Time of the Assassins u-6

by Alastair Macneill

  'Yes, Bailey has to be behind it,' Kolchinsky replied. 'But how to prove it is going to be another matter altogether. We're talking about the Deputy Director of the CIA. He's already being tipped as a future

  American President. And that means he's got a lot of influential friends across the board. We can't make any accusations without the proof to back them up. And right now we don't have that proof. Even if Dave Forsythe confesses to bugging the office for Bailey, it's not enough to prove involvement in a conspiracy to kill a foreign head of state.'

  'Whatever happens, we're going to be left with egg on our faces,' Whitlock said grimly. 'It's been a serious breach of security for an organization that supposedly doesn't exist.'

  'What if the bug has been planted for a newspaper?'

  'Then you'll be spending Christmas standing in a food queue in some Moscow street and I'll be on the first plane back to Kenya.' Whitlock got to his feet and winced as he tried to adjust the sling supporting his injured arm. 'It's not a newspaper. It has to be Bailey. It's too much of a coincidence for it not to be.'

  Kolchinsky sighed deeply then pointed to Whit-lock's arm. 'How is it?'

  'A bit stiff,' Whitlock replied with a dismissive shrug.

  'I assume you haven't heard anything from Sabrina in the last twenty-four hours?'

  The question caught Whitlock by surprise but he was quick to regain his composure. 'No,' he lied, shaking his head. 'Nothing at all. Hasn't she contacted you?'

  'The last time I spoke to her was yesterday morning after the attempt on her life. She was thinking then about going down to Kondese to spring Remy Mobuto from jail. I told her to get on the next flight back here. The last thing we need is for UN AGO to get involved in a civil war. Since then nothing. I'm worried about her, C.W. It's not like her to disobey an order. I've made enquiries through the American embassy but she hasn't been admitted to any hospitals out there. She just seems to have disappeared.'

  'She's probably on her way back now,' Whitlock replied, hating himself for his deceit. But he had given her his word to keep silent.

  'I hope so,' Kolchinsky said then got to his feet and moved round to the front of the desk.

  'She can look after herself, Sergei," Whitlock said, noticing the concern on Kolchinsky's face.

  'It's not that,' Kolchinsky replied, shaking his head. 'The lab boys came back with positive ID on a set of prints from that newspaper you lifted from the flat last night.'

  'And?' Whitlock asked, his voice suddenly anxious.

  'They're Bernard's.'

  'Oh, my God,' Whitlock said despairingly. 'When did you find this out?'

  'Last night.'

  'Why didn't you call me?' Whitlock demanded.

  'It wouldn't have done any good. You'd have just lain awake all night worrying about it.'

  'I was awake most of the night with this arm anyway. You're right, though, there's nothing I could have done.' Whitlock sat down again then looked up at Kolchinsky. 'Bailey must have tipped Bernard off about Rosie. How else could Bernard have found out who Rosie was and where to find her?'

  'I think it would be better if you stayed away from the Trade Center today, C.W. I don't want any confrontations with Bailey until the President's out of American airspace.'

  'Bailey's going to be at the Trade Center this afternoon?'

  'Yes, he arrived in New York last night.'

  'There won't be any confrontations, that I promise you. I'm not Mike. I can keep my emotions in check.'

  'I still don't see why you want to be there. You've already made the security arrangements with the NYPD. Let them handle it. And I'll be there to keep an eye on things.'

  'So will I,' Whitlock said. 'Mobuto may be a pain in the arse at times but I'm still in charge of his security. I'd never forgive myself if anything were to happen to him while I was swanning about at home.'

  'O K,' Kolchinsky replied.

  'Is there anything we can do to try and find Rosie before Mobuto leaves for the Trade Center?'

  'I had Strike Force Nine check out all known CIA safe houses in and around the New York area. They didn't come up with anything. But those were only the ones we knew about. There are sure to be others. Bernard might not even be at a safe house. All we can do now is wait for him to make the first move.'

  'And you think he'll try something at the Trade Center?'

