by Pat Mullan
"It was you. Wasn't it, Tony? Oh, I don't mean that you did it. But you arranged it, didn't you?"
"Liz, let's just say that I thought you were entitled to some happiness in your life. Shall we leave it at that?"
"It was you! I just knew it."
Somehow, the confirmation of her suspicion didn't put Liz's mind at rest. Wanting to know and knowing were two entirely different things. Tony's breathing was deep and regular but Liz couln't get to sleep. She couldn't turn off her mind. It was three a.m. when she last remembered looking at her watch. Sometime later she must have dozed off because she was now wide awake. It was five a.m. She turned over and the bed was empty. Tony was gone. She eased herself out of bed and went to the bathroom. He wasn't there. Just then she noticed the strip of faint light under the bedroom door. She walked to the door and stood listening. She could hear Tony's voice. Curiosity and a sense of foreboding compelled her to reach for the doorhandle. She turned it cautiously and opened the door a couple of inches. Tony was speaking in a low voice but his diction made everything perfectly clear. She didn't have to strain to hear what he was saying.
"I don't care about them. Eliminate them. It's the girl I want..................No! No! Do not kill her! Kate Whiteside is the bait...........I want MacDara dead this time!"
Liz didn't wait to hear anymore. She tiptoed back and crept into bed, pretending to be asleep when he returned. But Tony Thackeray knew she was awake. He had closed the bedroom door when he made the call and it was ajar when he returned. He never made mistakes about details like that. Now he knew that Liz Russo knew too much.
Neither lingered over breakfast. Coffee and blueberry muffins gave each of them enough brevity to keep up the pretense. Liz excused herself and went to the ladies' room. Instead she tried calling Owen MacDara. No response; just his answering machine. At the tone she left a warning. Maybe he'd get it in time. Tony had finished breakfast when she returned. They kissed and parted on the front steps of the Plaza. Liz declined the Concierge's offer of a taxi, choosing to walk instead. She needed to think and walking always helped. She headed crosstown toward Madison and Park. She just needed to put distance between herself and Tony Thackeray. She didn't see him double back after they parted and follow her across the street.
Liz didn't know Kate Whiteside. And she didn't know why Tony Thackeray wanted Owen MacDara dead. She only knew that he was capable of killing. She had to stop it. She thought about going to the police. For just a moment. They already suspected her of Jay's murder. There had to be another way. But she couldn't think of any. By this time she had crossed Madison and had reached Park. She turned south towards 53rd Street. She'd try phoning Owen at his office. Maybe she'd take the Lexington Avenue line to Grand Central. Take the next train home to Connecticut. Give herself more time to think. Maybe she'd come up with something. At least Tony was unaware that she knew anything. That knowledge helped her. There were two telephone booths at 54th Street and Lexington Avenue. One was unoccupied. She called Owen at his office and got a prerecorded message that he would be away for some time and that all business matters should be referred to Dick Massey. She called his home number again. Still no answer. She didn't leave a message this time. Once to a machine was quite enough.
She walked to the corner and took the stairs down to the subway. It was 9:30 a.m. and the morning rush had not yet subsided. The platform was crowded. People were bunched together precariously. Twenty minutes later she was still standing there. Two trains had come and gone. There hadn't been enough room to absorb the throng. She had been standing back, not wanting to jostle for position. Now fed up, she moved into the fray and elbowed her way into the middle of the people bunched together where they expected the train doors to open. Lights in the tunnel signalled an incoming train and the mass of people seemed to suck in their collective stomach. Moving back just that inch from the platform edge.
Liz felt the push in the small of her back that propelled her off balance. She teetered on the edge of the platform like a high wire artist, then lost her footing entirely and plunged to the tracks in front of the oncoming train. The driver applied the brakes at the last minute. But it was too late. The first two carriages passed over her. She was decapitated immediately.
1800 Hours
Sunday
Fort Benning, Georgia
"Attention!"
Conversation died and a hundred chairs clacked in unison as their occupants stood to attention. Captain Dobson entered from the rear and bounded the foot and a half on to the raised platform facing the troops. He was followed by Owen MacDara.
