The Spy Who Came for Christmas (25 page)

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Authors: David Morrell

Tags: #Crime, #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Suspense, #Espionage, #Organized Crime, #Russia

BOOK: The Spy Who Came for Christmas
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"Over a period of time, the Magi elicited this account from Mary. It was an amazing match to what the shepherds had told them about being visited by angels. The parallels were astonishing, and these priests who believed in dreams and magic wouldn't have dismissed them. On the contrary, the Magi would have investigated in greater detail, questioning the people in Bethlehem, looking for inconsistencies and contradictions, anything to cast doubt on what was being said.

But after all their efforts, the Magi concluded that the stories were genuine, that the disinformation they'd fed Herod in an effort to destabilize his government was, in ways too mysterious to understand, the truth.

"I was with a group of spies when I first heard this interpretation of the Christmas story," Kagan said. For a moment, he felt nostalgic. He'd been eighteen the first time he'd heard it.
Fourteen years ago,
Kagan thought.

And now I'm an old man.

"One of those spies said he could make a case that the Magi themselves were victims of disinformation."

"What do you mean?" Cole asked.

"Their sudden appearance in Jerusalem would have been widely reported. Herod's furious reaction to what they said about the star and the newborn king would have been widely reported as well. Herod was an unpopular ruler. His fears about a rebellion were justified. Perhaps a rebel spy in Herod's court learned that the king was sending the Magi to Bethlehem to search for the child. The rebels could have arranged for the shepherds and Mary to tell the Magi a story that elaborated on what the Magi had told Herod. Perhaps the Magi were deceived, just as they had deceived Herod."

"Deceived?" Meredith asked.

"The rebels couldn't have known that the Magi were foreign spies. They couldn't have known that the Magi wanted to destabilize Herod's government. So they told the Magi stories that they hoped the Magi would take back to Herod, further unbalancing the king. Perhaps the shepherds and

Mary were rebels. Perhaps they wanted the same thing the Magi did, but neither side realized they were working toward a common goal."

"Makes my head spin," Meredith said.

"That's what the spy world is like. A U.S. spymaster--who might actually have worked for the Soviets--once called espionage a wilderness of mirrors."

"But I don't want to believe that Mary and the shepherds were pretending."

"Neither do I," Kagan replied. "And as far as I'm concerned, the rest of the story proves they weren't."

The baby made a sound.

Kagan tensed.

"He's more restless," Meredith said.

Kagan's apprehension strengthened. "I'd better finish."

* * *

"YOU'RE SURE
the same house key fits all the doors?" Andrei asked.

"Yes," Brody answered.

"Good. Then this doesn't need to be difficult. Go into the house. Act surprised when you see the intruder. Ask the natural questions about whatever traps you notice he's arranged. Find out where the baby is."

"But the guy'll see that I'm nervous," Brody said. "He might suspect that I'm working for you."

"Of
course
he'll see that you're nervous. That's the beauty of the situation. You beat up your wife. You're terrified that she'll leave you. You come to beg her to forgive you. Then you discover there's a stranger in the house. Who wouldn't be nervous? He'll never guess what's really going on. Just do what we rehearsed. Tomorrow morning, you and your family can open your Christmas presents. Tonight will be just a bad memory."

"I hope to God you're right."

Andrei gave Brody's arm an encouraging squeeze.

"You'll do this perfectly. I have faith in you."

He watched Brody walk uneasily through the falling snow toward the gate.

The moment Brody was too far away to hear what he said, Andrei turned to his companions.

"Yakov, as soon as Brody's inside, go to the left side of the house. Mikhail, go to the right. Use one of the metal chairs Brody told us about, and position it under a window in the master bedroom. Because you gave Brody your earbud and microphone, you and I will stay in contact via our cell phones while Yakov monitors the radio conversation. After we learn where the baby is and where the booby traps are, I'll say, 'Merry Christmas' to Brody. That's my signal to both of you. A second later, I'll shoot out the front window and attack through there.

"At the same time, Mikhail, you'll stand on the metal chair and go through a window in the back bedroom. The noise will keep Pyotyr from hearing Yakov turn the key in the side door and charge in. We'll be shooting from three different directions. There'll be so much disruption, Pyotyr won't know where to turn first. Plus, all those people will be in the way, screaming, panicking, interfering with his aim.

