Time of the Assassins (32 page)

Hagen pushed the handle down and opened the door. The light from the porch illuminated the hallway. He stepped inside, almost reluctant to close the door behind him. The light was his sanctuary.
'Close the door,' Bernard called out from the lounge at the end of the hallway.
Hagen closed the door, severing the light. He had lost his sanctuary.
'I've got the girl with me, Hagen,' Bernard said.
'Any tricks and she's dead. Now switch on the hall light and step away from the door.'
Hagen did as he was told.
Bernard emerged from the lounge alone, the Desert Eagle in his hand. It was aimed at Hagen's stomach.
'Where's the girl?' Hagen demanded.
'Safe,' Bernard replied, moving towards Hagen. He locked the door then frisked Hagen quickly and professionally.
'I told you I was unarmed,' Hagen said once Bernard had finished.
'So you did,' Bernard replied with a sneer.
'I want to see the girl.'
'She's in there,' Bernard replied, pointing to the bedroom. 'And don't switch on the light.'
Hagen opened the bedroom door. Rosie, who had regained consciousness less than an hour earlier, was still manacled to the radiator. She had been gagged. She stared at Hagen, her eyes wide and questioning.
'I'm Deputy Commissioner Hagen, Rosie. We're doing everything in our power to try and secure your release. Don't worry, we won't let anything happen to you.'
'How touching. Now close the door.'
'Hold in there, Rosie,' Hagen said with a reassuring smile then closed the door again. 'Let's talk in the lounge, shall we?'
'Sure,' Bernard replied with a shrug. 'But no lights. We'll manage with the reflection from the hall light. After you, Hagen.'
Hagen glanced at the automatic in Bernard's hand then reluctantly turned his back on him and entered
the lounge. He made for the armchair by the window and sat down.
'I assume you're carrying a mike of some sort,' Bernard said from the doorway. 'The tie-pin?'
'No.'
'No, you're not wired, or no it's not the tie-pin?'
'Both.'
'Why don't I believe you?' Bernard said then shrugged. 'But then it doesn't bother me whether you're wired or not. It might just backfire on you, though.'
'What?' Hagen said with a frown.
'Drink?' Bernard said, indicating the drinks cabinet against the far wall.
'Yes,' Hagen said, nodding slowly. 'Bourbon, if you have one.'
'Of course,' Bernard replied, crossing the room to the drinks cabinet.
'What did you mean just now about its backfiring on me if I were wired?' Hagen asked.
Bernard used his free hand to pour the drink then placed it on the table beside Hagen's chair. He crossed to the door then turned his back momentarily on Hagen and looked out into the hallway. When he swung round Hagen was clawing desperately at the underside of the chair.
'Looking for this?' Bernard said, taking a Smith 8t Wesson from his pocket. 'Good place to hide a gun for an emergency, but I found it when I first got here. Question is, how did you know there was supposed to be a gun bolstered under that particular chair? A chair that you made for as soon as you entered the room.
Now, if you are wired, which I'm sure you are, your colleagues are no doubt waiting for you to clear up this obvious misunderstanding. Well?'
'I don't know what you're talking about,' Hagen said, fidgeting nervously with his tie-pin.
'So I was right, it is the tie-pin,' Bernard said with a knowing smile. 'I'd say you were in a catch-twenty-two situation right now. If you discard the mike, it's obviously a sign of guilt. But if you leave it on, your colleagues are going to find out how you knew the location of the gun. It's your choice, Hagen. Or should I call you Seabird?'
The blood drained from Hagen's face and his hand was trembling when he picked up the glass from the table. He drank it down in one gulp.
