Spycatcher (16 page)

Will turned and pushed the broken shutters back so that they were as closed as they could be. Then he pulled out his flashlight, cupped a hand over the top of it to minimize its glare, and switched it on. He was in a bedroom, and the place was a mess. Sheets were half pulled off an empty mattress, and a table lamp lay smashed on the floor by its side. Two chests had all their drawers pulled out, and clothes were strewn everywhere. He spent a minute looking around the room before moving into the floor's adjacent bathroom. A frameless mirror had been wrenched off its wall, and shards from it had fallen into a sink and toilet. He moved slowly back into the intervening corridor and took careful steps down to the first floor. To his right was a room that appeared to be a guest bedroom. A mattress had been lifted off the bed, upended, and sliced vigorously with a sharp object so that stuffing and springs were exposed. He moved to the other room. It was clearly a study of sorts. It contained a desk and office chair, metal filing cabinets, and bookshelves filled with books and file boxes. This room was much neater, although upon inspection Will noted that all of the file boxes were empty and that there were a corresponding number of piles of loose papers stacked on the floor. He moved his light over the desk and spotted nothing except a small cradle and a connecting cable. He lifted the cradle and saw that it was an electronic battery charger for a digital camera. Next he swung his light up to look at the books. Most of them were architectural or construction manuals, and upon opening some of them Will saw that they had been well thumbed. Below the bookshelves the beam of his flashlight flickered over an array of framed photographs that had obviously once been positioned upright on the side table they occupied but were now lying scattered there with the backs of the frames torn away. Will looked at the photographs; they seemed to be mostly business-related, and it was clear that Dzevat Kljujic had no family—or if he did, their images were apparently not deemed worthy of being framed in this study. Will's flashlight stopped over one photograph that looked older than the others. It showed two young men dressed in jeans and quasi-military jackets. They were standing in wooded hills and smiling. Will picked up the photograph and brought it closer to his eyes. He did not recognize the man on the left, but the one on the right was certainly the Harry he knew, although the picture showed him to be around two decades younger. He pulled the photograph out from its frame and stuffed it into one of his pockets. He then set to work and spent the next ten minutes rapidly going through the stacks of paper to find and remove any reference to his agent Lace.

With more papers secreted on his person and his task complete, Will moved downstairs. Once there, he could smell what seemed like sour milk, and the odor was strong everywhere. He walked into the room on his left and saw that it was a kitchen. Cupboards were flung open, and some broken crockery lay fragmented across surfaces and on the stone floor. A fridge door hung ajar, and the light from the fridge was cast over a dining table and a half-full bottle of vodka. He left the kitchen so that he could see the last room in the house.

It was a lounge area, and as Will moved his flashlight around, it produced snapshot images of the place. He saw three dining chairs that were positioned to face the middle of the room; he saw a side table containing three plates with remnants of bread and meat on them; he saw three tumblers; he saw pictures that had been pulled off the walls and now lay broken over the floor; he saw a small television that looked as though it had been kicked onto its back; he saw a man hanging from the ceiling in the center of the room.

The smell of sour milk grew stronger as Will moved closer to the suspended body. He ignored the dead-flesh odor and looked at the rope around the man's throat. It had been tied professionally and was threaded through a metal loop in the ceiling that was out of place in this room and next to a lampshade; the fixture had obviously been screwed into one of the room's beams. The rope then traveled diagonally downward to a corner of the room where a similar metal loop had been inserted by the baseboards. Will looked around the three positioned chairs and saw cigarette and cigar butts on the floor by their sides, as well as ash. He picked up one of the tumblers from the side table and placed its lip against his nose. He went back to the body and looked at the face. Judging by its expression, the man had been hanged in such a way as not to snap the neck but instead exhaust his body of air while his three executioners had sat in the chairs and eaten meat, drunk vodka, smoked, and watched him slowly die.

Will checked the man's pockets but found nothing in them. He pulled from his own pocket the picture of Harry and the other man. He shone his flashlight between the image of the unknown man in the picture and the face of the dead man before him. Despite the age difference and the strangulated contortions of the hanged body, it was clear that the men were one and the same. The man had to be Dzevat Kljujic.

