“So Alistair’s given me the great hunter.” Patrick was standing in the corner of the room beside a small table. He lifted a jug of hot water and poured liquid into a bone china cup. He stirred the cup’s contents before bringing the drink over to the room’s main table. He looked at Will. “There is no doubt in my mind that you’re the right officer for this job. But there’s also no doubt in my mind that you’re an extremely dangerous and unpredictable individual.” He pointed a finger at Will. “How can I be assured that you will do what you’re told?”
Will inspected the cup and saucer before him. “How can I be assured that what you tell me to do will be the correct course of action?” He smiled and changed his tone. “Thank you for the tea. It’s been worth the wait.”
Patrick stared at him for a moment and seated himself at the opposite side of the table. The two men were alone in an anonymous room within the headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency in Langley, Virginia.
Between them were several loose papers and some files. Patrick brushed a hand over some of the papers and picked up a single sheet. He glanced at it and then tossed it across the table to Will. “It all started with this.”
Will read the report before him. It was dated two weeks earlier and had been produced by the United States National Security Agency.
OVERVIEW
1. Iran intends to attack a location within the United States or the United Kingdom.
2. The location and timing of this attack are unknown, but it is assessed that the attack is imminent.
3. The scale of the attack is unknown, but it is assessed that the attack may produce significant casualties.
DETAIL
1. The Islamic Revolutionary Guards Corps’ Qods Force has been given authority by the Supreme Leadership of Iran to plan a terrorist strike against a location within one of the cities of the United States of America or the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland. The reason for the attack is unknown.
2. The Qods Force Head of Western Directorate has overall responsibility for the planning and execution of this attack. He has completed the planning phase of his operation, and it is therefore anticipated that he intends to execute his attack within an imminent time frame.
3. The Qods Force Head of Western Directorate has been given authority to choose the location and victims of the attack. He has ensured that no information relating to his plans is released to any other individuals within the IRGC. It is therefore assessed that only the Qods Force Head of Western Directorate has details of the location and timing of the attack.
COMMENT
1. The Qods Force Head of Western Directorate is Iran’s most active intelligence-operations officer. He holds the rank of general. While he nominally reports to the Head of Qods Force, it is known that in practice the Head of Western Directorate receives his orders directly from the Supreme Leader of Iran.
2. The Head of Western Directorate’s name is kept secret from all other members of the Qods Force and IRGC. While separate NSA reporting provides some details on the man, his identity remains unknown [NSA/SIGINT/8861/09 refers].
3. It is assessed that, due to the Head of Western Directorate’s command of this operation, the planned attack must have significant strategic importance to Iran. It is therefore further assessed that the attack will be on a very large scale.
SOURCE
1. The source of this report is HUBBLE. This report is therefore assessed to be highly reliable.
2. Any enquiries relating to HUBBLE must be directed to this report’s distributing department.
Will placed the report on the table. “I presume that Hubble is a technical attack against certain Iranian communications systems?”
Patrick held up a hand. “I’ve just broken a thousand NSA security protocols by showing you this unsanitized report, and NSA could try to put me in prison for doing just that. Heaven only knows what would happen if I told you about Hubble itself.”
Will tapped a finger on the document. “I understand, but I need to hear what you think about this report. Do you assess Hubble reporting to be accurate?”
Patrick leaned forward, took the report away from Will, and placed it within a file. “Hubble reporting is pure gold. There is no doubt that this report is accurate.” He looked down at the paper and frowned slightly.
“But?”
Patrick picked up another paper. “We’ll come back to the ‘but.’ ” He went quiet for a moment, reading the contents of the new paper. “We know next to nothing about our man. The little that we do know about him has come from a variety of our Iranian sources, although by those agents’ own admission much of that is hearsay, because it seems that the Head of Western Directorate is deliberately shrouded in secrecy. However, for what it’s worth, the hearsay is consistent with the following: He’s been groomed for great things within Iran’s regime since young adulthood, he has a brilliant mind, he excels at intelligence work, he is revered within not only the IRGC but also the Ministry of Intelligence and Security, and he’s a loner who has no family or friends.”
“Because he has no need for them. He lives to please his masters.”
