'We're at war, Tyler,' the DCIA said softly. 'It's a war on terror, but it's still a war. Wars are ugly and sacrifices have to be made.'
Moore turned and the two men stared at each other.
'I know,' the DNI replied, before leaving the room, closing the door quietly behind him.
'I've been meaning to ask you, Will,' Don Priestley spoke from the back of the car with an air of forced nonchalance. 'How did Ahmed get past you? How did he manage to spirit his sister away when security was so tight?'
Will steered the CIA man's car along the narrow back-streets of Belgravia. Like you don't fucking know, he thought to himself. Like you haven't been briefed by Five down to the last fucking detail. He glanced into his rear-view mirror. Priestley was sitting in the middle of the back seat — he had started doing that, Will had noticed, ever since the SAS man had insisted that they drive a car with blacked-out, bullet-proof glass. He wanted to be as far away from a bullet as he could. They were returning from a meeting in the West End and the London rush hour was in full flow. They'd be back at Priestley's place in a few minutes, however. Not that that meant any let-up for Will.
He'd been guarding Priestley for two days now and it was 24-7. The only time he managed to catnap was when the CIA man was in meetings in places Will deemed to be reasonably secure. Although he had learned to his cost that Ahmed could never be taken for granted, the chances of the Afghan assassin showing up at one of these venues were pretty slim. The US embassy was one such place. Even better was the top-secret United States communication base. It was in a secure basement behind Regent Street and Priestley would be in there for a couple of hours at a time, granting Will a block of solid sleep. The rest of the time he was surviving on ephedrine.
Priestley's home was a different matter. Having insisted that the CIA man move into a bedroom with no windows and only a single entrance, Will had to stay up all night in the adjoining room, his weapon in his hand and his mind in a state of high alert. The main entrance to the house might be guarded; the windows might be barred; but Will knew from bitter experience that Faisal Ahmed could get past almost any security.
Priestley caught sight of the fact that Will was looking at him in the mirror and his eyes flickered away.
'He created a diversion,' Will said in answer to the CIA man's question. 'We had motion sensors around the house, so as he approached he dropped a wounded animal on the perimeter.'
'What sort of animal?'
'A cat.'
'Sick bastard.'
Will grunted. 'Clever bastard, actually. Once he was in the house he got up into the loft and waited twenty-four hours. That was the really clever bit. We were on high alert after the motion sensors were triggered, so he waited for us to get back into our comfort zone before he struck. He put a small remote-controlled detonating device in the fuse box, so when the moment came he could kill the lights.' Will felt the muscles in his jaw tighten. 'It was ballsy, but I should have predicted it.'
There was a silence in the car.
'Diversionary tactics,' Priestley said after a moment.
'What?'
'Diversionary tactics,' he replied. 'Ahmed's file said he had a particular skill for them.' He looked up into the rear-view mirror and the two men locked gazes again. 'It's what he's good at, Will,' the CIA man said quietly, but with a certain emphasis. 'Putting people on the wrong track. Stringing them a lie.'
Will remained silent. This wasn't the first time he'd been at the receiving end of Priestley's subtle probing. The guy still wasn't sure how much Will knew and at this moment he was trying to plant the seeds of doubt in his mind.
'Don't worry about it,' Will replied, deliberately misinterpreting Priestley's meaning. 'I understand him now. I know how he works. He's not going to be able to pull a trick like that again.'
'I hope you're right, Will,' Priestley murmured. 'I hope you're right.'
They arrived at Priestley's place in West Halkin Street soon after that. It was a large London townhouse with a red brick façade and big white windows. To look at them, you wouldn't know that they were glazed with tough, shatterproof glass. Will parked the car in the dedicated space by the front door, then picked up the handgun that he routinely kept in the glove compartment. Stepping out of the vehicle, he glanced up and down the street, then up to the rooftops as he always did, before opening the rear passenger door and ushering Priestley quickly up to the front door. An armed police officer in a black flak jacket and helmet greeted them with a cursory nod, then opened the door and allowed them to step inside.
'Let me go first,' Will reminded Priestley. It was the way he had told the CIA man they were going to do things. Whenever they entered a house or a room, Will went first. That way he could immediately check it out. At least that was what he had told Priestley.
Priestley might have accepted Will as his bodyguard, but that wasn't the only precaution he was taking. The guy was scared. Shit-scared — anyone could tell that. Will had heard the CIA man's panicked phone calls to Langley, trying to get himself reassigned, out of the country and away from the vengeance of Faisal Ahmed. But his superiors weren't having it and each time they said no, Priestley turned a more ghostly shade of pale. They had upped his security, though. The armed policeman on the door was one thing, but anti-terrorist officers had done a sweep of the house, identifying weak security points and fixing them. Most of the house was covered by CCTV, each camera bearing a little red light that indicated at a glance that you were under surveillance. Priestley couldn't even take a shit without some guy off-site watching him doing so on a bank of video screens. Priestley didn't complain — in fact, Will could tell, it made him feel better. For everything the CIA man had said about Faisal Ahmed's training and skill, he still thought that he was well protected by the standard protocols of the security services.
Will, on the other hand, knew better.
Once they were both inside the house, Priestley closed the door behind him. The hallway was smartly appointed. It stretched almost the full depth of the house and had a black and white marble chequerboard on the floor. At one end, to the left, was a grand flight of stairs with a sweeping balustrade. There were large mirrors on the wall and art that Will would never have recognised.
Priestley removed his coat and instinctively handed it to Will.
'I'm not your butler,' Will told him, his eyes checking all the exits to the room out of habit.
Priestley looked as if he was about to say something, but clearly thought better of it. He slung his coat over the back of a chair. 'So,' he joked humourlessly. 'What shall we do tonight?'
'If you're finding this boring,' Will told him,' say the word and I'll go out and catch a movie.'
'No,' Priestley said, his voice resigned. 'It's OK. Same routine as usual?'
'Same routine.'
Together they climbed the stairs — Priestley first, then Will, firmly gripping the holster of his handgun. The area where they spent their evenings was at the end of a thickly carpeted corridor: one large room, comfortably furnished with a large desk and an elegant chaise longue. The room had a fashionable patterned wallpaper and thick curtains — which Will insisted were kept closed at all times. A crystal chandelier hung from the middle of the ceiling. As you walked in, there was a door on the right-hand wall which led to a second room with a bathroom en suite. They walked into the main room and closed the door.
'I need to, er—' Priestley made a slightly embarrassed gesture.
Will looked at his watch. 6.30 p.m. Regular as fucking clockwork. He nodded, then brushed past Priestley, through the bedroom and into the bathroom. The CIA man followed him and stood watching at the door, while Will checked the marble-clad bathroom. There were bars outside the window, but he peered out just in case, looking for signs of tampering. Once he was satisfied that all was as it should be, he nodded at Priestley. 'Go ahead,' he told him.