  'It's possible, if Sabrina's theory's right about him being the third man.' Kolchinsky shrugged. 'There are so many unanswered questions at the moment. But we have to take every precaution. I had a photofit made up of Bernard and sent over to the NYPD. It'll be circulated to all the officers on duty at the Trade Center today. There are already metal detectors positioned at all public entrances and all other doors will be guarded by uniformed officers. It's not foolproof by any means, but it'll make it that bit harder for him if he does intend to try and hit the President this afternoon.'

  'You know something, Sergei, I'll be glad to see the back of him tonight.'

  'You're not the only one,' Kolchinsky replied with a weak smile. 'Have you eaten this morning?'

  'I had a coffee while I was getting dressed.'

  'Fancy some breakfast at the Plaza? We'll chalk it up to expenses.'

  'I wouldn't say no,' Whitlock said. 'I've got a feeling this is just the start of a very long day.'

  'My thoughts exactly. Come on, let's go.'

  Bernard was watching the morning news when the doorbell rang. He picked up his Desert Eagle automatic from the table and went to the door. He peered through the spyhole. It was Brett. He unlocked the door.

  'Jesus, what happened to your face?' Brett asked, staring at Bernard's half-closed eye.

  'The girl tried to escape.'

  'And she did that to you?' Brett said, unable to keep the smile from his face. 'A sixteen-year-old kid?'

  'She caught me with the door,' Bernard replied sullenly.

  'You're going to stand out like a sore thumb at the Trade Center.'

  'You let me worry about that.'

  'Hey, it's not just your ass on the line.'

  'I don't need a lecture from one of Bailey's flunkeys,' Bernard snarled.

  Brett glared at Bernard then brushed past him into the hall. 'Where's the girl now?'

  'In the bedroom,' Bernard replied, closing the front door. 'She won't give you any trouble, she's handcuffed to the radiator.'

  'Which door?'

  'First on the right.'

  Brett opened the door and entered the room.

  'A visitor?' Rosie said facetiously then looked across at Bernard who was standing in the doorway. 'You should have told me your boyfriend was coming over.'

  'You can cut the cute remarks,' Brett snapped then left the room and closed the door behind him. 'When are you leaving?'

  'Now. And don't bother making her anything to eat; she won't touch it. She hasn't eaten since I brought her here yesterday.'

  'What if she wants to go to the toilet?'

  'Then let her go. There aren't any windows in the bathroom if that's what you're worried about.' Bernard took the key for the handcuffs from his pocket and gave it to Brett. 'You've been up all night, haven't you?'

  'Yeah, I came straight over here from the hotel.'

  'Put your head down for a few hours, you'll feel better for it.' Bernard noticed Brett's frown. 'You don't think I stayed up all night, do you? She's not going anywhere.'

  'Is there an alarm?'

  'It's by the front door. But there's no need to activate it. Like I said, she's not going anywhere.'

  'I'd feel better if it were on.'

  'Suit yourself,' Bernard replied then picked up the holdall and walked to the front door.

  'What time will you be back?' Brett asked as Bernard opened the door.

  'When the job's done,' Bernard replied. 'Don't wait up,' he added with a faint smile then left, closing the door behind him.

  'I'll be waiting,' Brett said softly then unholstered his Smith & Wesson 645 and aimed it at the door.
'You can count on it, my friend.'

  'Why weren't we told about this?' Kolchinsky demanded, dropping a folder onto the table.

  'And good morning to you, too,' Mobuto replied with a hint of sarcasm as he looked up at Kolchinsky who had brushed past Masala moments earlier when he answered the door. He leaned forward in his chair and opened the folder. Inside were several sheets of computer paper. He scanned the first paragraph of the top page then sat back and folded his arms across his chest. 'It's a resume of the offensive we launched against Ngune last night. Forgive me if I'm a little slow on the uptake this morning, Mr Kolchinsky, but why should I have told you about this?'

  'Because two of our operatives could still be out there,' Kolchinsky shot back.

  'They were, up until a few hours ago,' Mobuto replied. 'They're now on their way back to New York. Surely you knew that?'

  'How did you know their movements?' Kolchinsky asked, ignoring Mobuto's question.

  'Colonel Tambese told me.'

