The Traitor's Story (15 page)

History

On Sunday, they drove along the coast to Sofi’s parents’ house. Neither of them had a car, but Sofi had a long-standing arrangement to borrow a colleague’s Saab now and then. It was ancient but in beautiful condition, which Sofi always cited as her reason for not letting Finn drive it—her stand was one of personal responsibility rather than based on any knowledge of his driving.

Once in the passenger seat, Finn wound down the window and slightly adjusted the wing mirror. She didn’t say anything. The first time, he’d come up with some story or other and she’d laughed and made no more of it. She’d known pretty much from the beginning, he was certain of that.

Only once before had the precaution borne fruit. A car had followed them to her parents’ house, but disappeared thereafter. He’d alerted Ed, but they’d already had an apology from the CIA who, for reasons they didn’t share, had been keeping an eye on Sofi’s colleague, the Saab’s owner.

Today was the second time. A black BMW tailed them from the city, disappearing just before they reached her parents’ house on the shore. The best-case scenario, discounting coincidence, was that Karasek was hoping Finn would lead him to the girl without needing to part with any money. After that came the Russians, Americans, or the Estonians themselves, wondering what was going on. Worst case was that he was being tailed by his own people—worst case because it suggested there was much more to this operation than he’d been given to believe.

Sofi’s father didn’t speak English but, as always, greeted Finn enthusiastically and talked to him in Estonian. Sofi translated in
snatches—odd words and phrases rather than full sentences. She
translated even less of Finn’s replies, but her father didn’t seem to mind.

Her mother was of Russian origin but was a translator, and spoke fluent English and French. She’d worked for the Estonian government but was a freelancer for publishing houses now, and loved talking to Finn about the latest British novels.

Lunch was inevitably relaxed and entertaining, and the house had a good family atmosphere, even though her parents had only moved there a few years earlier—Sofi had been brought up in the city. It was a house that had the feel and the smell of the sea about it, open and light even in the winter, and he couldn’t help but imagine children running around here—their children maybe.

After lunch, Finn and Sofi walked on the beach and he said, “If I stay . . .”

“If you stay? I thought you’d decided.”

He laughed and felt more confident, because he could see a way now.

“I am staying. I was just thinking, we could move out here.”

“With my parents?”

As much as she loved them, the thought seemed alarming to her.

“Why not? We get along okay.” He laughed, giving away that he was teasing her, then said, “I meant we could get a place out on the coast—somewhere like this, not necessarily right here.”

“Don’t you like Tallinn?”

“I love Tallinn, and we’d be within driving distance. It’s just, I was thinking about what you said, about bumping into old colleagues. I’d rather be away from all that. And you know, if we were maybe, at some point, thinking about having a family.” She smiled. “I’m not saying just yet, but if we were, this would be a great place, all this light and space, and the air.”

She stopped and turned, kissing him then holding on to him, nestling her head against his shoulder. He put his arms around her, conscious of the biting cold now that he had the warmth of her body against his, wanting to be lost in that warmth, but at the same time he looked along the dunes for signs of someone watching them. There were two people farther along the beach with a dog, but that was all.

When Sofi pulled away, she looked up at him again and said, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why?”

“I just wondered—all this talk of getting out of Tallinn, families. And you think somebody followed us out here.”

“How do you know?”

She frowned. “Because I know you too well. You’re very discreet, but I still know you too well. And I saw it too, a black car.”

He nodded, smiling as he said, “It’s almost certainly nothing to worry about.”

“The lady who came to see you—it has nothing to do with that?”

She was rattled, perhaps, because she’d never been so explicit before. He took hold of her arms and said, “No, and I’m not going to be working for them much longer anyway. Look, this week I’ll be busy, I’ll have a lot to do, but it’s . . .” He still couldn’t bring himself to be indiscreet, even with Sofi. “It’s routine, and I don’t want you imagining it’s something else.”

“A car followed us.”

“Maybe. But it means nothing.”

He held her again, his cheek against hers, the touch of her skin relaxing him like nothing else could, and then he turned and they kissed and he no longer cared who might be watching them.

It was late afternoon by the time they headed home. They hadn’t been driving long before Finn spotted the BMW. He didn’t react, but a few moments later Sofi glanced in her rearview mirror.

“How long have they been following us?”

“I noticed them a few minutes ago.”

She looked at him, snatched glimpses whilst keeping her eyes on the road ahead, and said, “What do they want?”

