Matthew Dunn - Spycatcher

Will’s stomach muscles tightened with a surge of anger and adrenaline.

“They kept giving him more and more new tasks, and Megiddo would complete them with such exceptional brutality that he came to the attention of the senior revolutionaries and was rapidly promoted through the new regime’s ranks.” She smiled. “But Megiddo was using them and had no real allegiance to the revolutionaries. He thought they were ideological fools. He needed them, though, because they gave him the power to do what he enjoyed.”

Will shook his head. “The power to be an unbridled psychopath.”

Lana frowned. “I saw no signs of that when I knew him in Bosnia. He was certainly ruthless and cunning and exceptionally clever, and he obviously had the blood of many men on his hands. But I did not see a deranged murderer.”

Lana stood and looked at Will. “I don’t think I’d hate him as much as I do if he were simply a madman.” She bent and kissed Will briefly on the lips. “I’m sorry for my harsh words. Maybe you are right. Maybe now is not the time. Maybe the ‘things’ that are weighing so heavily on our minds do need to be fully resolved before we can have the peace to know each other properly. Maybe I do need to let my hate for him run its true course so that I can be a better woman. A woman for you.”

Will sat alone in Lana’s hotel room. She’d been gone for fifteen minutes, and he had just been informed by Laith that the Iranians were with her and that he was free to leave. He tried to think of many other things, but what Lana had told him of Megiddo’s past kept repeating itself in his mind. He stood, walked to the door, and heard his cell phone ring. He recognized the number and answered immediately.

“Harry.”

“Charles. Sorry to bother you.” Harry’s voice sounded uncharacteristically weak. “I was calling to see whether my equipment was up to the job.”

Will paused for a moment. “It was not fully used.”

There was a long silence at the other end before Harry spoke again. “I see.”

Will frowned. “Is something wrong?”

Another long silence, and then Harry said, “Did you mean what you told me? The passport?”

“I meant it.” Patrick had been furious at the request, but Will had garnered the CIA man’s confirmation that the passport could be issued, provided that Harry’s information led to the capture of Megiddo and prevention of his attack.

Harry made a sound like a sigh.

Will repeated, “Is anything wrong, Harry?”

“We need to meet. There’s some new information I have which I must share with you.”

“Where and when?”

“First thing tomorrow morning at my house. It will be safe there. I can SMS you the address.”

“Sure. But can’t you tell me about this new information now?”

“Not on the phone. Only in person. But I can say that what I now know will turn everything upside down.”

Will drove north and then east alongside Sarajevo’s Miljacka River. He had previously memorized the route and now mentally crossed off road and street names as he traveled.

Bulevar Mese Selimovica, Zmaja od Bosne, Obala Kulina Bana, north on Sagardzije, Vrbanjusa, Kulenovica, Skenderaj, east on Sedrenik, north on to Pasino Brdo, then exactly three point four kilometers up that hill route.

Harry had forewarned Will that his house was isolated and deliberately difficult to find, because it was set back in a wooded area away from the quiet road. But Will measured the distance up the hill, and at the correct point he found only one track leading off his road. It was a track that was clearly used by vehicles and was nearly hidden by overhanging trees. Will did not enter the snow-covered track but instead went on driving up the hill for another four hundred meters, until he came to a place that could have once been a sniper post but was now a natural observation spot for hikers. A spot where one could stop and eat sandwiches and rest up. He exited his car and checked his watch. He was eighty-eight minutes early for his arranged meeting with Harry.

Will looked around. From this vantage a proficient sniper would have been able to strike the northeast tip of Sarajevo. He would also have a very clear sight of the city’s road leading to this place. Will didn’t have a sniper rifle, but he did have a small set of 10?25 bird-watching binoculars. He examined the road and could see no vehicles or persons. He walked back along the hill road and to within two hundred meters of the track leading to Harry’s house. He stepped off the road and into the woods, where he walked parallel to the track. When he came to within one hundred meters of the house, he sat down. He stayed in this position for twenty minutes before moving to study the house from a different angle, where he again waited for the same duration. He repeated this process twice more, so that by the end of his eighty-minute watch he had observed the full perimeter of the property.

The S-Class Mercedes and Jeep Grand Cherokee were parked in an open garage toward the front of Harry’s house. The house’s windows had external wooden shutters, and all were open. Will could see no movement inside. He listened but could hear no human sounds.

He walked out of the wooded area and onto Harry’s driveway. Then he put his gloves on and walked directly up to the front door to ring the bell. There was no answer, so he rang again. Again nothing. He pulled out his phone and tried to call Harry. The phone rang eight times before being directed to Harry’s voice mail. Will replaced his phone and slowly walked around the house. He peered into ground-floor windows and knocked on a rear door. He continued to be met by silence.

He tried to open the rear door, but it was locked. He looked around the back garden and spotted a small hut. The door to the tiny building was unlocked, and within it he found what he was looking for. He returned to the rear door of the house and swung the mallet at the area around the door handle. The door crashed open instantly, and he stepped into the house. He walked through the spacious kitchen before him and into a hallway. To his left was a big, open living and dining area. There were three separate sofa-and-chair groupings, plus a heavy wooden dining table surrounded by eight seats. A sixty-inch flat-screen television was wall-mounted near one of the sofa areas, and a Bang amp; Olufsen stereo system was positioned adjacent to another. Gilt-and-marble coffee tables were scattered throughout, on top of huge woven silk rugs in red and gold. There were large paintings that looked to be originals and old. It was early-morning daylight outside, but had the room’s lights been turned on, the room would have been illuminated by the glow from crystal chandeliers. Harry clearly liked luxury.

Will moved quickly through the rest of the house. The place had six bedrooms, eight bathrooms, two other lounge areas, and three studies. It was very big for one person, but Will imagined that Harry was the type of man who would like to throw parties for glamorous women. Will paid particular attention to the upstairs study and found lots of documentation and paperwork. But he decided it would take him hours to go through the stuff. He looked in the more obvious areas but could find nothing of immediate interest.

He returned downstairs. Everywhere seemed immaculate, and he could smell alcohol-based polish.

He walked back into the main living area and looked at the bodies he had earlier stepped over. Harry’s four bodyguards had all been shot in the head and torso. They must have been dispatched with extreme swiftness, for none of them showed signs of having had time to arm themselves.

Will placed his hand on his throat pressel switch to speak to Roger. “Four bodies, but no sign of Harry.”