At 7:00 P.M., Will watched Roger walk up to his table in the Piano Bar of the Sheraton Zagreb Hotel. As he seated himself opposite Will, a waiter approached them, but Roger waved the man away.
“Where’s Lana?” Will pushed his cup of tea to one side.
“She’s back in her room, meaning that the Iranian surveillance team has scaled back its coverage of her, meaning I’m able to be here with you right now.” He checked his watch. “So far she’s dined in her hotel, but if this evening she decides to do otherwise, I’ll have to head straight off.”
Will sighed. “Is she okay? Safe?”
Roger smiled a little. “You care about her, don’t you? In my experience it’s unusual for intelligence officers to care about the people they deploy.”
Will nodded. “Tell me about the Iranian team.”
Roger’s smile brightened. “They’re good. They move around Lana with experienced drills, and they’ve obviously analyzed this city, because they use its routes with confidence.”
“Are there any indications they might have spotted your team?”
All vestiges of a smile vanished. “Impossible. But you made a very good call not to tell Lana about me and my men. If she knew we were around her, there’s a strong likelihood that her body language would betray her awareness of us to the Iranians.”
“What are their intentions?”
“It’s too early to be certain at this stage, but so far they’re just watchers.”
Will breathed in deeply. “I need to see her this evening to help her write another letter. How can I get to her room without being spotted?”
Roger said nothing for a moment and seemed to be deep in thought. He then said, “Send her an SMS saying that you’re in town and would love to meet her for a drink at the Khala bar on Nova Ves at nine-thirty tonight. Tell her that if you’re not there by ten P.M., it’s imperative she return straight to her bedroom and stay there for the rest of the night.” Roger reached into one of his pants pockets. “Here’s a spare copy of her room’s swipe key. You of course don’t meet her at the bar but let yourself into her room while she’s out.”
“Drawing the Iranians away from her hotel.” Will frowned as he took possession of the key. “That was quick work getting a copy of this.”
Roger shrugged. “Even though their intentions toward her currently appear passive, I need to know what we should do if Lana is attacked by the team.”
Will looked around before returning his gaze to Roger. “If you ask Patrick that question, he will rightly tell you that the priority is Megiddo. That if you step in to prevent Lana from being snatched or assassinated, our operation has failed. That all you can do in that situation is watch it happen and then follow the team with the hope they’ll lead us to their master.” He paused and leaned in close to Roger. “But you work with me. And we do not sacrifice innocent women.”
Roger responded with a nod. “You really are unlike other intelligence officers I’ve worked with.” He smiled. “I’m glad.”
Will tapped a finger on the table, lost in thought. He said, “When she gets back to the hotel around ten P.M., the Iranians will be with her, so I’ll be trapped in her room. How can I leave?”
Roger exhaled. “You can’t until she leaves and draws them well away from her hotel again. For her to do that in the middle of the night would look suspicious. Plus, I presume you don’t want to tell her that she has seven Iranian intelligence operatives now following her. You’ll have to stay with her until she leaves the hotel after breakfast.”
Will shook his head. “She’ll misinterpret my intentions.”
“I’m sure you’ll cope.” Roger then pointed at Will. “Just make sure that she follows her normal routine in the morning.”
Will read the text message from Roger.
She’s on her way out, and her friends are with her. Best you head over now. By the way, she has a big smile on her face.
Upon arrival at the Regent, Will walked confidently through the lobby area of the large hotel and took himself to Room 85.
The room was lavish but had signs of Lana everywhere—clothes flung on her bed and draped over the backs of armchairs, four sets of shoes tossed on the floor, towels hung in odd places, her open laptop resting on a bed pillow, hair dryers, half-spilled vanity bags, magazines and books, and a stuffed laundry bag awaiting next-day collection. Will spent the ensuing forty-five minutes exploring the room and all its contents, including Lana’s computer and e-mails. He was pleased to find nothing out of the ordinary. Helping himself to a glass of Prosecco, he sat and waited.
He received another text message saying Lana was back at the hotel and without a smile on her face. The Iranians were with her as well.
Will heard the door lock open and movement in the room’s entryway. Within a moment Lana turned into the room and stood before him. She was clearly astonished to see him and glanced back at the closed entrance before looking at him again. “Nicholas.”
“It’s okay, Lana.” Will smiled and did not stand. “I thought this would be a little less public.”
Her evident nerves were joined by an angry tone. “You have a key?” She placed her handbag on her bed and removed a neck scarf.
“Yes, I do.”
“You could have told me.” She took out a cigarette, which she proceeded to ignite. “It would have saved me the shame of being stood up.”
“I’m here now. And I made the effort to come to see you. Would you like a drink?”
She looked at Will’s glass of sparkling wine. “Yes, one of those.”
He nodded. “Sit down and relax, Lana. I am sorry I shocked you. I was delayed and thought that it was easier for us to meet here.” He rose from his armchair and removed a small bottle from the minibar. He poured her the drink, which he took to her before sitting back down.
