Read The Spy Who Came for Christmas Online
Authors: David Morrell
Tags: #Crime, #Fiction, #Thrillers, #Suspense, #Espionage, #Organized Crime, #Russia
"The other officers on the team. Detectives Hardy and Grant."
Mikhail and Yakov each held up an arm in greeting, doing their best to look like they belonged there.
"About the call you're going to make, it's very important that you seem natural, that you don't let your voice indicate how worried you are," Andrei explained. "The best thing to do is--"
"Don't bother. It's useless."
"Pardon me?"
"There's no point in calling."
"No point in--? But why?"
"The phones aren't working," Brody said.
Andrei felt his muscles tense.
Did he notice the telephone wire I shot down?
He prompted Brody for more information. "They're not working? What do you mean?"
"They're broken."
"You mean the snow broke the telephone lines?"
"No, I mean the
phones."
Brody seemed annoyed that Andrei couldn't grasp some obvious concept.
"Every phone in the house? How could they all be broken?"
Brody wiped snow off his mustache but didn't answer, avoiding the question.
"Sir, we can't afford a delay," Andrei said. "The safety of your wife and son depends on you.
How
did the phones get broken?"
"I did it."
"What are you talking about?"
"I smashed the phones with a hammer." Brody sounded exasperated.
Andrei couldn't help expressing surprise. Just when he thought he'd heard everything, someone came up with something he could never have imagined. "Why on earth would you smash the phones?"
"So my wife couldn't call you."
"Call
me?"
Andrei shook his head in bafflement.
"You. The police." Brody stared down at his boots. "I lost my temper." The last word was tinged with despair. "My wife and I had an argument. I can't remember what it was about, probably my drinking.
I ..."
"But why were you afraid she'd call the police?"
"Because I hit her." Brody kept his gaze down. His shame made him whisper.
"Ah," Andrei said. So this wasn't something unimaginable, after all.
"It's the first time that ever happened. After I realized what I'd done, I spent the last couple of hours waiting to get sober enough to come back and beg her to forgive me." Brody suddenly looked up. "This is all my fault. If I hadn't left the house, I'd have been there when the guy broke in. I'd have been able to--"
"But don't you see? That gives you a natural excuse to call her." "What do you mean?"
"You can tell her you're sorry and find out what's happening. It's so obvious an excuse, the fugitive won't be suspicious. Are you sure you smashed all the phones? Doesn't your wife have a cell phone?"
"I took it. Her phone's in my pocket."
"Does your son have a phone?"
"No."
Andrei tried not to show his elation. There wasn't any need to worry that Pyotyr might have been able to summon the police before the telephone line had been shot down. With no way to make a call, Pyotyr was completely isolated.
"Draw the diagram of the house."
* * *
"PYOTYR, HASSAN'S
rivals tried to kill him several times. The last thing they want is peace. There's too much money to be made setting off car bombs in markets and sniping at Israeli soldiers on patrol,.
"Paper bags of cash are distributed weekly from donations made around the world, millions collected from sympathizers who think this is about land or religion when it's also about men who have a very specific occupation--to cause violence and death. For decades, it's been the only profession they've known. If there were peace, where would their paper bags of cash come from? Even with Hassan's
amazing effect on his followers, it's far from certain that he can achieve peace. Nonetheless, his rivals fear the astonishing growth of his influence and want to guarantee his failure.
"When he learned that his wife was pregnant, Hassan became so afraid for her safety that he sent her to the United States. Since July, she's lived secretly in Santa Fe, which has a small Muslim population loyal to Hassan's cause. In November, he made a secret trip here to monitor the last stages of her pregnancy and to deliver the baby. But he regretted sending his wife into hiding. He realized that he couldn't ask his followers to make sacrifices if he and his family weren't prepared to make them as well.
"As soon as the baby is strong enough to travel, Hassan plans to return to the Gaza Strip. He plans to stand in front of his followers and hold up his child as a symbol of hope. He plans to call it the child of peace and to say that
every
parent has a child of peace. His rivals want their weekly payments of cash so much that they'll do anything to stop him from gaining more sympathizers."
* * *
IN THE DARKNESS,
Kagan searched a cupboard under the stove and found another pot. He filled it with water, put it on the stove, and turned on the gas burner.
"Why are you boiling water?" Meredith wanted to know. "There's still enough mixture for the baby"
"Sometimes, boiling water comes in handy."
"For what? Does your wound need cleaning again?"
"Do you have any tin foil?" he asked.
"Why would you need--" Looking baffled, Meredith gave up and pointed toward the left side of the stove. "The middle drawer."
Kagan opened the drawer, pulled out a box, tore off two pieces of tin foil, and crumpled them slightly.
'What about quick-drying glue?" he asked.
Despite her confusion, this time she didn't question him but merely said, "One drawer down."
"Thanks." Kagan pulled out the drawer and was pleased to find a large plastic tube of glue, almost full.
He went over to the microwave, which sat on the counter to the right of the stove. That counter was next to the kitchen's side door. He opened the microwave, put in the two crumpled pieces of tin foil, set the tube of glue between them, and adjusted the timer for two minutes.
"Wait," Meredith warned. "It isn't safe to start the microwave with those things inside."
"Just leave it like that. With the timer set." Kagan pivoted the microwave so that it faced the side door.
His parka lay on the counter. He took his gun from the right-hand pocket, the inside of which he'd partially sliced open to accommodate the sound suppressor on the end of his weapon.
Even in the shadows, it was obvious that Meredith stared. Kagan imagined how the gun appeared to her, the cylinder attached to the barrel making the weapon look grotesque.
"You had that with you all the time?" she asked.
"There didn't seem a right moment to tell you."
"You could have killed us whenever you wanted."
"The fact that I didn't threaten you with it ought to tell you there's a big difference between me and the men outside."
"If they're even out there any longer," Meredith said.
Kagan let her take refuge in that thought.
"I don't like guns," she told him.
"I'm not crazy about them, either, but on occasion, they can be helpful. In fact, we could use another one. Does your husband have a hunting rifle or a shotgun?"
"Ted's not a hunter."
"Some people keep a gun in the house in case of a break-in."
"Not us. No guns. Especially with Cole in the house." Meredith started to say something else. "And not with ..."
Kagan imagined what she had almost said--
not with Ted's drinking problem.
He reflexively reached toward the left pocket of his parka, but all he touched was torn fabric. He'd started the night with two spare ammunition magazines in there, but along with his cell phone, they'd fallen out when the pocket had been ripped open during his escape.
All I have is the ammunition in the pistol,
he thought.
Fifteen rounds in the magazine, plus one in the chamber.
Not much..
"Where are your aerosol cans?" he asked. "Window cleaner, furniture polish, anything like that."
Again, Meredith didn't ask questions. "The cupboard above the refrigerator."
Kagan opened the cupboard and took down four pressurized cans. He set two of them next to the kitchen door.
The baby whimpered.
Holding the two remaining cans, Kagan went over to the laundry hamper and peered down, tensely hoping the baby wouldn't start to cry.
"He's just dreaming," Meredith said.
"Babies dream?"
"Didn't the World Health Organization tell you about that?"
Kagan looked at her.