Time of the Assassins (21 page)

'That's fine. I only need him to watch the girl while -I'm at the Trade Center.'
The line went dead.
Bailey sat thoughtfully in his study after he had replaced the receiver then reached for the bourbon beside him and took a sip. It was just as well he had
already arranged to have Bernard eliminated after Mobuto's death. A babysitter indeed! He glanced at his watch. Seven forty-five. Brett would already be at the hotel, having relieved Rogers at six that evening. He found the number of the United Nations Plaza and, when he got through, asked the switchboard operator to connect him to the room which had been specially set aside for the presidential bodyguards. It was answered by Brett.
'It's Bailey, can you talk?'
'No,' came the quick reply.
'Can you get to another phone and call me back?'
'Sure,' Brett replied.
Til be waiting,' Bailey said then replaced the receiver and drank down the remainder of the Scotch.
Brett called back five minutes later.
'What time does Rogers relieve you?' Bailey asked.
'Eight tomorrow morning,' Brett answered.
'Right. When he gets there I want you to go straight from the hotel to the safe house off the Garden State Parkway. You know the one I mean?'
'I should do, sir; I helped to lay the traps.'
'Bernard's there.'
'But I thought he was staying at the apartment in Murray Hill?' Brett replied.
'He was until he shot two policemen there.'
'Sweet Jesus, how did that happen?'
Til brief you tomorrow. All you have to worry about at the moment is getting to the safe house in the morning.'
Til be there, sir.'
'He's holding Whitlock's niece as a form of insurance in case anything should go wrong at the Trade Center tomorrow. He wants you there to keep an eye on her while he's away.'
'Insurance? It sounds like he's cracking, sir.'
'No, he's just being shrewd, like he always is. Do as he says then kill him when he returns to the house, irrespective of what's happened at the Trade Center. We won't be able to use him again after tomorrow anyway. But be careful. He's smart. He's sure to suspect we'll go after him once this is over.'
'And the girl?'
'She's a witness, isn't she? But she mustn't be harmed until you've killed him. As I said, he's smart. He's quite likely to have devised a method of approaching the house unseen. And if he sees she's dead, he'll pull out. Then we'll have lost him.'
'I understand, sir.'
'Good. How's my favourite President?'
'He's in a meeting with his colleagues from the embassy. They've been locked away in his suite for the last three hours. God knows what they're discussing.'
'It doesn't really matter, does it? By this time tomorrow he'll be dead.'
Brett chuckled. 'Yes, sir, he will.'
Bailey smiled to himself then replaced the receiver. He left the study, secured the door behind him, then went downstairs to join his wife and children in the lounge.
Kolchinsky rubbed his eyes wearily then opened another of the files that had been left on Philpott's desk for him. It was one of half a dozen in front of him, each
containing an update on one of the UN AGO Strike Force teams currently on assignment. They were compiled by duty analysts in the Command Centre. He read the first two paragraphs of the report then stifled a yawn and got to his feet. He wasn't taking any of it in. He needed a break. Pouring himself a coffee from the dispenser behind him, he moved to the nearest of the black sofas and sat down. He lit a cigarette and was about to reach for his coffee when the interleading door between the office and the Command Centre slid open and an analyst entered carrying a folder.
'Not another update, Hans?' Kolchinsky said with a resigned sigh.
'No, we've matched the prints taken from the newspaper you brought in earlier.' Hans held the folder out towards Kolchinsky. 'I think you'd better take a look for yourself, sir.'
Kolchinsky took the folder and opened it. Inside was a print-out of the computer file corresponding to the prints. The name was typed in capital letters across the top of the page: JEAN-JACQUES BERNARD. He closed the folder and placed it on the table.
'Is there anything else, sir?'
'No, thank you, Hans,' Kolchinsky replied.
Hans returned to the Command Centre, activating the door behind him. Kolchinsky looked at the folder again. He knew he should be surprised but he wasn't. He couldn't explain the feeling. It was almost as if he had expected something like this, sub-consciously. Had he? He glanced across at the telephone on Philpott's desk. Whitlock had asked him to call with
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any news on the fingerprints. But what good would it do waking Whitlock with that kind of news? He wouldn't get to sleep again. And it wasn't as if either of them could do anything about it. No, he'd tell Whitlock about it in the morning. He reached for the folder and inadvertently knocked the cup off the table, spilling coffee onto the carpet. He cursed angrily but when he bent down to retrieve the cup he noticed something attached to the underside of the table. At first he thought it was a spider or even a piece of gum but when he got closer he realized it was a microphone no bigger than a man's coat button. It had two prongs on the back which had been used to secure it to the wood. He made no attempt to remove it. No, that would only alert the person who had planted it there. And there was only one man who could have done it, Dave Forsythe, whose job it had been for the last year to check the Command Centre, Philpott's office and Sarah's office for bugs when he came on duty every morning. He was one of the senior electronic experts in the organization.