“To see where I’m going, I imagine.” He shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing unusual, and think of those poor guys, sitting in that car for the last few hours waiting for us to reappear.”

“What if they’re following
me
?” He didn’t respond and she glanced at him again. “I’ve been working on some sensitive stories lately—so what if they’re following me?”

“They’re not.”

“But how can you be sure?” She didn’t give him time to reply, adding quickly, “Find out. I just need to know. I don’t like them following you, either, but it’s a bigger risk for me. I need to know, for defending of myself.”

Her English was excellent, but when she was stressed or upset her
phrasing went off a little, as it had just now. He put his hand on her
leg to reassure her.

“I’ll find out, but I’m certain they’re following me. Don’t worry about it.”

“I am worried, Finn. That woman coming the way she did—”

“Sofi, you know . . . you’ve always known that I can’t talk about this. You just have to take my word that it’s nothing to worry about.”

He felt like he was lying to her, and yet surely he was telling the truth. He was worried for Katerina, worried for how he would pull off all these disparate tasks in time—but he wasn’t in any danger. He allowed his eyes to stray to the wing mirror, though, a reminder that there was never any real certainty in this business.

It was dark by the time they reached the city, and in the busier
traffic he didn’t notice when the BMW peeled away and left them. They dropped the car at her colleague’s place and walked back through the dry, cold streets. They’d almost reached their building when a car door opened across the street and Louisa stepped out. She didn’t approach, just stood, the message clear.

Sofi immediately looked at him with reinforced concern, but he smiled and said, “Listen, the main part of what I had to do was yesterday, and Louisa just wants my report on how it went, nothing more.” She seemed desperate to believe him, but also afraid to believe. “Go inside and I’ll be back soon.”

She nodded, and he watched as she walked into the building, angry with himself for putting her through this. He walked across the street then and Louisa said, “Won’t keep you long.”

They got into the car—the same driver as last time—and set off, not heading anywhere in particular, just around the city.

“Excellent job yesterday.”

“That’s not why you’re here.”

“No. He has people tailing you.”

“I noticed today—I’m glad it’s him. I thought it might have been you.”

“Is it that you don’t trust us, or you think we don’t trust you?”

“Both.” She made a show of mock offense and he said, “Louisa, you once told me the key to this game is never trusting anyone. Make friends, make alliances, but take nothing on trust.”

“One of my wiser moments.” She paused. “He thinks you’ll lead him to the girl, so you need to be careful.”

He looked at her, wondering for a moment if she knew that it was Finn who’d saved the girl, that she was hidden away at Harry’s place. The only way she could know was either real surveillance footage or from Harry, but despite what he’d said about trust, he knew Harry wouldn’t have talked, not even to Louisa.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean his people may pay particular attention to anywhere you visit, so be careful where you visit—you don’t want any of your friends to get unwanted attention from Karasek’s men.”

She was right about that, which meant he’d have to be careful about visiting Harry. Even though he called to see him often enough, he had to make any visits in the coming week look entirely natural. Then he thought of where he’d been this afternoon.

“Should I warn Sofi’s parents?”

“I shouldn’t think so. We could ask the local police to keep an eye on their place, but that might just convince Karasek all the more that it’s where you’re hiding her.” Finn nodded, not responding. He looked out at the street, realizing the driver had carried out a large circuit and they were now heading back. “The mother’s Russian, isn’t she?”

“Yes—or she was. She translates for Estonian publishers. She’s a nice old girl.”

Louisa produced a single contemptuous laugh and said, “How very sweet of you to consider a woman of fifty-six as a nice old girl. You won’t be thirty forever, you know, Finn.”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I—”

“Yes, I’m not quite fifty-six myself, so don’t apologize too hard or I’ll really take offense.” Finn noticed the driver laughing to himself. “Now, tomorrow you’ll be office-bound—some drudge work to occupy you. Everyone else will know about Sparrowhawk tomorrow, and will know that you’re not part of the operation because of your imminent departure. Ed Perry won’t be in the office until Friday, so no need to worry about him. We think we’ll have more accurate information by tomorrow afternoon, so Tuesday you’ll go back to Karasek.”

“How much more do you need on Perry?”

“If you can get him to mention Perry’s name himself, that would be ideal. What we have is enough to derail Ed, but he has powerful supporters, so some
thing more demonstrative from Karasek would be useful. However, don’t chase to the extent where you’ll risk the other objectives.”

