Алистер Маклин - Time of the Assassins

‘Whose bed?’ Cummings asked, looking from Bernard to Rosie.

‘You bastard!’ Rosie snarled. ‘Marc’s never touched me.’

‘Cool it, Rosie,’ Bernard said, holding up his hands.

‘Did Mr Doyle come round this morning?’ Deacon asked Rosie.

She nodded. ‘He had this thing about Marc. He didn’t trust him. He wanted me to leave the apartment. I told him to go away. Marc’s been fantastic to me ever since I came here.’

‘And did he go away?’ Cummings asked.

‘Yes.’

‘Did he return?’ Cummings continued.

‘I don’t know. I left soon after him and I only got back a few minutes ago.’

‘Did you see him?’ Deacon asked Bernard.

‘I’ve been out all day, officer,’ Bernard replied. ‘I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful but I only met him once, and that was at the Rollercoaster where he worked.’

‘Have you tried the Rollercoaster?’

‘We’ve tried all his usual haunts, Miss Kruger. He just seems to have vanished. And that’s very unlike him, according to his friends.’

‘That’s true,’ Rosie said. ‘Kenny loves company. I’ve never known him to be alone.’

‘You say he didn’t trust Mr Giresse,’ Cummings said. ‘Why?’

‘Kenny was very protective towards me. He was like a big brother. He was always wary of any new friends I made, especially if they were men. I don’t know why he didn’t trust Marc. He just kept saying that there was something about him that wasn’t right.’

‘You’d both better come down to the precinct with us,’ Deacon said.

‘Are you booking us?’ Bernard demanded.

‘No,’ Deacon replied. ‘We’d like to question you further.’

‘It’s OK,’ Bernard said to Rosie. ‘As I said, there’s sure to be a logical explanation to all this. Get your coat.’

‘I don’t have one with me,’ she replied.

‘Use mine,’ Bernard said, gesturing towards the chair. He turned to Deacon. ‘Can I get a jacket from the bedroom?’

Deacon nodded then followed Bernard into the bedroom. He stood by the door. Bernard opened the wardrobe and unhooked the grey jacket then slipped his hand under the pile of shirts and curled his fingers around the Desert Eagle. It still had the silencer attached. His first thought was to shoot Deacon on the turn, but that would alert Cummings. He had to get them together. He removed the automatic from under the bottom shirt and slipped the jacket over his hand to hide it. He closed the wardrobe then walked across to Deacon. Cummings was now in sight, standing by the front door. But Rosie was in the way of a clear shot. He cursed. What if Cummings opened the door before Rosie moved? Any gunplay outside the flat would certainly compromise his cover. His mind was still racing when Cummings reached for the handle. Bernard had to play his hand, even if Rosie were caught in the crossfire. Keeping his cover intact far outweighed her usefulness as a hostage. He raised the gun underneath the jacket and shot Deacon through the head. Rosie screamed as Deacon stumbled back against the wall before slumping face forward onto the carpet. Cummings instinctively pushed her aside and was still reaching for his holstered Colt Python when Bernard shot him. He was slammed back against the door and the surprise was still mirrored in his eyes when he slid, lifelessly, to the floor. Bernard discarded the jacket and aimed the automatic at Rosie who was crouched against the wall, her hands clutched together tightly under her chin. She looked up slowly at him, the terror plain on her face.

‘Please, don’t kill me,’ she whimpered, shaking her head slowly.

‘I’m not going to kill you. You’re too valuable to me.’

Bernard kept the gun trained on her as he checked to see that both policemen were dead. Satisfied, he ordered her to stand up. She slowly got to her feet, petrified.

‘You should have listened to your friend Kenny, shouldn’t you?’

‘What have you done to him?’ she asked, already fearing the worst.

‘He came back to the flat after you had gone. I think he fancied himself as a bit of a detective. But he was in way over his head. Pity, he meant well.’

‘You killed him, didn’t you?’

‘Yeah,’ he replied with an indifferent shrug.

She fought back the tears. Why hadn’t she listened to Kenny? He had been right all along. She had been living in a fantasy world. And now suddenly she had been pitched headlong into the world of reality. She desperately wanted to crawl back into her old world where she knew she would be safe. But she knew that couldn’t happen. Never again. Then came the damning realization that she had been partly responsible for Kenny’s death. If she had listened to him he would still be alive. And in that moment of truth her fear turned to anger. She lunged at Bernard, almost wishing he would pull the trigger. He sidestepped her clawing hands and she saw the gun out of the corner of her eye as he swung it down onto the back of her head. Then everything went black.

Sabrina gazed up at the myriad stars that speckled the night sky like a panoply of diamonds on a velvet background and could almost believe there was a heaven. What else could lie beyond such beauty? Although she had been raised a Catholic she had never really considered herself very religious and now only attended mass once a year with her parents at Christmas, and that was only to appease them. She smiled to herself. Why did the subject of religion always seem to crop up when she was on assignment?

A subconscious attempt to avoid eternal perdition? She pushed the thought from her mind and concentrated instead on their plans.

It had been decided that the five of them would travel to Kondese alone. Tambese had told them that any attempt to take reinforcements would only alert the rebels. Sabrina had spoken privately to Graham about the decision to take Moredi and Laidlaw with them. Moredi knew the layout of Branco prison, having once been a prisoner there, and Laidlaw’s speciality at Delta had been his ability to plan the best way in, or out, of a compound. Both would be invaluable but neither would be part of the assault team.

Satisfied, Sabrina had let the matter drop.

Tambese had then collected an assortment of weaponry from the barracks before chartering a Cessna from a private firm in the city. Not only would it be quicker by air, they would also avoid the rebel roadblocks which had been set up on all the approach roads into Kondese. Moredi had arranged for them to land at a farm on the outskirts of Kondese which belonged to Matthew Okoye, a personal friend of the Mobutos. He was one of the wealthiest businessmen in the country and Ngune had wisely given strict instructions for him to be left alone when the rebels had set up camp in and around Kondese. He knew the value of keeping on the right side of the likes of Okoye. They were the future of Zimbala, irrespective of who was in power.

It had taken them a little over an hour to reach the private airstrip and after Tambese had landed the Cessna they were driven to the farm. Okoye and his wife had discreetly withdrawn after dinner, leaving them in the spacious lounge to discuss the operation. But there wasn’t anything they could do until the plans of the prison compound were delivered to the farm. So Sabrina had gone out onto the porch for a breath of fresh air.

The door opened behind her.

She looked round and smiled at Graham when he emerged onto the porch. ‘It’s so peaceful out here. Look at the sky – not a cloud in sight, just stars as far as the eye can see. And you can even make out the lights of Kondese in the distance. Isn’t it beautiful?’

‘Yeah. It’s at times like this that you can see where Keats got his inspiration for “The Secret Rose”, or Hopkins for “The Starlight Night”.’