Matthew Dunn - Spycatcher

Within minutes they were back in the heart of the village and on foot. Will checked his watch again. He looked at the police building in front of them and said, “I need you to find out about transportation links out of here. Find out where Megiddo and Lana may now be waiting. But we can’t be seen right here.”

They darted into the darkness and emerged into Woodruff Street, adjacent to a wide, sweeping river. Laith looked up and down the street before walking briskly up to a group of three men. He spoke to them and returned to Will. “Megiddo’s out of luck. There are three public transportation services in the village-the Franklin County Public Transportation bus service, the Greyhound coach service, and the Adirondack Scenic Railway-but they’re all closed right now. The buses will be running in the morning, and the railway is closed for the winter season. There’s also an airport, but it’s seven miles away.”

“Taxis?”

Laith shook his head. “There are a couple of local private firms, but they’ve shut up shop while the weather’s this bad.”

“It’s us who are out of luck,” Will said urgently. “If any of the village transportation services were open, we could hope to pin Megiddo down at one of their locations. Instead”-he looked around-“he could be anywhere here.”

“Maybe he’ll wait until morning and get a bus then.”

“I doubt that. He’s got Lana with him and won’t want to hang about and risk her screaming for help. And if they wait out the night back in the forest, they’ll freeze to death.”

“Maybe he’ll do what we did-pay someone to drive them out of here. Maybe he’ll head to the airport.”

“Maybe, maybe.” Will kicked the snow-covered ground in frustration. “Maybe.” He looked around again and grew calm as a thought came to him. “Maybe he doesn’t know what to do yet.” He looked at Roger. “Just like us. Maybe he’s still on the streets trying to work out what to do.”

Laith nodded. “Neither of us knows the layout of this village.” He looked at the river. “But I’d say this river runs northeast. I’d say that the best we can do is split up. You cover ground on the east of the river. I’ll cross it and cover the west.”

Will agreed and said, “If you see him, don’t engage the man, because he’ll use Lana as a shield. Just stay out of sight and call me.”

Laith sprinted up the street and broke left along another street to cross the river. Will looked around, pulled out his gun from the small of his back, and stashed it in a lower front jacket pocket where he could reach it quickly. He jogged forward before running at a full sprint. He ran left onto Main Street and left again onto River Street, where the icy river beside him immediately widened. His boots crunched on thick snow as he moved over road and pavement and dodged parked vehicles, slow-moving pedestrians, and dim streetlamps. The wind dropped, and snow now fell fast and vertical. As he raced forward, he looked at every man, every woman, every house entrance, every shop facade, and every vehicle interior. He looked at everything but saw nothing that made him want to pull out his gun and shoot.

He moved away from the broad river and headed up Shepard Avenue, crossed onto Clinton Avenue and Franklin Avenue, moved northeast along Helen Street, and north along Pine Street until he was back at the river and not far from where he had started his search. He cursed aloud.

A siren sounded very close by, and Will immediately ran off the road and dived behind an empty car. He lay on snow and heard the siren come closer. He watched a police vehicle speed past him, and he stayed still until it was out of sight. He was certain that it was heading to the Adirondack Medical Center and that doctors had called the police after taking charge of their strange new patient. He was also certain that the police would return quickly to the village to search for the man who had delivered Roger to the hospital and then disappeared.

His cell phone vibrated silently in his trouser pocket. He withdrew it and saw that the caller was Laith. He answered.

Laith’s voice was barely audible. “Can’t be sure, but I can see two people who could be them. They’re about one hundred meters from my position on Prospect Avenue. If it is them, then Megiddo’s discarded his rifle. But the man I’m looking at is holding the woman very close to him, and that could mean he’s got a handgun trained on her.”

Will spoke quickly and with no effort to hide the urgency or tension in his voice. “Stay on them, but for God’s sake keep your distance. I’m coming to you. Guide me in.”

“Okay. Prospect Avenue is about four hundred meters northwest of the river. As soon as you hit either William Street or Leona Street, slow down or you’ll run into them.”

Will kept his phone in his hand, sprinted across a road over the river, and headed west. He ran along Bloomingdale Avenue and could see shops closing for the evening and restaurants and diners opening. He ran into a quieter street and immediately recognized it as Olive, the route they’d used to enter the village. He slowed, looked around, and decided he needed to head north to find Laith’s approximate location. He jogged up William, and all around him was now quiet and deserted. He slowed to a walk, called Laith, gave his location, and listened to his colleague’s quiet instructions.

“Turn left onto Neil Street. Take the second turn on your right, onto Fairview Avenue. You’ll then see me about a hundred meters ahead of you. But go slowly. If they move, I may need you to change direction quickly and flank them from the east.”

Will placed his spare hand into his pocket and gripped his MK23 pistol. He walked slowly, resisting every urge to get to Laith as rapidly as he could. He moved onto Neil Street and could see that houses were evenly spaced to his left and right and that most of them had inside lights on. He imagined that the families within were now settling down to dinner. On the other side of the street, a group of four men and one woman walked quickly in the opposite direction. They had their heads low and scarves and hats wrapped around them to shield them from the weather. Will kept his own head down low, too, until they were behind him. The street was now deserted.

He passed the first turn on the right and kept walking ahead, pulling out his handgun and keeping it flush against his stomach. He breathed evenly and saw his breath turn to steam in the icy air. He made himself slow his pace even further in case he received an instruction from Laith to reverse direction and sprint up one of the routes he’d left behind. He gripped his gun tighter, glancing around.

He drew close to the corner where he needed to turn in order to see Laith. He knew that the couple being observed by the CIA man was still in situ, or else Laith would have urgently told him otherwise. He looked back down the route he’d just taken before looking ahead again. He flicked off the safety catch on his Heckler amp; Koch and decided to make the turn. He walked carefully forward, went right onto Fairview Avenue, and stopped.

He could see Laith. But he appeared to be sitting on the ground, leaning against a low retaining wall beneath the dim yellow glow of a streetlamp. Will frowned and began jogging toward him. After twenty meters he began to sprint, holding his gun directly in front of him.

He reached Laith, swung his weapon toward Prospect Avenue, swung it in the opposite direction, could see no one, and crouched opposite his colleague. Laith was smiling, looked calm, held his phone in one hand against the ground, and held his other hand against his stomach. The snow around him was red. The ex-Delta man looked down before looking up at Will. He pulled his hand away from his stomach. His jacket had been ripped through with something sharp. His stomach had been slashed open.