Matthew Dunn - Spycatcher

These noises continued for nearly thirty seconds before the GSG 9 officer held up his hand and nodded at Will. “Top floor. Second bedroom on the right. Go now.”

Will thrust himself upward, jumped out of the truck, and ran. The house was nearly two hundred meters away, but despite the distance and the darkness Will could see smoke billowing out of the building’s broken windows and its front door. The residential street was obviously awakening from the noises of the attack, and within his peripheral vision Will saw lights in other houses flicker on. He focused on the target house’s front door and ignored the two GSG 9 men who stood on either side of the entrance. He ran straight into the building. Everywhere was dark, and Will switched on his flashlight and swung its beam in an arc before him. The place was thick with smoke. Ahead of him Will saw flames licking up the stairway he needed to climb. He also saw a man sprawled in an awkward position over the stairs. The man’s face had been removed by bullets, and a line of entry holes marched across his chest. A semiautomatic rifle was close to one of the dead man’s hands. Will inhaled deeply, the sound of it exaggerated by his respirator. He raised his handgun and walked quickly up the stairs, ignoring the fire around him.

The smoke in the hallway of the top floor was less dense but still swirled around his legs. He moved his gun left and right and saw that the rooms to either side of him were on fire, sending sporadic flashes of light into the corridor he was in. He stepped forward, and as he did so, he felt his leg brush against a large inanimate object. He angled his flashlight downward and saw the dead body of another man. He walked on and crouched low before sidestepping into the last bedroom with his gun directly in front of him. The smoke in this room was thicker, and curtains were on fire. On the floor in the center of the room Will saw a body lying on its side. It was rocking back and forth, a hand clutched to one leg. Will checked the surroundings but could see no weapon. He moved closer and put the muzzle of his Glock against the body’s neck before slowly pulling it onto its back. A woman looked up at him. Will glanced down at her leg and saw that she had been shot in the thigh. Her trousers were torn and covered in blood. The bullet had clearly done severe damage.

Will bent to the woman’s face and said loudly, “Who sent you?”

The woman’s eyes blinked rapidly. She looked terrified. Tears were streaming across her face, and they were clearly caused by pain, fear, tear gas, or all of those. She looked very young.

“Who sent you?” he asked her again.

The woman began coughing, and the sound instantly told Will that she had gas in her throat and lungs. He knew that he could not allow her to suffer like this. He ripped off his respirator and fixed it over the woman’s head. He said to her, “It’s okay. I’m going to get you out of this place.”

He swept his arms under her body and lifted her, retaining hold of his gun and flashlight. He swiveled to face the room’s exit and quickly walked the woman into the hallway and down the stairs. She moaned as he carried her through flames and more smoke. Will pulled her closer to his body to try to shield her from the fire. The heat on his own exposed face was intense. At the bottom of the stairs, he turned and made his way toward the building’s rear door. He stepped over two more dead bodies and scattered guns as he did so. He walked out of the house and onto a small grassy area of garden. Four GSG 9 men were standing waiting there, and when they spotted Will, they immediately swung their weapons toward him and the woman, shouting in German. Will ignored them, placed the woman down on the wet grass, and removed the respirator from her face. She stared at him with a look that remained one of terror and pain.

Will again leaned in close to her and spoke quietly and gently. “I’ll make sure you get medical help. This is not your fault. None of this is your fault. But I need to know who gave you instructions to attack the Reichstag Building.”

The woman clamped her hand again over her leg wound, and Will saw that more blood was pulsing from under her palm. He knew that it was likely the bullet had torn through a vein, and he also knew that the woman would probably soon be in hypovolemic shock.

“Who sent you?” Will’s voice remained hushed but urgent.

The woman’s eyes widened. She said something inaudible. Will leaned closer so that his ear was against her lips. He heard her moan again, and then he heard her words.

“The Iranian.” The woman’s voice was accented and raspy. “He sent us to die. But it was all a game.”

“What do you mean?” Will remained motionless.

The woman exhaled raggedly, and as she did so, she said seven words before pushing Will away and clutching her chest. Will watched her, knowing that the bullet had done more than just damage her leg. It had also induced a fatal heart attack.

He stood as the GSG 9 men took charge of her dead body and carried it back into the burning house. He pulled off one glove, ran fingers through his hair, and remained still for a moment, breathing heavily. He cursed and shook his head as he wondered what kind of life the young woman could have had if she hadn’t chosen the path that had brought her to this house. He frowned as he repeated the woman’s words in his head:

It was a game-to trick you.

“A game?” Patrick was hunched over a cup of instant coffee in his room at the Ritz-Carlton in Berlin. It was four hours after the attack of house 7 on Onlauer Street in Treptow.

Will shook his head. “The German police found the twenty-five canisters containing the explosive and the thermite cutting charges in the attic of the house. They also found detailed plans of attack. The attack was going to happen.”

“But Megiddo told us all about it via Hubble because he wanted us to believe that it was his main target.”

Will rubbed the back of his neck. “We failed to anticipate the possibility that the Hubble Berlin report was both genuine and manufactured. It’s incredible that Megiddo constructed an operation of this magnitude and then sold it out.”

Patrick clasped two hands around his coffee mug. “It means he’s hiding something far worse than the destruction of the German parliament.”

Will stared at Patrick for a moment and then frowned in thought. “We’ve got to take things up a level.”

Patrick’s silver eyes flickered. “I agree. But are you ready for that?”

Lana showed no surprise when she saw Will waiting in her Zagreb hotel room. She set her two shopping bags on the floor, walked up to him, and kissed him on the cheek. Then she removed her coat and sat on the end of her bed, pulling a cigarette from the pack in her handbag. She was dressed in jodhpur-style cord slacks and a thick roll-neck sweater. As ever, her look was one of casual elegance.

“You have hesitation in your eyes, Nicholas.” Lana lit her cigarette and smiled slightly. Her cheeks had color in them, and she exuded confidence and energy. “Are you wary of my intentions toward you now?”

Will thought about her question and shook his head. “No, because I can control any such intentions.”

Lana inhaled smoke, placed her elbows on her thighs, and rested her chin on her hands. She watched him for a while before saying, “I’m sure you can. But something is making you uneasy.”

Will frowned.

Lana retained her smile. “Maybe you are wary of yourself.”

“You could be right.” Will knew she was right. He wanted more than anything to sit next to her and hold her.

Lana studied him for a while longer before reaching back into her handbag. “The concierge just gave this to me.” She withdrew an envelope and held it out at arm’s length.