'O K. Keep an eye on the door,' Bernard said.
As Mason turned away Bernard clasped his hands on either side of the man's head and jerked it savagely to one side, breaking his neck. He grabbed Mason under the arms as his body went limp and eased him down noiselessly onto the catwalk. He was only carrying out Bailey's orders — no witnesses. He unlocked the case and opened it. Inside were the sections of the Galil sniper rifle. After he had put the rifle together, he connected the Nimrod X 6 telescopic-sight-attachment and screwed the silencer onto the end of the barrel. He picked up the magazine, containing twenty rounds of subsonic ammunition, and carefully clipped it into place. He peered through the curtain again. More of the businessmen had filed into the hall but there was still no sign of Mobuto.
He carefully adjusted the telescopic sight until he had a perfect image of the doors. It would be a simple shot, one bullet through the head. That's all it would take. But he couldn't escape. He knew that. It would only take the authorities a few seconds to realize the bullet had come from the catwalk. And there was only one way to get off the catwalk, and that was down the ladder. He would never make it. But he had known that even before he accepted the assignment. So, once he had killed Mobuto, he would put the rifle down and wait for the police to arrest him. Not that he would be in custody for very long. Bailey had already paid off several senior policemen to arrange for Bernard to 'escape' later that night. He would then be driven to an abandoned airstrip where a plane would be waiting to take him back to Beirut.
It wouldn't be in Bailey's interests to double-cross him. He had only gone along with Bailey's plan after he had written down a detailed account of all the CIA operations he had been involved in over the years which he had then passed onto a lawyer with instructions that it be forwarded on to the New York Times if anything were to happen to him before he made contact with the lawyer again. And Bailey had been made aware of the document's existence. He knew he was safe as long as the document remained in the lawyer's possession. And he would be in no rush to collect the document, no rush at all.
He looked at his watch. One forty. Mobuto could appear any time now. He picked up the rifle, wrapped the strap tightly around his arm, then rested the barrel lightly on the top railing, the telescopic sight trained on the doors. Now all he had to do was wait.
Kolchinsky and Whitlock were already waiting on the helipad as the UN AGO helicopter came in to land. The cabin door was thrown open before the pads touched the ground and Graham jumped nimbly onto the helipad and ran, doubled over, to where they stood.
'What the hell is going on?' Kolchinsky demanded.
'Bernard's here. And he's got a sniper rifle with him,' Graham shouted above the noise of the rotors.
'Mobuto's due at the hall in a couple of minutes,' Whitlock said, glancing at his watch. 'We have to warn him.'
Kolchinsky opened his mouth to speak but Graham and Whitlock had already disappeared through the door behind him. Wiutlock grabbed Graham's arm and pointed to the fire escape. Graham pushed it open and they bounded down the stairs, two at a time, and arrived breathlessly at the sixth floor less than a minute later. Whitlock's arm was throbbing from where it had banged against his chest but he ignored the pain as he emerged into the corridor. Mobuto was talking to Bailey at the door. Bailey looked up sharply at Whitlock then his eyes narrowed with uncertainty when he saw Graham appear behind him. Bailey knew something was wrong. He had to get Mobuto into the hall. Fast. He was still opening the door when Graham slammed it shut with his palm.
'What are you doing?' Bailey snarled.
'What's going on, Clarence?' Mobuto demanded, looking from Whitlock to Graham. 'And who is this man?'
'Mike Graham,' Whitlock replied with evident satisfaction.
'Mike Graham?' Mobuto said in a startled voice. He held out his hand. 'It's a pleasure finally to meet you.'
'Likewise,' Graham said, shaking Mobuto's hand quickly. He noticed D'Arcy standing beside Whitlock. 'Are you the senior officer here?'
D'Arcy nodded.
'Then arrest this son-of-a-bitch,' Graham said, pointing to Bailey.
Rogers reached for his bolstered Smith & Wesson but his hand froze on the butt when he saw the Browning in Whitlock's hand. He slowly withdrew his hand.
'You touch me and you'll be walking the beat for the rest of your days,' Bailey snapped, glaring at D'Arcy.
