Matthew Dunn - Spycatcher

“Good, because I’ve never been the type of man to hide behind others.”

Will swung the bag onto his back. “I can see that. But I can also see that you’ve reached a stage in your life where you feel you may need others around you.”

Harry seemed to be considering this. “You could be right. But I’ve carved out a life for myself that cannot readily embrace the possibility of friendships.”

Will smiled. “You carved out a life for yourself that’s too close to the shadows of your past. Why not move on?”

Harry shrugged. “To where?”

Will started to answer, then stopped. He thought for a moment. He decided that Harry needed his help to face a better future. He decided that Harry needed help to take the final steps on his road to redemption. He looked at the old man. “You already have wealth, so therefore I can’t reward you with money for what you’ve done to help me. And I am most certainly the wrong man for friendship. But what if I could give you something that would help you have fresh surroundings, something that even a man of your standing could not get?” Will could see that the man was listening. “What would you say if I could obtain a legitimate United States passport for you?”

Harry laughed. “Since when does the U.S. Immigration Service hand out passports to men who are supposed to be war criminals?”

“They don’t and won’t. But I’m fairly sure that I can get the U.S. president to personally authorize one.”

The man moved closer to Will. “The president would absolve me of my sins?”

Will chuckled softly. “Even presidents can’t absolve sins.” He followed Harry’s gaze toward the now peaceful but once blood-drenched city below them. “But they can change the course of events. You don’t need to be here anymore, Harry. You don’t need to be trapped with your past. That passport would give you a new beginning if you wish for one.” He turned to look Harry in the eye. “I saw that you were capable of redemption. But I gave you a severe warning in case you strayed from that journey. You heeded my warning. And as a result I am willing to give you a new life.”

Harry reached out and shook Will’s hand with a strong grip. And Will pretended not to notice that the aging man’s eyes had begun to water.

Rather than sit in one of the other chairs, Lana had positioned herself on the sofa next to him. She was dressed in jeans and a loose V-neck sweater. Her feet were bare, and Will could see that she had decided not to wear a bra. Her hair was loose and glossy, and she had applied makeup, but not too much. She held a vodka tonic, and he could smell her Guerlain perfume.

She looked nervous. “I have packed my things.”

“I forgot to mention that you’ll need to leave everything. Bring only your passport tomorrow.”

“Then you will just need to take me shopping when I get home.” She smiled, but her words sounded forced.

“I thought you’d say that.” He smiled and nodded. “I’ve never taken a woman shopping before.” He watched Lana for a while and then said, “Are you sure you still want to go through with this?”

Her expression turned sharp. “Of course.” She took a gulp of her drink. She looked away for a moment before regarding Will with an expression that was no longer hostile but instead confused. “It’s just. . the closer I get to him, the more the memories of him become real again, the stronger the hate I have for him becomes.” When she next lifted the glass to her lips, her hand was shaking. “I don’t want hate to consume me again. I do want to have what you said about me in Paris-to have other things to live for.”

Will nodded. “When this is over, you’ll have everything to live for.”

Lana set down her drink and stared at it. She turned to Will. “Make me lose the hate. Make me have those other things.”

She placed her hand on the back of Will’s head, pulled him to her, and kissed him fully on the lips. She smoothed her fingers against his face and whispered, “Let’s not wait until this is over.” She kissed him again, with increased passion.

Will desperately wanted their embrace to last forever, desperately wanted to lift her up and carry her to the bed, desperately wanted to make love to her and afterward lie next to her and hold her in his arms. Lana’s embrace felt so good, so loving, so passionate, so tender, and yet so forceful. It felt right, and at this moment Will knew that with Lana he could face his fears, could love without being terrified of loss or weakness or mere normality and take those first steps toward a different life.

But he also knew that they had to wait, that it would be very wrong to do anything now, that he had to stay strong and in control of himself and his emotions, that the dangers of the mission required all these things from him.

He placed his hand over Lana’s fingers and gently drew away from her. He loathed himself for doing so, even though he knew it was the right thing to do.

Her expression turned from longing and loving to confused and cold. She muttered, “You don’t want me.”

Will frowned and shook his head. “That’s not right, Lana, I-”

She stood quickly, and in doing so she banged against the coffee table, knocking over her glass and spilling its contents. She turned and looked down at Will. She shook her head slowly, and her eyes now seemed completely devoid of any of the emotion she’d shown a moment ago. “Then all I have left is hate.”

Sarajevo was awake, and people and cars were on its streets despite the blizzard that was now hitting the city with ever-increasing intensity.

Will and Laith were standing on Zelenih Beretki. They both carried pastries, tourist guides, and cameras. They wore jeans and winter jackets with the hoods up. They smiled and laughed and took in the views of the Old Town and hoped that they seemed like a couple of men who were passing time while their wives shopped. Under their jackets they had skin-colored Motorola communication cords that emerged at the collars to earpieces and microphones. Within their pockets each of them had silenced SIG Sauer pistols and two spare clips of ammunition.

While gazing around and occasionally pointing at something or nodding, Laith spoke to Will. “Ben’s in an SUV on Mula Mustafe Baseskije, Julian’s taken up a sniper position inside a building on Saraci, and Roger’s on Ferhadija itself.” It would be Roger who would be watching the position of Lana’s handbag. From their own position, Will and Laith could not see the Black Swan cafe. “All seven of the Iranians are around her, and all are on foot.”

Will did not look at his watch, but he knew that it was nearly ten o’clock. He took another bite of his pastry even though he was not hungry. “What shape are they in?”

“Too close to each other for good surveillance. They’re just focused on protection now.” Laith’s head moved slightly, and Will knew that he would be scanning their surroundings. It had become a busy place. All around them, vehicles and shoppers and workers were battling their way through the weather. “Let’s hope it’s just protection. You know the last time seven assassins were sent to this city?”

“I do not.”

“In 1914. They killed an archduke just upriver from here and sparked a world war.” Laith pretended to examine his tourist guide.

“Thank you for reassuring me.” Will tried to grin again.

Roger’s voice came on the air. “Vehicle’s just pulled up. Two men. One gets out. He’s middle-aged. It could be him.” He went quiet again before quickly relaying further updates. “Vehicle drives off. The other man enters the Swan. It means he’s likely to be mobile after the meet.”