The Game (27 page)

The woman looked at Victor with the same surprise he felt, but hid. She seemed about the same age as Kooi had been, but appeared older because of acute stress and tiredness. She had blonde hair and pale skin. Her hair was greasy and uncombed and her clothes were creased and marked. Victor made her for a strong woman, mentally and emotionally robust, used to the knocks and setbacks of life, aware and cautious but afraid of little. She looked terrified.

The strip of duct tape over her mouth kept her lips sealed and prevented her from shouting out what her eyes were screaming:

He’s not the man I married.
 

The duct tape that bound her wrists looked clean and shiny and had few creases. The strip across her mouth was the same, and flat, with no trace of the corners curling. So Victor knew both had been applied not long ago. The state of her clothes and hair said she had been held captive for longer, but no more than two or three days. It would show in her appearance if she had been held for more than that. Unless they had given her clothes and provided her with basic means of sanitation. But the clothes fitted exactly as they were supposed to, matching and suiting her too well to have been given to her by someone who didn’t care what she looked like. She had been captive for two or three days but had only been bound recently.

The boy next to the woman was about seven, but could have easily been a small eight-year-old or big for six. Victor wasn’t sure. He didn’t know much about children. The boy wore trainers, jeans and a T-shirt with dinosaurs embossed on the front. The boy wasn’t bound and he wasn’t gagged. Like his mother’s, the boy’s hair was a mess and his clothes were dirty. He didn’t look scared. He didn’t shout out that Victor was not his father. He just stared at Victor, intent and curious.

They had been captive for two or three days but the woman had only been recently bound. Because the circumstances of their captivity had changed. The need for security had intensified. They’d been moved from one captor to another or from one prison to another. Or both. Victor remembered Hart’s arrival at the farmhouse and the white panel van with precious cargo in the back that only he had been trusted to deliver. That precious cargo being Kooi’s wife and child, kidnapped two or three days ago and transported here to the olive mill, where they had been taken from the van and held somewhere else under the guard of the five Chechens, who had gagged and bound the woman. Because she had given them problems. Because she had tried to escape and they couldn’t hurt her. Because if she was hurt it could change the dynamic of the threat. Kooi might be too angry to comply rather than scared.

‘Is that it?’ Leeson said. ‘You’re just going to stand there? No tearful greeting? No rushing for a hug? You’re a cold man, Mr Kooi, but I didn’t think you were that cold. But just as well, because I’m afraid there isn’t time for an emotional reconciliation.’

The woman was shaking her head and mumbling behind the tape, struggling against the fifth Chechen who gripped her by the arm. Only Victor knew what she was trying to achieve. The boy stared at him, eyes quizzical and searching.

‘Let them go,’ Victor said.

Leeson said, ‘It would hardly make much sense to go through all the considerable efforts we have made to bring them here and then to release them immediately on your request, now would it?’

‘They mean nothing to me,’ Victor said.

‘Really?’ Leeson asked. ‘Lucille and Peter mean nothing to you?’

Lucille. Peter.
 

Muir hadn’t known about them. She hadn’t known Kooi was married. She hadn’t known he had a family. Kooi had lived alone in Amsterdam. Lucille and Peter must have lived elsewhere, outside Holland. They must have married in another country with Lucille keeping her maiden name. But it hadn’t lasted, otherwise Muir would have known about it. When the separation occurred Kooi moved back to Amsterdam, the marriage not showing up on his Dutch records.

‘That’s right,’ Victor said. ‘They mean nothing to me.’

‘They mean nothing to you, yet you pay their extortionate rent and Peter’s school fees using a Swiss bank account belonging to a shell corporation registered in Indonesia?’

Victor’s mind worked fast. Kooi had separated from his wife and walked out on his son, but supported them financially. Yet he had no contact with them – Muir would have seen the pattern of flights or calls. Peter’s T-shirt had a dinosaur design. Back in Algiers Kooi had bought a statuette: a carved wooden reptilian man. Juvenile design. Victor had thought Kooi to have strange tastes, but he’d been wrong. Kooi had bought a present for his son.

So Kooi hadn’t abandoned his family. He had stayed away from them because he operated in a dangerous world and he had been protecting them from something like this. But he’d failed.

The clicking of heels announced Francesca’s arrival before she stepped into the pressing room. She wore an A-line black dress made from crushed velvet that reached her ankles. It had a slit that opened almost to her hip. Light sparkled on the jewellery adorning her ears, wrist, fingers and neck. Her dark hair was pulled back and held up with clips. She’d never looked better.

Victor ignored her and said to Leeson, ‘What do you want?’

‘For you to do as requested. Wear the vest. Accompany Francesca to the party. There is no metal in the vest so you will have no trouble getting through security. Then simply plug in a mobile phone, stand within twenty feet of Mr Prudnikov and when the phone makes or receives a call: boom. You won’t feel a thing. In return, your family will be driven back to Andorra and they can carry on with their lives.’

