Authors: Matthew Dunn
Marsha smiled. “So long as you realize that you’ll have armed men around you at all times.”
Sheridan nodded. “I’m fine with that.”
His observation made Alistair and Patrick frown.
Within the café, Will was motionless and silent as he listened to Ellie recount what she’d read in the Ferryman files.
She told him that a high-ranking Russian SVR officer called Gregori Shonin had been recruited by a CIA officer who was on a posting with his wife in Prague in 2005. Though Shonin was a fabulous asset in his own right, his true value was that he had direct access to his SVR boss, the spymaster Antaeus. Shonin’s recruitment had been complex, because he was insistent to his Agency handler that he needed to pretend to Antaeus that he’d recruited an Agency officer and could obtain from that officer American secrets. The CIA officer quite rightly reported these terms to the head of the Agency, who in turn sought clearance from the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence to pass Shonin chicken-feed U.S. secrets that wouldn’t damage American interests.
Shonin was given the code name Ferryman.
During the subsequent decade, Ferryman had produced invaluable intelligence, and three people in particular had their careers accelerated on the back of the project. In 2007, Ferryman had supplied the Agency with the name of an American double agent who’d been working for the USSR and subsequently Russia for years. Colby Jellicoe, then a CIA officer, expertly interrogated the traitor, got him to confess, and established every piece of intelligence he’d supplied to the Russians. Jellicoe’s career subsequently escalated to director level, and thereafter he became a senator working on the SSCI. In 2009, Russia had discovered that the Americans had built a listening post underneath the political district in central Moscow. Ferryman told the Agency that Russia knew about the post and was likely to find it within forty-eight hours, at which point it would announce the discovery to the world and cause a diplomatic disaster between the two countries. CIA officer Ed Parker was immediately deployed covertly to Russia and, at great risk, took command of the listening post team, expertly dismantled the post, and covered up all of America’s tracks. In 2011, Ferryman had told the CIA that Russia had tasked an assassination squad to hunt down and kill a Russian dissident who intended to go to the press with information that could compromise Russia. The dissident was in hiding in Georgia. CIA officer Charles Sheridan volunteered to rescue him, infiltrated Georgia, located the dissident, and got the man safely out of the country while being pursued by the assassins. During his exfiltration, Sheridan debriefed the dissident and established that the man had a stolen an encrypted computer stick containing data on Russian political intentions toward its neighbors and the West. Once decrypted by the Agency, the data on the stick provided a vital tactical advantage to America on a raft of political negotiations with Russia. For his actions, Sheridan was awarded the Intelligence Star medal.
Three years ago, the CIA had learned that MI6 was planning to assassinate Antaeus. The Agency pretended to assist British Intelligence, whereas in truth it wanted to establish the minutiae of the operation so that it could forewarn Antaeus of the plot via Ferryman. It did precisely that, seconds before Will Cochrane’s bomb blew up Antaeus’s car. According to Ferryman, Antaeus was disfigured by the blast but survived. His wife and six-year-old daughter did not.
“What?!” Will couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “They weren’t . . . weren’t supposed to be there. Were never there. Never traveled in the same car with him.”
Ellie lowered her head. “I know. It said as much in the files. But they were in the car that night and their deaths were hushed up.” She stared at him closely. “I’m sorry, Will. There’s more.”
“I . . .” Will felt sick and incredulous. “Six years old? Dear God. Six years . . .”
“Will.”
He felt utterly disgusted with himself and racked with grief. “If I’d known they were there . . .”
“Will! We don’t have much time!”
Will tried to compose himself, and nodded.
Ellie continued relaying what she’d read.
Though Ferryman’s access to Antaeus’s secrets had produced grade-A actionable intelligence, none of it compared to what Ferryman had recently ascertained: Antaeus knew that the terrorism financier Cobalt was holding a secret meeting with the Taliban in Afghanistan. Soon, Antaeus would know the precise date, time, and location of that meeting. This gold data prompted the leaders of Britain and the United States to call off the manhunt for Cobalt, for fear that if they continued they might force Cobalt to abort his Afghanistan meeting. Moreover, without giving details about their source, they persuaded every other Western nation hunting Cobalt to do the same. Ferryman said that Russia didn’t have the stomach to attack the Cobalt meeting, given that it would be held underground and would be heavily defended. That didn’t matter to America and Britain, because the States would drop a bunker buster on the meeting and kill the world’s most wanted terrorist.
Ellie concluded, “Project Ferryman will blow Cobalt into pieces. And that’s why you’re on the run. By disobeying orders, you could have very nearly jeopardized that outcome.”