Lana rested in one of the large room’s many chairs, but not too close to Will. She wore a thigh-length black sleeveless dress, evening heels, and a gold belt. Her long hair was down, partly braided and pinned. On the top of one arm, Will could see a hint of one of those old bamboo scars. “When did you arrive?”
“Just before you.” Will glanced around the room. “It’s okay, I’ve not touched your things.”
Lana sat and regarded him without much of an expression. “It would have been nice to have a drink with you outside.” She drank some wine and then smiled slightly. “You are an odd and edgy sort of person, Mr. Cree.”
“I probably am.”
The woman seemed unsure what to say next. “Do you have a family?”
“I have everything I need.”
“I mean a lover? Children?”
“I knew what you meant.”
Lana ran a finger and thumb around the neckline of her dress. Slitting her eyes against the smoke, she took another drag of her cigarette before extinguishing it in an ashtray. “Why are you here?”
“You need to reply to the letter.” Will had another sip of his wine before pointing at the table between them. “Everything you require is on there.”
Lana read Will’s script and then wrote. When she had finished, she lit another cigarette and was silent for a while, looking angry again. Will picked up her letter.
To my dear old friend,
I am overjoyed to hear from you. It seems to me that you are back from the dead and that I now have a chance to fill the void of a life that has been hollow since you disappeared.
I understand your reticence. Why would you blindly trust words on a piece of paper? Only when you look into my eyes will you be able to tell that my emotions are pure and without any agenda other than to be under your wing again. But I, too, have reticence. How can I do as you instruct until I am fully in your protection? I am certain that the British man and his colleagues can find me if they want to do so. If something happens to the British man and I am still here, his friends will come after me and will no doubt severely punish me. And the British man is all I have to bring me close to you again. If I give him to you now, then what use am I to you thereafter?
Please, can we meet? Please, can we look in each other’s eyes so that we can both know that our feelings for each other are honorable and trustworthy?
But I know that I must give you something in this letter, so I will give you the British man’s identity. His name is Nicholas Cree.
Yours,
Lana Beseisu
Will nodded and said, “Good. You’ll need to deliver it to the embassy first thing in the morning.”
Lana was looking away while smoking ferociously. “It is very hard for me to write to Megiddo as if I love him.” She glanced down at her letter and then back at Will. “You’ve achieved what you needed to do this evening. You may go now, if you wish.”
Will sighed again and took a gulp of his wine. He placed his glass down on the table and spoke gently. “I’m not in a rush. Do you have other plans?”
Lana frowned and brushed a finger against her face.
Will slowly stood and walked over to the curtained window. He knew that he could not open the blinds for fear of being seen by hotel-gazing Iranians, but he stood there anyway and closed his eyes.
He smelled Lana’s perfume before he felt her fingers interlock with his hand. He felt her body press against his back and her lips gently kiss his neck. He felt her long hair brush against his face. He squeezed her hand a little and turned to face her. She was truly beautiful, and as he beheld her proud and complex face, he wondered why she had chosen to be alone for so long. He decided that it was because her hatred for Megiddo had not allowed her to love another. He decided that the wish she had expressed in Paris might now be coming true.
Let me do this and feel alive again.
He said, “I will stay in your room with you tonight, but we cannot be together in that way.” He saw the look of disappointment and confusion on her face. He saw a tear creep from one of her eyes. He saw her looking at him as if she knew that he had made a mistake. He gently ran a finger over her tears and whispered, “I am not the man for you, Lana.”
She stepped closer to him. “Maybe I am the woman who can change that.”
Will shook his head. “I don’t know.”
Lana placed a hand against his cheek. “I know you care for me. I know you worry about my safety. But”—she frowned—“I need to know . . . I need to know whether you’ve ever thought what it would be like . . . for us to be together?”
Will placed his arms around her waist. He wondered what he should say. He told her the truth. “I have imagined what it would be like. I have wondered about the future—when this is all over.” He pulled her closer and kissed her on her cheek. “I have thought about us.” He smiled even though inside he felt turmoil and confusion. He knew that he had spent years developing a shield against love and normality, that his shield was there to help him do the things he had to do. He knew that right now and for the moment that shield was lowered because of the woman he now held. He kissed her cheek again and said quietly, “Maybe when this is over, you can be the woman who changes things for me.” He shook his head and felt bitter and hollow. “But nothing must change right now.”
Will watched Lana sleeping on her bed while he sat in an armchair on the far side of her hotel room. Her duvet only partially covered her body, and a naked leg lay exposed over sheets. Will walked up to her and quietly arranged the duvet so that it was fully covering her. He looked at her and wondered whether she was dreaming. He looked at her and wondered what it would have been like to share her bed with her, to feel her naked warmth against him, to smell her hair and perfume, to wrap her in his arms.
He smiled and looked away from Lana toward the windows and saw that early-morning sunshine was just visible behind the curtains. He knew that beyond the room were men who wanted to capture and kill him. And he knew that they did not scare him. He looked back down at Lana, and his smile faded. He now knew that she could be the woman to change everything for him. And that knowledge terrified him.