The Hunter

CHAPTER 34

Central Intelligence Agency, Virginia, USA

Saturday

10:49 EST

Chambers was acting like a big shot on the Hill, and so Procter chaired the briefing. Both Sykes and his old bastard mentor Ferguson were looking like they’d had long weeks — Sykes especially, though he’d found the time to visit a tanning booth since the last meeting, judging by the renewed shade of his face.

Alvarez was on the speakerphone going through what he’d found out about Stevenson and his mystery employer. ‘Stevenson made some blunders when it came to covering his tracks,’ Alvarez was saying. ‘He didn’t do a very good job of deleting sensitive information from his computer, and we managed to extract certain e-mails from his hard disk. These emails are communications between him and his client, who was never referred to by name. This is the person who gave Stevenson the suitcase full of cash he deposited at his bank.

‘In the e-mails they were arranging a meeting to hand over the money. The location of this meeting and the time and date were in code, but we’ve discovered Stevenson met his client in Brussels just under three weeks ago.’

The lines in Ferguson’s forehead deepened. ‘You cracked the code?’

‘No, we didn’t need to,’ Alvarez replied. ‘Stevenson did the hard work for us. Elsewhere on his hard drive we found photographs of the meeting that showed Stevenson and another man, his client, outside a cafe in central Brussels.’

Procter leaned forward. ‘What kind of photographs?’

‘Surveillance photos. Seems Stevenson was an untrusting kind of guy and had someone else along with him without his client’s knowledge. Probably one of the other seven dead guys, but we don’t know for sure. The photographs show the name of the cafe and are dated and timed. I would guess Stevenson had the photos taken as some kind of insurance policy in case anything went wrong.’

‘Do we know anything about the man he was there to meet?’ Procter asked.

‘We had several clear shots of him arriving and leaving so we put him through facial recognition but didn’t get lucky. We did get some luck after enhancing other photos. We established the name of the rental-car company Stevenson’s employer used. I contacted the company and only one car of that particular make, model, and colour was out when the meeting took place.’

‘So who is he?’ Procter asked.

‘Sebastian Hoyt,’ Alvarez said through the table’s speaker-phone, ‘is a Dutch businessman and CEO of a small financial-consultancy firm located in Milan. I checked flights in and out of Brussels that day, and Hoyt arrived and returned the same day.’

‘Great work,’ Procter said. ‘What do we know about this Hoyt?’

‘Not that much,’ Alvarez answered. ‘But it’s early days. He’s a private businessman, that much is obvious. I’ve already spoken briefly to our people in Italy and asked them to start digging.’

‘I’ll liaise with the Italians too,’ Procter added. ‘I want to know everything there is to know about this individual, and I want to know fast.’

‘He used to be one our assets, back in the eighties,’ Ferguson said matter-of-factly.

Procter and Sykes looked at him.

‘You’re sure?’ Procter asked.

‘I should hope so,’ Ferguson replied. ‘He used to be one of my assets.’

‘Tell me more.’

Ferguson nodded. ‘He’s a trained lawyer from a wealthy family, but he deals with some very unpleasant people. He was doing business with a corrupt Soviet army officer when I knew him. He supplied me information on the Red Army from this general — training techniques, armaments, that kind of thing. In return I let him get away with the arms brokering he was doing for the officer. Mainly shipping AKs and RPGs to Africa.’

‘So what’s he been up to since?’ Procter asked.

Ferguson shrugged. ‘I don’t know. After the Wall came down we didn’t have much use for him, not that I could’ve continued paying him with what was left of my budgets. I expect he’ll still be doing what he’s best at, trading in illicit commodities, arms, people, information. If he has his own firm, he’s come a long way; and if he’s still operating, then he’s either gone legitimate or has been clever enough not to get caught or tread on anyone’s toes.’

‘Until now,’ Procter added coldly. ‘Do we have a file on this clown?’

Ferguson nodded.

‘What about your own personal files?’

‘I’ll get them out for you.’

‘And Alvarez,’ Procter said.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I heard about John Kennard. I’m sorry.’

