Matthew Dunn - Slingshot

Will dropped his gaze to the ground, felt dizzy and nauseous.

Nothing seemed real.

Except the hate he felt for himself as he quietly replied, “I promise.”

As the vehicles drove off, one of Kurt Schreiber’s men lowered his thermal night-vision binoculars, moved away from the window overlooking the street and Sarah Goldsmith’s house, pressed numbers on his cell phone, and held the phone to his head. “They’re on the move, sir. Cochrane’s got two women and two men with him. All of them well past their prime, in their sixties, I’d say. They’ve taken both husband and wife. Our vehicles are moving into position.”

“Don’t let me down. They must remain under observation at all times.”

The man smiled. “Don’t worry, Mr. Schreiber. I’ve put some of our best on this. Wherever they go, we’ll be on them day and night. Right up to the point you give us the order to kill her.”

It was close to 3:00 A.M. as Will walked into the Auguststrasse apartment. The place was larger than he’d expected, sumptuous and airy, with light-colored art deco furniture, a modern kitchen visible through one of the archways, and a long hallway beyond another archway that led to bedrooms containing en suite bathrooms as well as a guest washroom.

Also unexpected was the fact that Suzy and Peter were still up. The CIA analyst was sitting at a twelve-seat dining table, taping keys on her laptop. She looked tired, but focused. Peter Rhodes was staring at a whiteboard containing handwritten words, arrows, and numerous question marks.

He was wearing a pink-striped shirt, no tie, slacks, and brown brogues. Spinning around as Will walked into the room, he grinned, clapped his hands, and said loudly in his upper-class accent, “The wanderer returns. Guess what? Since you’ve been away, I’ve managed to achieve the sum total of fuck-all.”

Will dumped his travel bag onto the floor, kept hold of his duty-free shopping bag, and muttered, “I know how that feels.”

Peter smiled even wider. “Glad you do! I’m cross with myself and am starting to get a little bit annoying to be around.” He darted a look at Suzy. “Right, Suzy Sue?”

Suzy kept her eyes on her screen. “Damn right.”

Peter jabbed a finger against the whiteboard. “Questions keep me going.” The officer seemed totally energized despite the hour. “But I become a grumpy sod when I don’t have answers.”

Will walked up to Suzy, withdrew from the shopping bag a book he’d bought at the airport entitled Work amp; Pregnancy: Have a Life, Have a Kid, hesitated for a moment, held it out to her, and saw her frown as she took it from him. He asked Peter, “The questions?”

“Ones you’ve already asked yourself.”

Will looked at the whiteboard.

Why did Yevtushenko steal the paper?

Where’s “Mikhail”?

Why is his SVR team waiting in Berlin?

Why is the paper so important?

Why can’t it be copied and its value therefore diluted?

Who is Number 1?

Will darted a look at Suzy. “Anything on the name ‘Mikhail’?”

Keeping her eyes fixed on her screen, she replied, “Lots. Too much.”

“Even by narrowing the parameters?”

She nodded. “I’ve gone through trace requests, our databases, NSA, Cheltenham Sigint”-she sighed as she slammed shut the laptop-“and even open source material. Thousands of Mikhails. .”

“Mikhail is a popular name within the Russian mummy fraternity.” Peter sat on the edge of the table. “You think he might pay Miss Petrova another visit? If so, might be worth briefing her so that she can try to get a surname.”

Will shook his head. “He won’t go back to her because he knows that she’d clam up. His agenda is to retrieve the paper and take Yevtushenko back to Russia. He made that clear to her.”

“Bit silly of him. Should have kept his powder dry and lied to her.”

Will disagreed. “She’s smart, and I think Mikhail knows that. No matter what he said to her, she’d have worked out that the Russians were going to punish her lover.”

“So why did he visit her?”

“That question invites another.”

Peter frowned, then jumped down from the table, strode up to the whiteboard, and wrote:

Why did he tell Alina that his name was Mikhail?

Will smiled. “Exactly.”

Peter’s mind was racing. Speaking more to himself, he said, “To put her at ease? Hope not, because that means the name’s been plucked out of thin air. Maybe because the name could mean something to Yevtushenko? Possible, but that’s only of value if Alina was privy to that information.”

Suzy added, “We can’t rule that last possibility out. If there’s a connection between Yevtushenko and Mikhail, then Mikhail might have been hoping to use that connection to get her to work with the Russians.”

“Quite.” Peter studied the whiteboard. “But if that was the case, why didn’t Mikhail hammer that connection home to her?”

Laith emerged from the hallway, wearing only a towel around his waist, his hair wet. The ex-Delta Force operative’s expression looked thunderous, and as he walked to the kitchen while rubbing his face, he muttered, “Coffee.”

Adam entered the room, fully dressed and yawning. “We’re on in fifty minutes.” The former SAS soldier also made for the kitchen, and said under his breath, “If it’s another day of just sitting on our arses, I’m going to shoot someone just to liven things up.”

Peter moved right up to the whiteboard and jabbed a finger against the latest question. “Why, why, why?”

Laith reentered the room holding a steaming mug, thought about sitting, decided it was too risky a movement with the towel he was wearing, and withdrew a thin white tube from his waistline. He puffed on it, and the tube emitted a tiny bit of odorless smoke.

Will frowned. “What on Earth is that?”

Laith gestured toward Suzy. “We got a child on the way. I only found out yesterday. In here, I stick to electronic cigarettes.” As Adam joined him, Laith asked his colleague, “Lobby, or circuits of the exterior?”

Adam said irritably, “You can do the lobby today. I don’t care how cold or wet it is outside. I need the exercise.”

Laith shrugged. “Okay, I’ll bring a good book.”

“Here.” Suzy tossed the CIA officer Will’s purchase. In a sarcastic tone, she said, “Find out if ‘having a life’ means trawling databases for some guy called Mikhail.”

Laith seemed unfazed as he turned the book over. “Sure. Anything else?”

“Yes. See if it says anything about why I’m so darn tired.” She shook her head and said to herself, “I hate this feeling. I’m not normally like this.”

As Laith and Adam left to go to their respective rooms and make final preparations for their shift at the Grand Hyatt, Will called to them, “I’m coming with you. I need to speak to Roger and Mark.”

“Fine.”

“You’ll be the highlight of their night.”

Will asked Suzy, “How long have you been up?”

Peter answered on her behalf. “Since this time yesterday. You’re a tough girl, aren’t you, Suzy. And bloody stubborn.”

Will said quietly, “We’re hitting a dead end on the name. Get some rest.”

Suzy seemed unsure.

“Please.”

She sighed. “Just a few hours’ sleep, then I’ll do some more searching. There’re other leads to pursue, though I’m not hopeful.” She stood, arched her back while rubbing her tummy, and began walking toward the bedrooms.

Will looked at the whiteboard. A thought suddenly occurred to him. “Suzy, what parameters are you using for the search?”