Will’s mind was racing. “But something’s wrong with this.”
Ellie nodded. “I agree.”
“Herald told you about a high-ranking Russian mole . . .”
“In the Agency.”
An individual who would surely know that Project Ferryman was key to eliminating Cobalt, and would have relayed that to Antaeus, who in turn would instantly know that someone very close to him was giving the Americans all of Antaeus’s secrets.
“What’s Antaeus’s game?” Will whispered to himself.
“I keep asking myself that. Why hasn’t he killed Ferryman? It wouldn’t take Antaeus long to establish which member of his SVR team was the traitor working for us.”
Will was deep in thought as he asked, “Do you have anything else for me?”
“Before I read the Ferryman files, I found out who’s leading the manhunt for you on U.S. soil. Agent Marsha Gage, FBI. She’s top of the league, is as honest as they come, and doesn’t have any allegiance to the CIA.” She held out a slip of paper. “That’s her home address.”
“Excellent.” Will had reasoned that the Bureau could be useful once he’d discovered the truth about Ferryman. But he needed the Bureau to be proactively chasing him on U.S. soil, so that he could learn the identity of the person heading the FBI manhunt and make a decision as to whether that person could be trusted. That was why he’d deliberately shown himself at the Canadian border. Plus he wanted to unsettle the Russian spy in the CIA so that the mole would make a mistake and expose himself. Having Agent Gage’s home address was invaluable.
Will knew they’d spent too long in one place and needed to separate. “I presume the CIA officer who was posted with his wife to Prague in 2005 and recruited Ferryman was Charles Sheridan.”
Ellie shook her head. “It was Ed Parker.”
“Parker?”
“He was there with his wife Catherine. Ed first met Shonin at a U.S. embassy cocktail function.”
Will hadn’t expected that.
Not at all.
“Did you find out where Ed Parker lives?”
Ellie handed Will a second slip of paper. “As you requested in Norway, I got the addresses of the major Project Ferryman personnel—Parker, Charles Sheridan, and Senator Jellicoe. Also, this is for an apartment I rented for you in D.C.” She handed him a key and gave him the address. “I’ve stored the things you asked for there.”
“Excellent. I got a new cell phone.” As he gave her the number, Ellie programmed it into the cell phone that only Will knew about. “Call me if you need my help. But I can’t promise I’ll be able to get to you.” He smiled as he nodded toward the exit. “I’ve got a fair few distractions going on.”
Ellie placed the tips of her fingers against his hand. “Why did you disobey orders in Norway?”
Will looked at her fingers. “I felt . . . it was the right thing to do.” He pulled out the jewelry box that Ellie had secreted in Chinatown. “Thought you might like this back.”
Ellie frowned as she took it from him. She resisted the urge to shed a tear when she saw that inside was a new gold necklace. It was very similar to the one her father had given her and she’d subsequently lost. “Why . . . ?”
“Why not?”
Ellie smiled. “Why not indeed.”
He stood. “Are you going to be okay?”
Ellie shrugged. “The Agency trained me too well. If I can get out of D.C., they’ll never find me.”
From the bottom of his heart, Will said, “I will
never
forget what you’ve done for me.”
Ellie smiled. “Didn’t just do it for you. Did it for the good ol’ U.S. of A.”
Will took her hand and held it. “I hope we meet again.”
“You do?”
Will nodded. “I’d like that.” He meant every word. Ellie was unlike any woman he’d met before, and he realized now that his feelings for her went way beyond professional admiration.
As she looked at him, Ellie now understood why her cool persona was rattled when she thought about Will. She was attracted to him, plain and simple, and her feelings were intensified by the circumstances and what they were doing. “I’ll let you in on a secret: I’ve always loved sunshine, particularly
Mexican
sunshine.”
“Mexico’s a big country to find a person who’s in hiding.”
“Not if the person looking is someone with your skill set.” She winked at him.
Just like she’d done in Norway while armed men were waiting to kill her.
“Providing I’m not in jail or dead,” Will said, grinning, “consider it a date.” He turned to leave, but looked back at her as a thought entered his head. “Was there any description of Gregori Shonin in the Ferryman files?”
Ellie shook her head while placing her hand inside her handbag. “No, but I was a bit of a naughty girl. I stole something I shouldn’t have from the archives: Shonin’s photo, taken without him knowing, in the early days after his recruitment.” She handed the photo to Will.
His heart was pounding as he looked at the image. “I’m the only person in Western intelligence who knows what Antaeus’s face looks like,” he said. “That’s one of the reasons why I was deployed to Moscow to kill him three years ago.” He held the photo out to Ellie. “This isn’t just a case of not understanding why Antaeus hasn’t identified Ferryman and killed him. It’s far worse than that. Gregori Shonin doesn’t exist. Because the man in this photo is Antaeus.”