‘Let them go,’ Victor said again. ‘Let them go and I’ll kill Prudnikov. I don’t need the vest.’

‘You said it was impossible.’

‘I’ll find a way. I can do it. Just let them go.’

‘I’m afraid that’s no good to me. One does not assassinate the head of Russia’s foreign intelligence service if he values his own life and liberty. As you said, it’s suicide. I have no wish to spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder. The only way to pull off such a job is if no one believes an assassination has taken place, which they won’t if Prudnikov just happens to be one of the many unfortunate victims of a terrorist attack by Chechen nationalists. After you have blown yourself up these five fine nationalists right here will use the ensuing chaos to storm the building. In the aftermath those that matter will believe the bombing’s primary role was to give the team a means of entry. No one will ever think – nay, ever imagine – that it was an assassination. So you see, it wouldn’t work to have you kill him any other way than to blow yourself up. But don’t think of it as killing yourself, think of it as saving your family. After you’ve used the vest to kill Prudnikov, Lucille and Peter will be released without harm. Fail or deviate from the plan in even the smallest way and they will be killed. Refuse to comply and watch them die right now. But I’ll do you the kindness of letting you be the one to decide in which order they take their final breath.’

There was nothing to gain by revealing he wasn’t Kooi. He had met Leeson as Kooi and pretended since that moment to be Kooi. Denying it now would seem like desperation, the kind of desperate claim a man fearing for the lives of his loved ones might make. Or perhaps he would convince Leeson of the truth, but that would achieve nothing save his immediate death and the deaths of Kooi’s wife and child.

‘How do I know you’ll let them go if I do what you ask?’

‘You don’t,’ Leeson said, like a reasonable man might, ‘but I have no reason to kill them unless you force my hand. I assure you I have no desire to be responsible for a child’s death if it can be avoided. But if you don’t believe me they are certain to die.’

Victor looked at Francesca. ‘You’re going along with this?’

Hart laughed. A deep, malevolent mirth. ‘
Going along with it?
Funny, kid. Using your family was her idea.’

Francesca said, ‘I told you I didn’t need your help, Felix. I don’t really know why you thought I was so different from you. Maybe I used to be a good person long ago, but where does that ever get anyone?’

‘You want the death of a child on your conscience?’

She shook her head. ‘Of course not, but if you do what they tell you to do then I won’t have one.’

Victor turned to Coughlin, who said, ‘Don’t even bother, okay? Just do your job and I’ll do mine.’

Dietrich laughed. ‘Couldn’t have happened to a nicer person, your majesty.’

Leeson held up his hands. ‘Enough, children. We’re all professionals here, so let’s all behave with some professionalism. Mr Kooi has a simple job to do, and if you do it Lucille and Peter can go back to their lives knowing you really did love them. Peter can go back to school and play with his friends and grow up and chase girls and have a family himself one day. He’ll always know what his father did for him.’

Peter was still staring at Victor with the same quizzical gaze. Not frightened or overwhelmed with emotion. But curious. Then Victor understood.

The boy didn’t know his father. He didn’t know Kooi. He didn’t tell his captors the truth because he didn’t know the truth. His parents must have split long enough ago that the boy couldn’t picture his father’s face.

He thought Victor was his father.

Leeson squatted down on his haunches before the little boy. ‘They say if you come down to their level so you can look them in the eye they’ll trust you.’ Leeson brushed the shoulder of the kid’s T-shirt. ‘Do you trust me, Peter?’

The boy called Peter didn’t answer.

‘Maybe I should start hurting him now. Would that encourage your cooperation? I wonder how loud he would scream if I cut off his thumb?’

‘Let them go,’ Victor said.

‘Kill Prudnikov and they’ll be released,’ Leeson said. ‘There is nothing more to discuss. All I need from you is your agreement. Otherwise, by proxy you will give me your consent to have the ones you love butchered.’

Victor looked around. Dietrich, Coughlin and Hart surrounded him in a loose circle. Leeson and Francesca stood between him and Kooi’s family. Five Chechens stood at the periphery of the room. He had a single advantage: they thought the woman and the boy really were his family whom he supported and protected. Leeson believed they were Victor’s priority. The men in the room were positioned to stop him trying to kill Leeson or rescue the captives. They weren’t concerned about Victor escaping because they didn’t consider he would want to.

‘You’re probably wondering why this is happening to you,’ Leeson said. ‘Well, quite simply, Mr Kooi, reliable suicide bombers aren’t that easy to come across, and those that are reliable aren’t exactly the kind of people who can get into a Russian embassy and in range of a specific target. So it had to be a professional. You weren’t the only candidate, but you were so very calm when we met in Budapest, which we need you to be in that embassy, and of course you have such a lovely family to use as leverage. You need to make a decision, Mr Kooi. Right now. You’re going to die. There’s nothing you can do to stop that. But you don’t have time to grieve for yourself because you need to answer a question. You need to ask yourself whether you would rather die alongside your family or whether you’ll die to save them.’