Finn nodded, and the car pulled up at the end of his street. He walked back to the apartment and found Sofi waiting for him just inside, her coat still on. He smiled, once more offering reassurance.

“They were following me, so you don’t need to worry.”

“She told you that?”

“Yes, and everything else is fine.”

She started to undo the buttons on her coat, and he did the same. He couldn’t understand why she’d suddenly become so apprehensive, and wondered if perhaps she was getting it from him, if the tension of everything that had happened these last few weeks was affecting his behavior, making her nervous.

And then, unexpectedly, his mind skipped back to something Louisa had said.

“How old is your mother?”

“Fifty-six. Why?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know—I was thinking about it today. I thought she was younger.”

Louisa knew how old Sofi’s mother was. Why would she know that? Why would she want to know? That was the question troubling
Finn. Not how she knew—that hardly deserved consideration—but
why
she knew, because Louisa did nothing and said nothing without a reason.

Chapter Nineteen

As soon as they got into the taxi, Hailey slid down in the seat and looked out of the window. He imagined she was committing the snowy city to her memory, dwelling on the last few days, but he realized after a short while that she’d fallen asleep. She woke only as they reached Arlanda.

They got out of the taxi, and he picked up her backpack and threw it over his shoulder.

She walked alongside him and said, “So we’re friends now?” He looked at her. “You’re carrying my backpack.”

He nodded. “That was a little childish of me, not to carry it earlier. But I reserve the right to be childish again.”

She smiled and they walked to check-in, but before he’d handed over the backpack Hailey said, “Wait there.” She rooted in one of the side pockets, and took out a red memory stick and handed it to him. “Just in case they lose my bag.”

“Thanks.”

As they walked away from the desk she said, “You still have to tell me why you wanted it—the USB stick.”

“And I will. But first let’s find a phone box.”

“Don’t you have a cell?”

“I do. That’s also part of the USB story.”

She accepted that, and remained silent as he found a phone and made a call, a look of dismay freezing on her face only as the call was answered and he said, “Hi Debbie, it’s Finn.”

“Oh, thank God, Finn. Please, tell me—”

“I’ve found her, Debbie. She’s fine and we’re here at the airport. I’ll put her on in a second.”

Hailey stared at him open-mouthed, and gestured wildly with her arms to say she didn’t want to speak to them.

Debbie said, “You’re at Geneva Airport?”

“No—Arlanda. And listen, Debbie, there were no seats left for a Geneva flight today, so we’re flying to Paris. We’ll stay with Mathieu tonight, and get the train to Lausanne first thing tomorrow.”

There was a pause, and then she said, “Oh, okay. I can hardly deny you that, I guess.”

She’d also read him too well, but he said, “Debbie, it was either that or stay in Uppsala another night, which I didn’t think would be a good idea. Anyway, this might be good—it’ll give time for the dust to settle.”

He was overusing that phrase. He wanted to write a note to himself, a reminder not to use it in the new book.

“Finn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to imply . . . and yes, you’re right, staying in Sweden wouldn’t have been a good idea. But she’s okay?”

“She’s fine. I’ll put her on now and we’ll call again from Paris.”

He didn’t even wait for Debbie to reply, and despite giving him a look of consternation—an expression that asked him if he’d understood nothing of what she’d been trying to say to him—Hailey took the phone, breathed deeply, and held it to her ear.

“Hi, Mom.”

He backed away, strolling some distance before turning to look at her again. She spoke for ten minutes or so, and stood for a minute longer after she’d put the phone down. Finally, she turned and scanned the people coming and going until she saw him.

She mustered a smile and raised her hand in a wave. He raised his hand in response. She’d been crying again, of course, and as if talking to her parents had robbed her of her newfound maturity, she looked small and vulnerable standing there.

He walked over and said, “Okay?”

She nodded, biting her lip.

“Let’s head to the business lounge then.”

They walked together in silence, and sat for a few minutes in the lounge without talking, either. She still looked fragile, only just holding it together as she processed the conversation with her parents, but he sensed she didn’t want to discuss it now, not with him, anyway.

He looked at the other passengers and said, “In the business lounge in Geneva yesterday, a guy asked me to sign one of my books.”

“Really?” She was being polite, but then something snagged her interest and she said, “Does that happen a lot?”

“No, not very much. People ask me to sign books when they know me, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen anybody reading one on a plane or anything.”

“Why did you call yourself Charles for the books?”

“Charles is my real name.”