“Antaeus?!” Ellie’s mind was racing. “But surely Ed Parker would have realized that Antaeus and Ferryman were one and the same, when he met Ferryman after your bomb injured Antaeus, and saw that he was disfigured?”
Will agreed, and said, “I think I know what this is all about. In 2005, Parker didn’t recruit a man he allegedly believed to be Gregori Shonin. Instead, Antaeus recruited Parker, who knew from the outset who he was dealing with. And that means Herald was right when he told you in Norway that there was a Russian spy at the Agency’s top table.” He looked away toward the exit while feeling overwhelming anger. “Ed Parker is being run by Antaeus, who’s using him to feed us information that will lead to the death of Cobalt. Ed Parker is the mole. And his code name is Ferryman.”
“The Russians hate terrorists like Cobalt just as much as we do,” Ellie said. “Maybe he’s using us because he knows that we’re the only ones who can kill Cobalt.”
“Maybe.” Will was frowning. “But Antaeus wouldn’t run an operation this elaborate and dangerous to help America. His career has been built around his primary objective to cripple the States.” A thought suddenly entered his head, and his eyes widened.
“Will?”
Will was silent.
“What is it?”
Will shook his head in disbelief as he muttered to himself, “Clever, clever Antaeus.”
“I don’t understand.”
Will looked directly at Ellie. “If I’m right about what’s really going on, when the United States of America drops its bomb on Cobalt, what will follow will be nothing short of a disaster.”
T
he Washington Marriott Wardman Park hotel lobby was buzzing with suited delegates who were attending an advertising conference. Ellie was glad the place was so busy; it meant she could get her things from her room, check out, and leave the place without being noticed.
Then she’d head to Mexico and wait for Will to find her.
She smiled as she walked along the sixth-floor corridor, swiped her key card through her room’s lock, and entered the room.
She switched on the light and froze.
A man was sitting in the armchair, staring at her with a smile on his face.
She was about to run, but someone else behind her thrust a thick plastic bag over her head, pulled the bag’s drawstrings tight around her throat, and locked her arms in a viselike grip.
She tried to gasp for oxygen inside the airtight bag. She thrashed her legs, but whoever was holding her was too strong and knew exactly what he was doing.
Something else was in the bag.
Cotton wool swabs.
They gave off a toxic odor.
One that made her light-headed.
Of course: a chemical compound that renders humans unconscious when inhaled.
Her legs felt incredibly heavy.
As she lost consciousness, her last thought was that thank goodness she’d met Will when she did.
Augustus looked at Elijah and grinned. “She’s out for the count.” Like his twin brother, he was wearing a smart suit and had his straight, shoulder-length black hair tied in a ponytail. Anyone looking at them as they’d entered the hotel earlier would no doubt have surmised that they were arty ad exec types.
Elijah got out of the seat and helped Augustus lift Ellie into a straight-backed desk chair and tie her to it with a rope. Then Augustus pulled out a military knife.
At 7:10
P.M.
, Ed Parker opened his refrigerator door with the intention of pouring himself a large glass of Chablis, but stopped when Catherine came rushing into the room, a look of deep concern on her face.
“Ed, there’s four men at the door. They’re FBI.”
“FBI?” Ed’s heart started racing.
“They’ve asked to speak to you. Said it was serious.” She gripped his arm.
Ed’s thoughts were in turmoil.
Because when Feds turned up at a spook’s home and said they wanted to speak about something serious, it usually had one outcome.
Arrest.
And a life sentence in a maximum-security prison.
“Jesus.” Ed’s mind was racing.
Catherine frowned. “Have you done something wrong?”
Ed couldn’t answer.
“Is this about Project Ferryman?”
Ed rubbed his hand over his face. “I don’t know, can’t be sure, I . . .”
Catherine gripped him harder. “Ferryman is an Agency matter; the Bureau has no jurisdiction over it, and therefore no jurisdiction over your involvement. You’ve done nothing wrong and don’t need to tell them anything. Hold firm to that fact.”
She released her grip.
Ed nodded, inhaling deeply. He wished Catherine was right, but knew that the Bureau could stick its nose wherever it liked if it got the faintest whiff of treachery or corruption or worse. He grabbed a dish towel, used it to mop the sweat off his face, and allowed Catherine to tighten the knot on his tie and use her fingers to straighten his hair. “Where’s Crystal?”
“In her room, doing her homework.”
“Don’t let her come downstairs,” he said. He walked to the front door. The four men were all wearing blue FBI Windbreakers and baseball caps.