Kolchinsky could hardly believe it, but the proof was there. And how long had it been there? How long had the organization been compromized? He got to his feet and picked up the folders. He'd read the rest of them at home. At least there he wouldn't feel betrayed. He used the sonic transmitter to activate the door, switched off the light in Philpott's office, then closed the door behind him.

TEN

Tambese's arms ached and he was sweating profusely. But at least the goggles stopped the sweat from seeping into his eyes. That would have made the situation even more unbearable. Apart from the goggles, he was also wearing a pair of thick, insulated gloves and the blowpipe in his right hand was attached to the two oxyacetylene tanks strapped to his back. He was anchored to the wall-mounted ladder underneath the manhole cover by the rope which had been looped through his belt and secured to the sides of the ladder. Although uncomfortable, it left his hands free, and that was essential for the job he was doing.
Using the blueprint taken from the city hall, it had taken them almost seventy minutes to negotiate their way through the labyrinth of sewer tunnels to finally reach the manhole that led up directly into the prison grounds. They had decided to go in around two thirty that morning. That had left them a good two hours to devise the best method of cutting through the cover without alerting either the guards manning the watchtowers or their colleagues sleeping in the building which stood only a few yards away from the manhole.
They had found out from the blueprint that the
manhole cover was protected by a time lock which they had to assume was regulated from the control room inside the prison compound so that it would be impossible to cut through it without triggering some sort of alarm. That meant they would have to cut a section from within the framework of the cover itself. They knew the guards couldn't see the manhole from the watchtower. Furthermore, it faced onto a windowless wall so the flame wouldn't be the problem. It would be the noise. That had narrowed their options considerably.
It was Graham who had come up with the most viable solution. The cover would have to be removed in segments. That way it would only need one person on the ladder. Tambese had insisted on doing the job. If, by chance, the flame was seen, he would be challenged, giving them time to flee. It was, after all, his friend they were going to spring from jail. Graham had suggested they take it in turns on the ladder but Tambese had refused to back down. They had done more than enough already to help him. He would do it alone.
Tambese shook the sweat from his face and glanced down at Graham and Sabrina who were sitting on the ledge with their backs to him to protect their eyes from the brilliant flame. They each had their Uzis in their laps. He had been tempted to take up Graham's offer of help several times in the past twenty-five minutes but now that he was on the last of the six sections he was just glad it was nearly over. He used his free hand to hold the metal as he cut through the last few inches, then, as it came away in his hand, he reached through
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the opening and placed the segment with the others that lay in a circle around the manhole.
He switched off the blowpipe then called out softly to Graham who immediately got to his feet and untied the rope from the ladder. Tambese climbed down to the ledge and gratefully unloaded the tanks from his back. He put the apparatus in the holdall and tossed the goggles and gloves in after it. Graham used the canister of carbon dioxide to cool the rim of the cover then replaced it in the holdall. He waited until Tambese and Sabrina had climbed out of the sewer before passing the holdall up to them. He climbed up the ladder then hauled himself through the opening and joined the others who were standing with their backs to the wall. Tambese peered cautiously around the side of the building at the two tall, forbidding watchtowers on either side of the main gate two hundred yards away from the barracks. He could make out the silhouettes of the two armed guards in the reflection of the spotlight mounted above the gate. He dropped to his haunches and took the De Lisle carbine from the holdall.
'Give me the rifle,' Sabrina whispered.
'No, I'll do it. I have done this kind of thing before, you know.'
'Let Sabrina do it,' Graham said softly behind Tambese. 'She's the best sniper I've ever seen. And that's not something I'd say lightly.'
'This is my operation,' Tambese retorted. 'I call the shots.'
'It might be your operation, but it's my ass on the line,' Graham hissed. 'Let Sabrina do it.'
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'I wouldn't have offered to do it if I thought I'd screw up,' Sabrina said to Tambese, trying to diffuse the sudden tension between the two men. 'Trust me, David.'