Will decided he had to leave and shone his flashlight one last time from the top of the body to its feet. As he did so, he noticed a dark streak on one of the man's trouser legs. He followed the streak upward, taking a step closer. The streak moved into the man's shirt, and Will touched the garment to find that it was cold and wet. He knew that the shirt was not, as he had previously thought, dark in color but instead was saturated with blood. He held the back end of his flashlight in his mouth and tore the shirt open.

One word had been carved with large letters into the dead man's chest. The word was in Farsi, but Will knew what it meant.

The word meant “spy.”

Twenty-Three

Dear Lana,

Stay where you are and meet the British man when he arrives. Give him a false description of me, but do not be vague with details or he will view you as uncooperative. Ask him about Berlin and what bad thing he prevented me from doing there. If he is willing to give you details—and I believe he will in order to gain your full allegiance—then be horrified with his response. Tell him that you will help him in any way that you can.

Yours,

Megiddo

Will placed the letter into his jacket and looked at Roger. The CIA man had collected the letter from Lana's room after Will had instructed her to leave it there and take a walk in Zagreb.

The two men were silent for a moment, and Will knew that, like him, Roger would be thinking through logistical issues.

Will spoke first. “Kljujic was obviously spotted taking the photograph of the Iranian man working from the Human Benevolence Foundation's building. Kljujic's house was torn apart, and I'm certain the Iranians recovered his camera and the photo. But while I removed all reference to Harry from the house in order to hide his name from the police, I can't be certain that Kljujic's killers haven't already linked his action to an instruction from Harry.”

“But if they grab Harry, they'll torture him. He'll reveal all details about Lana, and the operation will be dead. Harry's safety has become as important to us as Lana's deployment.” Roger rested his chin on his fingertips and seemed to be absorbed in thought. “Harry's the sort of man who could naturally have some degree of security around him, given his line of work. He's going to find out about Kljujic's murder, so I suggest that he hear it from you, and I suggest you advise him to surround himself with a team of men as soon as he's back in Bosnia in the morning.”

W
ill called Patrick. “I'm doing it today.”

Patrick was silent for a moment before saying, “You're still sure this needs to be done?”

“I'm sure. We've got to make him grow frustrated and desperate. My escape from a snatch effort will increase Lana's value to him. If he can't get me today, he may feel that he has to rely totally on Lana to set me up, and he knows she won't do that until she's met him.”

“They might not go for you today, though.”

“They will. When I'm seen with Lana, our man won't be able to resist deploying members of his team to capture me. He won't take the chance of seeing me disappear from his grasp in the hope that I reappear some other time.”

Will could hear Patrick breathing heavily. “All right,” the other man said at last, “but whatever they try, do not engage with them. Just get out of the situation and allow them to report back to their master that their attempt has failed.”

A
s Will sat with Lana in the Diana Bar of the Westin Zagreb hotel, he knew that she would be oblivious to what was really happening. She had no knowledge that Megiddo's men had been watching her for days; she had no knowledge that Will's highly specialized team had been around her for slightly longer; and she certainly could not have known that in meeting Nicholas Cree out in the open she had brought the Iranians directly to their prey.

Will smiled at her as he pushed her glass of Graševina wine toward her across their small table. He took a sip of his own mineral water while observing the woman. For the occasion of being seen out with Will, Lana had chosen to wear a sleeveless sapphire blue evening dress. Her long hair was draped over one shoulder and breast, and her already prominent facial features were accentuated with Egyptian-style makeup. She looked stunning. Will, on the other hand, was dressed in the most robust attire he felt he could get away with in a five-star establishment.

“You look tired, Nicholas.” Lana spoke gently and with care in her voice.

Will ignored the comment and casually looked around the bar. The place was quite full, with an eclectic range of late-afternoon guests. He quickly brought his glance back to the beautiful woman who sat opposite him.

“How is your mother?” As soon as he asked the question, Will wondered why he'd done so.

Lana frowned slightly, then reached across to place her fingers over Will's hand. “Thank you for asking. She is still undergoing tests in the Paris clinic.”

Will nodded thoughtfully. “It must be expensive for you both.”

