“He should not travel that distance. He’s been shot in the head.”
Will heard the words from behind closed eyes. He opened them and saw Julian and Ben. The two men were standing over him. He looked around and recognized his surroundings as the superior suite he had stayed in before, in Sarajevo’s Radon Plaza Hotel.
Ben looked at Will and said, “I bet it feels like someone’s struck your head full force with an iron bar.”
Will raised his hand to the side of his head and felt padding. “Shit. What time is it, and where’s Roger?”
Ben spoke as he applied a damp swab to Will’s face. “We got you here two hours ago. Roger and Laith are now on a plane, seated a few seats behind Lana. They’ll be landing in Boston in eight hours.”
Will pushed himself away from Ben and sat upright on the bed. He swung his legs off the bed and stood. He instantly felt giddy, and in his peripheral vision he saw the two CIA men come to his side to hold him. He closed his eyes, breathed, then opened them again. “Let go of me.”
The two men held their grip for a while and then did as he asked.
“What time is the next flight to Boston?”
Ben frowned. “There’s a Lufthansa flight via Munich at twelve-fifty-five P.M., but that’s in three hours’ time and there’s no way you can be fit for that flight.”
“I’ve got to be. Lana’s meeting is at lunchtime tomorrow. I have to be on that flight.”
Ben took a step closer to Will. “There’s no way . . .”
Will held a hand up. “Remove my bandages. Disguise the wound as much as you can. Make sure that I’m clean and that this stench of smoke and blood is off me. Get me into decent clothes, and get me on that plane.”
Will was returning to the United States of America. Four weeks ago he had left the country in a severely wounded state, and he was now going back there in a similar condition. He reclined his first-class seat back a little and looked across the aisle toward his traveling companions. Ben looked to be sleeping, but Julian was awake, and he immediately got out of his seat and came to Will’s side.
“Do you want some more painkillers?”
Will shook his head. “No. They’ll stop me from thinking straight.”
“You need to rest.”
“I need to work through this.”
Julian returned to his seat, and Will closed his eyes. He saw the assassin standing perfectly still amid the beams of light, saw him set the house ablaze, saw the man shoot him with a precision that ensured that the bullet glanced along one side of his head rather than penetrated his brain. He wondered why the man had then lifted him onto a shoulder to carry him through the smoke and fire and out into the garden. He wondered why the man had told him he needed Will to stay alive. He wondered why the man had left him on that ground and whether he’d done so for fear of his own capture or death. He wondered why Harry had disappeared shortly after telling him that everything was now upside down.
Will opened his eyes. There was one thing he did not wonder about. He knew that the assassin had to be Megiddo.