Tambese was caught off guard by her use of his first name. He sighed deeply then stood up and shrugged helplessly. 'It seems I'm outvoted here.'
Sabrina took the rifle from Tambese, attached the suppressor to the end of the barrel, then moved to the edge of the building and looked up at the watchtowers. It was a heavy responsibility on her shoulders but she was confident she could take them out silently. She wrapped the strap tightly around her arm then raised the butt to her shoulder and trained the barrel on the guard furthest away from her. She curled her finger around the trigger. The guard suddenly turned away from the railing and walked to the front of the watchtower. Now he was partially hidden behind one of the wooden struts. She couldn't risk the shot. She lowered the rifle fractionally and eased her finger off the trigger. Tambese noticed the gesture but Graham grabbed his arm and shook his head before Tambese could say anything.
Her eyes flickered to the second guard. He was still leaning on the railing, with his back to her. She willed him to stay where he was. Then the other guard suddenly turned around and walked to a chair in the corner of the watchtower. He took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, lit one, then sat down and propped his AK-47 against the side of the chair. Sabrina immediately tightened her grip on the rifle then lined up the side of the guard's head in the sights. She
squeezed the trigger. The bullet took the guard through the side of the head, punching him off the chair. Sabrina had already fed another bullet into the chamber by the time the second guard turned towards his fallen colleague. He had no chance to raise the alarm before she shot him through the head. The force of impact knocked him backwards and she bit her lip anxiously as he teetered precariously close to the railing. If he fell the sound of his body hitting the ground could wake a light sleeper. After what seemed like an eternity the guard fell face forward onto the floor. The AK-47 skidded across the floor and tumbled off the watchtower. She winced as it hit the ground with a muffled thud. Then there was only silence. She exhaled deeply and slumped back against the wall.
'Where did you learn to shoot like that?' Tambese asked in amazement.
She shrugged modestly as she replaced the rifle and suppressor in the holdall. 'You'd better lead the way to the cell block,' she said to Tambese.
He nodded and looked around the side of the building at the cell block three hundred yards away. A single light shone above the main entrance, otherwise it looked deserted. At least, it did from the outside. Tambese disappeared around the side of the building. Sabrina followed. Graham picked up the holdall and went after them. They ducked low as they passed the windows of the barracks and only straightened up when they were clear of the building.
When Tambese reached the cell block he ignored the double doors and went directly to a window at the
side of the building. He wasn't surprised to find it ajar, not on such a humid night. He pressed himself against the wall and peered cautiously into the room. There was a guard on duty. He sat with his back to the window, his feet propped up on a table, reading a newspaper. A radio was playing in the corner of the room. But there was no way of getting in without first cutting through the bars that protected the window. Tambese unslung his Uzi then dropped to one knee and eased the barrel through the opening, lining up the back of the guard's head in the sights. Sabrina looked away as he pulled the trigger. The guard was punched forward by the momentum of the bullet but as he landed heavily on the floor his foot caught the chair leg, knocking it over. Graham and Sabrina immediately took up positions on either side of the window. Tambese remained on one knee, his Uzi trained on the corridor which led off from the reception area. He doubted the noise would have carried above the music on the radio but they couldn't afford to take any chances, not when they were so close to their objective.
He waited a couple of minutes then, satisfied the noise hadn't alerted any of the other guards in the building, he propped his Uzi against the wall and removed the oxyacetylene equipment from the holdall. Graham and Sabrina took up positions on opposite sides of the cell block as Tambese went to work, cutting through the iron bars across the window. It only took him a few minutes to complete the job then, after replacing the equipment in the holdall, he recalled the others to the window. He
clambered through the opening first then took the holdall from Graham and dumped it on the floor. Graham and Sabrina climbed in after him and as they hid the body under the reception desk Tambese righted the chair and used a cloth he found under the desk to mop up the bloodstains. At least it wouldn't look suspicious if anyone happened to pass. They would just assume the guard had left the room.
After pulling the blind down over the window, Tambese led the way to a flight of stairs at the end of the corridor. He gestured for them to wait then tiptoed silently to the foot of the stairs and peered cautiously around the side of the wall. The corridor was lined with rows of cell doors. He could see the table and two chairs at the end of the corridor where the guards would have sat. But there were no guards on duty, which he automatically assumed meant there were no prisoners being held on that floor. He beckoned Graham and Sabrina towards him and told them to cover him while he checked the cells. He moved quickly and silently down the corridor, looking into every cell. He was right. They were all empty. He returned to the others and pointed to a second flight of stairs leading down to another floor.