The door was six metres away. He could cover the distance and be through it before anyone could intercept him. Leeson was pointing a gun at him, but Leeson was no marksman. Victor doubted he could hit a moving target. The mill was enclosed by the chain-link fence topped with spikes, but it was almost sunset. Shadows were deepening. The modern mill building was huge and full of machinery and blind spots – places to hide and to ambush pursuers. There would be improvised weapons. He had the valet key still. If he distracted them long enough he could get to the limousine and charge through the gates. It wasn’t a great plan. It wasn’t even a half-decent one. As soon as he was out of the door he would be improvising every step.

There was only a slim chance of a successful outcome, but a slim chance was all he needed – those inside the room had no idea what he was really capable of, and he would do anything to survive.

Victor stared into Lucille’s confused, terrified eyes, and then down to Peter’s. The boy didn’t blink. He stared at the man he believed to be his father. The man about to run away and leave him to his death.

‘I’ll do it,’ Victor said.

Leeson’s expression didn’t change. It didn’t change because there were only two answers to the dilemma he had posed, and Kooi or Victor or any sane person would never choose immediate death for himself and his family if there was even the slightest possibility of avoiding it. Leeson ruffled Peter’s hair.

‘You see,’ he said to the boy, ‘your father does love you. My father loved me too. It’s a good feeling, isn’t it?’

Peter didn’t blink. Victor found it hard to hold his gaze for any length of time.

Hart faced Victor. ‘This is how it’s going to work, Dutch: you’ll leave shortly, after you’ve changed into some more suitable attire. Francesca, Coughlin and myself will accompany you. The embassy is a fifteen-minute drive from here. We’ll drop you and Francesca off to go to the reception. She’ll be your date, but think of her as a chaperone. Me and Coughlin are going to be running the show from an apartment that overlooks the terrace where the ambassador will make a speech. That’s the one time we know for certain where Prudnikov is going to be. The speech is due to take place at 2100 hours, but you’ll need to be in the party an hour before that to get security used to your presence and forget about you. Turn up ten minutes before the speech and blow yourself up and too many awkward questions are going to be asked in the aftermath. Can’t have that, can we? We’re going to keep the comms old school to avoid detection. Francesca will text updates to me every fifteen minutes to let us know you’re behaving yourself. If anything stops her sending a text or you’re not on that balcony when you should be, then bad things are going to happen to Lucille and Peter. From the apartment we’ll be able to guide you into range of Prudnikov and we’ll be able to confirm the op’s success after you push the button. Simple.’

‘You’ve thought of everything,’ Victor said.

‘Do you understand, Mr Kooi?’ Leeson asked.

‘Perfectly.’

‘What’s my role?’ Dietrich asked.

Leeson smiled. ‘Think of yourself as the motivation, Mr Dietrich. You’ll remain here with me so that you can butcher Kooi’s wife and child if he does not fully comply. Is that okay with you?’

‘Nothing would make me happier.’

‘Remember when I told you I needed Mr Dietrich because he had no compunction, Mr Kooi? Well, this is what I was talking about. Do you believe he will carve your brood into little chunks should I command it?’

Victor glanced at Dietrich’s grinning face. ‘Yes.’

‘Tremendous,’ Leeson said. ‘Then we can dispense with any unpleasant demonstrations to prove we mean what we say.’

Dietrich looked disappointed.

‘We’re all set,’ Hart said.

‘Excellent.’ Leeson looked at his gold watch. ‘I’m getting excited now.’

‘I need more time,’ Victor said.

‘Why?’

‘To make sure I do it right. To make sure the job is successful.’

‘He’s stalling,’ Hart said.

‘He can try to stall all he wants,’ Leeson added. ‘But we have a schedule to keep and if we’re late for any reason his family die. You were hired in part because you are a competent professional, so if there is a problem that we have not foreseen you will have to find a solution. It’s up to you to make sure this comes off perfectly.’

‘It’ll never work,’ Victor said. ‘You must know that.’

‘There’s no reason for it not to. Your role is a simple one. All you have to do is approach the target and use the phone.’

‘The Russians won’t comply with the demands. I may kill Prudnikov, but the Chechens will not succeed.’

‘Why don’t you let me worry about that, Mr Kooi? You worry about your family.’

‘But why all this for something that cannot possibly work?’

