Алистер Маклин - Dead Halt

“I’ll have the cars brought round to the front of the house for you,” Graham said to Scoby. “Sabrina will call the anti-terrorist squad and let them know we’re on our way back to the hotel. The last thing you need is a foyer full of reporters to deal with when we arrive there.”

“Well, we’ll leave you to it,” Scoby said, escorting his wife back to the house.

Graham and Sabrina followed discreetly behind them.

Cross and Johnstone, two of the anti-terrorist squad detectives on duty at the hotel that night, hurried over to the first of the two black Mercedes as it drew up in front of the hotel. Inside were Jack and Melissa Scoby. Ray Tillman was in the second car. The passenger door of the lead car swung open and Graham jumped out. He looked around him quickly. To his right was the usual circus of Press photographers jostling amongst themselves for the best vantage points to catch Scoby on film as he exited the car. To his left were a small group of about a dozen anti-American protesters. Most of them carried placards denouncing American foreign policy in Central America. They were penned in behind a police cordon which was being marshaled by five uniformed officers. Sabrina got out of the second car and crossed to where Graham was standing. Graham nodded to Cross who then opened the back door. The flashlights popped incessantly as Scoby got out of the car. He waved in the general direction of the photographers then offered his hand to his wife as she climbed out after him.

A movement caught Graham’s eye as he turned to usher the Scobys into the hotel. A young woman, dressed in a pair of jeans and an army flak jacket, broke through the police cordon and ran toward the car. Sabrina was still closing in on her when she hurled an egg in the direction of the first car. A cheer went up from the protesters as it splattered against the windscreen. Sabrina took the woman’s legs from underneath her then reached down and twisted her arm savagely behind her back. The woman screamed abuse as she struggled to break free from Sabrina’s viselike grip. Two uniformed policemen quickly intervened and hauled the woman to her feet. She was immediately handcuffed and dragged off toward a waiting panda car.

“Are you all right, sir?” Graham asked Scoby after they had reached the safety of the foyer.

“Yes,” Scoby replied brusquely. He glared at the protesters who had now turned their anger on the departing panda car. “It’s the same old story, isn’t it? Students and welfare junkies who think they can change the world with their outmoded brand of socialism. Look at them. A bunch of pseudo-commies and pinkos. What the hell do they know anyway?”

Graham eyed Scoby warily. It was like listening to “Hawk” Walsh all over again. But the difference was Jack Scoby was destined to reach the White House one day …

Tillman grabbed Graham’s arm, interrupting his thoughts. “Why was that protester allowed to get so close to the senator? What if that had been a grenade instead of an egg?”

“Then we’d all be dead, wouldn’t we?” Graham replied, easing his arm from Tillman’s grasp.

“Now you listen–”

“Ray, that’s enough,” Scoby hissed under his breath. “We can discuss this further in the morning. But right now we’ve still got a lot of work to get through before either one of us can get any sleep. So the sooner it’s done, the sooner we can go to bed.”

Tillman said nothing as he followed Jack and Melissa Scoby to the lift. Graham glanced over his shoulder. The flashlights were still popping furiously outside the hotel. Again the security had been wanting. Another embarrassment for UNACO. But he was only too well aware that it could have been much worse …

“I’m sure glad that’s over,” Graham said after they had seen the Scobys safely back to their suite. “I don’t know how much more I could have taken at the ambassador’s house.”

“Oh come on, it wasn’t that bad,” Sabrina replied as they walked toward the lift.

“You would say that, you grew up in that environment.” Graham loosened his bow tie and opened the top button of his shirt. “Your father must have thrown hundreds of dinner parties like that.”

“Sure,” Sabrina agreed, pressing the button for the lift. “But that doesn’t mean I went to any of them. I was only a kid at the time. In fact, I wasn’t invited to my first embassy party until after I’d left the Sorbonne.”

“The point is, that it’s your crowd, not mine.”

“No, it’s not my crowd,” she shot back indignantly, falling suddenly silent as the lift doors opened onto an elderly couple. She smiled politely at them as she stepped into the lift and didn’t speak again until they alighted on their floor. “You’ve always had the preconception of me being this poor little rich girl who spends all her leisure time mixing with New York’s rich and famous. I don’t deny I enjoy the occasional glitzy party, but, believe it or not, I’m much more at home in a pair of jeans and a sweater at a smoke-filled jazz club than I am in an expensive designer dress at some swanky nightclub. I only wish I could make you understand that.”

“Be that as it may, you’re still more at ease with a bunch of politicians than I am.”

“I’m more at ease with most people than you are,” she replied with a half-smile. She paused outside her room. “Fancy a nightcap?”

“Yeah, OK,” came the indifferent reply.

“Are you sure you can spare the enthusiasm?” she said, opening the door to her room. “You know where the drinks are. I’ll have a diet Coke.”

“Where are you going?”

“To change out of this,” she replied, indicating her evening dress. “I’ve felt uncomfortable in it all night.”

“You’re still smarting because C.W. wouldn’t let you buy a new dress for tonight, aren’t you?”

“I don’t like hiring clothes, that’s all. It’s gross. I don’t know who’s worn this before me.” She shuddered at the thought then disappeared into the bathroom.

Graham took a diet Coke and a Perrier water from the mini-bar then noticed the red light flashing on the telephone. “There’s a message for you at reception,” he called through the bathroom door.

“Ring down and get it for me, will you?” she replied.

When she re-emerged from the bathroom she was wearing a white towelling robe. “Who was it from?”

“C.W.,” Graham replied, pouring the diet Coke into a glass and handing it to her. “He doesn’t know when he’ll get back to the hotel tonight. We’re not to wait up for him.”

“I didn’t know we were expected to,” she replied, sitting on the bed.

“Well now it’s official.” Graham sat down. He turned the bottle around slowly in his hands then looked across at her. “I guess I owe you an apology.”

“For what?” she replied, suddenly intrigued. It wasn’t often Mike Graham admitted he was wrong.

“I spoke to Melissa Scoby tonight.” He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “You were right, she did have the scope on me. And I didn’t believe you. But then I guess you know more about these things than I do.”

“Gee thanks, Mike,” came the bemused reply.

“You know I don’t mean it like that.” He frowned at her. “Was it really that obvious?”

“It was to me. I could hear it in her voice and in the way she kept glancing in your direction. Why do you think she took such an instant dislike to me when we were first introduced? Because she knew I’d seen through her. And that worried her.”

“You could hear it in her voice? And in the way she kept looking at me? You’re way ahead of me here, Sabrina.” Graham stared disconsolately at the bottle in his hand. “And I didn’t notice a damn thing.”