'How many floors in all?' Graham whispered.
Tambese held up three fingers then moved stealthily down the stairs, pausing again at the bottom to peer carefully into the corridor. It, too, was deserted. He gestured for Graham and Sabrina to follow him then descended the third flight of stairs and held up a hand as he reached the bottom. He wiped his sweating forehead then pressed himself against the wall, his Uzi
held upwards inches from his face, and looked warily round the side of the wall. The two guards sitting at the end of the corridor were engrossed in a game of cards. Tambese glanced at Graham and Sabrina and gave them a thumbs-up sign. They tiptoed down to where he was standing, waiting for his signal. The signal never came. Tambese suddenly stepped out into the corridor and opened fire. Neither guard had a chance to reach for the AK-475 against the wall before the fusillade of bullets cut them down where they sat. Tambese ejected the empty clip and slotted a new one into place before sprinting down the corridor to where the guards lay sprawled beside the overturned table and chairs. Both of them were dead.
'David, over here,' said Graham.
Tambese hurried across to where Graham was shining the torch into one of the cells. Remy Mobuto lay motionless on a palliasse in the corner of the cell.
'Remy?' Tambese called through the bars. 'Remy, it's David. David Tambese.' He glanced anxiously at Graham when Mobuto remained silent. 'Remy, can you hear me?'
Silence.
Sabrina appeared behind them. 'All the other cells are empty.' Then she noticed the concern on their faces.'What is it?'
'He's been drugged,' Graham said grimly, strapping the oxy-acetylene tanks onto his back.
'You say there are no prisoners in any of the other cells?' Tambese asked, turning to Sabrina.
She nodded.
'Which means they're moving out,' Tambese concluded. 'It looks like we got here just in time.'
Graham switched on the blowpipe then dropped to one knee and began cutting through the lock.
'Moving out?' Sabrina repeated. 'You mean they're preparing to march on Habane?'
'That's how I'd interpret it,' Tambese answered. 'Why else would they clear the cell block? We had it on good authority that they were holding at least twenty prisoners here yesterday morning.'
'Where will they have been taken? The garrison you spoke about earlier?'
'They won't have been taken anywhere,' Tambese said, shaking his head.
'You mean they've been executed?'
'More than likely,' Tambese replied matter-of-factly. 'The Security Police will only spare your life if they think you'll be of some use to them. And when you've outlived that usefulness, then they'll kill you. That's the way they've worked for the last forty-five years, why change now?'
'I've got the lock,' Graham called out before Sabrina could reply.
Tambese hurried into the cell and checked Mobuto's pulse.
'Well?' Graham asked behind him.
'It's steady,' Tambese replied. Til carry him. Mike, you take my Uzi.'
Graham shouldered Tambese's Uzi. Sabrina replaced the oxyacetylene equipment in the holdall then picked it up and moved back towards the stairs. Graham helped to get Mobuto to his feet then
Tambese bent down and draped him over his shoulders. He nodded to Graham then emerged from the cell and followed Sabrina to the stairs. Graham brought up the rear, his Uzi at the ready. When they reached the reception area Tambese gratefully offloaded Mobuto and eased him carefully onto the floor.
'I'll take him for a bit,' Graham offered.
'No,' Tambese retorted sharply. He smiled quickly to atone for his outburst. 'Thanks anyway, Mike, but Remy's my friend. If anything does happen out there, I'll be responsible for his safety. I'm sure you understand.'
'Yeah, sure,' Graham replied then gestured towards the double doors. 'Can we get through there?'
'I certainly hope so,' Tambese replied. 'It'll save a lot of time if we can avoid using the window. Getting him down the manhole is going to be hard enough.'
Sabrina tried the door. It was locked. Graham searched in vain through the dead guard's pockets for the key. Then he looked through the drawers under the counter. It wasn't there either. He sighed deeply and shook his head.
'We'll have to use the window,' Sabrina said. 'We can't risk shooting off the lock. Even with a silenced weapon, it would still make a lot of noise.'
'I'll go out first then you can - ' Graham stopped abruptly when someone rapped sharply on the door.
They exchanged anxious glances then Sabrina stepped back and trained her Uzi on the door. Graham took up a position by the window. A voice called out through the door. Graham and Sabrina looked to Tambese for an interpretation.