Slingshot: A Spycatcher Novel by Matthew Dunn Read Free Book Online Page A

and me to take this to our premiers to get them to sign off on the section’s deployment.”
    “I can.”
    “This is wrong.”
    “Have I ever been wrong in the past?”
    “Yes, lots of bloody times.”
    “I mean in terms of the results of the operations I’ve conducted?”
    Alistair hesitated before saying, “You’ve got nothing more than a hunch that this is worth pursuing.”
    “Perhaps, but every operational instinct in me says it’s vital we get involved.”
    Alistair sighed. “We’d have to tell the premiers that we’re recommending this course of action purely based on your instincts .”
    “Tell them what you like. Just make sure they sign off.”
    “And what if we do deploy and you’re wrong, William?” His expression changed to one that looked like sympathy. “The premiers’ patience with you is already stretched to near breaking point.”
    Will shrugged. “What are they going to do? Find someone to replace me? I wish them luck, because I doubt anyone else is able to complete the Program.”
    “They know that!” As did Alistair. Eight elite MI6 officers had not only failed the Spartan Program before Will had gone through it to earn the code name Spartan, they’d been left psychologically and physically damaged and had needed to leave the service. “But things are changing. There are cries for transparency from the intelligence community, demands to do away with so-called shadowy task forces and the like. This is not just about you. If we get this wrong, some might grab this as an opportunity to shut us down.”
    Will nodded slowly. “I see.”
    “I’m so glad that you do.”
    “But conversely, if we get this right we might turn some of those detractors into supporters.”
    “That’s a damn big risk.”
    “Worth it though, don’t you think?”
    Alistair was motionless. “I concede, you have always been right about the things that matter. But there is a first time for everything. This would be an almighty gamble.”
    “Please, Alistair. Say what you like to the premiers. Position it however you think is best. Just get them to sign off on this.”
    Alistair lowered his head. “If you’re wrong and they shut down the section because of that, all of the section members, me included, would be given other jobs in the service or the Agency.” He lifted his head. “But you’ve been operating on your own for too long. No one would want someone with your kind of skill set. It would be over for you.”
    Will smiled, patted Alistair gently on the arm, and said, “I know.”

Five
    K urt Schreiber was motionless as he heard vehicles drive close to the main farmstead building. His back to the windows, he placed his manicured hands flat on the large cowhide writing desk and remained seated in the leather chair. Every wall in his big study was covered with bookshelves containing works on philosophy, mathematics, politics, economics, and history. Positioned over carpet and Oriental rugs were a three-piece suite and coffee table; straight-backed chairs; a rare nineteenth-century Thomas Malby globe that had cost nearly one million dollars; a beautiful burr walnut occasional table covered with antique maps and charts, and maritime navigation and timekeeping equipment; and a locked steamer trunk containing files on men and women he’d had cause to hurt or kill.
    The old man ignored his surroundings and focused only on the noise of the vehicles. He knew there’d be four of them, two of which were SUVs, the other two performance sedan cars. A total of sixteen men were in the convoy; fifteen of them had worked for him for years; the sixteenth was a Russian who’d only just joined his payroll, although his employment would be short lived.
    Having taken possession of its prize from the deniable private contractors, the group had taken nearly thirty-six hours to drive from Gdansk, covertly cross Poland’s border with Germany, continue on to the country’s northwestern state of Lower Saxony and head