Time of the Assassins u-6

by Alastair Macneill

'I'm here to liaise with my men,' Hagen shot back angrily. 'What's UN AGO doing here?'

  This is still a UN AGO operation, Sean. And that puts me in overall command. I want your SWAT team out of here. Their presence is putting Rosie Kruger's life in danger.'

  'I can't do that, Malcolm. Rosie Kruger was kidnapped here in New York. This is our jurisdiction. I've already spoken to Lieutenant Stephens, the officer in charge of the SWAT team, and he's indicated that, because of the situation, he's prepared to work with UN AGO to help secure the release of Miss Kruger. But that's as far as it goes. They won't be pulled out until this situation's been resolved.'

  'This has got nothing to do with jurisdictions, has it, Sean?' Kolchinsky said, struggling to contain his anger. 'You don't give a damn about Rosie, do you? All you're interested in is avenging the death of the two officers Bernard shot at the apartment. You're still smarting from what happened tonight. And now that you know he'll never be allowed to stand trial, it only leaves you with one alternative. You'll have to kill him.'

  'That may be the way they do it in Russia, Sergei, but not in this country,' Hagen said after a moment's silence. 'I want to see Miss Kruger released, unharmed, just as much as you do. And with that in mind, I'm prepared to go in there and negotiate with Bernard on a one-to-one basis. I'm sure we can resolve this situation without bloodshed.'

  'Who's to say that Bernard will even want to talk to you?' Philpott countered.

  'There's only one way to find out,' Hagen replied then rapped on the back of the van. The door was opened from the inside and he gave the order to get Bernard on the line. He waited until the communications officer had got through before climbing into the back of the van and taking the receiver from him. 'Bernard?'

  'Yes. Who's that?'

  'My name's Hagen. I'm the Deputy Commissioner of the New York Police Department.'

  'Sean Hagen. I am honoured.'

  'You know me?' Hagen retorted.

  'Of you,' Bernard replied. 'What do you want?'

  'To talk. In person.'

  'Why?'

  'I would have thought that was obvious,' Hagen said, glancing at Philpott. 'I want to resolve this without bloodshed.'

  'That makes two of us,' There was a lengthy pause. 'Come in alone. Unarmed. The door will be unlocked. But I warn you, Hagen, any attempt by your SWAT team to storm the house and Rosie dies. I don't have anything to lose, not any more.'

  'No attempt will be made to storm the house, you have my word on that.'

  The line went dead.

  Hagen replaced the receiver and climbed out of the van. 'He's agreed to see me. At least it's a start. Do you know where I can find Lieutenant Stephens? I want to have a word with him before I go in.'

  'He's with his men on the edge of the clearing,' Philpott answered.

  'Thank you,' Hagen said.

  'Excuse me, sir,' the communications officer called out after Hagen. 'Do you want me to make up a wire for you?'

  'Yes, good idea,' Hagen replied then walked towards the wood.

  Philpott was about to shout a warning about the animal traps when Hagen stopped abruptly as he neared the edge of the wood. He nodded to himself, then turned away and continued walking down the road.

  Kolchinsky noticed the frown crease Philpott's brow. 'What is it, Malcolm?'

  'Nothing,' Philpott replied with a dismissive shrug.

  Philpott watched Hagen until he disappeared from sight around a bend in the road. Why had he suddenly changed his mind about entering the wood? Why would he purposely take the long way round to reach the clearing? Did he already know about the animal traps? It seemed unlikely as Stephens had only been told about them when one of his men had almost stood on one. And Philpott only knew about them through Stephens. He knew there was probably a logical explanation for Hagen's actions but he still felt uneasy. It was a feeling he couldn't seem to shake off.

  'The only way Bernard leaves that house is in a body bag. Understood?'

  No, Mark Stephens didn't understand. And what the hell was Hagen doing there anyway? Stephens, who was in his early thirties, had been with the NYPD's SWAT unit for five years, the last eighteen months of those as a lieutenant. He had been trained to deal with hostage situations. It was his job. And now his authority was being undermined by Hagen's interference. But what could he do? Hagen was officially the commander-in-chief of the NYPD's SWAT unit. And that meant his word was law. He knew the men, himself included, held Hagen in contempt — a desk man who only ever showed his solidarity with them when they were being praised for a successful operation.