Patrick angled his head a little. “Well, that’s the odd thing. The rumors are also consistent in saying that the man has no religious beliefs, no loyalty to the Iranian regime, no personal political agendas or persuasions.” Patrick set the new paper down on the table. “He’s tolerated by the Iranian leadership because he’s so good at what he does. And he tolerates them because they allow him to do what he does best. But he serves no one.”
Will nodded. “He sounds like my kind of person.”
Patrick looked stern. “For all his brilliance, he’s a murderer.” He flicked a finger against the report. “We rarely ever see his hand—he’s too astute for that to happen—but I can confidently say that he’s had involvement in every major terrorist action against the West during the last five years, as well as numerous actions against Arab and South Asian countries.”
“Impossible.”
“If I were in your position, I’d probably draw the same conclusion. But I’m not in your position, I’m in my position. And I know that not one major terror act against Western or Western-allied targets can take place without his implicit or explicit authorization. Even groups that are the sworn enemy of the regime of Iran find themselves working for him, usually without knowing they’re doing so. We can’t name him Public Enemy Number One, as to do so would declare our intentions toward him, but privately we all agree that there’s no other man on this planet we would rather see dead or behind bars.” Patrick nodded. “He’s the mastermind. My position allows me to know this.”
Will observed Patrick for a while before speaking slowly. “What is your position within the CIA?”
Patrick stared out over Will’s head. “I have no rank, title, or designation. I work for no definable office or department. I have no specific remit or function.” He smiled a little. “Even my budget is vague.” He looked back at Will. “Alistair told you about Bandar-e ’Abbsā?”
Will felt an immediate sense of unease. Since his departure from Simpson’s the previous day, he’d thought about little else. “He did.”
“How does that make you feel?”
Will rubbed a hand against his face and said quietly, “I have very few memories of my father, because I was just a young boy when he was taken from me. But I have many memories of what happened afterward.” He shook his head slowly and cast his eyes down. “My mother struggling alone with me and my sister, trying her best and giving us more than she had until she was—” He looked up and spoke with stronger and more deliberate words. “Everything changed after my father died. And to know that his death was not a tragic accident but rather intentional and premeditated makes everything that happened even more abhorrent and unnecessary.”
Patrick said sharply, “It was completely unnecessary. After we escaped and subsequently learned that your father had been brutally killed, Alistair and I felt enormous guilt. We told ourselves that your father was right to tell us to run. We told ourselves that if we, too, had been captured, then the impending revolutionary regime would have achieved a potentially catastrophic victory against Western intelligence capabilities in their region.” He frowned. “We told ourselves lots of things. But none of those things could negate the guilt we both lived with. So we decided that from within our respective organizations we would do everything we could to track down and ruin the lives of anyone involved in that trap on the Bandar-e ’Abbās road.
“Our task had become a vendetta, and over seven years Alistair and I abused our positions within the CIA and MI6 to seek our revenge. It worked, and by the end of our vendetta we had punished nearly everyone involved in your father’s death, punishments meted out by my hand and by Alistair’s.”
“Nearly everyone?”
Patrick narrowed his eyes. “The person we wanted the most was the young man who had clearly planned the whole thing, the man who had approached us at the embassy. We never got him. But we did not fail with his associates.
“And even though our successes were driven by vengeance, both Alistair and I produced significant results, which came to the attention of our bosses in Langley and London.” Patrick nodded once. “We were promoted rapidly, although in slightly different ways. Alistair was fast-tracked to the Controller position he now holds, and no doubt he will soon be Chief of MI6. I on the other hand was promoted toward the position I now hold, a position that is in equal measure powerful and invisible. The former is good. The latter means I will never be able to take the post as head of the Agency.”
Patrick shrugged. “What’s my position in the CIA? I can’t give you a clear answer. But I can say I’m used on extreme matters.” He gestured in a way that seemed to take in more than just the single room they occupied. “And I can also say that I answer to nobody in this building.”
Will’s fingers did their habitual drumming on the table. “So why do you need me?” He stopped drumming. “And please say that it’s not to do with some debt of honor to my father.”
“I’ll say that it is nothing of the sort.” Patrick’s voice was quick, loud, and stern. “I’ll say that the man you know as Megiddo is the Head of Western Directorate, because I know that the director was given his first major overseas challenge during the wars in the former Yugoslavia. I’ll say that you therefore have the start of something with this man Harry and this woman Lana. I’ll say that the man you have in your sights is the man I want.”
