Matthew Dunn: Spycatcher

Will moved his finger over his gun’s trigger.

Harry looked at him and smiled. “You were not what I expected. You made me see things differently. That’s why I decided to tell you everything about Megiddo’s plan when I was due to meet you at my house.” His smile faded. “But Megiddo discovered my treachery and came to my house to kill me. I escaped only because you arrived and he had to hide himself.” Harry carefully withdrew another cigarette from the pack on the desk, lit it, and examined the burning tip before looking at Will. He smiled again, but this time the look held sorrow. “I worked for Megiddo because he told me that if I did not do so, he would release my name and location to various Bosnian Serb men who would take pleasure in tearing me apart for what my men did in that Serbian village during the war. I worked for Megiddo because I was a coward who wanted to protect my own neck, even if that meant the deaths of millions.” He sighed. “I couldn’t do it in the end.” He brought the cigarette to his mouth, inhaled smoke, and nodded once. “But I deserve to die in this house, and I am glad it is you, not Megiddo, who is going to be my executioner.”

Will glanced at the two Special Forces men. “Leave the room. I don’t want you to witness what is about to happen.”

The men walked out.

Will picked up a chair, positioned it directly opposite Harry, and sat down. He placed the muzzle of his gun against the agent’s forehead and asked quietly, “Are you ready for this?”

Harry nodded. “I am.”

“Is there anything you wish to say to me before I pull the trigger?”

Harry smiled. “Your men told me you killed Megiddo. I am glad that I am about to die knowing that you won and he lost.”

Will nodded, stood, held the muzzle flush against Harry’s forehead, readied his finger against the trigger, and braced his body so that it was still. He breathed deeply and relaxed his hand. “I am not going to kill you, Harry. You’re too useful to me.”

He lowered his gun.

Harry frowned.

Will looked toward the windows of the mountain chalet. He looked at the Alps beyond them. He looked over the Swiss mountains to the east. He smiled, turned, and looked at Lace. When he stopped smiling, he spoke with steel in his voice. “I have a new mission, Harry. You are a man of means. You have particular, rare talents and connections. You can help me.”

Spartan raised his gun again and pointed it at the agent. “People are either my allies or my enemies. Which one are you?”