  'Who?'

  'David Tambese, the man I've appointed as the new head of the armed forces.'

  'Has he had them under surveillance?'

  'Surveillance?' Mobuto replied with a look of puzzlement. 'They were working together. Your operatives, Mike and Sabrina, helped David get my brother out of Branco. He told me he couldn't have done it without their help.'

  Kolchinsky sat down slowly, his eyes never leaving Mobuto's face. 'Michael and Sabrina were working together?'

  Mobuto nodded. 'With David Tambese. I purposely kept the plans of the offensive a secret because I couldn't risk Ngune finding out beforehand. Only David and I knew about them. Mike and Sabrina were as much in the dark as you were.'

  'No, I don't believe they were,' Kolchinsky said after a thoughtful pause, barely able to contain his anger. 'How long have you known that Michael and Sabrina were working as a team?'

  'Yesterday, when David told me that he'd intercepted Mike and his friend Laidlaw near the airport. Ngune had been tipped off that they would be going to the airport and he'd dispatched a suicide squad to deal with them.'

  'Did he say why they were going to the airport?'

  'Sabrina had left a message at the airport to tell them where she was staying.'

  'Which means she was already working with Michael in Beirut,' Kolchinsky said softly to himself.

  'Pardon?'

  'Nothing, I was just thinking out loud.'

  Mobuto leaned forward, his arms resting on his knees. 'Didn't you know they were working with David?'

  'I've never even heard of David Tambese!' Kolchinsky snapped then held up a hand in apology. 'I'm sorry, it's not your fault. I'm grateful you brought this to my attention.'

  'I hope I haven't put them in any trouble,' Mobuto said with genuine concern. 'They saved my brother's life, and that's something I'll never forget.'

  Kolchinsky sat back in the chair and stared at the folder on the table. There were so many questions that needed to be answered. But the one that stood out above all others was how long Sabrina had been lying to him. When did she and Graham first make contact in Beirut? He knew she must have had her reasons for holding out on him. She and Whitlock had always been the two operatives he had trusted implicitly. But he wouldn't pass judgement on her, not yet. She had the right to answer for her actions in person. He could wait. Tambese? The name suddenly entered his mind. He had never heard of him until Mobuto mentioned the name. So it was fair to assume that Sabrina wouldn't have heard of him either before she arrived in Zimbala, and she would never work that closely with someone unless she had first had him vetted. All vetting procedures went through the command centre. But that could have been risky. What if word had got back to him? No, she would have had to confide in someone close, someone she knew she could trust. And he knew exactly who that was.

  'Would you excuse me?' Kolchinsky said, getting to his feet.

  'Of course,' Mobuto replied then closed the folder and offered it to Kolchinsky. 'I'm sorry I didn't give UN AGO prior warning about the offensive last night, but I had to take every precaution in case of a leak. I'm sure you understand.'

  'Yes, of course,' Kolchinsky replied, almost absently, then took the folder from Mobuto and moved to the door.

  'Where can I reach you if any more news comes through from Zimbala?' Mobuto called out after him.

  'I'll be at the Trade Center,' Kolchinsky said. 'I've got a few things to discuss with C.W.'

  'I gave her my word.'

  'And I thought the only conspiracy around here was against the President,' Kolchinsky retorted angrily. 'Now I find there's been another one, against me. Not only that, it involved the two people I trusted above all others at UN A CO. You've disappointed me, C.W., you really have.'

  Whitlock remained silent. What could he say — he had no defence. He had known it would have to come out. If only it had remained under wraps until Mobuto had left the country. Then the assignment would have been deemed a success and the damage would have been minimal. Well, so he had thought until now. Had it been Philpott he would have been reprimanded and that would have been the end of the matter. Philpott encouraged initiative in the field. But he should have known better with Kolchinsky. Everything had to be done by the book. His years in the KGB had taught him that, and nothing would change those views. He was too damn pedantic! But Whitlock wisely chose not to voice his thoughts. He was in enough trouble as it was. He only hoped Philpott would see the situation in a different light, but that would mean undermining Kolchinsky, and Philpott respected Kolchinsky too much to do that. The outlook was bleak, whatever way he looked at it. Yet, given the same circumstances, he would have done it again. Sabrina was his partner, and he had too much respect for her to go back on his word.