Will frowned. “Why do you think he calls himself Megiddo?”
“I don’t know if he chose that name or if the name was chosen for him. But I do know that the name refers to the ancient Palestinian site of terrible battles, battles that came to symbolize the wars of Armageddon.” Patrick’s gaze intensified. “He is called Megiddo because he is a man who exacts ultimate judgment and destruction.” He paused. “Just like you.”
Will breathed deeply. “Who else has seen the Hubble report?”
“NSA has shown it to everyone they think may care about its contents.”
Will looked surprised. “Everyone?”
“Oh, yes.” Patrick’s eyes flashed red. “The self-important fools have thrown a sanitized version of the report to all our European allies.”
“But that will create a feeding frenzy,” Will protested. “Even though the report only references Britain and America, every European country will assume that it could be the target for the attack. They’ll all deploy their intelligence and security services to try to counter the assault.”
Patrick nodded. “They have.”
“In that case there can be no operation against Megiddo. To try to conduct a precise mission against him while in competition with multiple other agencies will produce nothing but chaos.”
Patrick shook his head quickly. “The United States and its allies are completely within their rights to deploy every tool they have to stop this attack. And maybe some of these other operations will succeed. But no one else knows about Megiddo.”
“How on earth have you managed to keep that”—Will paused—“shall I say private?”
“Private? That’s a delicate word.” Patrick gathered up most of his files and papers. He stilled his hands and looked directly at Will. “We have the Hubble report, and you have the Megiddo lead. Therefore this has to be a joint operation. But Alistair and I have made certain that nobody else in the CIA or MI6 or any other organization can muddy our waters. And we’ve done that by very privately obtaining an Imperative Status for this operation.”
Will narrowed his eyes. “All normal chains of command,” he said slowly, “are circumvented?”
Patrick nodded. “As soon as the Imperative Status was granted, I was instructed that there was only one Western intelligence officer sufficiently experienced and capable to conduct an operation with such status.” He pointed at Will. “I understand that you are the ultimate resort for extreme operations such as this. And as much as your presence in this room gives me significant unease, I have accepted that there is no alternative to your deployment.” He huffed. “I cannot afford for our mission to be distracted or damaged by others. I need it to be completely autonomous. The Imperative Status means that only five officials currently know about your lead to Megiddo: me, Alistair, you, the prime minister of the United Kingdom, and the president of the United States.”
Will clasped his hands. “We don’t yet know if we even have a starting point to this mission. Harry and Lana have given us our target, but we still have no means to get to him.”
“You know we do.”
Will stared at Patrick. “I cannot do that.”
“You can and you will do so.”
Will shook his head as anger surged through him. “On whose orders?”
Patrick leaned close. “Alistair and I are in complete agreement on this, as are our respective premiers. It is our only option. You must use Lana to lure out Megiddo. You must use her as bait.”
Will banged his fist on the table in frustration. “Every instinct I have tells me that she should not be deployed in the field. It’s far too dangerous.”
Patrick smiled, but his eyes remained cold and penetrating. “No doubt you’ve deployed female agents in the past. What’s different about this woman?”
Will glanced away for a moment, recalling Lana’s haunted and hunted look and his urge to tell her that she would never suffer again. When he faced Patrick, he spoke with no effort to hide his anger. “Of course I’ve used female agents before, and they did courageous things in dangerous situations. But this mission will be in a different league. Dangling a woman like Lana in front of a ruthless mastermind like Megiddo is a risk too far. There must be another way.”
“If there is, then tell me.”
Will sat in silence.
Patrick nodded. “The stakes are the very highest. Believe me, none of us wants to put Lana at risk. It is”—he paused—“not a part of our work that either Alistair or I take pleasure in. But thousands of lives are at risk, and the imperative to stop their deaths must be paramount.”
Will cursed inwardly, shaking his head. “I cannot ask her to do this.”
Patrick sat still for a while. He then spoke quietly. “You are quite a contradiction. On one side, I can see that you are impeccably ruthless and will take inordinate risks with your own life, but on the other, it surprises me that you’re unwilling to sacrifice others for the sake of the greater good. Why is that?”
