Matthew Dunn - Spycatcher

Will checked the man’s pockets but found nothing in them. He pulled from his own pocket the picture of Harry and the other man. He shone his flashlight between the image of the unknown man in the picture and the face of the dead man before him. Despite the age difference and the strangulated contortions of the hanged body, it was clear that the men were one and the same. The man had to be Dzevat Kljujic.

Will decided he had to leave and shone his flashlight one last time from the top of the body to its feet. As he did so, he noticed a dark streak on one of the man’s trouser legs. He followed the streak upward, taking a step closer. The streak moved into the man’s shirt, and Will touched the garment to find that it was cold and wet. He knew that the shirt was not, as he had previously thought, dark in color but instead was saturated with blood. He held the back end of his flashlight in his mouth and tore the shirt open.

One word had been carved with large letters into the dead man’s chest. The word was in Farsi, but Will knew what it meant.

The word meant “spy.”

Dear Lana,

Stay where you are and meet the British man when he arrives. Give him a false description of me, but do not be vague with details or he will view you as uncooperative. Ask him about Berlin and what bad thing he prevented me from doing there. If he is willing to give you details-and I believe he will in order to gain your full allegiance-then be horrified with his response. Tell him that you will help him in any way that you can.

Yours,

Megiddo

Will placed the letter into his jacket and looked at Roger. The CIA man had collected the letter from Lana’s room after Will had instructed her to leave it there and take a walk in Zagreb.

The two men were silent for a moment, and Will knew that, like him, Roger would be thinking through logistical issues.

Will spoke first. “Kljujic was obviously spotted taking the photograph of the Iranian man working from the Human Benevolence Foundation’s building. Kljujic’s house was torn apart, and I’m certain the Iranians recovered his camera and the photo. But while I removed all reference to Harry from the house in order to hide his name from the police, I can’t be certain that Kljujic’s killers haven’t already linked his action to an instruction from Harry.”

“But if they grab Harry, they’ll torture him. He’ll reveal all details about Lana, and the operation will be dead. Harry’s safety has become as important to us as Lana’s deployment.” Roger rested his chin on his fingertips and seemed to be absorbed in thought. “Harry’s the sort of man who could naturally have some degree of security around him, given his line of work. He’s going to find out about Kljujic’s murder, so I suggest that he hear it from you, and I suggest you advise him to surround himself with a team of men as soon as he’s back in Bosnia in the morning.”

Will called Patrick. “I’m doing it today.”

Patrick was silent for a moment before saying, “You’re still sure this needs to be done?”

“I’m sure. We’ve got to make him grow frustrated and desperate. My escape from a snatch effort will increase Lana’s value to him. If he can’t get me today, he may feel that he has to rely totally on Lana to set me up, and he knows she won’t do that until she’s met him.”

“They might not go for you today, though.”

“They will. When I’m seen with Lana, our man won’t be able to resist deploying members of his team to capture me. He won’t take the chance of seeing me disappear from his grasp in the hope that I reappear some other time.”

Will could hear Patrick breathing heavily. “All right,” the other man said at last, “but whatever they try, do not engage with them. Just get out of the situation and allow them to report back to their master that their attempt has failed.”

As Will sat with Lana in the Diana Bar of the Westin Zagreb hotel, he knew that she would be oblivious to what was really happening. She had no knowledge that Megiddo’s men had been watching her for days; she had no knowledge that Will’s highly specialized team had been around her for slightly longer; and she certainly could not have known that in meeting Nicholas Cree out in the open she had brought the Iranians directly to their prey.

Will smiled at her as he pushed her glass of Grasevina wine toward her across their small table. He took a sip of his own mineral water while observing the woman. For the occasion of being seen out with Will, Lana had chosen to wear a sleeveless sapphire blue evening dress. Her long hair was draped over one shoulder and breast, and her already prominent facial features were accentuated with Egyptian-style makeup. She looked stunning. Will, on the other hand, was dressed in the most robust attire he felt he could get away with in a five-star establishment.

“You look tired, Nicholas.” Lana spoke gently and with care in her voice.

Will ignored the comment and casually looked around the bar. The place was quite full, with an eclectic range of late-afternoon guests. He quickly brought his glance back to the beautiful woman who sat opposite him.

“How is your mother?” As soon as he asked the question, Will wondered why he’d done so.

Lana frowned slightly, then reached across to place her fingers over Will’s hand. “Thank you for asking. She is still undergoing tests in the Paris clinic.”

