Matthew Dunn - Spycatcher

Patrick held his gaze for a moment and then nodded slowly. “Then it’s just as well that I’m one step ahead of you.” He backed away from Will and checked his watch. “My trip to the CIA in Langley was to secure a copy of the NSA report, but I also made a quick stop in Washington.” Patrick looked back at Will. “Because the U.S. secretary of state is among the intended victims, that should allow the United States to have some degree of involvement in actions to prevent the attack. I have a letter written by my president that authorizes me, and any colleagues with me, to consult with the BfV and relevant German police services. You and I are booked on a two-fifty P.M. Lufthansa flight to Germany today to see if we can persuade our German friends to keep at least one of the terrorists alive.”

The BfV woman studied the piece of paper and then a man who was leaning in the corner of the room within the headquarters of the Bundesamt fur Verfassungsschutz. She turned to face Will and Patrick. “We recognize your letter of introduction, but you do realize that you have no authority within this matter?”

“We do.” Patrick clasped his hands in subtle supplication. “All we’re asking for is for you to hear what we have to say.”

The BfV woman smiled a little. “We’re grateful your NSA gave us advance warning of the attack on our parliament and your secretary of state. But the terrorist attack will now not take place, and in any case your Secret Service has canceled your politician’s visit. All American interests in this operation are now dead.”

“They are, but even with the destruction of this terrorist cell, German interests should most certainly remain alive.”

“Why?”

“We have new intelligence that this cell is but one of many who wish to attack your country.”

Will resisted the urge to smile with Patrick’s lie.

“What do you mean?” The BfV woman again glanced at the other German man and then looked back at Patrick.

“I mean that if you kill all the terrorists tonight, you will have no chance of linking them to other cells in Germany. I’m counseling you to at least spare the life of one terrorist so that he or she may be interrogated by you.”

“Our federal law forbids us to interrogate in a meaningful way. If a terrorist is spared, that person will immediately be afforded full legal protection. For that reason alone, we have decided that all the terrorists must be killed tonight.” The woman sighed while looking away and nervously rubbing her fingers against her palm. “If your new intelligence is correct, I would dearly like to get my hands on one of the terrorists to find out about the other cells. But I simply cannot authorize that.”

“Then let us do the interrogation.” Patrick’s voice was hushed.

The woman laughed shortly. “No.”

Patrick was silent, and Will knew that he would be feeling the same degree of disappointment Will himself now felt. He wondered what Patrick would say next, but just then the man in the corner of the room spoke rapidly in German to the BfV woman. She responded with equally rapid but harsher-sounding words. The engagement between the two people lasted for almost two minutes before the woman shrugged and chuckled.

She addressed Patrick. “My friend here is the GSG 9 officer in charge of the assault on the Onlauer Street house tonight. He has an idea he wishes to share with you. I have permitted him to speak freely.”

The GSG 9 man leaned upright from the wall and folded his arms across his chest. He regarded both Patrick and Will. “We are striking the house at two A.M., and nothing you say will stop that from happening. I have a team of eight men who will be conducting the assault, and we have reconstructed the house to practice the assault fourteen times since we received our instructions. We therefore know every square inch of the Onlauer Street house, and the terrorist cell will not be able to repel our assault.” The man glanced at the BfV woman and then back at Patrick and Will. His look was serious.

“Nevertheless, tonight I am risking the lives of eight extremely experienced and skilled operatives. I can accept that risk if the likely outcome is total success. I cannot accept that risk if the death of this cell merely fuels greater outrage from its friends.” He nodded at Patrick. “Maybe those friends intend to strike our country.” He smiled briefly. “Or maybe they intend to strike interests closer to your hearts. But either way I want my assault to have strategic value rather than just being a minor reactive defense.” He stared straight at Will and seemed to be analyzing him. He said, “The assault plan can be modified slightly. We will go into the house and kill four of the terrorists. We will then exit the building for a maximum of one minute. We will then reenter the building and execute the final terrorist if he or she is still alive. After our initial assault, the building will feel like hell, because it will be saturated with smoke and fire from our guns and grenades. But if one of you two gentlemen is prepared to do so, then I will allow you that one-minute interval to enter the house and interrogate the living terrorist.”

Will pulled on a black one-piece Nomex 3 flame-retardant suit and donned Adidas tactical boots and Oakley assault gloves. He placed his SF-10 respirator in his lap next to a flashlight and checked his Glock 17 handgun one last time. He looked around the rear of the truck in which he was seated. There were nine other men with him, and eight of them were dressed like Will but also wore knee and elbow pads, bulletproof vests, assault vests containing stun grenades and tear-gas canisters, radio harnesses, and armored helmets. All of them had Glocks strapped to their thighs, but their other weapons varied. Five of them had Heckler amp; Koch MP5 submachine guns slung across their chests; one carried a G3 sniper rifle with nightscope attached; the remaining two carried Remington shotguns, which Will knew would be loaded with Hatton rounds to remove door hinges. The latter two men also had EDX frame charges attached to their assault vests and door-breaching hammers resting over their legs. Will watched the eight men fit their SF-10 respirators to their faces and check the fittings to ensure that they were positioned correctly.

The vehicle slowed and then stopped. The man who wasn’t wearing any assault gear but instead was dressed in jeans, jacket, civilian hiking boots, and a radio with earpiece was the GSG 9 officer. He looked at his watch and said nothing, but after nearly thirty seconds he nodded once and pointed at the man with the sniper rifle. That man quietly opened the rear door of the truck and disappeared into the black night. They waited for what seemed like two minutes before the officer placed a hand against his radio earpiece and held up two fingers. One of the shotgun-carrying men and two who carried submachine guns rapidly and quietly exited the vehicle and similarly vanished from view. Within a further ten seconds, the officer raised three fingers, and the remainder of the team got out to move to their positions. Only the officer and Will stayed in the rear container area of the truck.

The officer bent and spoke to Will, keeping his hand against his earpiece. “It will begin in two minutes.” He straightened and looked toward the open truck doors.

Will glanced at his own watch and attached his respirator to his face. He picked up his Glock handgun and held it tightly in his gloved right hand. His left hand clasped a flashlight. He sat motionless and waited.

He heard two explosions occur almost simultaneously, followed by the low boom of shotguns. He knew that the front and rear doors of the Onlauer Street house were now breached and that the assault team would be entering the building to kill four members of the terror cell. More explosive sounds indicated that the team had deployed stun grenades, and these sounds were followed by rapid but controlled bursts of submachine-gun fire.