"At ease, Gentlemen. Be seated."
MacDara grabbed an empty chair in the front row, right beside Walls and Farley. Captain Dobson was speaking: "This is not an exercise. This is the real thing. And let me tell you some other things this is not. This is not a hostage situation. We are not going up against Middle East terrorists. Or any other kind of foreign terrorist for that matter!"
Stopping to let that all sink in, the Captain nodded his head, the lights were dimmed, and an aerial photograph was projected onto the screen at the rear of the platform.
"You are now looking at the target. Right in the hills of Tennessee. Yes, that's right, Gentlemen. Right here, in our own country."
You could hear a pin drop in this place, thought MacDara. Silence, accompanied by disbelief, seemed to have transfixed everyone. Dobson continued to describe the imminent threat and then delivered the best intelligence available on the Millennium's strength and firepower. When he concluded he nodded to Owen MacDara who left his seat and joined him on the platform.
"Gentlemen, let me introduce Owen MacDara. He is on special assignment for the President. Owen will accompany us on this mission. He's been inside the Millennium's compound. He'll brief you on that and tell you what he knows about the target. When Owen is finished I will go over our plans for this operation."
Owen MacDara took over and described his incarceration by McNab and the subsequent manhunt he survived. As he did so, he pointed out specific buildings in the main complex, their suspected function, and then went on to tell about the terrain in the area. When he finished, Captain Dobson detailed the plan of attack and ended by putting on the overhead lights.
"Gentlemen, there's someone else who wants to address you this evening."
The Captain walked over to the podium at the side of the platform and pressed a button. The voice was familiar:
"This is the President. By now Captain Dobson and Owen MacDara have briefed you. Let me assure you that your mission is vital. Our democracy is in imminent danger. More so than at any time in our history. If you do not succeed in the coming days, your government will be overthrown and you will have a dictator sitting in the oval office. I know you do not want to see that happen. I am confident that you will prevail. Thank you. And may God bless you."
Captain Dobson bounded onto the platform again.
"Gentlemen, that's it. We'll assemble at 2100 hours. Thank you."
Long Island
New York
Monday
David liked his work. He was a perfectionist and he liked the feeling of satisfaction he got from a job well done. Sometimes that feeling stayed with him for days. He enjoyed praise too. Especially when it came from someone that he idolized. And David idolized the Chosen One. As he rubbed the gold earring in the lobe of his right ear his mind wandered. The Chosen One had been most satisfied with the Canadian assignment. David had not felt the same way. He liked the danger and challenge of an assignment and he was always erotically aroused when the victim showed fear. There was no challenge in taking an old man in the dead of the night from his cabin and tossing him into the sea. But the words of praise from the Chosen One went a long way to compensate for his feeling of letdown.
David liked to work alone. He had a partner on this assignment and he didn't like it. Sal was not his favorite brother. Too timid, too fastidious. As they sat on the dunes with a pair of binoculars watching the scene be
low, David tossed his empty coke can into the long grass. Sal got up and retrieved it. David gave him a 'drop dead' stare. Then he handed the binoculars to him and said:
"Take a look. Now's as good a time as any."
The girl was walking alone about a mile down the beach. She was wearing a bright red sweater and her hair was blowing in the wind. It was a cool clear fall day and the sand glistened in the sun's rays. Two men stood together watching the girl. It was eleven a.m. and there wasn't a thing moving elsewhere on the dunes. Summer was over and all the houses were empty in mid-week October.
"Yeah, I guess you're right."
"OK! Let's do it."
It was a turkey shoot. David fixed the silencer and adjusted the scope. Firing from the prone position, his first shot felled the man on the right and, as the other man turned around, the second shot caught him in the shoulder, spun him around and the third shot dropped him in a heap right across the body of his colleague. David put the weapon away and scrambled over the dunes. Sal spotted a garbage bin a few yards ahead on the boardwalk. He ran to it, deposited the coke can, then jumped back over the dunes to join David.