She laughed. “No it isn’t!”

He took his passport and handed it to her. She opened it and said, “How come I didn’t know that?” She handed it back. “So why are you called Finn?”

“I have a brother, five years older than me. When my mother was pregnant with me, my brother’s best friend was called Finn and he kept insisting that the new baby should be called Finn, too. Naturally, my parents paid no attention and called me Charles. But my brother was a determined child and called me Finn anyway, so much so that pretty soon it was the only name I answered to. Even my parents ended up using it.”

“That’s so cool.” She laughed, but then said, “Pretty wild, though, in a way—like being an impostor your whole life.”

“I never thought about it quite like that,” he said, wondering if she’d meant to imply something with those words.

She hadn’t, and her mind made a link to something else in his story and she said, “Mom wants me to take a pregnancy test, and . . . other stuff. I tried to tell her we’d been careful.”

“That’s good, that you were careful. As for the pregnancy test and the health check, I’d say that’s a pretty small price to pay for their peace of mind.”

“I guess.”

“How were they generally?”

“Forgiving. Relieved. I think it would’ve been easier to bear if they’d just yelled at me.” She thought about it, quickly adding, “But then I guess you don’t think it should be easier for me.”

“I think you should be aware of the upset you’ve caused, and you should feel bad about it. Hurting people who love you should cause remorse, simple as that, whatever your reasons. But that’s not the same as beating yourself up about it, and I’m glad your parents have reacted the way they have. They’re cool people.”

He didn’t actually see them as cool people, but Hailey seemed to accept it, then drew a line under that part of the conversation and said, “Why did you want that USB stick? I hope Jonas didn’t give you the wrong idea about what’s on it.”

“You hacked Gibson’s network, that’s what’s on it.”

“Yeah—but it’s, like, random boring stuff. Most of it doesn’t even make any sense.”

“Welcome to my life.” She looked confused. “For two years, it seems someone has been running a surveillance operation from the apartment next to yours—Gibson for the last year of it. The person they had under surveillance was me.”

Slightly too loudly, she said, “So you
are
a spy—Adrienne always said you were!”

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a woman looking across at them in response to the comment. Finn burst out laughing, showing it up as a joke, and the woman lost interest. It
was
a joke, anyway—maybe he’d have concealed his past better if he’d claimed to be a spy all along, double-bluffing Adrienne and the others into thinking he was a fantasist.

“Adrienne was guessing, and I don’t want you to get carried away—I worked for the British government, but not doing anything particularly clandestine.”

“That’s so obviously a lie.”

“Because?”

“Because they’ve been watching you for two years—they wouldn’t do that for someone who worked in the mail room. And all that stuff Jonas and me hacked into, they wouldn’t collect all that.” She stopped abruptly, surprised at herself for not seeing something obvious until now. “That’s why you came to get me, and why you didn’t mind paying all that money, because you weren’t really coming to get me, you were coming to get the USB stick.”

It was hard to tell whether she was annoyed by that realization.

“I agreed to help find you before I found out about Gibson and the USB stick. I came to Uppsala partly because I wanted to see through what I’d started, but mainly to get the information on the memory stick.”

She thought about it for a second and said, “Actually, that’s kind of a relief.”

“How so?”

“Well, I thought it was pretty weird, you coming up here to get me when you don’t know me that well. But it makes sense now.” He could see her point. “What will you do . . . with the information?”

“Maybe nothing. I want to find out what they’ve been looking for, but it might be something and nothing.”

“You clearly don’t believe that!” He looked puzzled. “The cell phone? I’ve seen enough movies to know about stuff like this. You think they’re tracing your phone. Who is Gibson anyway? Have you confronted him?”

“Gibson left, the day after you did.”

“Oh.” To her credit, she seemed to realize how this might have looked, how it might have added an extra layer of worry and confusion to her disappearance.

“Like I said, something and nothing, and it’s never like it is in the films. Chances are, Gibson left because they decided to wind up the operation.”

She either believed him this time, or had accepted that she wouldn’t get anything more out of him, because she let the subject drop, saying only, “I can’t believe it—Adrienne always said.”

He briefly imagined himself having that conversation with Adrienne later today:
Adrienne, you guessed all along but you’re the last to know, I was a spy and now the people I used to work for are coming after me, and I don’t know why or what they plan to do with me.
Hopefully, it was a conversation she wouldn’t want to have, not tonight—not until he at least had something resembling answers.