Lana sighed. “It is, but I would rather live humbly and have her get better than anything else I can think of.”

Will said in a barely audible voice, “I have temporary access to money. It may help with your living conditions and with your mother's medical costs.”

Lana inhaled deeply.

Will held up a hand. “Don't misinterpret what I've just said. I would help you simply by way of reward for what you're doing for me. And such help would be given only when all this is finished.”

Lana shook her head in amazement. “I'm not doing this for reward.” Her voice trembled a little. “But I would gladly accept such a gift.”

Will looked downward and felt momentarily uncomfortable. He wondered if the emotion was visible to the Iranian surveillance operative who was reading a menu while sitting in the far corner of the bar or to Laith Dia, who was bent over a large glass of untouched beer in the center of the room. Will breathed deeply and looked up at Lana. The woman was watching him.

“I'm sorry.”

Will frowned. “What for?”

Lana sighed. “I'm sorry for the other night . . . forcing you to tell me what you thought of me.” She twisted the stem of her wineglass back and forth and looked nervous. “I know you are a professional, and I should have realized that you would not have taken advantage of that moment. I also know that you have a big enough burden to carry in your task without having to worry about me confusing matters or adding to that burden.”

Will smiled and shook his head. The discomfort he'd felt a moment earlier was replaced by a feeling of complete comfort, and he knew with utter clarity that it was because he was with Lana. He marveled at the sensation. “I carry many burdens, but you're not one of them.”

Lana looked surprised and then smiled. She took a sip of her wine, and as she did so her smile faded. “What will you do to Megiddo if you capture him?”

“I will force him to tell me about his plans. I will do whatever is necessary to the man.”

She nodded. “I hope so.” She looked away and for the briefest of moments seemed sad. “For a time I did love Megiddo, probably as much as I've subsequently hated the man.” She met Will's eyes. “When I knew him in the besieged city of Sarajevo, we were in one of the most chaotic and hellish places on Earth. Food, water, and sanitation were minimal. The place was constantly bombed from the artillery placements in the hills. Serb snipers shot men, women, and children every day, and we had very little knowledge of what was happening beyond our city. It was hell. The predominantly Muslim people of Sarajevo were brave and resolute despite everything that was happening, but even the bravest of them could not tolerate the uncertainty, the chaos itself. Megiddo was different. I watched him stand still as shells blew buildings apart right next to him and as bullets flew over him. I watched him look toward the hills containing those mad dogs and smile. I watched him and knew he had no fear, because for him there was no chaos. He understood exactly what was happening and what he was doing.” Lana looked into her wine and shook her head a little. “But there were the briefest of moments when I saw wonder and confusion within him.” She looked back at Will. “Before I ever shared my bed with Megiddo, there was an occasion when I was sent by him to deliver cash to a Bosnian Muslim paramilitary unit in the north. The unit had just completed a daring and successful assault against the Serbs in Mount VlaÅ¡ić, but as a result their supplies were diminished. So, on Megiddo's instruction, I used one of my maps to exit Sarajevo and walk a one-hundred-kilometer route to the mountain. It was my most difficult task during the war, and along the way I traversed minefields, hid from Serbs and other armies, and suffered mild hypothermia from the cold. It took me ten days to reach the mount, but I found the unit and gave them their funds to buy more weapons, medical supplies, and food. I then used a different route to return to Sarajevo.” Lana's voice was hard. “I nearly made the return journey untouched, but fifteen kilometers outside of the city I was caught by men while sleeping in woods. It was a group of five Bosnian Serbs who belonged to a notorious paramilitary unit called the Panthers. Thankfully, they believed I was a displaced peasant. But they knew I was a Muslim, and they took turns raping me.” She stared down at her hands, and Will knew that she was trying to control her emotions. “I remember writhing on the ground, I remember the bitter cold, feeling dreadful and seeing them standing there laughing at me. I remember looking at one of the men, the man who was clearly their leader and had tabs on his jacket to show that he was their captain, and I remember him staring at me with a look of hatred and disgust. I remember one of the other men asking him, ‘Captain Princip, can we kill her now?' I remember the man they called Princip smiling, lighting a cigarette, and saying, ‘Let's give her the worst death. Let's take her coat and leave her to freeze to death.' ”

Will tried to picture the young, wretched Lana in such circumstances and somehow relate her to the glamorous woman sitting before him. He could not do so. He felt revolted by what she was telling him. More than anything else, he wished he could move to her side and hold her.

