Matthew Dunn - Spycatcher

“You fit right in here.” He reached down to his side, picked up his small bag, and swung it across to the floor by Lana’s feet. “I bought you some gifts.”

Lana looked at the bag and then smiled at Will.

He wagged a finger and smiled. “There’s nothing in that bag to get too excited about. While you’re here, you need money and communications equipment, so I’ve treated you to a laptop, a cell phone, a credit card in your name, and three thousand dollars. I’ve also enclosed my contact details.” He smiled wider. “I did, however, throw in a gold necklace for no reason other than to make you feel positive thoughts toward me.”

“Positive thoughts?” Lana smoothed a hand over her hair and frowned. “Why am I here?”

Will checked his watch, even though he knew exactly what time it was. “It’s nearly nine A.M., meaning the place you need to go to is open.” He withdrew from an inner jacket pocket a folded sheet of plain paper, an envelope with a printed name and address on its cover, a fountain pen, and another sheet containing the words Lana needed to copy. He carefully placed all of it on the coffee table between the two of them.

Lana picked up the sheet containing the words and silently read its contents. Then she sighed and picked up the pen. Her hand shook as she did so.

I would like the contents of this letter to be communicated to a dear old friend.

My friend is a Persian man who knew me during troubled times in Central Europe. I helped him with his dangerous tasks, and then one day he suddenly disappeared. I believed he must have been killed, and for years I have mourned his absence from my life.

Something has happened, though, which has given me hope that my friend may not be dead. A British man who works with secrets approached me nine days ago at my home in Paris. The man told me that my friend was still alive and now held a very senior and powerful position within the Iranian military. The man said that he wanted to capture my friend in order to prevent something bad from happening in the United States or Great Britain. The man asked me questions about my friend. The British man gave me his own name and contact details and said he would return to speak to me again soon.

I am scared. I have fled my Paris home, even though in doing so I have left an ill mother alone. I have traveled eastward to put distance between me and the secret British man, although I am sure he will find me if he wishes to do so.

But I hope that my old friend can find me first. It is my hope that my name is still on your records and can be linked to my old friend so that this communique can be passed to him with urgency. It is my hope that he replies to this letter. For the time being, I can be found at the Regent Esplanade hotel in Zagreb.

If my friend is alive, I cannot bear the thought that he may be captured and incarcerated or murdered. I am willing to help prevent that from happening. I am willing to tell him all that I have learned from the British man. I am willing to give him details about the British man so that he may be seized. I will do so if my friend will do something for me in return. Please tell my old friend that I wish to be with him again.

Yours,

Miss Lana Beseisu

Will pressed his cell phone against his ear and listened to Roger’s words.

“I watched her go into the building. She’s now back at her hotel.”

Will nodded. “Good. When are your men joining you?”

“They’ll be with me in one hour.”

“All right. Then your first primary objective has commenced. Even though she’ll be unaware of it, your team needs to stay around her day and night.”

Will closed down the phone and tapped fingers against the inner door of his airport-bound taxi. Lana had hand-delivered the letter to the Iranian embassy in Zagreb. It was addressed to the attention of the defense attache of the embassy, the IRGC man whom Harry had identified. Will hoped the man would realize the importance of the letter and immediately communicate its contents to the IRGC headquarters in Iran. If he did so, it should take the IRGC minutes to link Lana Beseisu to Megiddo. In turn, Will hoped that Megiddo would feel he had no alternative other than to respond to the letter in order to ascertain whether his operation against the West was completely compromised. He hoped that Megiddo was not based in faraway Iran but instead was close by in Central or Eastern Europe. However, Will knew that so much now rested on hope itself. He breathed deeply and for the first time in days felt that he was no longer in total control of events.

Will sat in the Zurich safe house, opened the laptop, and read Lana’s e-mail.

Dear Nicholas,

I have received a reply. What should I do?

Love, Lana

Patrick emerged with a mug of coffee and a serious expression on his face. “There are no more flights back to Zagreb for at least eight hours.”

Will checked his watch. “It’s not ideal, but find out which member of Roger’s team is on rest and get him to bring the letter to me.”

He typed on the laptop before Patrick could respond.

Dear Lana,

At seven-thirty this morning, please go to your hotel’s 1925 Lounge. The place should be empty, but please choose a corner seating area with a table. Place the letter response on the table and leave the bar no later than seven-forty-five.

Yours, Nicholas

Will sent the e-mail and took two big gulps of his steaming coffee. He looked up at Patrick. “It will be tight, but there’s a nine-twenty A.M. Croatia Airlines flight out of Zagreb. One of Roger’s team should be able to get the letter to me here by midday.” He glanced back down at his laptop as it bleeped. Lana had responded and would follow her instructions.

Laith Dia pulled off his Helly Hansen arctic parka and tossed it over the back of a chair. He tousled his straight black hair with his fingers and then rubbed a large hand over his neck. He pulled out an envelope, which he gave to Will before sitting in one of the armchairs.

Will studied the envelope, gently feeling its weight in the palm of one hand.

“If it’s got explosive in it, then that should have been detected as I went through security at the airports this morning.” Laith lit a cigarette and jabbed it in the direction of the envelope. “But its contents could be coated in poison.”

Will nodded slowly while examining the edges of the envelope’s seal. He then carefully opened the letter. Within was a single sheet of paper, which he withdrew and examined. He saw that it had been cut along the top. He held it up to the light coming through the room’s window and then placed it on his lap. He scrutinized the envelope before smiling and discarding it to one side. He picked up the letter again and spoke to no one in particular.

“It was written in a hurry. The nearest stationery available was used, and in this case it was stationery belonging to the Iranian embassy in Zagreb. The author of the letter cut off the paper’s header to try to disguise its origin, and there is no watermark on the sheet. But the author forgot to check the inside of the envelope. If he had done so, he would have spotted a tiny giveaway inscription underneath one of the glued folds.”

Will read the letter.

Dear Miss Beseisu,

I am delighted to receive your letter, and it seems a lifetime ago since we last saw each other. I regret that I had to leave Sarajevo without saying good-bye. I would have liked to thank you for your work, but alas I was needed urgently in my own country and therefore had to leave more promptly than I anticipated.