‘I take it you understand the seriousness of the situation.’
‘Of course,’ Victor said. ‘Your tone so far has been quite evocative.’
‘This is no time for jokes. The Israelis recorded you real good, my man, when you took that recon of the suite. I have to say I was very surprised you did that. I thought you were more careful. The surveillance team’s cameras got your front, back and everything in between. I’ve seen the stills. They’re crystal clear.’
Victor nodded to himself. He’d assumed the video feed had been backed up elsewhere, but at times like this it wasn’t much fun being right. His enemies had his face, his voice — albeit in Russian — and would be able to work out his height and weight. It would give Mossad as good a profile on him as anyone. Anonymity was always his best form of defence and without it he was vulnerable.
‘Given the limited time frame I had to operate within,’ Victor said, ‘that reconnaissance could not have been avoided.’ He paused, then added, ’And I take it Mossad have requested CIA assistance to look for me, which is why you’ve seen the stills.’
‘I’m sorry to say they’re getting the best-bud package on this one. The full power of US intelligence is, in effect, being loaned to Israel.’
‘They must want me pretty bad.’
‘That they do, my man, that they do. Mossad are easily the most vengeful intelligence organisation on the planet, and that’s without the fact the head of their operational arm has taken a particular interest in this incident. He’s as old as Israel herself, and takes attacks against his people very personally, like they’re all one big extended family. They call him Father, if you can believe it.’
‘Do you want me to disappear?’
‘No, no, you absolutely can’t do that,’ the control quickly answered. ‘I still need you to be available. I’ve got another job for you, which we’ll come to in a minute. We’re going to need to work together to ensure the Israelis don’t catch up with you, okay? Neither of us want them to find you. I’m going to do everything possible to help you out, but that’s going to be limited to intelligence updates only. I need to keep a low profile and maintain my distance from this as much as I can. If I draw suspicion my way, it’s only making it easier for them to get to us both. You’re going to be on your own for the most part.’
Victor had expected as much, and he was used to surviving and operating alone with enemies after him. At least this time he had the advantage of being aware of the situation beforehand as well as knowing who he was up against. And if his employer kept his word and gave him updates it would make staying out of Israeli crosshairs somewhat easier.
‘They’ve already dispatched the Kidon team,’ the voice said, ‘who I believe are currently in Minsk scouring for clues. I take it you don’t need me to tell you about Kidons?’
‘They’re assassination and kidnapping teams. Operate with a large degree of independence from Mossad, conducting their own research and surveillance. A fully operational unit consists of at least four men and women to perform the kill itself, with more providing surveillance, backup, clean-up and logistical support.’
‘And they’re good,’ the control added, needlessly. ‘They’re really good.’
‘I’m well aware of their capabilities.’
‘Then let’s hope you don’t get a first-hand demonstration.’
‘I’ll keep my eyes open for guys wearing tennis gear in my hotel elevator.’
‘Cute, but don’t forget Kidon are the reason why every bad guy in the Middle East checks under his bed before he goes to sleep.’
‘I won’t forget.’
‘Good man. Eventually, regardless of the CIA’s desire to help our Jewish cousins, resources will be diverted elsewhere. No offence, my man, but there are bigger fish to fry than you. And when we turn our focus elsewhere the Israelis will be stumped. On their own, Mossad don’t have the manpower or the technology to find you unless you do something stupid and help them out. Which I know you won’t be doing. Call me if you notice anything suspicious and I’ll pass on all information about the Kidon’s progress that comes my way.’
‘Of course,’ Victor said. ‘Because if they do find me they’re going to take me somewhere for a private chat. And we both know the result of those kinds of conversations. They’ll extract everything I know about you, which isn’t a lot, but it will be enough to point them in the right direction. You’ll help me as much as you can because you don’t want to be next.’
‘No I most certainly do not. You’re very right about that. All of our necks are on the line.’
‘ All of our necks?’
‘The two of us are not the only ones involved in this operation.’
‘So it’s an operation now? Not simply unconnected targets?’
‘I never said they were unconnected.’
‘You never said they were connected either.’
‘You didn’t need to know,’ the control said. ‘Just keep your head down and this will blow over before you know it.’
Victor wasn’t sure if he believed that, but certainly the first month would be the most dangerous. If the Kidon team hadn’t found him by then, Victor would be able to relax a little, though never fully. Israelis had long memories.
He hadn’t shaved in the three weeks since Minsk and now had a short beard to help disguise him. His hair hadn’t been cut since Romania, but it hadn’t grown long enough to change his look significantly. He could cut it shorter than it had been in Minsk, but with more length he had more options to change style. He would need to buy himself some non-prescription eyeglasses and coloured contacts. The tan he’d gained recently would also help. The disguise wouldn’t get him past facial recognition software but might help him avoid being ID’d by a watcher.
‘Now we’re on the same page with the Israelis,’ the control said, ‘we can move on to your next assignment. I’m sending you through the dossier.’
When the new email arrived in his operational inbox, Victor opened the message and downloaded the attached document. It opened to show a square-faced man with Slavic features and short black hair, somewhere in his late forties. Victor would have recognised the face even without the distinctive scarred ear. It was the face that had looked at him with such intensity in the Grand Plaza Hotel in Bucharest over a month before, the face of the man who had offered to buy Victor a new suit, the face of the man whose life Victor had saved. The man he now had to kill.
‘You’ll recognise him from Bucharest, of course,’ the voice said through the speakers. ‘His name is Vladimir Kasakov, a Ukrainian arms dealer. If there really is an antichrist, this guy could be him.’
‘I know who he is,’ Victor said through a tight mouth.
‘Then you know you’ll be doing the world a huge favour by putting Kasakov in the ground.’
Surprises were high on Victor’s list of personal and professional dislikes, but that the man he’d recently saved from assassination was the man he now had to assassinate was perhaps the height of both. Such a job felt somehow wrong to his doctrine as a professional. In the many years he’d been a hired killer he’d never once been tasked with a similar contract.
‘Are you there?’ the control asked.
Victor remained silent.
‘You want to know why we had you save Kasakov five weeks ago only to have you kill him now,’ the control said, as if reading Victor’s thoughts. When Victor didn’t respond, he continued: ‘I can understand that. I’d want to know if I were you. Circumstances have changed. It’s complicated, not something you need to know inside out, but in short we needed Kasakov alive then but now we need him dead. I trust you don’t have a problem with that.’
Victor shouldn’t. It was a job like any other of the many he had performed, too numerous to count — though he knew if he tried he would be able to remember every name, every face. And it wasn’t as if this target was some heroic individual whose death would be objectionable. Vladimir Kasakov helped make war and genocide possible. There should be no issue with killing such a man.