One of them said, “Mr. Parker?”
Ed nodded, his heart in his throat and his stomach in knots.
“We’ve been sent to speak to you.” He showed him his ID. “Seems you’ve been involved in something that’s going to get you in trouble.”
Ed tried to decide what to say. With no forethought, he blurted, “Trouble is, I don’t know what the trouble is.”
The agents laughed.
Probably to put him at ease and display the bizarre camaraderie that can sometimes be on show between an arresting officer and the perp he wants to put cuffs on.
“We won’t hold that against you.” The agent pointed at a black sedan that was parked across the street.
No doubt it was a Bureau car, the one they were going to take him away in.
The FBI officer said, “You’re going to see that day and night. Two of us will be in it at all times. We’ll work in twelve-hour shifts.” The agent smiled. “It’s just a precaution, but apparently you and a handful of other Agency folk need to be protected while Will Cochrane’s still loose. We’ll be following you to and from work, and when you’re home we’ll be sitting in our car outside, drinking coffee and watching over you. All we ask in return is that you stick to speed limits when driving and call us if you see anything suspicious.”
“Suspicious?”
“A man coming to kill you.”
Ed didn’t know if he felt total relief or abject fear. “Sure, sure. You want me to alert Agency security that you’ll be parked outside Langley while I’m at work?”
“That’s already taken care of.”
Ed glanced back toward his house. “Should we temporarily move someplace else? How serious is this threat?”
The agent patted his jacket. “Mr. Parker, we got enough armaments on us and in our vehicle to take down a gang of professional bank robbers, let alone a single guy. Plus, we got direct lines to D.C. SWAT and their helos. You’re going to be fine. Unless you need us, pretend we’re not here.” He nodded toward the interior of Ed’s home. “And please tell Mrs. Parker that we apologize if our presence at your home made her worry.”
“Seems to me that we’re in good hands.” Ed checked his watch. “I got to make some calls, and”—he smiled—“pour myself a large drink.”
Lindsay Sheridan poured brandy into two glasses and placed them on a side table between her husband and Senator Jellicoe, in front of the sumptuous living room’s roaring fire. “Is there anything else that you need from me, Charles?”
Charles Sheridan glanced at her with an expression of contempt. “No. Just don’t disturb us, okay? And if I hear that damn kitchen TV from in here, I’ll smash it on the floor.”
Lindsay smiled at Jellicoe to hide her embarrassment at Charles’s comment and to put the senator at ease. Not that Jellicoe seemed to care one hoot. He seemed as irritated with Lindsay’s presence in the room as her husband was.
She said timidly, “I’ll stay out of your way,” and left the room while wishing she had the courage to lock its door behind her and set fire to the place.
Sheridan swirled his brandy. “My boys have got Hallowes.”
Jellicoe smiled. “Good.”
“You sure I have your unconditional backing to do this?”
Jellicoe placed a chubby finger into his liquor and sucked on it like a child with a Popsicle. He glanced toward the window. Outside were two vehicles containing their newly acquired FBI protection detail. “So long as you keep matters discreet, I don’t care what you have to do to her to make her talk.”
Antaeus was sitting in his study making the final amendments to his thesis on Stone Age settlements in western Russia. He was extremely pleased with the way he’d pulled his research together to form a document that would poleax Russian archaeological societies’ received wisdom that people back then were solely nomadic. But he had two other reasons for feeling happy.
Parker had just told him that Sheridan’s men had captured Hallowes and would use her to flush out Cochrane.
In return, Antaeus had told Parker that he’d just learned that Cobalt would be attending the meeting with the Taliban at noon the day after tomorrow. He’d given the CIA agent the precise location in Afghanistan, and Parker had told him America would now spring into action and ensure that everyone at the meeting was killed.
He couldn’t predict whether total war and genocide would follow the air strike. But he did know one thing for certain.
The United States of America would have its head separated from its body.
The two men were sitting in front of Ellie with grins on their faces. After she fully regained consciousness, she wanted to tell them that if they wanted to kill her they should get it over with. But she couldn’t speak, because a leather strap was tightly wrapped around her mouth and her head, in place to secure the sock that was screwed into a ball inside her mouth in order to prevent anyone standing outside her hotel room from hearing her screams.
Though her heart was pounding, Ellie refused to let fear take hold.
The men were obviously twins, and she estimated they were in their fifties. They were quite small, and if she’d seen them anywhere else but here and under different circumstances she would have assessed that they looked a bit unconventional, but otherwise perfectly harmless.
With two exceptions.
Their eyes were glistening, agitated, and excited.
