Matthew Dunn - Slingshot

Though he had anticipated that Kronos would have followed him here, Schreiber had no idea how the assassin knew that the man who’d driven him to the city was Israeli. “Half of them are dead. The other half sent me.”

“You have a traitor?”

“Exactly.”

“Who?”

Schreiber gave him the name. “He intends to testify at a hearing in The Hague in two weeks’ time. I can’t let that happen. He’s currently being held in a maximum-security facility in the southern Netherlands. My sources have confirmed that he’s being moved from the facility ten days prior to the hearing and will be taken to another maximum-security complex. He’ll be under significant protection at all times. Do you think you can do it?”

“Of course. What is he testifying?”

“All you need to know is that it relates to the Berlin meeting in 1995-a secret we shared at that meeting. I can’t let that secret become public knowledge.”

A secret that was omitted from the Slingshot protocols.

One that would kill hundreds of millions of people.

“You also need to know that I’ve been pursued by a British intelligence officer called Will Cochrane and an SVR operative called Mikhail Salkov. I don’t know if they’re still after me, but it’s possible that Salkov knows about you.” He supplied Kronos with the home addresses of both operatives.

Kronos shrugged. “They won’t get in my way.”

“Good. Once the job’s completed, ten million dollars will be deposited into your account. Then, you must change identity and location. Are you married, have children?”

Kronos did not answer him.

“If you do have a family, you cannot stay with them. You must disappear.”

“The deal was that I am permitted to lead my life until I’m activated, that I must move locations after the job. There was never any mention of leaving my family.”

“Things have changed! I can’t afford for there to be any potential security leaks.”

Kronos felt anger rise within him. “ You can’t afford any leaks?” He thought for a moment. “Are you sure you’re representing everyone present at the Berlin meeting?”

Schreiber grew impatient. “Everyone’s who’s alive, yes. If you’re doubting my authority to be here, then you’d better say so.”

Kronos smiled. “I doubt everything that comes out of your mouth, you little shit. But the DLB was activated correctly.” His expression grew cold. “You’ve changed the terms of the deal, so I’m forced to do the same. Five million will be paid in advance.”

“What!”

“In advance. Changing identities and locations is an expensive business and requires preparation. Presumably, you want me to slip into that new life immediately after I’ve killed the witness. Aside from that, I need guaranteed compensation if I’m to walk away from my family.”

“That’s not. .”

Kronos took three quick steps toward him. “What were you about to say?”

Schreiber stepped back, nearly tripped, fear coursed through him. “I was about to say, that’s not a problem. You’ll have half the money up front.”

“I’m glad you made that decision.” Kronos kept his cold stare fixed on Schreiber. “I’ll take care of your target. In return, stick to your side of the bargain. If you don’t, then you know what the outcome will be.”

It was nearly midnight when Stefan got back to his home on the outskirts of the Black Forest. He entered the kitchen. Plates and pans had been washed up after his family’s dinner. He knew they’d now be asleep. In the center of the table was a dinner plate, over which was foil and a note from his wife saying in German:

Three minutes in the microwave-don’t forget to take off the foil first! I love you.

He removed the packaging and smiled as he saw that his wife had prepared him konigsberger klopse -veal meatballs in a white sauce containing lemon juice and capers-with roast potatoes and schupfnudel . After placing the dish in the microwave, he looked around and felt a twinge of sadness. He’d eaten thousands of meals in here, most of them with his family. It had been his rule that mealtimes were an important part of the day for the family to sit together, share the experience of eating his wife’s wonderful cuisine, and swap stories. But the mealtimes were never a formal affair; instead they were usually filled with laughter and imaginary tales.

Removing the plate of food, he sat at the table, alone.

Fifteen minutes later, he rinsed his empty plate and placed it alongside the others to dry. His wife was a stickler for maintaining a clean and tidy household.

He arched his muscular back and yawned. Tomorrow would be a very busy day. He walked up the stairs and entered the twins’ room. Mathias and Wendell were both lying asleep on their backs, their blond hair slightly ruffled, their faces looking angelic. He stood between their beds and brushed his big hands against their cheeks. “My darling boys.”

He wished he’d been able to continue telling them his bedtime story about the forest gnomes’ search for the legendary Timestop mushrooms. He wondered if he’d ever have the chance to finish the tale.

His thoughts turned to Schreiber. Tonight, the man had made a mistake by changing the deal so that Stefan had to abandon his family. One day, he’d make him suffer for that.

Will walked across the Auguststrasse apartment and stood opposite Peter. “I’m going to be away for a day or two, to see if Patrick really can’t get access to the Rubner files. It’s our last remaining lead. In my absence, you’re in charge.”

Peter said in a sympathetic tone, “This isn’t your fault.”

Will sighed. “It’s a fact that most of my initiatives have just provided a handful of names and haven’t got us anywhere nearer to the paper.”

“Perhaps this guy Rubner’s not linked to any of this.”

“Maybe.”

“You think you might be able to persuade Patrick to go over the director’s head?”

Will shook his head. “I think you’re right. He wouldn’t win that battle. And that means I’m about to fail again.” He stepped away from Peter, then paused. “The section’s losing its teeth, and there’s nothing we can do about it.”

As Will exited the Auguststrasse apartment, Mikhail turned on his vehicle’s ignition, engaged the gears, and slowly crawled forward. The MI6 operative was one hundred yards ahead of him. He’d keep him at that distance until the man hailed a taxi or got into a private vehicle.

His large handgun was tight against his beltline, ready for use the moment the British intelligence officer led him closer to the whereabouts of Schreiber.

Will walked quickly across the concourse of Berlin Hauptbahnhof, Germany’s biggest train station. It was early evening, and the station was crowded with commuters. He found a pay phone, shoved twenty euros into it, and dialed an international cell phone number.

Patrick answered, “Yeah?”

“It’s me. Can you talk?”

“Hold on.” The line was silent for thirty seconds. “Can now.”

“Okay. Are you able to cut through the bureaucracy to get to the files Suzy asked about?”

“Possibly, rather than probably. But either way, it’s almost certainly a nasty one-way ticket for us if I try. Bureaucracy and self-interest’s a pile of crap. What’s this about?”

“I need you to get on a plane.”

“When?”

“Now. Or as near to now as possible.”

“Where am I going?”

“Israel.”

Patrick said tersely, “That’s a long flight.”

“Please, Patrick.”

“You’re sure it’s going to be worth my time?”