‘Why should I care if this works or not? My client is paying for the death of comrade Prudnikov. Which will be achieved if you do your part and save your family. I don’t care about these idiots and their ideals. Whether their objective after the fact is achieved or not is immaterial to me and inconsequential to yourself. They’ll all be killed when the embassy is eventually breached, just as you said would happen. Or, who knows? Maybe it will work and they’ll get what they want. Then perhaps I’ll start a side business in professional terrorism. Could be the next big growth industry. Why have fanatics blinded by cause of religion when you can have experts?’ He smiled to himself. ‘Maybe that will be my slogan. But I suggest you concentrate on your specific role in proceedings. You can’t afford to be distracted.’

‘There can be no greater distraction than having my family threatened with death.’

Leeson smirked. ‘Call it incentive then. Now let’s get you dressed and ready. You’ll be pleased to know I have an excellent tuxedo for you to wear. You want to look smart when you meet your maker, do you not?’

Leeson was right. The vest was Victor’s size. It fitted exactly as it should. That didn’t surprise Victor. They knew his sizes because they had taken his clothes when he’d first arrived at the farmhouse. That had been a smart deception. It was reasonable and predictable that Leeson would be cautious and would seek to ensure there were no weapons or recording devices on Victor’s person. Victor hadn’t anticipated Leeson would want his clothes for any other reason. Jaeger had done a fine job spreading out the plastic explosives to make the vest as thin as possible and the weight distribution as even as it could be. Hook and eye straps secured it in place.

Leeson was right about the tux too. It was an expensive, high-quality outfit. The jacket and shirt were a size too big, but that was to accommodate the vest beneath. Victor dressed in the antechamber of the old mill, watched by his team.

‘You plug the phone in like this,’ Hart said when Victor had finished dressing.

Victor nodded.

‘You can’t tell he’s wearing it.’ Dietrich smirked. ‘You’re the best dressed suicide bomber in history.’

Francesca entered the room. She carried a small serving tray on which rested a glass of water. Next to the water stood a small plastic bottle of prescription drugs. Next to the bottle sat a small white capsule.

‘What’s this?’ Victor asked.

‘It’s a sedative,’ Hart explained. ‘Anxiety medication. It’ll keep your heart rate low and ensure you stay relaxed. You won’t be scared. You’ll be quite content, in fact. If you go into that embassy sweating and panicking, security are going to be on to you long before you get within kill range. We know you’re the ice man, but this will help you keep extra cool. You’ll probably feel a little dehydrated and your throat will be dry. There won’t be any lasting damage. Not that that will matter, of course.’

‘Comforting to know.’

‘An added benefit is that it will make you pliable and suggestible. Which you should be glad about. If you get scared and try to back out at the last minute you’ll get your wife and child killed, and you don’t want that, do you?’

‘I don’t need the drug.’

‘I’m guessing there are a lot of things about this that you don’t need, but need and necessity are two different things in this case. Take the capsule.’

‘Do I seem like the kind of man who is going to panic?’

‘No, but we’ve come too far to start taking risks.’

‘I’m not taking it. I need a clear head for this.’

‘You don’t. Francesca will put you in position. You’ll be told when you’re in range. You just need to be able to push a button.’

‘I’m not taking it,’ Victor said again.

‘Then Dietrich is going to get his knife wet early. What should be cut off first?’

‘Just take it,’ Coughlin said. ‘For your family’s sake.’

Victor took the pill from the tray with the thumb and index finger of his right hand. He put it in his mouth and used the same hand to pick up the glass of water. He brought it to his lips and took a drink. He swallowed.

‘That wasn’t so hard, was it?’ Hart asked.

Victor placed the glass back down on the tray. He cleared his throat.

‘He didn’t swallow it,’ Francesca said. ‘It’s still in his mouth.’

‘He’s not going to be that stupid. Are you, Kooi?’

Victor didn’t answer. His lips remained closed.

Francesca was insistent. ‘I’m telling you it’s still in there.’

‘Check his mouth,’ Leeson said.

Hart approached Victor, who backed off a step. Leeson motioned to Dietrich, who moved behind Victor.

‘Hold still, compadre,’ Hart said.

He used one hand to grip Victor’s jaw and pull open his mouth. Victor didn’t resist. Hart peered inside.

‘Lift your tongue up.’

Victor did.

‘He’s clean,’ Hart said. ‘He’s swallowed it.’

‘You heard him cough,’ Francesca said. ‘He could have brought it back up.’

‘There’s no capsule in his mouth,’ Hart said.

‘Make him take another one.’

Hart shook his head. ‘One is more than enough for someone his size. He takes two and he’ll barely be able to walk. He’s taken it. He’s not going to risk the lives of his loved ones for the sake of a little pill.’

‘Correct,’ Victor said.

‘It won’t take long to get into your system,’ Hart said. ‘And it won’t last long either, but that doesn’t make too much difference to you. Just don’t drink any alcohol with it.’

‘Now that’s out of the way,’ Leeson said, ‘I think we’re good to go.’