'Clarence, what is going on?' Mobuto said in desperation.
'Robert Bailey was the mastermind behind the plot to assassinate you, sir,' Graham said. 'Ngune and Bernard work for him.'
'Is this true?' Mobuto said, staring at Bailey.
'Of course not,' Bailey retorted angrily.
'Are you calling the President's brother a liar?' Graham said, his eyes never leaving Bailey's face.
'Remy told you that?' Mobuto asked Graham.
'He told Tambese, and Tambese told us. Who do you believe? Bailey or your brother?'
'There must be some — '
'Arrest him!' Mobuto said contemptuously, cutting across Bailey's outburst.
Whitlock nodded to D'Arcy. 'And take him while you're at it,' he said, indicating Rogers.
D'Arcy had the two men handcuffed. Whitlock gave instructions for them to be taken to a lounge further down the corridor then turned to D'Arcy and explained that Bernard was already in the building.
'I think it would be unwise of you to go ahead with your address until we've rechecked the hall, sir,' Graham said to Mobuto.
'There's only one area a sniper could use in the hall, and that's the catwalk,' D'Arcy said behind Graham. 'And we've got that covered.' He looked at Whitlock. 'It seems that extra man you sent could come in useful after all.'
'What extra man?' Whitlock replied suspiciously.
'The policeman you sent over ten minutes ago. He had a letter of authorization signed by you.'
'I never sent a man over,' Whitlock shot back.
'Bernard,' Graham hissed. 'I'm going up there, C.W. Give me your Browning. And that two-way radio on your belt.'
'Take Captain D'Arcy and some of his men as backup,' Whitlock said, handing the Browning and the radio to Graham.
'No,' Graham replied quickly then put a hand on Whitlock's arm. 'If he is there, I want to take him myself.'
'Alive, preferably,' Whitlock said.
Graham moved to the door. 'It's locked,' he called out.
'It shouldn't be,' D'Arcy said, approaching the door.
'You got a key?'
D'Arcy took a set of keys from his pocket. 'I don't know which one it is.'
Graham tried several of the keys before he found the right one. He unlocked the door then handed the keys back to D'Arcy.
'Are you sure you don't want any backup?' D'Arcy asked.
Graham shook his head then eased the door open and slipped into the room, closing it again behind him. He looked up at the catwalk but couldn't see anything, or anyone, from where he stood. He moved silently to the metal ladder and, tucking the Browning firmly into his belt, began to climb, slowly and carefully, towards the catwalk. He paused three-quarters of the way up the ladder and pulled the Browning from his belt. When he reached the top he raised his head fractionally above the level of the catwalk floor. Bernard was kneeling on his right knee with the rifle resting lightly on the railing for added stability. His body was at a forty-five-degree angle to the ladder and his head bent low over the top of the rifle. Graham was on his blind side. Graham kept the Browning trained on him as he climbed the last few rungs before he reached the catwalk. What if Bernard turned and fired when challenged? Graham knew it was a possibility. Could he afford to take that chance? He could kill Bernard with one shot. That's all it would take. Then his revenge would be complete. His finger tightened on the trigger as he aimed the Browning at Bernard's head. One shot. He thought of Carrie and Mikey. They deserved justice. Then he thought of Ngune's execution in Kondese and how much it had appalled him. Shot in cold blood. It would be the same if he shot Bernard without
giving him the chance to surrender. Could he live with that on his conscience? He eased the pressure on the trigger.
'Drop the gun, Bernard,' Graham said softly but firmly, his body tensed in anticipation of Bernard's reaction.
Bernard raised his head and looked round slowly. He wasn't surprised that it was Graham. It was almost as if he had expected it to be him, the face that had haunted him ever since the incident in Libya. He had lost count of the times he had woken in the night, his body soaked with sweat, Graham's face still fresh in his mind. But it wasn't a nightmare any more. Now it was real. He knew Graham wouldn't kill him, not unless in self-defence. That much was obvious. He had already discounted any thoughts of trying to fire on the turn — not against someone of Graham's calibre. He would be dead before he even had a chance to move the rifle. And with Graham there, it meant Mobuto would already have been warned not to enter the hall, certainly not until the situation had been resolved one way or the other. And he still had the escape plan as backup. Bailey couldn't afford not to fulfil his side of the bargain, even if Mobuto were still alive. He unwound the strap from around his arm and laid the rifle carefully at his feet.
