Matthew Dunn - Slingshot

“He should have the shooters with him.”

“Yes, he should. Unless. .” His voice trailed as new thoughts entered his mind. “Unless. .” One thought stuck. “ Movement remains the key. Suppose Mikhail knows that Number 1 has to take the paper to a place that crosses the path of the SVR team.”

“Gives the Berlin boys a head start?”

“Yes, though before you ask, I haven’t got a clue as to where that location is or why the paper needs to be moved.”

“But you do have an idea as to what message Mikhail was relaying to Number 1.”

Will moved right up to the board and drew a line between the last two questions:

Why did he tell Alina that his name was Mikhail?

Who is Number 1?

Will looked at Peter, then wrote three sentences alongside the line connecting these two questions:

My name is Mikhail. Your new Russian friend will tell you what I’m capable of. If you do anything with the paper, I’ll kill you.

Will waited in a side alley close to the Grand Hyatt. He wondered how Adam was faring doing his circuits of the hotel, as it was cold and wet and still very dark.

Roger and Mark walked quickly toward him; Roger was dressed in an expensive suit and overcoat, meaning he’d done the lobby shift; Mark was wearing clothes that were designed to keep him dry and warm, and allow him to move quickly if need be.

They stopped, their faces barely visible in the poor light, and formed a circle with Will.

Will asked, “Is there any pattern to the team’s activities in the hotel?”

Mark shook his head. “None, beyond that the team rarely shows itself.”

“What’s its setup?”

Roger answered, “The men have got four adjacent rooms on the fifth floor.”

“Are the rooms cleaned daily?”

“Yeah, but the men stay in their rooms when that happens.”

“Can we get a universal swipe key off one of the maids or another member of staff?”

“Should be easy, but it ain’t going to be any use while the rooms are always occupied.”

“Not always occupied.”

“True, but the men have appeared in the lobby on their own for no more than sixty seconds before they’ve disappeared back to the elevator.”

“Shit!”

“What would you hope to find in their rooms?”

“Anything that might tell us the whereabouts of their leader.”

Roger shook his head. “We have to assume they’re a professional unit. There just might be something on one of their cell phones, but I doubt it, and I doubt they’ll have anything compromising in their rooms. Plus, when they leave their rooms, they’ll have their cells with them.”

Mark suggested, “We could grab one of the men. Try to make him talk.”

Will looked in the direction of the hotel. “We can’t afford to show our hand. Not yet. Plus, we might actually need the Russian team.” He told them about Mikhail and the possibilities of what was happening.

Roger said, “If true, that means there’s a lot riding on this Mikhail guy. It’s all fine if he alerts his team that Number 1’s on the move. Then we tool up and follow the team. But what happens if Number 1 slips the net before either team gets to him?”

“I think Mikhail knows exactly what he’s doing.” Will looked at both operatives. “If the Russians move at short notice, can you guarantee you can get everyone on them?”

“Without a doubt. Whichever of us is back at Auguststrasse can be with us in ten minutes max with all our kit. We’ve timed it during peak and off-peak hours. And we can do rolling pickups, on foot or public transport surveillance, plus if the Russian team’s heading to the airport, we reckon we can get there twenty minutes quicker than a taxi driver.”

“Good.”

Mark said, “It’ll all be fine, but we’ve got a lot of eggs in one basket. Mikhail may know what he’s doing, but we’re depending on his not being distracted or overstretched.”

“He won’t be. .” Will’s stomach suddenly knotted as a realization struck him. “Oh. Fuck!”

“Will?”

Will ignored his colleagues. His mind was racing and panicking. He cursed his stupidity.

If Will’s theory was correct-that Mikhail had given his name to Alina in order to send a message to William and produce a standoff-William would do everything in his power to destabilize Mikhail.

Just as he’d done with Will.

He’d go after Mikhail’s loved ones.

Will couldn’t sleep during the flight. He was tired, but his mind was too active and his emotions confused. He tried not to think about Sarah, about the disgust he felt toward himself for putting her and her husband in danger, about the way she’d held him and asked, Where have you gone, my little brother?

But those thoughts remained. As did the worry that sometime over the coming days, a man with a gun could be walking toward a house in suburban Moscow, kicking the door in, and shooting Mikhail’s family.

Until now, the right thing to do had been to allow the standoff between the SVR officer and William to continue until Will could establish William’s location and the significance of the paper in his possession. But things had changed. He was totally reliant on Mikhail to keep William pinned down, and he was totally vulnerable to the possibility that Mikhail could lose his nerve, if he realized his family was under threat, and return to Moscow.

If no threat had yet presented itself to Mikhail’s family, Will had one option available to him to accelerate matters. But that option would also place other people’s lives in extreme danger.

That afternoon, Will stood outside a faculty building belonging to the Belarusian State University, Minsk. Students were leaving the building, carrying books and bags, some of them holding hands, all of them dressed in scarves and hats and coats. They all seemed carefree and full of joy, and as Will watched them he hoped that none of them would make the kind of choices he’d made toward the end of his degree program.

Alina exited the building, carrying Maria in one arm and a folded baby carriage in the other. She stopped and tried to open the carriage but appeared to be struggling.

Will walked quickly across the street. “Hello, Alina.”

She barely glanced at him, looked annoyed with the carriage, and continued to try to release catches. “Damn thing. I think it really has broken this time. Here.” She handed Maria to him. “Keep her warm.”

Will took her, wondered what to do given he’d never held a baby before, then unbuttoned his thick overcoat, placed her inside, and drew the coat around her. “Thanks for meeting me at such short notice.”

Alina was bent over the baby carriage, trying to yank bits of it apart, clearly on the verge of losing her temper. Something snapped close to her hand. She rose, holding a jagged piece of plastic tubing. “Shit!” She tossed the tubing away and kicked the carriage. “Another expense!”

“Come on.” Will looked at the dark clouds above. “We need to get inside before the heavens open.” He started opening his coat.

But Alina said, “She seems happy with you.” She grabbed the carriage, walked up to a university security guard who was attempting to light a cigarette in the bitterly cold easterly wind, spoke to him, and left the useless carriage in his care. Returning to Will, she muttered, “I didn’t bring Maria a waterproof coat because the carriage keeps her dry. If we walk quickly, we can be home in twenty minutes. But watch out for patches of ice.”

She led the way, with Will anxiously scouring the ground for signs of anything that would cause him to slip with his precious burden.