Алистер Маклин - Time of the Assassins

She called headquarters from a phone booth, spoke briefly to Sarah, then hurried to the curb to signal a taxi to take her back to her flat.

‘Afternoon, François.’

The maître d'hôtel looked up from his reservation book and smiled warmly. ‘Ah, good afternoon, Mr Whitlock. You are looking well.’

‘I am, thank you. Has my wife arrived yet?’

‘Not yet,’ François replied.

‘I’ll be in the bar. Tell her when she arrives.’

‘Of course,’ came the cordial reply.

Whitlock had been going to Le Chantilly restaurant on East 57th Street since he had first arrived in New York in 1980. It was where he had taken a vivacious Puerto Rican paediatrician, Carmen Rodriguez, on their first date. A year later to the day he had proposed to her at the same table. They had been married now for seven years.

He hoisted himself onto one of the bar stools and nodded in greeting to the barman who was busy serving another customer. The barman smiled back and told Whitlock he would be with him shortly.

Whitlock was a forty-four-year-old Kenyan with sharp, angular features softened by the neatly trimmed black moustache he had worn since leaving university in his early twenties. He was photophobic and always wore a pair of tinted glasses to protect his eyes. He had been educated in England and after graduating from Oxford had returned to Kenya where he served with the Intelligence Corps for ten years before being recruited to UNACO as one of its first field operatives. He was now the only survivor of the original team.

‘What can I get you to drink, Mr Whitlock?’ the barman asked, leaning his hands on the counter in front of Whitlock.

‘The usual, Rick,’ Whitlock replied.

The barman nodded, took a bottle of beer from the fridge and opened it. He poured the beer into a glass and placed it on a coaster in front of Whitlock.

‘How are things in the world of politics, Mr Whitlock?’ he asked, referring to Whitlock’s cover as a member of the Kenyan embassy at the United Nations. Carmen was the only person outside UNACO who knew about the deception.

‘The usual, Rick.’

The barman, sensing Whitlock wasn’t in a talkative mood, left him alone. Whitlock took a sip of beer then glanced over his shoulder at the entrance. Still no sign of Carmen. He turned the glass slowly on the coaster as he thought about her. Their marriage had nearly ended a few months back. Well, that was when it had all come to a head. But it had been simmering for a couple of years before that. It all stemmed from her desire for him to leave UNACO. She was frightened for his safety. But he had been adamant: he was staying. She had finally walked out on him and it had only been the intervention of Philpott that had brought them back together again. He had told them that Whitlock would be promoted to Deputy Director when he retired at the end of the year. Kolchinsky would take over as Director.

Then, after a year, Kolchinsky would step down and Whitlock would take his place. Other than the four of them, and the Secretary-General, tire only other person who knew about it was Jacques Rust, head of UNACO European operation, based in Zürich. Carmen had then thrown her full support behind him, knowing he would be out of the field by the end of the year. Whitlock knew he would miss working in the field, especially with Mike and Sabrina, but he also knew it would be a small price to pay to keep his marriage intact. And that meant everything to him…

‘C.W.?’

Whitlock looked round sharply, startled by the voice behind him. He grinned ruefully at his wife then kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘How long have you been standing there?’

‘A few seconds,’ she replied, allowing him to help her onto the adjacent bar stool.

‘I’m sorry, I was miles away.’

‘So I noticed.’ She ordered a spritzer then turned back to him, her face solemn. ‘I’ve got some bad news. Rosie was arrested last night.’

Whitlock stared at her in horror. Rosie was the teenage daughter of Carmen’s sister, Rachel, and her German husband, Eddie Kruger.

The barman placed the spritzer in front of her. She waited until he was out of earshot before continuing.

‘She was caught buying drugs in Times Square. I don’t know what it was, Rachel didn’t say.’

Whitlock sighed deeply and shook his head sadly. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be that surprised.’

‘And what exactly is that supposed to mean?’ she demanded.

‘Come off it, Carmen, you know damn well what I’m talking about. They’ve hardly been the best parents in the world, have they? Rachel had that affair with her boss and Eddie’s drinking has been getting steadily worse these last couple of years–’

‘She had that affair as an escape from Eddie’s drinking,’ Carmen cut in quickly.

‘That’s irrelevant. Look at it from Rosie’s perspective. Can’t you see? This is her way of escaping from them.’

‘Will you talk to her?’

He shook his head. ‘No, it’s up to Eddie and Rachel to talk to her.’

‘Rachel asked if you would.’

‘Where’s Eddie?’

‘He went to an all-night poker game last night. She hasn’t seen him since.’

‘Some father,’ Whitlock muttered.

‘Talk to her, C.W. You’re the only person she’s ever listened to in the past.’

‘I’m not using UNACO to pull any strings, Carmen. Let’s get that straight right from the start.’

‘Just talk to her,’ she replied softly. ‘Please.’

‘OK,’ he replied at length. ‘Where is she?’

‘At home. Rachel put up the bail–’

The bleeper clipped to Whitlock’s belt suddenly activated and he was quick to silence it. He shot Carmen a despairing look. ‘This is all I need right now. I have to answer it, Carmen.’

‘I know,’ she replied and squeezed his hand gently.

‘I will talk to her, I promise you. But when I don’t know. It all depends on what’s come up,’ he said, patting the bleeper.

‘Would you like to use this phone, Mr Whitlock?’ the barman asked, having heard the bleeper from the other side of the bar.

‘No, but thanks anyway, Rick,’ Whitlock replied then turned back to Carmen. ‘I’ve suddenly lost my appetite.’

‘I lost mine when I heard about Rosie,’ Carmen replied.

‘Come on then, let’s go.’

Sarah Thomas had been Philpott’s secretary for the last five years. Her sparsely furnished office on the twenty-second floor of the United Nations building was an antechamber to the UNACO headquarters.

The wall opposite the door, constructed of rows of teak slats, contained two seamless sliding doors, invisible to the naked eye, which could only be activated by miniature sonic transmitters. The door to the right led into the UNACO Command Centre, a soundproofed room where teams of analysts worked around the clock to monitor the fluctuating developments in world affairs. The door to the left led into Philpott’s private office.

Kolchinsky sat behind Philpott’s desk, his eyes riveted on Whitlock and Sabrina. He had just broken the news to them about Philpott.

‘Will he be alright?’ Sabrina asked anxiously, breaking the sudden silence.

‘I spoke to the doctor before I left the hospital. He’s optimistic that the Colonel will make a complete recovery. They’re keeping him in hospital for another few days to carry out more tests.’

‘Unless he discharges himself first,’ Whitlock said and eyed Kolchinsky knowingly. ‘He’ll want to be back at work as soon as possible. You know the Colonel.’

‘I’ve already been in touch with the Secretary-General. He’s going to see the Colonel tonight to tell him to take a month’s leave after he’s been discharged from hospital.’

‘I wish him luck,’ Whitlock said. ‘You know just how stubborn the Colonel can be when he wants to get his own way.’