Matthew Dunn - Spycatcher

Will pointed a finger at the Head of Sarajevo Station while looking at Lace. “He is your case officer. That means he has to go through the pain of idle chat with you, of making sure you’re okay, laughing at your jokes or whatever.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Ewan frowning slightly. “I, on the other hand, am simply here to see if you have anything worthwhile for me to take back to London.”

Harry smiled wider. “So you are a messenger boy, then?” He turned to Ewan. “I would have thought your head office would have sent me someone better than that.”

Ewan raised a hand. “It’s irrelevant who they send, Harry. You work for me and me alone. Whatever comes out of this arrangement, it will be business as usual as far as you and I are concerned. Nobody meets you without my permission and without me being present. That is how it works.”

Will leaned back in his chair and watched Harry. “I understand that you may be able to help us identify and recruit a senior Iranian military intelligence officer. But have you been told that we’re looking for somebody quite specific?”

Harry tilted his face toward Ewan. “Yes, I’ve been told about the type of man you seek.” Then he looked up again. “And to reach such a person will be a layered and complex task.”

Will sighed audibly. “Do you know him?”

Harry shook his head. “As I said, a layered task. I do not know this person, but I can be useful to you because of my knowledge and connections in this region. And”-he examined one of his manicured fingernails-“such knowledge and connections can bring you a significant step closer to finding this man.”

Will drummed fingers on the table between them. “I am listening to you, but for all our benefits please be brief and to the point.”

For a moment Harry’s smile faded. He then seemed to compose himself. “The Iranians are all over this city. It started during the war, and they’ve been here in different guises ever since-Iranian charities, businesses, military advisers, religious institutions, to name but some. Much of their presence is organized by Iran’s IRGC and MOIS organizations.”

“I’m not interested in MOIS, only IRGC.”

“I know, I know.” Harry swirled the remnants of whiskey in his glass. “But you must understand, it will be complicated. IRGC people can’t be bought. And the man you are hunting will be the most incorruptible of them all.”

“So.” Will sighed again. “How can your knowledge and contacts help me?”

Harry smiled fully. “You need to take a subtle yet surgical approach to your task. Your biggest challenge will be identifying your prey, but I believe that I may have the solution to that problem.”

“Go on.”

Harry paused and looked at Ewan. “Everything must go through you?”

The Head of Sarajevo Station placed a hand on his agent’s forearm. “Rest assured, Harry, everything goes through me.”

Will caught a look on Harry’s face and wondered if Ewan’s words were as reassuring as they were intended to be.

Harry gulped the last of his whiskey. “I can see that you don’t want to eat, Charles. That is a shame, because the trout here is excellent.” He placed the glass down on the dining table. “There is an Arab woman who used to work out of Sarajevo during the war all those years ago. She was then a very young journalist, but my business interests brought me close to her because she was also working for the Iranians. They used her to discreetly deliver Tehran cash to Bosnian Muslim paramilitary units across the country, money that was often”-Harry smiled-“then used to buy my goods. I heard that she was controlled by one man who was in charge of all Iranian activity in Bosnia during the Balkan wars. I also heard that the man was an IRGC Qods Force officer.”

“That was a very long time ago, and we’ve no way of knowing whether that man is of interest to us now.”

Harry raised his hands in the air. “I know, but it could be a good starting point.”

Will recalled Alistair’s words during their meeting on the preceding day:

To start with, I want you to pose as a regular intelligence officer.

He felt anger surge within him, and he breathed slowly to calm the emotion. “This is all you have?” He directed the question to Harry and then glanced at Ewan, who in turn lowered his gaze.

Harry seemed unfazed. “You will see, it is as good a starting point as any.”

“All right, Harry. As you say, we will see. Who is the woman, and where is she?”

Harry rubbed his hands together. “I knew you’d be interested. Her name is Lana Beseisu, and for years she’s been living in Paris working as a freelance journalist. I’ve seen some of her articles in the French and British press and specialist journals. She should be easy to track down.” Harry’s hands stilled, and he now clasped them as if in prayer. “There’s also one other thing I should mention. As well as working for the Qods Force officer during the wars here, there was a strong rumor that Lana was his lover.”

“What do you think?” Ewan lightly stamped his feet on the ground. He and Will were outside now, having watched Harry depart ten minutes earlier. It was close to 11:00 P.M., and despite being on one of the city’s main tourist streets, the men were alone. Snow was falling.

Will looked down at the snow under his feet and then back up at Ewan. “You know what I think.”

Ewan sighed and nodded. “I realize Harry’s idea is a long shot. Does head office have any other targeting leads?”

“None that I’m privy to.”

“Then a lot rests on this woman Lana.” Ewan exhaled and turned fully to face Will. He frowned. “Given my seniority and length of service within MI6, it is incredible that we’ve never met before.”

Will shrugged.

Ewan steeled his gaze. “The Service may now be blocking any chances of further promotion for me, but one thing it can’t take away from my twenty-three years of work for MI6 is a highly tuned ability to read people.”

“It comes with the territory.”

“It does.” Ewan stood very still and kept his gaze locked on Will. “You don’t look like a messenger boy or indeed a man who does what others tell him to do.”

“Looks can be deceptive.” Will smiled. “Maybe you’re losing your touch.”

“Maybe.” Ewan held his gaze for a moment longer and then looked away. Snow fell fast over his face. “Two years ago I heard a rumor within MI6 about an event in Algeria. A female MI6 agent and her daughter had been kidnapped by Al Qaeda, which made it clear that they were going to execute them both for no reason other than publicity. MI6 quickly learned where the kidnappers were most likely holed up with their captives and notified the SAS in Hereford. An eight-man SAS team was scrambled to rescue the agent and her daughter, but during their flight across to Africa it was learned that the kidnappers had decided to speed up the time of the execution. The SAS team had no chance of reaching their destination before the mother and daughter would have their heads cut off.”

Will yawned in an attempt to look tired and bored. Snowfall around him became heavier.

“But-and this is where the rumor gets interesting-an MI6 officer was nearer to the Al Qaeda hideout. A man who did not operate out of an MI6 station, an embassy, or indeed anywhere official. A man whose existence was so carefully concealed that even current and former British prime ministers are sworn to uphold lifelong secrecy about his existence. A man who is a lone wolf and lethal.”

Will tried to smile. “Rumors.”

“But this was a well-founded rumor.” Ewan did not smile. “Anyway, despite having no authority to do so, this mysterious MI6 man goes into the Al Qaeda house on his own, kills all thirteen terrorists, frees the woman and her daughter, and walks them to Algeria’s border with Morocco, where he hands them over to the now-arrived SAS team. With his job done, he then disappears.”