  'I asked you a question, Lieutenant,' Hagen said sharply.

  Stephens removed his black peaked cap and ran his hand over his short blond hair. 'That depends on the circumstances, sir.'

  'What circumstances?'

  'If we can get a clear shot at him. There's a sixteen-year-old kid in there as well. Her safety is my main concern.'

  'Your main concern is preventing Bernard from leaving the house alive.'

  'Sir, he has hostage — '

  'I don't give a damn about his hostage,' Hagen cut in, his eyes blazing. 'She's a drug addict, for Christ's sake. What's her life compared to the lives of the two officers that son-of-a-bitch gunned down in cold blood? I had to break the news to their wives. Spare a thought for them, Lieutenant. And spare a thought for those kids who'll never see their fathers again.'

  Stephens had never seen Hagen so agitated. It was unnerving. What the hell had got into him? He knew the rules. And now he was willing to bend and twist them in some warped pursuit of revenge. Stephens wanted nothing to do with it, even if it meant losing his command. He wouldn't be party to killing an innocent teenager.

  'Think about it, Lieutenant. Your future in this unit may depend on it. I'll try and talk Bernard into releasing the girl, but if he refuses, then the order will be given to storm the house. And if you won't give it, I will. Now give me that bullhorn.'

  Stephens bit back his fury and handed Hagen the bullhorn he was holding. He looked around. At least his men were out of earshot. He certainly wouldn't give the order to storm the house, not without first hearing Bernard's demands. But would his men stand by him? Hagen could have them all suspended for insubordination. Was it worth putting his men's careers at risk? He suddenly found himself caught in two minds, and he hated himself for it.

  'Bernard, I'm coming in,' Hagen shouted through the bullhorn. 'I'll be unarmed. And alone.' He handed the bullhorn back to Stephens. 'Think about your future, Lieutenant. Who knows, there could even be a promotion in it for you.'

  Stephens bit his Up to prevent himself from telling Hagen where to shove his promotion. Instead he undipped his two-way radio from his belt and told his men that Hagen was about to approach the house, adding that if any of them got a clear shot of Bernard they were to take him out. He knew it was wishful thinking. The man was very professional. And professionals rarely make mistakes. Hagen removed his overcoat and hat then stepped out into the clearing and walked slowly towards the house.

  Stephens looked round as Philpott and Whitlock appeared behind them. Philpott nodded in greeting then introduced Whitlock as Rosie's uncle. Stephens wondered how they would have reacted if he told them what Hagen had in mind if he failed to persuade Bernard to surrender. Some chance of that happening anyway! How he hoped he was wrong…

  Hagen reached the gate and paused to look at the house. It was in complete darkness, as it had been ever since the SWAT team took up their positions on the edge of the clearing. The gate squeaked as he opened it. Well, now Bernard would definitely know he was there. He walked up the path and was about to mount the steps to the porch when the outside light came on. He froze mid-step, his eyes riveted on the closed door, waiting. He remained like that for several seconds, almost as if in a trance, then climbed the steps and moved slowly to the door. He was about to try the handle then thought he'd better warn Bernard that it was him, and not one of the SWAT team. He knocked on the door.

  'B
ernard, it's Hagen.'

  'It's open,' came the reply from inside the house.

  Hagen pushed the handle down and opened the door. The light from the porch illuminated the hallway. He stepped inside, almost reluctant to close the door behind him. The light was his sanctuary.

  'Close the door,' Bernard called out from the lounge at the end of the hallway.

  Hagen closed the door, severing the light. He had lost his sanctuary.

  'I've got the girl with me, Hagen,' Bernard said.

  'Any tricks and she's dead. Now switch on the hall light and step away from the door.'

  Hagen did as he was told.

  Bernard emerged from the lounge alone, the Desert Eagle in his hand. It was aimed at Hagen's stomach.

  'Where's the girl?' Hagen demanded.

  'Safe,' Bernard replied, moving towards Hagen. He locked the door then frisked Hagen quickly and professionally.

  'I told you I was unarmed,' Hagen said once Bernard had finished.

  'So you did,' Bernard replied with a sneer.

  'I want to see the girl.'

  'She's in there,' Bernard replied, pointing to the bedroom. 'And don't switch on the light.'