The girl was unaware that anything had taken place. She continued on her walk. It wasn't until David and Sal were almost on top of her that she sensed their presence and turned around. It wasn't anything they said. In fact they didn't say a thing. She just knew. She ran but she didn't get very far. David caught her first. She fought back. He swung a right with full force hitting her in the temple and knocking her unconscious. She crumpled at his feet.
"Goddamn, we're supposed to take her alive," screamed Sal.
The first thing that Kate felt was the bumpy rolling motion and the hardness underneath her. The next thing she felt was the terrific pain in her head. She struggled to sit up but found it difficult to get leverage. Her hands had been handcuffed behind her back. Then she felt someone pull her into a sitting position. Her eyes adjusted to the light and she could see that she was inside some kind of commercial vehicle. There was an odor of decayed vegetables and rotten onions. She felt nausea but stifled it. There were no windows. The only light came from a wire meshed square opening into the driver's cabin. She was sitting on a lumpy car seat cushion and her back was supported by the side panel of the vehicle.
She could see him now. He was one of the two men from the beach. Not the one who hit her. The other one, the smaller one. He was sitting opposite her, his legs crossed in the lotus position as though he were about to attempt yogic flying. His face was dark, thin, ferret-like. She looked directly at him but he averted his eyes. He just sat there, silent. Kate tried to speak but found her throat too dry. She concentrated on making saliva and swallowing. After a while she looked across and spoke to him:
"Why are you doing this? Where are you taking me?"
He continued to avert his eyes, saying nothing. Kate tried again but the outcome was the same. She estimated that the vehicle must be travelling at about forty or fifty miles an hour over side roads. Her legs had not been tied together so she started to exercise them, bending and unbending her knees and flexing and tensing her calf and thigh muscles. About twenty minutes must have passed this way when the grill to the driver's cabin slid open and a voice yelled back:
"Is the bitch awake yet?", and, when there was no response, repeated "Sal, Goddamit, did you hear me?"
Sal rolled over on his knees, then into a crouch, and finally dragged himself onto his feet. He lurched the couple of steps to the open grill and said, sullenly:
"Yeah, man, she's awake."
"We're gonna stop up ahead. Grab a bite to eat. And I need to take a piss. You can take the wheel for an hour."
About a mile further ahead, the van slowed and made a sharp left turn. It proceeded slowly for a while longer and then stopped. Sal helped Kate to her feet as the rear doors swung open and the man who had punched her stood there grinning:
"Have a nice ride, Babe?"
"Lay off her, David", said Sal.
"OK, OK. Sandwiches and coke. You get a choice of ham and cheese. Or ham and cheese. That's what I got."
"I can't eat unless you free my hands", said Kate.
David thought about that for a moment and agreed:
"Yeah, I don't think I want to sit here feeding you. Unless you do, Sal", he said derisively. Sal didn't respond, just went behind Kate and took off the handcuffs. Her arms were stiff and the muscles in her upper arms and shoulders hurt. Her wrists were chafed and angry looking. David returned with three cokes and three ham and cheese sandwiches on white bread. Kate hated white bread but she was hungry. They seemed to be on an isolated lane bordered on each side by bushes and hedgerows, effectively blocking any view of the surrounding area. They had parked beside an old redddish weatherbeaten barn. It looked like it hadn't been used in ages. Tufts of long grass skirted the front doors and most of the wood had rotted at the bottom. Kate found a place to sit and ate her sandwich while David disappeared around the side of the barn. Sal only took a couple of bites, then threw his sandwich away and gulped down his coke. He seemed restless, nervous. He stood near the front door of the van, kicking the dirt with his right toe. Almost seemed anxious to get going again. Kate tried to take stock of her predicament. She convinced herself that they weren't going to kill her. They would have done that already. No, they were taking her somewhere, to someone. She thought about her chances of escape. Maybe she could get them to relax, get them off guard. They didn't like each other. That was obvious. She had already decided that David was the dangerous one She wasn't sure about Sal.
David appeared again, zipping up his fly as he walked towards them.