And their smiles were just plain wrong.
They were the smiles you see on sadists, rapists, and mad-dog killers.
Both of them were holding big military knives that looked razor sharp; their jet-black hair was now out of ponytails and hung straight down to their shoulders.
“My name’s Augustus.” The twin nodded toward his brother. “And this is Elijah. We’d tell you not to be scared, but that would be a dumb thing to say given your predicament.” He laughed, then his expression changed. “We take the sock out when we need you to speak. We put it back in when we want a bit of peace and quiet. You get that?”
Ellie nodded.
“At any point, if you call for help or make any kind of noise to attract anyone, punishment will be instant and severe. You get that as well?”
Ellie tried to speak, but all she could emit was a barely audible muffled sound.
“Get it?”
Ellie nodded quickly.
“That’s my pretty little gal.”
Elijah moved to her side; his smell reminded her of a dirty zoo.
Augustus tapped the tip of his knife over Ellie’s two cell phones, which were lying on the bed by his side. “We think you’ve got a way to get in touch with Cochrane, and that way is inside one of these two phones.” He nodded at Elijah, who undid the strap and pulled out the sock. “Which phone is it?”
When she spoke, drool ran down her chin. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Augustus smiled and said, while tapping his blade over each phone in quick succession, “Eeny, meeny, miny, moe.” He stared at Ellie.
She said nothing.
Elijah shoved the sock ball back into Ellie’s mouth as Augustus chanted, “Catch a tiger by the toe.”
Elijah whipped Ellie’s right shoe off her foot and used his knife to slice off her big toe.
Ellie’s back arched as agony seared from her foot to her central nervous system. The ropes kept her fixed to the chair, which Elijah was now gripping with tensile steel strength. Her head was shaking wildly as unbelievable pain made her retch.
As the pain receded to a fearsome but barely tolerable ache, the sock was removed from her mouth.
Augustus grinned. “Catch a tiger by the toe. If he hollers, let him go. Unless we wish him to suffer so.” His eyes intensified. “This phone has only got one number programmed into it. I’m thinking that makes it a special phone. Am I right?”
Ellie spat, “Screw you!”
Elijah shoved the sock back into her mouth.
Ellie braced herself.
Elijah placed his knife by her injured foot and touched her four remaining toes while saying, “This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had
none
.” He sliced her little toe off and held it in front of her face so that blood dripped from it onto her lap.
Elijah stepped away and pulled out the sock.
Ellie said between gritted teeth, “You’re wasting your time.”
This made the twins laugh hysterically.
“So, let’s try again.” Augustus tapped one of her cells. “Is this the number Cochrane’s got?”
Ellie tried to decide what to do. She was certain she could withstand a lot more torture without breaking. She was also sure the men wouldn’t leave the room until they’d gotten the answers they sought. They’d keep torturing her until she was dead. Her best option was to maintain the upper hand by manipulating them into believing that she couldn’t take anymore, and giving them half truths and half lies that would help her and Cochrane.
Though she felt nothing but focus and anger, she had to act like she was scared.
It could well be her last curtain call.
She lowered her head to look resigned, and whispered, “Yes. It’s the number Cochrane has.”
Augustus clapped. “That’s my girl!” He tossed the phone to Elijah, while keeping his eyes on Ellie. “You’re going to call him and say you want to meet with him tomorrow—ten fifteen
A.M.
outside the Friendship Heights metro on Wisconsin Avenue. Don’t use any odd words, make yourself sound weird, tell him what’s really happening, or hang up midsentence. By all means sound scared, to make him concerned, but if you say or do anything to make him think you’re not making the call on your own, then today won’t be your best.”
Elijah placed the tip of his knife a millimeter away from Ellie’s eyeball, and held the palm of his other hand inches away from the blade’s hilt, ready to thrust it deep into her socket.
She rang Will’s number.
It went straight to voice mail, which didn’t surprise her because Will would be preserving his cell’s battery life for as long as possible, and no doubt would be turning it on later to check for messages.
She spoke for twenty-three seconds while Elijah craned his neck next to her so that he could hear if anything was being spoken back on the other end of the line.
Elijah stuck his thumb up. “All good. We’re done.”
Augustus stood. “We are, indeed.”
Ellie closed her eyes after she saw Augustus moving across the room toward her, because his visage was the last thing she wanted to see right now. She knew what was coming.
She wasn’t scared, because she’d lived her whole adult life expecting a moment like this.
But she did regret that she’d never have the chance to sit in a Mexican beach bar, watch the warm sea ebb and flow while she drank a bottle of beer, feel a man’s hand on hers, maybe Will Cochrane’s.