“We’re dealing with professionals.” Will pulled out his digital camera. “At the end of each day, the Qods Force men leave their room with no telltale evidence of their activities. But they made one mistake.” He brought up the image of the paper he’d photographed. “Or rather I suspect a mistake was made without their knowledge.”
He handed the camera to Patrick. The two men were in the CIA safe house in Switzerland.
Patrick looked at the camera for almost a minute before speaking. “That was quick thinking to check the fire roster. And I suspect you’re right: I’d bet that somebody in the HBF complied with the building’s fire-drill safety protocols and supplied all this information to their administrative department without even first clearing it with the Qods Force men.” He smiled as he looked at the photographic image showing the sheet containing the names of three females and eight males as well as all their passport numbers and dates and places of birth.
Will pointed at the camera. “Judging by the layout of the HBF office suite, I’m certain two of those people on the list are Qods Force.”
Patrick nodded and pulled out his cell phone. He made a call and relayed all the information contained in Will’s photograph to somebody who would most certainly be based in Langley. “I should have an answer in ten minutes.”
Will poured himself some coffee and gulped down the brew despite its heat. He rubbed his eyes and walked to a window just as the sun exposed a fraction of itself to the snow-drenched Zurich morning. He felt detached from time and the mechanics of normal day-and-night routines, and the sunrise had no meaning to him other than to clarify that he had one less day to capture Megiddo. It could have been five or ten minutes before he heard Patrick’s phone ring quietly. He turned and watched the CIA man stand motionless as he listened to whoever was speaking on the other end. When the call was over, Patrick picked up Will’s camera. “We can’t identify which of them are Qods Force men, and that comes as no surprise. But we can identify which ones are, without doubt, not members of the Human Benevolence Foundation.” He nodded at the digital image. “Jamshed Alavi. Male. Born thirteenth of June, 1979, in Bandar-e ’Abbās.” He smiled. “Gulistan Nozari. Male. Born twenty-ninth of April, 1956, in Esfahan.”
Will exhaled and smiled. Due to his age, Gulistan Nozari was the one man on the eleven-person list who was senior enough to be Megiddo.
“We should put him under immediate surveillance, get a photograph of him, and show that shot to Lana.” Patrick’s voice was strident. “If she says it’s Megiddo, we don’t have to wait for her to meet him. Instead we grab him and interrogate the man.”
Will spoke quietly, deep in thought. “That’s not the correct course of action.”
Patrick looked sharply at him. “Why the hell not? Harry’s given you a damn good lead that has potentially enabled us to bring a quick end to Megiddo’s mission. Give me one reason”—he paused for a moment—“that my instruction is not correct?”
“I can give you three reasons. One: Lana knew Megiddo when he was a much younger man. Even if we get a good photo, she still may be uncertain that it’s him. Two: We know from the Kljujic experience that Megiddo is savvy to the threat of potential observers.”
“Roger, Laith, Ben, or Julian would not be spotted. They’re in a different league from someone like Kljujic.”
Will held his hand up in protest. “But the risk is still there, and if there is some compromise while trying to photograph him, we may lose Megiddo for good.” He cleared his throat. “Three: We’ve got no need to make such a reckless move when we have Lana in direct communication with Megiddo. I remain convinced that this is the only true route to guaranteeing his capture.”
“How long, though?” The anger in Patrick’s voice seemed coupled with frustration.
Will studied Patrick briefly before saying, “Are you under pressure now to get this finished?”
Patrick laughed, but the sound was false and sarcastic, and he stopped abruptly. “Alistair and I have always been under pressure to get this finished. Megiddo is holding a mighty sword over the United States or the United Kingdom, and both my president and your prime minister know that he could strike at any time. Our premiers are both leaders of men, and they trust Alistair and me to do our job. But they’re waiting day and night by their phones to get the call from one of us saying it’s done.” Patrick pointed a finger at Will. “A call telling them that Will Cochrane has done his job.”
Will nodded understanding and checked his watch. “Then let me do my job. My breach of the HBF offices has given us insurance. If all else fails, we can always blow open this operation, track Gulistan Nozari via his passport, and then lift him with the help of Central European forces. But all else has not yet failed.”
“Do you expect the premiers to share your confidence?”
“I don’t care what they think. But I demand that you share my confidence.”
Will opened his cell phone and listened to Harry’s information. The agent spoke for nearly two minutes. Will closed his phone and smiled.
In her hotel room, Lana lit a cigarette and brushed her hand over the letter. She inhaled deeply on the glowing tobacco and looked apprehensive. Then she pushed the letter across the table toward Will.
He read it and immediately felt a jolt of nausea and panic. It was all he could do to try to control the overwhelming fear he now had, fear for Lana’s safety. He looked at her and asked, “How do you feel about this?”
She tapped ash from her cigarette, and Will noticed that her hand trembled a little. “How do you feel about this?” She smiled. “Of course, I know how you feel.”
Will said nothing. He felt helpless.
Lana said, “You knew that it would come to this. You knew that I had to meet him. You know that it’s what I want. And I know you did everything you could to stop me from doing this.”
Will shook his head. “None of which changes anything. I don’t want to lose you.”
Lana sighed. She crushed her cigarette and immediately lit another. “It will seem odd to meet him in that city.”
Will tore himself away from his thoughts and fears. “It makes sense. After all, it’s where this whole thing started for you.”
Lana huffed. “He chose the location because for some reason it will be convenient to him. He’s not the type of man to place stock in symbolism or symmetry.”
Will observed her for a moment. “You don’t have to do this. You still have the chance to walk away.”
Lana took another drag and looked intently at Will. “But if I did that, I would be walking away from the one chance I have to take my revenge on Megiddo.” Then she smiled. “And I would also be walking away from you.” She shook her head. “I’m not going to walk away. I need to do this.” She drew a deep breath. “I received a call from my mother this morning. She sounded like she was in a state of exultant shock. She said an anonymous donor had sent her thirty thousand dollars.” Lana smiled. “You told me that you would help us only when this was finished. But it must have been you who gave her the money.”
Will felt uncomfortable. He wondered what he should say. He looked at his hands. “The money is simply to help her while you are away. But what I really want to give her . . . what I really want to return to her safe and well . . . is you.”
Dear Lana,
You are right to feel anger and frustration. My imperative to speak to the British man drove me to impetuosity and momentary lack of care for our arrangement. That will not happen again.
I will give you the protection and counsel you need. I will give you the chance to know me again.
Time, however, has become a crucial issue. The embassy can no longer be used to reach me, but that is of no concern, because we must now progress matters beyond written communication. We must meet in three days’ time at ten A.M. in the Black Swan café on Ferhadija Street in Sarajevo. I will expect to see you there.
Yours,
Megiddo