“OK, let's move out", he ordered.
"I need to go first", said Kate.
David looked at her, belligerently, and then ordered Sal to keep an eye on her. Kate went around the side of the barn. Sal followed and stood at the corner. There was no privacy but nature couldn't wait. Sal just stood there, kicking the ground and looking down at his feet. When they got back to the van David was ready to go. He grabbed Kate and pulled her arms behind her back to handcuff her again. But Kate pleaded with him:
"Please don't handcuff me again. My wrists hurt real bad. Look at them.", and when she felt David hesitate, she continued, "I can't go anywhere. I can't get out of the van. Please don't handcuff me!"
David stopped and spun her around to face him, still holding her upper arms in a vice-like grip:
"OK, babe. You win. But I'm warning you. Don't try anything. If you do, I'll truss you up real good. Just like a Christmas turkey", which seemed to tickle his funny bone. He started laughing loudly and tossed the keys to Sal as he pushed Kate ahead of him into the rear of the van.
David had been looking at Kate; leering at her would be more accurate. Then he started taunting her:
"It's a real shame. Untouched by human hand. That's our delivery instructions. What a waste!"
Kate said nothing. She was afraid. She had huddled into the corner of the van near the driver's cabin. She wanted to make sure that Sal could hear what was going on. A false sense of hope, she told herself. But she would reach for any straw at this point.
"Isn't that right, babe? Just a waste. You need to be comforted. You should try being nice to me for a change. This trip can be easy. Or it can be difficult. Do you know what I mean?"
He had moved closer to her now. Sitting only inches away he had boxed her into the corner, like the final move in a game of checkers. She had nowhere to go. He leaned forward and grabbed her legs, pulling her towards him. She reacted like a cornered rat and the point of her toe caught him right between the legs. He released her and buckled over in agony. She braced herself against the corner. He grabbed her again, yelling:
"Bitch! You just bought yourself a bad trip!"
He was on top of her, pulling her sweat pants over her hips. Kate was screaming and flailing out with her arms. She caught the side of his neck with her fingernails and ripped. He yelled and slapped her hard across the face.
She was stunned. Her strength was no match for his. Her sweats were around her ankles and he had ripped off her panties. He was on his knees pinning her to the floor with one hand while he loosened the belt on his pants with the other, still yelling: "Bitch! Bitch! Bitch!" Kate was powerless to stop him. She struggled under his grip, dazed by the blow to her face, crying and screaming at the same time.
It took a while for her to realize that the van was filled with daylight and the rear doors were open. Sal stood there holding a gun in both hands. David had loosened his grip on her and had turned to look at Sal, a look of incredulity. The gun was trembling in Sal's hands and he was talking:
"Get away from her!"
David was now on his feet buckling his belt, sneering at Sal and shouting:
"Give me the gun, you little fuck!", as he held out his hands and began to move towards Sal.
"I warn you! Don't come any closer!", Sal's voice was almost at breaking point but he wouldn't lower the gun.
"Don't fuck with me, Sal! You're a wimp! Give me the gun", said David as he moved towards Sal.
The gunshot reverberated like a cannon inside the van. The gun was still trembling in Sal's hands. David had stopped, a look of disbelief on his face. He sunk to the ground, both hands holding his midriff as the red stain began to spread outward around his fingers. Sal just stood there, repeating:
"I warned you. I warned you."
Kate thought this might be her chance to escape and moved towards the back door. But Sal trained the gun on her:
"I can't let you go. I have to deliver you. Safely. I gave my word."
He stuck the gun in his belt, pulled her out of the van and handcuffed her again. They were parked on the side of a lonely country road. Nothing stirred for miles. Then he went inside the van and appeared moments later dragging David. He let him fall from the rear of the van onto the road beside Kate. She could see that he was either dead or unconscious. He was soaked in blood from his midriff to his thighs. Sal jumped down from the van, grabbed David's ankles and dragged him off the road and into the ditch at the side. Then he put Kate back inside the van, telling her that he had a delivery to make and nothing was going to stop him.