"When I picked up the cell phone Pyotyr lost, I also found his spare magazines. They must have been in the same coat pocket. Without enough ammunition to fight all of us, what chance does he have?"

"You don't want Brody and his family injured?" Mikhail asked.

"On the contrary They can't be allowed to tell the police anything. I want them all dead. Except the baby. We can't attack until we know where the baby is."

* * *

THE COPPERY ODOR
of the nursemaid's blood filled Kagan's nostrils. He watched Yakov draw his thumb across the cash in the thick envelope he'd taken from the woman's corpse.

Andrei held out his hand.

"What?" Yakov asked.

"Our clients might want the bribe money returned to them," Andrei said. "Give it to me."

"And if they don't remember to ask for the money?"

"Then the Pakhan will want his cut."

Surprising Kagan, it was Viktor who spoke next, not Yakov. "Always the Pakhan," the gangly newcomer said, holding the baby.

Andrei ignored him. "Yakov, I want the envelope."

With a sigh, Yakov gave it to him,.

After the Pakhan takes his cut, I'll divide the money evenly," Andrei promised.

"We'll make sure you do." Viktor tightened his grip on the squirming baby.

Andrei turned toward him. "You're new, Viktor. You're still learning how things work here, so I'll make an exception just this once. But never challenge me again."

Viktor's eyes became fierce. "Yakov challenged you also. Give
him
shit, the same as you do me."

"Yakov challenged me?I don't think so."

Viktor glowered. "Whatever you say."

"Now you're getting the idea. Whatever I say."

The baby whimpered in Viktor's arms. The sound--and the helplessness it conveyed----stirred something in Kagan.

"Give the package to Mikhail," Andrei said.

"But I can handle it,"
Viktor objected.

"It doesn't like you. Do as we rehearsed and give the baby to Mikhail before you make it cry."

Kagan watched Andrei step close to the baby and concentrate on its small, unhappy face. An odd emotion seemed to cross Andrei's own face, a feeling he apparently found so unusual that it baffled him. As Viktor gave the struggling baby to Mikhail, Andrei shook his head, giving the impression that he forcibly subdued the unfamiliar emotion. He stuffed the envelope into an inside pocket of his ski jacket, then pressed the microphone that was hidden under the ski-lift tickets on the jacket.

"This is Melchior. We have the package. We're leaving the store. Two minutes."

Viktor and Yakov opened the bedroom door and checked to make certain the hallway was deserted before stepping out of the room. They put their weapons in their coats and motioned for Mikhail to follow with the baby. Kagan and Andrei went last, concealing their pistols, making sure the door was locked behind them.

As they'd rehearsed, Kagan hung a DO NOT DISTURB sign on the doorknob. The television continued to murmur in the suite, the elderly man's voice still maintaining that he was Santa Claus.

They went down the curved staircase and walked along the carpeted hallway, passing the desk where the receptionist had greeted them before Mikhail had killed her.

Viktor opened the security door that isolated this exclusive group of rooms from the rest of the hotel. Keeping Mikhail and the baby in the middle, the group passed the elevator, opened a fire door, and went down a harshly lit concrete stairwell. As they descended, they took off their latex gloves and put on their outdoor ones.

The baby's whimper echoed amid their scraping footsteps.

"This is Melchior. One minute till arrival," Andrei said to his microphone.

Three floors down, they reached the street level. Here a security camera was aimed at the corridor. They kept their heads down and tightened their two-one-two formation, partially shielding Mikhail in the middle so the camera couldn't see the baby in his arms.

Through a glass door--the side exit from the hotel--Kagan saw snow falling past murky streetlights. Warmly dressed people walked past the window. Beyond vehicles parked along the curb, a dark van suddenly stopped.

I can't do this,
Kagan thought.

That afternoon, for a long time, he'd knelt in the nearby cathedral and stared at a manger scene, trying to tell himself that his controllers were absolutely right, that the innocent lives he'd saved were all that mattered. "Bring me home," he'd begged them in dead-drop messages during the past three months. Sometimes he'd managed to slip away from Andrei and risk phone calls. But there had always been some reason his controllers couldn't bring him in. He was too well placed, they'd insisted. No one could ever hope to penetrate the Russian mob so deeply. If he disappeared, the Russians would realize he was a spy, making it more dangerous to try to infiltrate another operative into the heart of their organization.

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