  'Don't you have anything to say?' Kolchinsky asked, breaking the lingering silence.

  'What do you want me to say, Sergei? I admit I've been helping Mike and Sabrina without your authorization. But I still believe I did the right thing.'

  'What if they had been caught? UN AC O personnel involved in a civil war? We'd have been crucified by the UN. We're an anti-crime organization. The Charter states quite clearly that UN AGO is not to involve itself in the politics of any country. I'm sure you're familiar with the section in question.'

  'Then why are we guarding Mobuto?' That's political.'

  'His life is threatened. It makes no difference that he's a politician. It's still a criminal offence.'

  'Remy Mobuto was kidnapped against his will,' Whitlock retorted. 'That's a criminal offence.'

  'Of course it is,' Kolchinsky replied, 'but his release was linked directly to the government offensive against the rebels. That's what makes it political. And Michael and Sabrina were in the thick of it.'

  'They didn't know about the offensive when they went into Branco to free Mobuto's brother, he told you that himself.'

  'And a lot of good that would have done them if the offensive had failed and they had fallen into rebel hands.'

  'Their actions weren't political, Sergei, you know.that. They were told that Remy Mobuto had information that could be vital to the case. What were they supposed to do, pass up the chance to get that information?'

  'They were supposed to have gone through the proper channels for a start.'

  'Would you have sanctioned the break-in at Branco?'

  'I would have told them to hold back and let Tambese and his men go into Branco. Then they could have questioned Remy Mobuto once he was out. That way it couldn't have been misconstrued as a political move.' Kolchinsky rubbed his hands over his face. 'But it's too late for that now. The Secretary-General's going to kick up a stink when he finds out what's happened.'

  'Will we be suspended?' Whitlock asked.

  'That will be up to the Secretary-General. But if we can see the President off safely tonight that will certainly count in your favour. When did you last speak to Sabrina?'

  'When she asked me to check on Tambese.'

  'So we don't know whether they
found out anything from Remy Mobuto,' Kolchinsky said.

  'Didn't Mobuto say anything when you spoke to him?'

  'I didn't ask him. I was hoping you would have heard from Sabrina in the last few hours. I'm going back to the hotel now to speak to him again.' Kolchinsky closed the folder in front of him then picked it up and got to his feet. 'I'm especially disappointed in you, C.W. This is hardly the sort of behaviour I'd expect from the next Deputy Director of UNACO.'

  'I'm still a field operative, Sergei. My loyalties lie with Mike and Sabrina. I'm sorry if you can't see that.'

  Kolchinsky walked to the door then looked back at Whitlock. 'I only hope this doesn't affect your promotion.'

  'You'll have my letter of resignation if it does,' Whitlock replied matter-of-factly.

  Kolchinsky held Whitlock's unyielding stare for several seconds then turned and left the room without another word.

  The Trade Center had been built off the Shore Parkway in Brooklyn; it had cost nearly one-and-a-half-million dollars at a time when New York was crippled by mounting debts which had given rise to the theory that it had been financed largely by mob money. The mayor at the time had been quick to denounce these rumours, too quick, according to most New Yorkers. Then, when a local tabloid ran an article about it under the headline 'Mafia House', the name had stuck. It had become an expensive white elephant over the years, despite its location overlooking Jamaica Bay and its proximity to John F. Kennedy International Airport.

  The visit of Jamel Mobuto had brought with it an unexpected publicity boost for the building. The two attempts on his life had made him one of the most newsworthy faces in the country and although he was not due to arrive at the Trade Center for another forty minutes, the front lawn was already seething with reporters and cameramen jostling for positions, all hoping for a third attempt on his life that could be captured on film for their newspapers and television news-bulletins. And they all had the same thought in the back of their minds. Third time lucky…

  Had they known the purpose of the rider on the red and white Honda 5000: that pulled up at the boom gate a hundred yards away from where they were encamped, they would have felt that their prayers had been answered.