'Put your hands on your head and step away from the railing,' Graham ordered.
Bernard did as he was told. Graham undipped the two-way radio with his left hand and told Whitlock to have a couple of policemen waiting for Bernard at the foot of the ladder. He clipped the radio back onto his belt then gestured towards the ladder. His finger tightened on the trigger as Bernard passed him.
'Bernard?' Graham called out as Bernard reached the top of the ladder. He waited until Bernard had looked round before speaking again. 'Was it a clean kill?'
'Yes, I believe it was,' Bernard replied then began to slowly descend the ladder towards the waiting policemen. He was handcuffed when he reached the ground before being led away, flanked by two policemen.
Graham climbed down the ladder again. 'The rifle's still up there,' he said to D'Arcy who immediately dispatched one of his men to fetch it.
Sabrina hurried over to where Graham was standing. 'Mike, are you OK?' she asked softly.
'Yeah, sure,' he replied quickly then looked past her as Kolchinsky entered the room. 'Here comes trouble.'
'With a capital T,' she said, glancing round as Kolchinsky approached them.
'I want to see you both in my office in an hour,' Kolchinsky said sharply.
'We'll be there,' Sabrina assured him.
Kolchinsky's eyes flickered from Sabrina to Graham. 'Why didn't you kill him when you had the chance? It's what you set out to do.'
'It's what I set out to do,' Graham agreed. 'But Sabrina talked me out of it when we were in Zimbala.'
'Well, that's something in your favour,' Kolchinsky said to her then walked back towards the door.
'I never talked you out of it,' she said once Kolchinsky was out of earshot. 'I tried, but you wouldn't listen.'
'Maybe I did,' Graham replied. 'But that's not the point. I called the plays in Beirut and now I've got to deal with the consequences. I'm not going to let you be dragged down with me.'
'We work as a team, Mike. And that means we face the ups and downs of the partnership together.'
'No, not this time, Sabrina,' he replied then crossed to the door and disappeared back out into the corridor.
'Hi,' Sarah said as Sabrina entered the office. 'Welcome back.'
'Thanks,' Sabrina said with a grin. 'Is Sergei in?'
Sarah nodded then flicked the intercom button on her desk. 'Sabrina here, Mr Kolchinsky.'
'Send her in,' came the terse reply.
Kolchinsky activated the door for Sabrina and closed it again behind her.
'Isn't Mike here yet?' she asked, glancing at her watch.
'He's been and gone,' Kolchinsky replied.
'But I thought you wanted to see us together,' Sabrina said, frowning.
'That was what I had in mind.' Kolchinsky indicated the nearest of the two black couches. 'Sit down.'
She sat down slowly, her eyes never leaving Kolchinsky's face. 'Something's wrong, Sergei. What is it?'
Kolchinsky shifted uncomfortably in his chair then reached for his cigarettes on the desk and lit one. 'Michael handed in his resignation this afternoon.'
She clasped her hands over her face and shook her head slowly to herself.
'I said he handed it in. I didn't say I accepted it.'
She sat back and looked across at him. 'Will you accept it?'
'That will all depend on the findings of the internal investigation the Secretary-General's asked me to set up to look into the way the three of you conducted yourselves during the operation.'
'How long will that take?'
'A couple of days.' Kolchinsky tapped a folder on his desk. 'Michael's already given me a detailed account of what happened in both Beirut and Zimbala. I want your report on my desk by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.'
'You'll have it.'
'The investigation team will want to question you personally after you've submitted your report to make sure your account tallies with those forwarded by Michael and C.W.' He opened the folder, removed several sheets of paper which were stapled together in the top left-hand corner and held them out towards her. 'This is a photocopy of Michael's report. Make sure your account tallies with his. It's your one chance of getting out of this with your job and your credibility intact.'
