Алистер Маклин: Time of the Assassins

‘Sure,’ Whitlock answered. ‘It’s a small country in central Africa. Borders Chad and Niger.’

‘You’re unusually well informed,’ Bailey said with thinly veiled sarcasm.

‘I am African,’ Whitlock rejoined. ‘Born in Kenya, but educated in England. That’s where I learned about Zimbala.’

‘Then you’ll also know that Zimbala has been a one-party state since it was granted independence by the French forty-five years ago.’

‘A dictatorship run by Alphonse Mobuto,’ Sabrina said.

‘Until his death last month,’ Bailey said.

‘That I didn’t know,’ Whitlock said.

‘Me neither,’ Sabrina added.

‘It’s hardly surprising. His death received very limited coverage outside Zimbala.’.

‘Who’s running the country now?’ Whitlock asked.

‘His eldest son, Jamel. He’s due to arrive in New York tonight for an official three-day visit.’

‘So where does Bernard fit into this?’ Sabrina asked exasperatedly.

‘I’m coming to that. It’s Jamel Mobuto’s intention to bring democracy to Zimbala. That’s caused a lot of resentment within certain sections of the country, especially amongst the rich who would stand to lose a great deal if Mobuto has his way. A team of four assassins, made up from the now disbanded Security Police, have vowed to kill Mobuto while he’s here in America. It’s a threat we’ve taken very seriously. I told Bernard to infiltrate the team so that he can keep us posted on their movements. He approached them with an offer to train them. Naturally they accepted, knowing how invaluable his expertise would be to them. They now trust him implicitly. He’ll tip us off when he knows where and when the hit is due to take place so that it can be stopped in time. That’s why Graham has to be found. If he gets to Bernard before we know the details of the hit it’ll leave us totally in the dark. And if Mobuto was killed on American soil it would prove a severe embarrassment not only to us but to the President as well. After all, it’s not as if we haven’t been forewarned.’

‘And I’m to babysit Mobuto?’ Whitlock concluded.

Bailey nodded. ‘You’ll work with two of my men. He’s bringing half-a-dozen bodyguards with him but they’re all amateurs, made up of officers from the Zimbalan army. If anything does happen, it’ll be up to the three of you to deal with it.’

‘You’ll be in charge,’ Kolchinsky said, looking at Whitlock.

‘The three of them will be in charge,’ Bailey corrected him.

‘C.W. will be in overall charge,’ Kolchinsky retorted. ‘It’s important to have one leader. I’ve read the files on your men. They may be the best bullet catchers you’ve got but they don’t have C.W.’s experience. And if you want to take the matter further I suggest you call the President. The Secretary-General spoke to him earlier today and he agreed that C.W. should be in charge.’

‘I’ll tell my men,’ Bailey said tersely.

‘I’ll be in touch so that we can arrange for C.W. to meet your men before Mobuto arrives tonight,’ Kolchinsky said then picked up the transmitter on the desk and activated the door.

Bailey left the room and Kolchinsky closed the door behind him.

‘What a slime ball,’ Sabrina said, staring at the closed door.

Kolchinsky smiled. ‘He could have been sitting here instead of me.’

‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

‘You never knew my predecessor, Gronskin, did you?’

She shook her head. ‘He was before my time.’

‘Well, when he was deported back to Russia for spying the CIA suggested Bailey as a possible replacement to take over as the Colonel’s number two. The KGB put my name forward. The Secretary-General initially wanted Bailey, which I suppose was understandable under the circumstances, but the Colonel threatened to resign if Bailey got the job. As Bailey said, the two of them never saw eye to eye. It would have been catastrophic if Bailey had come here. So I got the job instead.’

‘I never knew that,’ Whitlock said.

‘I’m sure glad the Colonel put his foot down,’ Sabrina said, glancing at the door again.

Whitlock stood up and dug his hands into his pockets. He crossed to the far wall then turned to look at Kolchinsky. ‘I was at university with Jamel Mobuto.’

‘Why didn’t you say something when Bailey was here?’

‘Because we didn’t get on,’ Whitlock replied.

‘Why not?’ Kolchinsky asked.

Whitlock sighed deeply then returned to the sofa and sat down. ‘He’d never set foot outside Zimbala before he came to Oxford. It must have been a bit of a culture shock for him. But instead of trying to adapt to the British way of life he rebelled against it and reverted to his African heritage. He wore African clothes, his room was an African shrine and he made no attempt to befriend any of the British students. He became a pariah although he did have an avid following amongst some of the more radical left-wing students who regarded him as something of a guru.’

‘Was he a Communist?’ Kolchinsky asked.

‘No, strangely enough. He was just very pro-African and Africa’s particular way of life. He had a younger brother who went to Oxford as well and he did become a Communist. But that was after I’d gone. I don’t know anything about him.’

‘His name’s Remy,’ Kolchinsky said and tapped the dossier on the desk. ‘It’s all in here. You’ll both get copies of it.’

‘You still haven’t said why you and Mobuto didn’t get on,’ Sabrina said,

‘I was born in Kenya but educated in England. To him, I was little more than a traitor. I’d sold out my race. And let’s face it, I am more British than I am Kenyan. That’s what he couldn’t accept. So we just kept out of each other’s way.’

‘Why did he stay if he hated it so much?’ Sabrina asked.

‘Because his father had sent him. If he’d gone back to Zimbala it would have brought disgrace on the family. Africans take failure far more seriously than you do here in the West.’ Whitlock dismissed the subject with a curt flick of his hand. ‘Anyway, that was a long time ago. I certainly don’t hold any grudges now.’

‘Let’s hope Mobuto feels the same way,’ Kolchinsky said.

‘Does he know I’m going to be babysitting him when he gets to New York?’

Kolchinsky nodded. ‘Bailey’s already briefed him on the telephone but he won’t know you’re in charge of the operation until he gets here. You’ll have to break that to him yourself.’

‘I look forward to it,’ Whitlock said with a faint smile.

Kolchinsky handed them each a dossier which contained details of their particular assignment (to be destroyed after reading) and, in Sabrina’s case, an airline ticket, maps of Beirut, written confirmation of her hotel booking, the name of her contact and a sum of money in Lebanese pounds.

She glanced at her watch and immediately got to her feet. ‘My flight leaves at four thirty this afternoon,’ she said. ‘I’d better get going. Send the Colonel my best wishes when you see him again, Sergei.’

‘I will,’ Kolchinsky replied and activated the door for her. ‘And Sabrina?’

She paused in the doorway to look round at him.

‘Bring Michael back before he gets himself into any more trouble.’

She nodded grimly then left the room.

Kolchinsky closed the door again. ‘The Colonel might not be coming back. The Secretary-General’s waiting for the doctor’s report before coming to a decision.’

‘He was due to retire at the end of the year anyway. Perhaps it’s for the best if he did take an early retirement.’

‘Try telling that to the Colonel. It’s not as if he’s taking voluntary retirement. It’s been forced on him by his doctor. So you can be sure he’ll want to see out his time here, if only to prove a point to his doctor.’