  Hagen opened the bedroom door. Rosie, who had regained consciousness less than an hour earlier, was still manacled to the radiator. She had been gagged. She stared at Hagen, her eyes wide and questioning.

  'I'm Deputy Commissioner Hagen, Rosie. We're doing everything in our power to try and secure your release. Don't worry, we won't let anything happen to you.'

  'How touching. Now close the door.'

  'Hold in there, Rosie,' Hagen said with a reassuring smile then closed the door again. 'Let's talk in the lounge, shall we?'

  'Sure,' Bernard replied with a shrug. 'But no lights. We'll manage with the reflection from the hall light. After you, Hagen.'

  Hagen glanced at the automatic in Bernard's hand then reluctantly turned his back on him and entered the lounge. He made for the armchair by the window and sat down.

  'I assume you're carrying a mike of some sort,' Bernard said from the doorway. 'The tie-pin?'

  'No.'

  'No, you're not wired, or no it's not the tie-pin?'

  'Both.'

  'Why don't I believe you?' Bernard said then shrugged. 'But then it doesn't bother me whether you're wired or not. It might just backfire on you, though.'

  'What?' Hagen said with a frown.

  'Drink?' Bernard said, indicating the drinks cabinet against the far wall.

  'Yes,' Hagen said, nodding slowly. 'Bourbon, if you have one.'

  'Of course,' Bernard replied, crossing the room to the drinks cabinet.

  'What did you mean just now about its backfiring on me if I were wired?' Hagen asked.

  Bernard used his free hand to pour the drink then placed it on the table beside Hagen's chair. He crossed to the door then turned his back momentarily on Hagen and looked out into the hallway. When he swung round Hagen was clawing desperately at the underside of the chair.

  'Looking for this?' Bernard said, taking a Smith 8t Wesson from his pocket. 'Good place to hide a gun for an emergency, but I found it when I first got here. Question is, how did you know there was supposed to be a gun bolstered under that particular chair? A chair that you made for as soon as you entered the room.

  Now, if you are wired, which I'm sure you are, your colleagues are no doubt waiting for you to clear up this obvious misunderstanding. Well?'

  'I don't know what you're talking about,' Hagen said, fidgeting nervously with his tie-pin.

  'So I was right, it is the tie-pin,' Bernard said with a knowing smile. 'I'd say you were in a catch-twenty-two situation right now. If you discard the mike, it's obviously a sign of guilt. But if you leave it on, your colleagues are going to find out how you knew the location of the gun. It's your choice, Hagen. Or should I call you Seabird?'

  The blood drained from Hagen's face and his hand was trembling when he picked up the glass from the table. He drank it down in one gulp.

  'Lost for words?" Bernard said, sitting down on the sofa. 'I can understand that. You certainly had me fooled. I thought Bailey was Seabird. I guess it was a natural assumption to make under the circumstances. But there it was when I hacked into Bailey's personal computer earlier tonight: a whole file about Seabird. None other than the Deputy Commissioner of the New York Police Department, Sean Matthew Hagen. It certainly surprised me. But it makes sense when you think about it. Bailey's inside man at the NYPD, a future police commissioner. Quite a coup for him. You were the one who had Forsythe bug UN AGO headquarters, weren't you? Not Bailey. And you would have arranged my escape had I been arrested after I'd killed Mobuto. You recruited Mason to help me at the Trade Center. Who would have questioned your decision to put Mason in charge of the police support-team on the catwalk? Clever, Hagen. Very clever. And you'd have got away with it as well if I hadn't managed to access those files that Bailey had hidden away in the depths of his home computer. Fascinating reading. I've got it all on disc in case you're still thinking of trying to bluff your way out of this. Call it an insurance policy — a very expensive insurance policy.' He shook his head slowly. 'Seabird. Who would have guessed?'

  Hagen swallowed nervously and wiped the back of his hand across his clammy forehead. He tired to speak but his mouth was dry. He got to his feet and moved slowly, pathetically, to the drinks cabinet. His shoulders were hunched, his head drooping. He poured himself a stiff bourbon and gulped it down.

  'You came here tonight to kill me, didn't you? Brett failed, so did Rogers. So it was left to you. What were you going to do? Make out that you managed to disarm me then shoot me with the Smith 8c Wesson? Then, by pocketing the Desert Eagle, you could have made out that I had the Smith & Wesson all along? Am I right?'