She took the report hesitantly from him. 'Why are you doing this, Sergei? If anyone finds out you've given this to me you'd be in a lot of trouble.'
'Michael told me you'd try and cover for him. I can believe that. At least if you stick to the same story you'll minimalize the damage not only for yourself, but for Michael as well. I've already spoken to C.W. and he suggested the two of you work together on your reports tonight. I think it's a good idea.' He pointed to the copy of Graham's report in her hand. 'You and C.W. will have to share that one. And make sure you shred it when you've finished using it. As you said, I'd be in a lot of trouble if that were to fall into the wrong hands.'
'Does the Colonel know about this?' she asked, holding up the report..
'No, and let's keep it that way.'
'Thanks, Sergei,' she said with a smile.
'This doesn't mean I'm any less angry at the way in which the three of you conducted this whole operation, especially you and C.W. I'm very disappointed in both of you.'
'There wasn't any other way, Sergei.'
'So Michael kept saying. It's not a very convincing excuse, is it?'
'I guess not,' she replied glumly.
'We'll discuss it at length once all your reports are on my desk.'
She got to her feet. 'Where are Mike and C.W. now?'
'C.W.'s with the President at his hotel. I don't know where Michael is. He said he wanted some time on his own, which is understandable under the circumstances.'
'What about Bailey, Bernard and Rogers? Anything from them yet?'
'Still nothing. It's obvious that Bailey and Rogers won't say a thing until they've been fully briefed on their rights by top Agency lawyers. Bernard's already been charged with the double murder of the two policemen in Murray Hill but he's taken his lawyer's advice and hasn't said a word since being taken into custody. C.W.'s out of his mind with worry about Rosie. I presume he's told you about her?'
She nodded. 'Isn't there anything we can do to find her?'
'We've checked all the known CIA safe houses in and around the New York area. She isn't at any of them. I spoke to the CIA Director earlier and he's promised to fax us the list he has at Langley. We'll check them out as well but we could still come up with a blank. All senior Agency officials have a number of safe houses that only they know about. If Rosie is being held at one of Bailey's safe houses then we won't be able to find her without his cooperation.'
'Which could mean some kind of deal?' Sabrina said bitterly.
Kolchinsky shrugged. 'I don't know. The Colonel's on his way to Washington now to meet
with the CIA Director.'
'I didn't know the Colonel was back at work,' she said in surprise.
'He left hospital last night. He was supposed to be resting at home but with all this going on he's decided to come back to work.'
'What did his doctor say?'
'I don't think his doctor knows. Well, not yet. But you know the Colonel, once he decides to do something, nothing will stop him.'
'Until he has another heart attack.'
'It's his choice, Sabrina.'
'I guess so,' she said tight-lipped. 'Is there anything else?'
'Not for the moment,' Kolchinsky replied. 'Meet me in the foyer of the Plaza at seven. President Mobuto asked if he could see you and Michael before he flies out later tonight. Michael's already asked to be excused. That's why it's important that you make an appearance.'
Til be there,' she said then paused at the door and looked round at Kolchinsky. 'By the way, what was this about Dave Forsythe? C.W. said something about his working for Bailey?'
'That's right. He obviously bugged the office so that Bailey could keep Bernard informed on the latest developments in Zimbala.'
'What will happen to him?'
'He's already been dismissed.'
'Will he be prosecuted?'
'And cause us further embarrassment? No, but he's finished anyway. None of the top intelligence agencies will take him on after what happened here. He can't be trusted. He'll end up running an electrical store in some backwater. That will be punishment enough.'
'I guess so,' she said thoughtfully then left the room.
Kolchinsky closed the door behind her then lit another cigarette and returned to his paperwork.
A light drizzle had set in over the city by the time Sabrina reached the hotel. She parked her champagne-coloured Mercedes Benz 500 SEC close to the hotel and as she strode briskly towards the entrance, her stiletto heels clicking noisily on the sidewalk, she knew she was attracting the appreciative glances of the men on both sides of the street. Not that she gave them the satisfaction of looking back. That would only encourage them. It would also be a sign of vanity, and she despised vanity in any form.
Time of the Assassins u-6 Page 27