Will shook his head harder. “I’m willing to do what it takes and work with people who know the risks. A man like Harry, for example, knows exactly what he’s doing and I’m sure is no stranger to making hard decisions. But Lana . . . Lana has seen enough. She’s done only good things in her life, and even for that she was brutally punished. She’s an innocent. I don’t put innocents at risk. I save them.” He repeated, “I cannot ask her to do this.”
Patrick observed him for a while, then nodded. “I understand. But you should understand that I have no choice other than to seize any opportunity to stop Megiddo.” He frowned. “Maybe you underestimate Lana.”
“What do you mean?”
“Maybe she would be willing to take this risk.”
Will shook his head again. “She wants revenge against Megiddo, and that emotion may blind her to potential dangers. But I’m not blind to those dangers. I can’t ask her to do something that would place her in jeopardy.”
“Maybe not, but you could ask her what she wants.”
Will frowned.
“Why not?” Patrick widened his eyes. “Be honest with her about the dangers. Then ask her whether she’s prepared to take the risk or whether she would rather remain safe but embittered for the rest of her life.”
“That’s just manipulation.”
“No, it’s a straightforward question and one that a woman like Lana should be able to respond to with her own mind and conviction. She has a right to define her own path in life. That’s her right, not yours.”
Will sighed. “She should not be given the choice.”
“Nor should you, but here we are confronting terrible decisions in the face of unimaginable dangers. So I’m making that choice for you. Ask her what she wants. I give you my word that if she refuses to help, I’ll honor that decision. And I give you my word that if she chooses to cooperate, I’ll afford you resources to protect her throughout the mission.”
Will thrust out his chin. “I don’t need any other shooters. I work alone. I am the shooter.”
“You had other men with you in Central Park.”
“Against my wishes. They died and let me down. I should have been there alone. My agent would still be alive if I hadn’t put my faith in others to help him.”
“And yet it was ultimately you who ended his life.”
Will was silent.
Patrick inhaled deeply. “However you intend to construct this operation, Alistair and I are in complete agreement that you must have support. And your priority must be to capture Megiddo, not protect Lana. You certainly can’t do both.”
“I can damn well try.”
“You talk of risk.” Patrick smiled a little, but his look remained cold. “Is that a risk you’re willing to take?”
Will said nothing.
Patrick nodded. “We’ve calculated that you need at least eight men for all surveillance, protection, and attack requirements. But I can only get you four specialists, and Alistair has advised me that he can’t get any shooters from MI6.”
“I thought this operation had been countenanced from on high? Surely the premiers would give us all the resources we needed?”
Patrick glanced down at an inch-high pile of loose papers. “You bring me back to that ‘but.’ ” He placed a thumb against the pile and strummed the papers’ edges. “The Hubble report I showed you is without doubt genuine. However, since its release, something else has happened. Hubble has been inundated with further signals from intelligence about other intended attacks across Europe and the U.S. It’s caused a state of high anxiety, to say the least, and it has stretched resources beyond reason. I was lucky to secure you four CIA paramilitary officers.”
Will frowned. “Are you getting results from actions taken on the content of these other NSA reports?”
Patrick shook his head and looked frustrated. “That’s the thing. The reports are informative enough to be taken seriously but not specific enough to guarantee results.”
“What does NSA say?”
Patrick rose from his chair and walked to a window. He placed his hands in his pockets and stared out. “You have to understand that we live in a world of bureaucracies and conflicting agendas.” He turned to face Will. “NSA is so damn protective of their precious Hubble operation that they’ve decided it cannot be challenged. I’ve asked them about the new reports, and they’ve told me to mind my own business. I can’t even get the president to order them to cooperate with me, since for him to do so would prompt too many intrusive questions from Congress.”
Will shrugged. “Well, providing you’re convinced of the validity of the initial Hubble report, these other reports should be of no concern to us. Aside from the fact that according to you it means my operation does not have enough resources.”
Patrick folded his arms across his chest. “I think these other reports could be of every concern to our operation.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t prove anything to you yet. What I can say is that these other reports look too similar to the original Hubble report of two weeks ago. But unlike the original report, I think the subsequent reports have been manufactured. The trouble is, only NSA can substantiate that view.”
“Good luck.”
Patrick smiled. “I should be wishing you good luck.”