“But I refused to die. I refused to be a victim. So I waited for what seemed an age, until I was sure the men were far away, and I picked myself up and walked.” Lana brushed fingers through her silky hair. “I don't remember the journey—I was in a daze and no doubt was suffering all sorts of mental and physical distress. But I made it back to the city and fell onto its streets. Some men and women found me and took me straight to Megiddo. He told the people to leave and carried me into his shelter. I was half conscious, but I remember him lighting a wood fire to heat a bucket of water. I remember him stripping me of my clothes and standing me naked before that fire while he washed my body. I remember him giving me the only set of spare clothes he had while he used the bathwater to hand-wash my own soiled garments. I remember him looking at me with both strength and confusion in his eyes.” Her voice was very quiet now. “I loved him at that moment. I loved him because he seemed to me to be my savior.” She shook her head. “So when he later abandoned me, I felt as if nothing made sense anymore. I felt as if something in me had died. I felt as if all I had left was hatred toward the man who I had thought was better than all the others I had known.” She looked back at Will. “And ever since, I've felt that hating someone was safer than trying to love another man and have that love taken away again.” She smiled and looked a little embarrassed. “Maybe that's not true anymore. Maybe it never made sense.”

Will shook his head. It made perfect sense to him, because he knew all about the fear of love and loss. He knew all about the ways to hide behind other emotions or put up barriers to stop love. He stopped shaking his head and wondered whether, like Lana, that was true for him anymore.

W
ill breathed deeply as he stood by the entrance to the Westin hotel. It was still light, although he knew that darkness would begin to fall in an hour or so. And judging by the color of the clouds above him, it looked likely that fresh snow would soon drop to add to the stuff that already lay thick over Zagreb. He walked up to a hotel attendant and handed the man his parking valet ticket. Within two minutes his car was delivered to him. The Audi A8 was the most powerful sedan available from the rental dealership he'd visited earlier in the day. Will gave the attendant some money and asked him to stay with the vehicle for a moment. He walked back into the hotel and spoke to the front-desk concierge. He told the woman he'd heard that the views of the city sunset were magnificent from the vantage point on Medvednica Mountain, and he wondered whether the road to it was passable today. The woman advised him that the solitary road to the mountain's summit was clear but icy and that he would be better advised to wait a few days until conditions improved. Will thanked her and explained that he would at least try to make the drive now, given that he was leaving Croatia in the morning. He walked back out of the hotel and entered his vehicle. He hoped that what he'd just done had been sufficient to allow members of the Iranian surveillance team enough time to prepare a vehicle to follow him. If they were savvy enough to overhear or subsequently get the information from the concierge, he had also given them his destination and reason for going there. His cell phone beeped, and he saw he had a message from Roger.

Four men in two vehicles are onto you. The rest of them are staying with our lady. Good luck.

Will closed his phone and drove.

For fifteen kilometers he traveled west across the traffic-laden city. He drove within the speed limit and occasionally looked in his rearview mirror to search for anything out of the ordinary. But he was not yet worried about spotting the Iranian vehicles, which would have been difficult anyway, thanks to the density and movement of other cars around him. It was only when he turned northeast onto the hilly Route 2220 that traffic evaporated and just two sets of headlights remained behind, but at a moderate distance from, his vehicle.

It was dusk now, and snow began to hit the Audi's windshield as Will drove steadily up the hilly route. He took the bends in the road slowly, hoping to appear to be a cautious driver looking for signs of ice. There were houses bordering the road for fourteen kilometers as he continued his gradual ascent. The houses then vanished, and Will's observation of the two distant vehicles behind him significantly increased. Around him now were no residential or road lights, only forest. The road veered eastward just as the snowfall became heavier and more rapid. Will squinted to focus his eyes through the blizzard that was now striking his car. When he looked in his rearview mirror and saw one of the set of headlights become larger, he had to resist the urge to speed away and instead kept glancing ahead and behind.