James answered the door. The diminutive lawyer had removed his tie and was holding a glass of red wine. As soon as he recognized Will, his expression was hostile and surprised. “What the hell do you want?”
Will looked over the man’s shoulder, down the hallway. “I need to speak to Sarah.”
James’ face turned red. “You’ve got no right to be here.”
From somewhere in the house, Sarah called out, “Who is it, darling?”
James ignored her, lowered his voice, but kept it full of anger. “Leave right now.”
Will shook his head. “I can’t do that, James. Please. It’s vital I speak to her.”
James took a step toward Will. “She doesn’t need you in her life. Not since you got blood on your hands.”
Will recalled Betty imploring him to be civil to his sister and James. He wondered what to say, but before he could stop himself, he blurted, “God, you’ve always been a self-righteous ass.” He pushed past James, spilling the man’s drink over his white shirt, and walked quickly into the house. “Sarah, it’s Will. Don’t be angry with me. I’m here for a reason.”
He walked in the kitchen. Sarah was facing him, leaning against a work surface, her expression neutral. She was tall, pretty, with straight blonde hair.
She said nothing for a while, just stared at him, then, “I didn’t reply to your letters for a reason. I’d have thought that lack of response was a clear message that I wanted nothing to do with you.”
Will stood in the center of the kitchen, trying to hold back nausea. “I don’t understand. I’ve never done anything wrong to you or James.”
In the hallway, James was cursing. No doubt the shirt he was wearing was very expensive.
A trace of a smile emerged on Sarah’s face. Her eyes flickered between the hallway and her brother. “Well, you have now.”
Will waved a hand dismissively. “You’ve both got to come with me. Pack a bag, but we’ve got to be out of here in five minutes.”
Sarah looked incredulous. “You’ve got to be joking!”
Will shook his head. “You’re in danger. There are people waiting outside who can take you somewhere safe, just for a few days while I sort things out.”
The incredulity turned to anger. “And who brought this danger onto me?”
Will was silent.
Sarah banged a fist against a cupboard. “You bastard!”
“Sarah, please. .”
“Shut up.” She looked confused. “Isn’t it about time you told me what you did for a living?”
Will lowered his head. “I wish. . I. .”
“Yeah, you bloody wish.” Her expression strengthened. “What happens if we don’t leave?”
Sweet talk her, Will.
“You’ll be killed.”
Shock covered her face. Shaking her head wildly, tears now rolling down her cheeks, she shouted, “This is why I don’t want you in our lives. You’re trouble.”
James stormed into the kitchen, anger vivid on his face.
But he turned and fled after both Sarah and Will barked at him in unison, “Get out!”
They returned their attention to each other.
Will’s voice trembled as he said, “You don’t know me, Sarah.”
She hissed, “I know you. I saw how you changed on the day the men killed our mother and you killed them. The Will I knew had been snapped in half.”
Will moved to her and placed his hands on her arms.
She shrugged them away, her voice now tearful, quieter, but still forceful. “Don’t, just don’t. .”
But Will embraced her again, pulling her close to him as a tear ran down his face. “I’m so sorry. So very sorry.”
She held her arms in midair, hesitated, then placed her hands on his back.
They stayed like this for one minute, silently holding each other.
Sarah asked in a near whisper, “The danger you’ve brought onto us-is it because you’re doing something important?”
Will recalled Alistair’s comment.
We don’t know anything about the paper.
He felt wretched, lost for words, and now made no attempt to hold back the tears. “The danger is very real.”
Sarah squeezed him tight, rested her face on his shoulder, and placed a hand delicately on his cheek. “Where have you gone, my little brother?” She gave one last squeeze, then said, “We’ll do what you say on one condition.”
Will sighed. “What?”
She took a step back, glanced at the hallway, then back at her brother. “He’s weak, and is petrified of you. But when you’re not around, he makes me laugh and takes care of me. I need that and he needs that.” She held Will at arm’s length. “We’ll go with your people, so long as you promise me that you’ll never contact me again.”
Will dropped his gaze to the ground, felt dizzy and nauseous.
Nothing seemed real.
Except the hate he felt for himself as he quietly replied, “I promise.”
As the vehicles drove off, one of Kurt Schreiber’s men lowered his thermal night-vision binoculars, moved away from the window overlooking the street and Sarah Goldsmith’s house, pressed numbers on his cell phone, and held the phone to his head. “They’re on the move, sir. Cochrane’s got two women and two men with him. All of them well past their prime, in their sixties, I’d say. They’ve taken both husband and wife. Our vehicles are moving into position.”
“Don’t let me down. They must remain under observation at all times.”
The man smiled. “Don’t worry, Mr. Schreiber. I’ve put some of our best on this. Wherever they go, we’ll be on them day and night. Right up to the point you give us the order to kill her.”
Thirteen
It was close to 3:00 A.M. as Will walked into the Auguststrasse apartment. The place was larger than he’d expected, sumptuous and airy, with light-colored art deco furniture, a modern kitchen visible through one of the archways, and a long hallway beyond another archway that led to bedrooms containing en suite bathrooms as well as a guest washroom.
Also unexpected was the fact that Suzy and Peter were still up. The CIA analyst was sitting at a twelve-seat dining table, taping keys on her laptop. She looked tired, but focused. Peter Rhodes was staring at a whiteboard containing handwritten words, arrows, and numerous question marks.
He was wearing a pink-striped shirt, no tie, slacks, and brown brogues. Spinning around as Will walked into the room, he grinned, clapped his hands, and said loudly in his upper-class accent, “The wanderer returns. Guess what? Since you’ve been away, I’ve managed to achieve the sum total of fuck-all.”
Will dumped his travel bag onto the floor, kept hold of his duty-free shopping bag, and muttered, “I know how that feels.”
Peter smiled even wider. “Glad you do! I’m cross with myself and am starting to get a little bit annoying to be around.” He darted a look at Suzy. “Right, Suzy Sue?”
Suzy kept her eyes on her screen. “Damn right.”
Peter jabbed a finger against the whiteboard. “Questions keep me going.” The officer seemed totally energized despite the hour. “But I become a grumpy sod when I don’t have answers.”
Will walked up to Suzy, withdrew from the shopping bag a book he’d bought at the airport entitled Work amp; Pregnancy: Have a Life, Have a Kid, hesitated for a moment, held it out to her, and saw her frown as she took it from him. He asked Peter, “The questions?”
“Ones you’ve already asked yourself.”
Will looked at the whiteboard.
Why did Yevtushenko steal the paper?
Where’s “Mikhail”?
Why is his SVR team waiting in Berlin?
Why is the paper so important?
Why can’t it be copied and its value therefore diluted?
Who is Number 1?
Will darted a look at Suzy. “Anything on the name ‘Mikhail’?”