Алистер Маклин - Time of the Assassins

‘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.