He turned back to look out the window. “I told you that I’m used on extreme matters. I told you I needed you because you had a head start with the operation against Megiddo. What I didn’t tell you is that you also have another use to me.” Patrick turned again to look at Will. “You’re deniable.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“At seven-thirty tomorrow morning the children and wife of the NSA’s Head of the Middle East Counterterrorism Desk will leave for school and work. At eight-thirty the NSA officer himself leaves for work. I need you to be in Baltimore tomorrow to have a little chat with him before he heads off for his morning duties.”
Will frowned. “You want me to interrogate a senior NSA officer?”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
Will thought about the question. “I’m willing to frighten him, even hurt him a little, but I refuse to torture a man who’s on our side.”
Patrick held up a hand. “I do have to make tough decisions, but thankfully making a decision to torture a Western intelligence analyst isn’t one of them right now.” Patrick walked back to the table. He said nothing for a while, just stood looking at Will. He then spoke quietly. “Alistair has warned me that you view your work as a means to take revenge against the tragedies of your early life. He’s warned me that you never stop, that you make immense personal sacrifices, that you care nothing for rules or protocols, and that your compassion for the weak and innocent is balanced with an unflinching desire to slaughter evil.” He raised his voice. “But he’s also warned me that there are aspects of your character that neither he nor you yet fully understand.” His voice hardened. “The operation to capture Megiddo requires us to play with the very highest stakes. For reasons that will become clear to you in a moment, I need to know that you can be controlled.”
Will narrowed his eyes. “I control myself.”
“How? How can you do that?” Patrick demanded harshly. “How can you do the things you do without professional and personal guidance? How can you continue to exist without those things?”
Will was silent before saying, “When my war ends, I may be forced to face those questions. But by then it won’t matter, because I’ll most likely be dead.”
Patrick waved a hand in what looked like frustration. “You are your father’s son, but through circumstance you’ve also become a distillation and a corruption of the man I last saw in Bandar-e ’Abbās.”
Will stood quickly and kicked his chair to the floor. He took two paces toward Patrick and glared at the man.
Patrick stepped back and raised a hand. “Please sit down.”
Will didn’t move.
“Please sit down.”
Will held his gaze on Patrick. “Be very careful with your words.” He sat and watched Patrick do the same.
Patrick seemed to be composing himself. “There’s another reason Alistair and I know that you’re the best officer for this mission. And that reason will change everything for you.” He nodded slowly and lowered his voice. “Everything.”
“What do you mean?”
For the longest time, Patrick studied Will. “What’s your last memory of your father?”
Will narrowed his eyes. “I was five years old. I remember seeing him walk across a stretch of tarmac to an airplane. I was waving to him with one hand while holding my mother’s hand with the other. I saw him get onto the plane. And I never saw him again.” The anger within Will receded as he pictured the memory. “I later learned that the plane was bound for Iran.”
Patrick nodded. “That would have been his first and last trip into Iran and three weeks before his capture.” He broke eye contact for a moment, and when he looked back at Will, there was sadness in his eyes. “For the first year of his captivity, we knew from our agents that your father was moved around Iran by the revolutionaries and kept in cellars and other secret locations. But after the revolution of 1979, the revolutionaries became officials and your father’s incarceration was formalized. He was transferred to Evin Prison in Tehran and kept in solitary confinement between the frequent bouts of torture inflicted on him. In the seventh year of his imprisonment, your father was taken into the room that was normally used for his torture, but instead of seeing one of the many usual torturers, he was confronted with the revolutionary man who had set us all up. That man had now become an important person, and the prison guards stood back as he set about his task.”
Patrick closed his eyes and then slowly opened them again. “I later spoke to one of those guards, before I killed him, and found out everything that had happened in that room. I found out that the revolutionary man cut pieces off your father. I found out that the man attached a saline drip to your father’s body so that he could be kept alive longer while undergoing this brutal savagery. I found out that at the very end the revolutionary plunged his knife into your father’s broken body and extinguished his life.
“Since the murder of your father and later your mother, you’ve spent your adult life righting other people’s wrongs. This mission will be different for you, but Alistair and I fear what effect it will have on your already ruthless psyche. This mission will be different because the man who tore your father apart gave him his name before killing him.
“That name was Megiddo.”