‘Me too.’

‘I didn’t meet him, but I’m told he was a good man. What happened to him?’

‘Wrong place at the wrong time. He was just unlucky.’

Ferguson and Sykes sat perfectly still.

In the corridor outside the briefing room, Sykes waited for Ferguson to come out. Sykes’s pulse was racing, and he was finding it difficult not to look like he was crapping himself. Ferguson had stayed behind to have a word with Procter, and Sykes needed to consult with him immediately. Alvarez was only a step away from Hoyt. Things were going from bad to shit at warp ten.

It was about five minutes before Ferguson finally appeared a moment after the big guy, but to Sykes it could’ve been five hours. He’d wiped perspiration from his face at least three times.

When Procter was out of earshot Sykes moved closer to Ferguson.

‘Before you say anything,’ Ferguson began, ‘take a breath and compose yourself.’

Sykes took a breath, but even if he took a hundred more he didn’t think he would miraculously calm down. ‘We’re fucked,’ he said.

‘Is that your professional opinion?’

Sykes had never seen Ferguson truly rattled, and he didn’t look rattled now. ‘How can you remain calm at a time like this?’

‘Because, unlike you, this isn’t my first extracurricular activity,’ Ferguson said. ‘And I also have a pair of these.’ He put a hand to his testicles.

‘What the hell happened in there?’ Sykes whispered. ‘Since when do you have a relationship with Hoyt?’

‘Since always.’

‘Why in God’s name didn’t you tell me?’

‘There was no need.’

‘No need? What happened to all that crap about making sure we weren’t connected with anyone else involved in this op?’

‘We didn’t have a choice but to use Hoyt. We needed hitters who weren’t on CIA files, and I don’t know about you, but I’m not acquainted with too many of those. Hoyt, however, is connected in such circles. He was necessary to the success of our objectives. The fact that he was a previous asset of mine had no relevance to that.’

‘Except that Alvarez is now onto him. And therefore onto us.’

‘We couldn’t have known Hoyt would have delivered the money to Stevenson personally. I would have thought he’d have been more careful than that.’

Sykes stared at Ferguson. ‘Greed tends to make people forget to be careful.’

Ferguson ignored Sykes’s tone. ‘And we couldn’t have known that Stevenson would be so paranoid as to have their meeting photographed. It’s what in this business us grown-ups call bad luck.’

‘Chance favours the prepared mind,’ Sykes said with another hint of sarcasm.

‘Indeed,’ Ferguson agreed, and Sykes was unsure whether he didn’t notice the tone or was just ignoring it. ‘Which is why we have Reed. Have him get the next possible flight to Milan and deal with Hoyt.’

‘He’s probably going after Rebecca Sumner again.’

‘Hoyt is far more urgent.’

‘But what about Alvarez?’

‘He won’t move on Hoyt until he knows everything about him there is to know. There will be plenty of time for Reed to work his magic.’

‘Okay, but why did you have to tell them all that shit about Hoyt in there anyway? Surely you could have waited instead of putting them one step closer to unravelling this thing.’

‘Listen to me carefully and learn. I told them about Hoyt because by tomorrow or the next day they would have found out he’d been an asset of mine regardless. The kind of asset one doesn’t forget in a hurry. How would it have looked if I had neglected to mention that? Mildly suspicious doesn’t quite cover it.’

‘What if the girl doesn’t hang around? Reed missed her once in Marseilles already.’

‘I’m well aware of that. After Reed has taken care of Hoyt he can deal with Sumner. You have another potential strike point?’ Sykes nodded. ‘So don’t worry about it. Even if she doesn’t stay put, she’s not a field operative, she won’t stay alive for long.’

‘I hope not.’

Sykes leaned against the wall and sighed heavily. He scratched the back of his neck.

‘Pressure getting to you, Mr Sykes?’ Ferguson asked.

‘As a matter of fact, yes,’ Sykes replied. ‘I didn’t count on all of this bullshit.’

‘Welcome to the CIA,’ Ferguson said bitterly.