A Death in Sweden(3)

Uneasy, almost not wanting to hear it, Dan said, “What about Karl?”

“Exactly. Coincidences can take time to produce, but it looks like whoever it is, they’re speeding things up. Karl was found day before yesterday on a building site in Munich. Executed, hands behind the back, shot in the head. The official story is a gangland feud, but . . .”

Dan didn’t respond at first. He and Karl had talked after Mike’s death. Karl had been pretty cut up about it, and it seemed unreal that he was dead too, that his grief had been wasted.

It was obvious that Hugo thought the deaths were linked, and it was hard not to share that view, so when Dan finally spoke, he said only, “Who do you think it is?”

“I don’t know. Worst case? CIA—a cleanup operation.”

“It’s more than two years since any of us worked for them.”

But they’d all done their fair share before that, carrying out the kind of work the agency couldn’t or didn’t want to do for itself. It had all dried up at around the same time that some of it had become public but, until now, Dan had never expected it to come back at them like this.

Hugo said, “What’s two years to the CIA? But look, we don’t know it is them. I’ll see what I can find out and let you know.”

“Okay, I’ll call you tomorrow, once we’re done.” He thought about it, then added, “Who else could it be, if not Langley?”

“Dan, if those four deaths are connected . . . I don’t think it could be anyone else.”

“Okay. I’ll speak to you tomorrow.”

“Good. And good work on Martinez.”

Dan ended the call and sat for a moment or two. In theory, his life had always had its risks, but this was the first time he could remember that there had seemed a tangible threat. If it turned out to be the CIA, and they were set on wiping out a lot of the people who’d contracted for them, he wasn’t sure what he could do about it—he certainly doubted it would be enough to lie low in Thailand for a few months.

His instinct was still to fight, no matter who it was on the other side, and he had advantages—a few of these other guys had settled into some sort of domestic routine and that had probably made them easier to pick off. Dan knew he’d be harder to trace, and that for the time being, they probably wouldn’t think to come looking for him here.

He glanced around the empty apartment, his brief moment of superiority crumbling with the reminder of the life he was actually living. The edge he had over the others was that he had nothing much to lose, and he wasn’t sure how much of an edge that was or if it was worth the price he’d paid.

Dan stood and looked through the scope. Martinez was in the sitting room, talking to the nanny. She was young and attractive, and Dan watched, somehow dreading that Martinez might be about to disappoint him, showing himself up as less than the perfect family man he seemed. But the body language between the two was entirely platonic, and Dan smiled as Martinez nodded his assent to some request and they left the room in opposite directions.

Dan sat again, conscious of the irony of his situation since receiving that call from Hugo and how instantly things had changed. Time was almost up for Ramon Martinez, and Dan still felt a little regret that he was about to bring this family idyll to a close, but it seemed Dan’s future was now no less certain. This was the only real difference between the two of them, an empty apartment, and another full of life.





Chapter Two


He went back to the hotel just after lunch to wait for Charlie and Benoit, but couldn’t settle in his room. The news from Hugo had already started to work on him, putting him on edge, plying him with unanswerable questions—how would they come for him, would it be someone he knew, who could he trust?

So he moved down to the lobby and found a good spot to watch over the people coming and going. He couldn’t imagine anyone knowing he was here, not yet, but it didn’t hurt to be vigilant.

Just after three, a cab pulled up and Charlie got out, alone. He walked in, carrying an overnight bag, looking as if he’d been built on a larger scale than the people around him—he was too big to be inconspicuous and yet it was amazing how often his size was the only thing people remembered about him.

Charlie scanned the lobby as he walked, and when he spotted Dan he smiled and changed course.

They shook hands when he got there and sat down again as Dan said, “Where’s Benoit?”

“Didn’t show. And before you ask, I tried to call him—he’s not picking up.”

Dan didn’t want to believe Benoit had been caught up in the same business, not least because it would mean it was already getting a little too close to home but, instinctively, he knew this wasn’t good.

“You speak to Isabelle?”

Charlie seemed relaxed and said, “Yeah, she said he had to go away the day before yesterday, didn’t say where. But he should’ve told me if he had another job. Will it be a problem?”

Dan shook his head as he said, “No, as it turns out, I wouldn’t have needed him anyway, but . . .”

As if making the link at a subconscious level, Charlie interrupted, the tone of someone passing on news that didn’t directly concern them, saying, “Did you know Paul Gardener’s dead? Someone broke into his house.”

“Yeah, I know.” Something about Dan’s tone snagged and Charlie looked at him askance. “I had a call from Hugo this morning. Rich Woodward’s dead too, killed in a street robbery in Athens. And so is Karl . . .”