Алистер Маклин - Red Alert

Kolchinsky finished his coffee, then looked at Paluzzi. ‘Is there anything else?’

‘No, I don’t think so,’ Paluzzi replied, scanning the reports. ‘There’s been no change in Paolo Conte’s condition. I’ll be told the moment he regains consciousness.’

‘And you contact me,’ Kolchinsky told him. ‘I don’t care what time it is.’

‘That goes without saying,’ Paluzzi assured him, then stood up and stifled a yawn. ‘I’d better be on my way. My wife hasn’t seen me for days.’ He looked down at Kolchinsky. ‘I’ll have a full report for you on the Pisani murder first thing in the morning.’

‘I’d appreciate that.’

Paluzzi said good night and left the room.

‘I’ve still got some paperwork to complete before I turn in,’ Kolchinsky announced. He crossed to the door and paused to look back at Sabrina. ‘I meant what I said about you and Michael.’

‘I’ll talk to him, Sergei, I said I would,’ she replied with a hint of irritation in her voice.

Kolchinsky disappeared out into the corridor, closing the door behind him. Sabrina waited until she was sure he had gone, then collected the photocopy from the bed and went to Graham’s room at the far end of the corridor. She knocked. No reply. She knocked harder. Still no reply.

She cursed softly to herself. Where was he?

‘Looking for me?’

She spun round, startled by Graham’s voice, then let out a deep sigh and clasped her hand to her chest.

‘God, you gave me a fright. Where did you come from?’

He indicated the stairs beside the lift, then turned back to her.

‘Sergei sent you, didn’t he?’

‘I’d have come anyway. We need to talk.’

He unlocked the door, switched on the light, then removed a cigar humidor from his suitcase and opened it to reveal a 6405 Surveillance System, standard issue for all UNACO field operatives, and used it to check that his room hadn’t been bugged in his absence. The room was clean. He replaced the humidor in his suitcase, then took a bottle of Perrier water from the fridge and opened it.

‘You want something to drink?’

‘No thanks, I’ve just had coffee.’ She sat in one of the armchairs by the window.

‘What’s that?’ he asked, pointing to the paper in her hand.

She gave it to him then updated him on the points made by Paluzzi after Graham had left. He listened carefully, then put the photocopy on the bedside table to read later in more detail.

‘I didn’t mean to upset you earlier,’ she said. ‘I just felt it needed to be said.’

She tensed herself for the rebuke. It was always the same when someone tried to raise the subject of his family. He would only talk about them on his terms. It was a deep, personal grief and he had never let anyone past the barriers he had built around himself since the tragedy.

‘You’re probably right,’ he muttered at length, his hands clenched tightly around the bottle.

His reply caught her off-guard. He looked up slowly at her. The cynicism had gone from his eyes, and he suddenly looked vulnerable. It was a side of him she had never seen before. She said nothing. It was up to him to break the silence. On his terms.

‘What you said in your room hurt me,’ he said softly, his eyes never leaving her face. ‘That’s why I stormed out. I needed to go for a walk and clear my head. My anger was initially aimed at you. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was angry with myself. You’re the only person who’s ever tried to help me overcome the grief, or perhaps I should call it bitterness, that’s built up inside me since I lost Carrie and Mikey. Everyone else tiptoes around it as if it doesn’t exist. And I’ve always resented you for it. That’s why I’ve knocked you whenever I could. It was my way of getting back at you. You hurt me, I hurt you. Pretty pathetic when you think about it. Some partner I’ve turned out to be.’

Sabrina still said nothing, but her face showed her sympathetic concern.

‘There’s something I want to tell you. It might give you a better understanding of what’s going on up here,’ he said, tapping his head. ‘I’ve never told this to anybody before. Not even my mother. And I’m closer to her than I am to anyone.’ He placed the bottle on the carpet between his feet and ran his fingers through his hair, struggling to marshal his thoughts. He finally looked up at her. ‘I was going to resign my post at Delta after I got back from Libya.’

‘Did Carrie know?’ Sabrina asked softly.

He shook his head.

‘She found out she was pregnant two days before I left for Libya. That’s when I made my decision to quit, but the crisis was already brewing in Libya and I didn’t get a chance to do anything about it. We were going to throw a party when I got back to announce her pregnancy to our family and friends. I thought that would be the perfect time to tell her.’ He smiled sadly. ‘You can’t imagine how happy that would have made her.’

‘But would you have been happy?’ she asked.

‘It wasn’t a decision I took lightly, believe me. And I wouldn’t have done it unless I was absolutely certain in my own mind that it was the right thing to do. At the time I thought it was.’ He picked up the bottle and turned it around slowly in his hands. ‘Without sounding vain, I could have walked into any number of jobs. Instructor, supervisor, consultant. And none of them would have been desk jobs. I would have been still in the field and I would have had my family around me. It’s exactly what Carrie would have wanted.’ His gaze moved around the room. ‘You can’t imagine how I felt when I heard about the kidnapping. I was gutted. My first reaction was to call off the mission. That way I would have been reunited with Carrie and Mikey when I got back home. At least in theory. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I just couldn’t do it. It would have been the coward’s way out. How could I have ever looked them in the face again? There was only one decision I could take. Maybe now you can appreciate the hell I’ve been going through these past fourteen months.’

‘I think I can,’ she said quietly.

He stood up.

‘We’ve got a big day ahead of us tomorrow. I’m going to have a bath, then get some sleep. Who knows what time we’ll be woken in the morning.’

‘Thanks for talking to me, Mike.’

‘Sure,’ he muttered.

She hugged him to her, then quickly left the room.

Wednesday

The telephone rang.

Kolchinsky rolled over in bed and reached out a hand to feel for the receiver. He knocked his watch and cigarettes off the bedside table, then, opening one eye, he saw that the telephone was still a foot away from his outstretched fingers. He struggled to sit up in bed and lifted the receiver to his ear.

‘Sergei?’

‘Speaking,’ Kolchinsky replied, then reached down to pick up his cigarettes and watch from the floor. He squinted at the time. 7.04 a.m. He yawned.

‘It’s Fabio. Paolo Conte’s regained consciousness.’

Kolchinsky lit a cigarette, then dropped the packet on the table.

‘Have any of your men had a chance to speak to him?’

‘Not yet. I’m on my way to the hospital now.’

‘I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes,’ Kolchinsky said, then put his hand over the mouthpiece and coughed violently.

‘Are you all right?’ Paluzzi asked.

‘Fine,’ Kolchinsky said, eyeing the cigarette with distaste. ‘I’ll tell the others.’ ‘What about Calvieri?’ He’ll have to be told,’ Kolchinsky said.

‘I’ll leave that to you. See you at the hospital in thirty minutes.’

Kolchinsky replaced the receiver, then took another drag on the cigarette. Why did he persist in smoking? It wasn’t as if he even enjoyed it any more. It had just become a costly, addictive habit. He stubbed out the cigarette, then called Graham and Sabrina in their rooms. He then rang Calvieri’s room. No reply. He dialled the number Calvieri had given to him the previous evening. It was answered immediately.