and thought of his dead sister. It was time he exacted the blood price for her.
Faster than he believed he was able, Rothmann put the muzzle of the pistol to Apollyon’s abdomen and fired three shots.
Peter Sebastian was no fool. When he received the summons from Valerie Hinton, he declined to meet her at the rural Maryland diner. Even if he hadn’t been a devotee of spy movies, he would have known that going to a rendezvous in an out-of-the-way place with a CIA operative whose orders you’ve disobeyed was asking for trouble. He told her that he would meet her in a large all-night cafe near Union Station in half an hour. That would put her in an even worse temper, which he could work to his advantage.
Before he left the Hoover Building, he called Arthur Bimsdale into his office.
‘Where are we with the list of Rothmann’s backers?’
The young agent opened a cardboard folder. ‘For the foreign-based companies, I’ve asked our local people to provide full reports ASAP.’
‘Full reports, as in what illicit activities we can use to put the squeeze on them?’
Bimsdale gave him an uncertain look. ‘Are you sure we should be proceeding in such a-’
‘Do you want to ask the Director about that?’
‘Em, no, sir.’ Bimsdale looked at his watch. ‘We should hear from the Far East in a few hours.’
‘And the American companies?’
‘There are only three. The financial crime unit is working up reports on the hedge funds Escorial and Lemas, and I’ve got the San Francisco field office on Tuffet and Co.’
‘There are more, of course. Sir Andrew didn’t give us them all.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Bimsdale said, closing the folder. ‘If you say so, sir.’
Sebastian got up. ‘I’ll be out for an hour or so. You should get some sleep.’
His assistant smothered a yawn. ‘Maybe I will get my head down on your sofa, if that’s okay.’
‘Whatever.’
As Sebastian drove the short distance to the railway station, he tried to come up with a strategy. Assuming Valerie Hinton knew about Sir Andrew’s death, she was going to be seriously unimpressed. Then again, maybe he was tying his gut in knots unnecessarily. How would she have heard already? It wouldn’t be the first time she had presented him with information that was classified within the Bureau. Except, in this case, she would probably have heard from her contacts in the British Embassy. The Agency had its fingers well up the asses of all the U.S.’s allies.
Valerie Hinton had already arrived. Wearing a black hat with a low brim, she was sitting at the rear of the joint, a tall cup in front of her.
‘You’re late,’ she said accusingly. ‘And it’s the middle of the night.’
‘At least you didn’t have to drive out to Maryland.’ A waitress put a cup on the table for him and filled it with coffee.
The CIA operative waited till they were alone and gave him a piercing look. ‘You owe me an explanation. What was Sir Andrew Frogget doing in the Hoover Building?’
Sebastian knew he had a little room to play hardball. He had no idea if Valerie had kids-he suspected she was married to the job-but even she might have a conscience. ‘He was caught abusing a thirteen-year-old girl.’
Her expression didn’t change. ‘Who your team just happened to be monitoring.’
‘No, we were monitoring him.’
‘After I specifically told you to keep away from him?’
He raised his shoulders. ‘Sometimes you have to do what seems right.’
Valerie Hinton spat the green liquid she was drinking back into the cup. ‘Don’t give me that shit, Peter. At all times you have to do what we tell you. Otherwise, adios career.’
‘Woodbridge Holdings was dirty-brainwashing, a Nazi militia, the attempt on the President’s life. Ergo, the people who backed the company are dirty, too. I wouldn’t have thought the Agency would be so interested in protecting them.’
‘Don’t presume to think you understand what’s going on here. I’ll crush you.’
Sebastian stared at her dully and stood up. ‘Do your worst, Valerie. I’m going ahead with this investigation.’ He walked away. When he was outside, he looked back through the plate glass and saw that she was on her cell phone-probably trying to get her superior to pull strings with the Director. He had no fears there. The former admiral had told the spooks to keep their hands to themselves in the past and he had invested too much in the Rothmann investigation to pull it now.
He got into his car and put the key in the ignition.
‘Put your hands on your thighs, please.’
Peter Sebastian looked around in amazement. ‘Arthur?’
That was his last word. A well-honed knife cut his windpipe and his chest immediately felt like two strong hands were crushing it. He thought of Matt Wells. Had he found Heinz Rothmann, or was the bastard going to remain at large?
Then his soul went lamenting into the dark.
I heard the three shots and assumed that Apollyon had disposed of Rothmann. Then, to my surprise, the Nazi piece of shit stood up, a Glock dangling by the trigger-guard from one of his raised hands.
‘Drop it!’ Sara yelled. ‘Now!’
Rothmann obeyed the order. There was dirt on his face, but the two livid scars were still prominent. He looked badly shaken as he came out from behind the wall. When he was in the middle of the roof, Sara went over to the low wall and looked down.
‘Apollyon’s dead,’ she said, sounding disappointed.
I turned to Colonel Singh. He had taken a bullet to the upper arm, but his expression was triumphant. ‘Keep us covered,’ I said. ‘And watch out for more gunmen.’
He nodded and passed on orders.
I walked into the open, the barrel of the Kalashnikov resting on my shoulder.
Sara was running her hand over Rothmann. ‘He’s clean.’ She stepped back and leveled her machine-pistol at him.
‘No!’ I shouted. ‘Wait!’ I still wanted the bastard to pay for what he’d done to Karen and our son, but in the light of what had just happened in the Hades complex, my priorities were changing. I wanted to find out who was behind this dump and I was sure Rothmann knew.
‘Matt,’ he said, his voice low. ‘Don’t do anything hasty.’ He looked over his shoulder. ‘Don’t allow this… individual to do anything hasty.’
Sara kicked him on the back of the knee, causing him to stumble forward. ‘I’m not an individual,’ she growled. ‘I’m your worst nightmare.’ The words were aggressive, but I could see the fight and her wounds were getting to her. There was even more blood on her tunic and her face was dripping with sweat.
‘Matt?’ Rothmann said, fear making his voice uneven. ‘Don’t let her-’
Sara emptied the magazine of her machine-pistol into the floor beneath his feet. He must have taken some ricochets, because he collapsed, clutching both ankles.
I stepped closer, raising a hand at Sara as she aimed her pistol at his face.
‘Matt!’ he screamed. ‘Haig! Haig!’
The trigger kicked in instantly. As part of me separated from my body and rose above the roof of the ravaged building, all I could think was how smart it was of Rothmann to use a non-German word. Not least the name of the British commander whose tactics eventually defeated Germany in the First World War. Doctor Rivers would never have thought of that. I was so amazed that my attempts to gain control of myself became frantic, and the zone that I had practiced so often eluded me. Nothing.
I watched impotently as my brainwashed self swung the Kalashnikov down at speed. I fired a burst into Sara that sent her flying across the uneven surface.
Then, just as quickly, I found myself back in my body and in command of what I was doing. Either the trigger command was brief or I had fought it off somehow. I ran across to Sara and lifted the upper part of her broken body onto my thighs. It was obvious she was beyond medical help.
She gagged, blood running out of the corners of her mouth.
‘You finally…you nailed me, Matt.’ Her crimson lips formed into a shaky smile. ‘I’m…I’m glad it…it was