Will nodded thoughtfully. “It must be expensive for you both.”

Lana sighed. “It is, but I would rather live humbly and have her get better than anything else I can think of.”

Will said in a barely audible voice, “I have temporary access to money. It may help with your living conditions and with your mother’s medical costs.”

Lana inhaled deeply.

Will held up a hand. “Don’t misinterpret what I’ve just said. I would help you simply by way of reward for what you’re doing for me. And such help would be given only when all this is finished.”

Lana shook her head in amazement. “I’m not doing this for reward.” Her voice trembled a little. “But I would gladly accept such a gift.”

Will looked downward and felt momentarily uncomfortable. He wondered if the emotion was visible to the Iranian surveillance operative who was reading a menu while sitting in the far corner of the bar or to Laith Dia, who was bent over a large glass of untouched beer in the center of the room. Will breathed deeply and looked up at Lana. The woman was watching him.

“I’m sorry.”

Will frowned. “What for?”

Lana sighed. “I’m sorry for the other night. . forcing you to tell me what you thought of me.” She twisted the stem of her wineglass back and forth and looked nervous. “I know you are a professional, and I should have realized that you would not have taken advantage of that moment. I also know that you have a big enough burden to carry in your task without having to worry about me confusing matters or adding to that burden.”

Will smiled and shook his head. The discomfort he’d felt a moment earlier was replaced by a feeling of complete comfort, and he knew with utter clarity that it was because he was with Lana. He marveled at the sensation. “I carry many burdens, but you’re not one of them.”

Lana looked surprised and then smiled. She took a sip of her wine, and as she did so her smile faded. “What will you do to Megiddo if you capture him?”

“I will force him to tell me about his plans. I will do whatever is necessary to the man.”

She nodded. “I hope so.” She looked away and for the briefest of moments seemed sad. “For a time I did love Megiddo, probably as much as I’ve subsequently hated the man.” She met Will’s eyes. “When I knew him in the besieged city of Sarajevo, we were in one of the most chaotic and hellish places on Earth. Food, water, and sanitation were minimal. The place was constantly bombed from the artillery placements in the hills. Serb snipers shot men, women, and children every day, and we had very little knowledge of what was happening beyond our city. It was hell. The predominantly Muslim people of Sarajevo were brave and resolute despite everything that was happening, but even the bravest of them could not tolerate the uncertainty, the chaos itself. Megiddo was different. I watched him stand still as shells blew buildings apart right next to him and as bullets flew over him. I watched him look toward the hills containing those mad dogs and smile. I watched him and knew he had no fear, because for him there was no chaos. He understood exactly what was happening and what he was doing.” Lana looked into her wine and shook her head a little. “But there were the briefest of moments when I saw wonder and confusion within him.” She looked back at Will. “Before I ever shared my bed with Megiddo, there was an occasion when I was sent by him to deliver cash to a Bosnian Muslim paramilitary unit in the north. The unit had just completed a daring and successful assault against the Serbs in Mount Vlasic, but as a result their supplies were diminished. So, on Megiddo’s instruction, I used one of my maps to exit Sarajevo and walk a one-hundred-kilometer route to the mountain. It was my most difficult task during the war, and along the way I traversed minefields, hid from Serbs and other armies, and suffered mild hypothermia from the cold. It took me ten days to reach the mount, but I found the unit and gave them their funds to buy more weapons, medical supplies, and food. I then used a different route to return to Sarajevo.” Lana’s voice was hard. “I nearly made the return journey untouched, but fifteen kilometers outside of the city I was caught by men while sleeping in woods. It was a group of five Bosnian Serbs who belonged to a notorious paramilitary unit called the Panthers. Thankfully, they believed I was a displaced peasant. But they knew I was a Muslim, and they took turns raping me.” She stared down at her hands, and Will knew that she was trying to control her emotions. “I remember writhing on the ground, I remember the bitter cold, feeling dreadful and seeing them standing there laughing at me. I remember looking at one of the men, the man who was clearly their leader and had tabs on his jacket to show that he was their captain, and I remember him staring at me with a look of hatred and disgust. I remember one of the other men asking him, ‘Captain Princip, can we kill her now?’ I remember the man they called Princip smiling, lighting a cigarette, and saying, ‘Let’s give her the worst death. Let’s take her coat and leave her to freeze to death.’ ”