Matthew Dunn - Spycatcher

Will pulled away from him and looked at Patrick. His heart was now pounding with emotion. “I told you to have confidence in my abilities.”

Patrick remained silent. He sat, crossed his legs, and placed the tips of his fingers together. Then he looked at Will. “The NSA report was shown to me two days ago while it was still in draft form. I read it and came to a conclusion. I got into a car and drove to Baltimore to see the director of the NSA. Because of who I am, the man gave me an audience, coffee, and some nice cookies. I gave him an ultimatum: destroy this report, or I would destroy the whole Hubble project on the basis that one percent of it was absolute rubbish.”

Will frowned, looking at Alistair and Patrick.

His Controller nodded once at Will and spoke quietly. “Patrick has prevented the Iranians from being touched. He has prevented the operation from faltering. He has done something that you do not have the power to do.” He narrowed his eyes. “We both have confidence in your abilities, William. But we do not wish to see our dead friend’s son be torn apart by others if he fails.”

He exchanged a brief glance with Patrick and then continued. “Patrick and I are untouchable. You are not. If there is any doubt in your mind”-his voice sounded forceful-“ any doubt that you may succeed given the greater odds you now face, then you must be honest with us. If we wish it to happen, the NSA report can be recycled through CIA channels and the twenty-five men can still be arrested upon arrival here. We still have time to thwart Megiddo’s plan temporarily.” His voice softened again. “If you have absolute conviction that you will succeed, then the men must be untouched by others. But if you do have any doubt, we can arrange matters so that you can still walk away from this operation with dignity. The alternative to both is beyond our control.”

Will narrowed his eyes and shook his head. “If you touch those men, Megiddo will disappear. Leave them alone, and leave me alone.”

“What happened to you, Nicholas?” Lana’s eyes watered as she looked at his head.

Will had decided not to wait until the morning to remove his bandages but instead had taken the padding off and cleaned himself up as much as possible before meeting his agent in this Plaza Hotel room. “I made a mistake.”

She came to him and placed an arm around his back. She pressed against his body, raising her other hand close to the gunshot wound. Will could feel her breasts and her warmth, and he could smell lotions on her skin.

Lana touched the wound. She moved her fingers and touched his lips. She looked at them, then at his eyes. She pulled him even tighter against her beautiful body and shook her head slowly. “Piece by piece you are being broken.”

Will was alone in his own hotel room. It would be hours before the sun rose and many more before Lana needed to make her walk, but Will had no thoughts of sleep. He stripped and cleaned his P228 handgun, he paced the room, he studied his maps of Boston Harbor again, he poured and drank tea, he showered, he packed and unpacked and repacked ammunition clips, he checked his communications equipment, he exercised, he showered again, and he sat.

And then he wondered what mattered to him the most: getting his revenge on Megiddo or keeping Lana safe. He decided both mattered in equal measure. Both mattered to him more than anything else in his life right now.

“It’s started. She’s on her way.” Roger’s voice was clear and measured.

Will pulled his windbreaker’s hood up over his earpiece so that his head was covered, and he began to jog slowly down Boston’s Boylston Street. The road had been partially cleared of snow, but to his left he could see that Boston Common, populated with daytime strollers and frolicking families, was still carpeted with the stuff. He crossed the street and slowed to a walk until he was at the southeast tip of the Common. He checked his watch and listened.

“She’s moving up Charles Street toward Boylston. Will, get off that street and move up Tremont. Everyone else, maintain your positions.”

Will followed Roger’s instruction and came to a stop when he was three hundred meters along Tremont Street. A northerly wind coursed along the route and brought with it new and heavy snow. People were moving around him, and some, it seemed, had decided to get off the streets and out of the park to take shelter in shops and cafes. He rubbed his bare hands together and waited for Roger to speak again.

The man did so within a few seconds. “I’m behind her on Boylston, and so are three of her watchers.”

Will knew that right now only Roger could see Lana and the Iranians who were following her. Ben would be waiting in a vehicle to the south on Washington Street, Laith would be on foot to the east on Essex Street, and Julian would be standing over the dead in the Common’s Central Burying Ground. Will scrutinized the people around him, but nobody here looked out of place.

“She’s moving south down Tremont Street. Hold.”

Will waited thirty seconds until he heard Roger’s voice again.

“She’s gone left onto Lagrange Street. I’m going to stay back for a while. Laith, move to the end of Essex Street and then move to a stop on South Street so that you’re ahead of her. Julian, take over Laith’s current position on Essex and move as quickly as you can. Everyone else, hold.”

Will looked back down the street. In the distance he saw a man sprint across the road and knew that the man was Julian.

“Okay, she’s moving ahead onto Beach Street and Chinatown. Ben, get your vehicle onto Hudson Street.” Roger’s audible breathing suggested he was either walking quickly or running. “I’m moving closer to her now.”

Laith spoke. “Two men are waiting near me. They’re definitely part of the team.”

Five members of the Iranian surveillance team had now been spotted.

Roger spoke. “Will, time for you to move east. Your destination is Milton Place. Try to be there in three minutes.”

Will immediately sprinted. He headed off Tremont Street and past the Ritz-Carlton Hotel before moving onto Essex Street. He dodged pedestrians and cars, trying not to lose traction on the ice- and snow-covered pavement. He knew that passersby were watching him and no doubt wondering what he was doing, but he didn’t care. All he did care about was meeting Roger’s exacting deadline. He ran up Lincoln Street and Devonshire Street before turning right onto Milton Place and stopping. He checked his watch, panting. He had completed the thousand-meter run in just over two and a half minutes. He depressed his pressel switch and gasped, “I’m here.”

Roger replied, “Excellent. Laith, move up to the InterContinental. Ben, get your vehicle onto Matthews Street. Our lady’s now going north.” There was silence for a while before the CIA team leader spoke again. “Yes, the other two men have joined my three. Julian, get down onto the Harbor Walk. Will, go to the Langham Hotel on Franklin Street.”

Will sucked in a lungful of air and ran again. He moved up Federal Street before turning right toward his destination. As he neared the Langham, he heard Laith’s voice say, “I’ve got another one at the InterContinental.”

Six members of the Iranian surveillance team were now accounted for.

Will brushed snow from his shoulders and waited several minutes. He watched people coming and going from the Langham, watched them moving along Franklin Street carrying bags and with their heads low to shield themselves from the driving snowfall, and saw cars moving tentatively forward with headlights switched on to guide their path through the blizzard. He watched all those things, but he did so while mentally picturing the surroundings of the InterContinental Hotel.