  'You're a dead man, Bernard. Even if you do manage to get away from here, they'll find you. They won't stop looking for you.'

  '"They" being the CIA?'

  '"They" being the CIA's top assassins. You're good, Bernard, but you're not in their league.'

  'No, probably not. But I've made plans to cover for that eventuality.' Bernard got to his feet. 'Well, I think you've outstayed your welcome, Hagen. I'm sure there are some people out there who'll want some answers, starting with UNACO. I bet they're pretty pissed off with you right now.'

  Hagen hurled the empty glass at Bernard. It missed him by inches and smashed against the wall. Hagen then grabbed the bottle of bourbon and lunged at Bernard. Bernard ducked as Hagen lashed out wildly with the bottle and caught him with a vicious punch to the kidney. Hagen stumbled back against the door and the bottle fell to the floor.

  Bernard levelled the automatic at Hagen. 'Come to think of it, there would just be another cover-up, wouldn't there? Like there was today. You'd be pensioned off quietly and that would be the end of it. No, you're not going to get off that lightly. See you in hell, Hagen.'

  Bernard shot Hagen through the chest. The force of the bullet slammed him back against the wall. The blood bubbled in his mouth and ran down his chin as he slid slowly to the floor, leaving a streak on the wall above him.

  Bernard dialled the number of the telephone in the SWAT van. 'Let me speak to Colonel Philpott,' he said when it was answered.

  'This is Philpott,' came the response seconds later.

  'I take it you heard our little conversation, Colonel?'

  'Is Hagen dead?' Philpott demanded.

  Bernard looked down at the crumpled figure by the door. 'It certainly looks that way. But I wouldn't lose any sleep over it. He would have been immune from prosecution, just like me. Don't even think of doing anything silly now, Colonel, like sending in the stormtroopers. Rosie would be the first to die. Do I make myself clear?'

  'Perfectly,' Philpott hissed.

  Bernard looked at his watch. Two seventeen a.m. Still two-and-a-half hours before he was due to leave for Cuba. It would only be a matter of time before the SWAT team discovered the broken cellar door. And the door connecting the
cellar and the kitchen was only protected by a flimsy bolt. No, it wasn't safe here any more. He would have to rethink his strategy. 'Stay by the phone, Philpott. I'll call you again in a few minutes.'

  'Is Rosie — '

  Bernard cut the connection before Philpott had time to finish. He left the receiver off the hook then crossed to the sideboard and opened the bottom drawer. Inside was a second telephone, a scrambled line. He placed it on the sideboard then sat down and dialled a number he had already committed to memory. It was answered immediately.

  'It's Columbus,' Bernard said.

  'What is it?' came the suspicious reply.

  'The plans have been changed. Is the plane refuelled and ready for take-off?'

  'It's been ready since yesterday. What's happened?'

  Bernard explained the situation briefly. 'You told me you can fly anything, right?'

  'Yeah,' came the hesitant reply.

  'Helicopter?'

  'Sure. I flew them in 'Nam.'

  'I want you to get over here as fast as you can. I'll arrange to have a helicopter on standby. You can fly us to the plane then we can get out of here.'

  'Come over there? Are you crazy?'

  'Listen, Demerest, you've been well paid for your troubles — if anything, overpaid. But believe me, if I go down you're coming with me. You'll be inside for a long stretch.'

  'I want a Huey,' Demerest said after a lengthy pause. 'It's the chopper I know best.'

  Til arrange it,' Bernard replied.

  'You said there were cops there. How the hell am I supposed to get past them?'

  'What car will you be driving?'

  'A Datsun.'

  'Colour?'

  'Light blue.'

  Til see to it that you aren't stopped. When you get here, drive round to the back of the house. Park as close to the back door as you can, understood?'

  'Understood,' Demerest replied. 'If this backfires…"

  'It won't, as long as you play by my rules,' Bernard said then dropped the receiver back into its cradle.

  Philpott hung up after he'd finished talking to Bernard then looked at the others who had congregated outside the van. 'He's threatened to kill Rosie unless we get him a helicopter by three o'clock. It has to be a Huey. He was very insistent on that.'