The Cover Wife by Dan Fesperman

Author:Dan Fesperman [Fesperman, Dan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2021-07-06T00:00:00+00:00

29

Donlan sighed and sipped his cold coffee, more than two hours old, as he stared into the gathering gloom of dusk and walked up the sidewalk. He was far afield from where he was probably supposed to be, having endured a long and fruitless day that was all the more frustrating because it had come on the heels of a long and fruitless night.

The pursuit of Haydar Zammar’s Mercedes—the borrowed Mercedes, Donlan reminded himself—had ended at Zammar’s apartment, where the big man had disappeared inside with Amir and Omar and then none of them had ever come out, or at least not while Donlan was there. He had parked down the block and waited until 2 a.m. before giving up.

Today had offered more of the same, partly because he was still stuck with the damn Opel. Hertz, having promised to deliver another car by midday, had phoned in the morning to tell him it would be closer to 3 p.m. A pleasant young woman had given him the news.

“But if the car you presently have is not functioning properly, you may use taxis and we will deduct the cost from your bill as long as you keep the receipts.”

“It’s functioning fine. I just want a damn upgrade.”

“But, sir, the Volkswagen you’ve requested is in the same midsize class as the Vectra, so if an upgrade is what you want—”

“Look, just bring the goddamn car, okay? Soon as you can swing it.”

He had then driven the Opel yet again to Steindamm, where he was certain that its all-too-familiar presence had spooked Mahmoud. Or that was what it felt like after Mahmoud, uncharacteristically skittish, had eluded him with a couple of surprisingly nimble moves at the U-Bahn stop.

Donlan had then driven the Opel back to the hotel, and by the time Hertz finally arrived with the VW Passat, he had decided to do the rest of the day’s work on foot. He returned to the Al Quds mosque by S-Bahn and, in desperation, or perhaps just to keep himself occupied while he was in such a foul mood, he had settled on a fresh target—a young man who emerged from the mosque with six or seven others in tow.

The only thing that made the fellow interesting was that all the others were intent on slapping his back and congratulating him. A few times they mentioned his name—Saeed—and one gave him a small hand-wrapped box, apparently a gift.

Donlan, in a leap of logic, or maybe simply because he had nothing better to do, thought that this might mean Saeed had been chosen for some special duty or mission, and that the others were wishing him well. More likely it was his birthday, or some special occasion that had nothing to do with either Islam or Al Qaeda.

He followed the man anyway, trudging in his wake down the street to the bahnhof, where he boarded an S-Bahn for what turned out to be a long ride south, across the dreary estuarine and industrial wastelands below the city.

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