious. Your first letter to me came after years of absence from each other, and you have already advised me that for most of that time you have lived in Europe. A man in my position would naturally be suspicious, and as a result I have been forced to take precautions. One such precaution was getting you to meet somebody else first. You may think of the man you met today as my deputy. He is not, but think of him that way.

I still do not know what your intentions are toward me, so you will understand that I will continue to be careful. But since nothing untoward happened today, then you are probably alone and I will therefore finally meet you in person. You have my word on that now.

I have instructed my deputy to give you some money, which should be included with this letter. It is $15,000 and is to help with your expenses.

I have business to attend to in the United States of America. That is where we shall meet. You must fly to Boston tomorrow and stay at the Boston Park Plaza Hotel. On the day after, you must leave the hotel at noon and walk directly east until you reach the InterContinental Boston hotel. You must then walk alongside the harbor through downtown and the North End. I will meet you on that walk at a place of my choosing.

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.”

W
ill 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.”