The gurgling stopped. A last breath of air came from the Northern Irishman lying in front of the fireplace.
It went deathly quiet in the room for a bit, and then Glazebrook said, “You made your point. I’m willing to be of service as long as you need me. Longer even, I suppose.”
It was a slight joke. British humor, Coyle assumed, though the stakes were too high for it at the moment.
“Right, then,” Coyle said. “Who would know about the operation in Russia that the Gray Man was on?”
“CIA. They say they have nothing to do with the Gray Man, but they were definitely involved in that.”
“Who ran that raid for the CIA?”
“Matthew Hanley was on the ground in Ukraine, working with the Ukrainians and the Russian partisans. That might mean he was involved with the Gray Man, who was on the ground inside Russia on the same operation.”
“Who is Matthew Hanley?”
“He used to be their director for operations. He was ousted, but last I heard, he was still at the Agency.”
“Where do I find him?”
“I don’t know.”
Coyle was about to raise the pistol again, but Glazebrook held a finger up. “I know. I have the answer.”
“Enlighten me.”
“I can get you work in America.”
The Irishman made a face. “Why do people keep saying that? You know what I want, mate, and it’s not a bloody job.”
“Itis, Whetstone. Itis, because the people doing the hiring know everything about what’s going on inside the American intelligence community. It’s an insider threat. I don’t know who or how, but thewhatI have sussed out. Whoever they are, they’re connected with the CIA, or at least some facet of the intelligence community. They’ve come to me, through intermediaries, to try to get hard assets for a series of jobs on U.S. soil. I don’t know what jobs, exactly, but the work is all there,inAmerica. The men I offered up were good, yet they were still rejected. They are looking for the cream of the crop.”
“But—”
“Hear me out,” Glazebrook continued. “I just drop the name Whetstone, they will know what you’ve done. Who you were. They will bring you into their fold. Once you are in with them, you will have resources.”
“What kind of—”
“They can get you to Hanley, at least. Maybe even the Gray Man himself.” Quickly, he added, “But if you kill me…you won’t get connected to the right people, and you won’t get the information you seek.”
The older Englishman smiled a little, then looked at Tully’s body on the floor, and the smile went away. “I will make calls tonight. I will get you into the U.S. I have the means to—”
Coyle said, “I will leave you, Sir Allen. I will leave you to clean up this mess.” He waved his gun at Tully’s body in a heap. He said, “Because I’m not worried about a double cross from you. What I know about what happened twenty-five years ago…what I can prove…I talk and you go awayforever. As do many still in MI5.” He thought a moment. “Hell, the service itself would be in jeopardy for some of the dirty work we did together.”
Sir Allen paled even more now, as if the thought of having old secrets revealed was even more threatening than the killer now on the loose in his home. Defensively, he said, “You’d go away yourself if you talked.”
“Do I seem to you like a man at all concerned about his own self-preservation?”
A pause. The fire crackled. A last wisp of smoke rose from the silencer on the end of Coyle’s pistol.
Coyle said, “You have twenty-four hours to get me hired in America. If these blokes there don’t have the ability to get me to the Gray Man, I am going to suss it out straightaway, and I will talk and I will talk and I will not stop talking until the British intelligence services hang by the bollocks for the dirty shit you feckers did to a lot of innocent people.”
Coyle got the impression Glazebrook wanted to take issue with something he’d said, but the old man held his tongue. Instead, Sir Allen said, “Give me a way to contact you. I will tell my contact in America that he has the world-famous Whetstone on the way to do his dirty work. And I will hold up my end of the bargain here. You donotneed to go to the press.”
Coyle nodded, then said, “Stand up and turn around.”
“What? Why?”
“Calm down. I’m going to tie you up so you don’t call your jackals before I leave.” As Glazebrook turned, Coyle said, “Thought I’d be killing at least a half dozen tonight, maybe more. I was certain Tully and yourself wouldn’t live through the night. So…good on you, squire, you’ve made yourself useful.”