'Lost for words?" Bernard said, sitting down on the sofa. 'I can understand that. You certainly had me fooled. I thought Bailey was Seabird. I guess it was a natural assumption to make under the circumstances. But there it was when I hacked into Bailey's personal computer earlier tonight: a whole file about Seabird. None other than the Deputy Commissioner of the New York Police Department, Sean Matthew Hagen. It certainly surprised me. But it makes sense when you think about it. Bailey's inside man at the NYPD, a future police commissioner. Quite a coup for him. You were the one who had Forsythe bug UN AGO headquarters, weren't you? Not Bailey. And you would have arranged my escape had I been arrested after I'd killed Mobuto. You recruited Mason to help me at the Trade Center. Who would have questioned your decision to put Mason in charge of the police
support-team on the catwalk? Clever, Hagen. Very clever. And you'd have got away with it as well if I hadn't managed to access those files that Bailey had hidden away in the depths of his home computer. Fascinating reading. I've got it all on disc in case you're still thinking of trying to bluff your way out of this. Call it an insurance policy - a very expensive insurance policy.' He shook his head slowly. 'Seabird. Who would have guessed?'
Hagen swallowed nervously and wiped the back of his hand across his clammy forehead. He tired to speak but his mouth was dry. He got to his feet and moved slowly, pathetically, to the drinks cabinet. His shoulders were hunched, his head drooping. He poured himself a stiff bourbon and gulped it down.
'You came here tonight to kill me, didn't you? Brett failed, so did Rogers. So it was left to you. What were you going to do? Make out that you managed to disarm me then shoot me with the Smith 8c Wesson? Then, by pocketing the Desert Eagle, you could have made out that I had the Smith & Wesson all along? Am I right?'
'You're a dead man, Bernard. Even if you do manage to get away from here, they'll find you. They won't stop looking for you.'
'"They" being the CIA?'
'"They" being the CIA's top assassins. You're good, Bernard, but you're not in their league.'
'No, probably not. But I've made plans to cover for that eventuality.' Bernard got to his feet. 'Well, I think you've outstayed your welcome, Hagen. I'm sure there are some people out there who'll want some answers,
starting with UNACO. I bet they're pretty pissed off with you right now.'
Hagen hurled the empty glass at Bernard. It missed him by inches and smashed against the wall. Hagen then grabbed the bottle of bourbon and lunged at Bernard. Bernard ducked as Hagen lashed out wildly with the bottle and caught him with a vicious punch to the kidney. Hagen stumbled back against the door and the bottle fell to the floor.
Bernard levelled the automatic at Hagen. 'Come to think of it, there would just be another cover-up, wouldn't there? Like there was today. You'd be pensioned off quietly and that would be the end of it. No, you're not going to get off that lightly. See you in hell, Hagen.'
Bernard shot Hagen through the chest. The force of the bullet slammed him back against the wall. The blood bubbled in his mouth and ran down his chin as he slid slowly to the floor, leaving a streak on the wall above him.
Bernard dialled the number of the telephone in the SWAT van. 'Let me speak to Colonel Philpott,' he said when it was answered.
'This is Philpott,' came the response seconds later.
'I take it you heard our little conversation, Colonel?'
'Is Hagen dead?' Philpott demanded.
Bernard looked down at the crumpled figure by the door. 'It certainly looks that way. But I wouldn't lose any sleep over it. He would have been immune from prosecution, just like me. Don't even think of doing anything silly now, Colonel, like sending in
the stormtroopers. Rosie would be the first to die. Do I make myself clear?'
'Perfectly,' Philpott hissed.
Bernard looked at his watch. Two seventeen a.m. Still two-and-a-half hours before he was due to leave for Cuba. It would only be a matter of time before the SWAT team discovered the broken cellar door. And the door connecting the cellar and the kitchen was only protected by a flimsy bolt. No, it wasn't safe here any more. He would have to rethink his strategy. 'Stay by the phone, Philpott. I'll call you again in a few minutes.'
'Is Rosie -'
Bernard cut the connection before Philpott had time to finish. He left the receiver off the hook then crossed to the sideboard and opened the bottom drawer. Inside was a second telephone, a scrambled line. He placed it on the sideboard then sat down and dialled a number he had already committed to memory. It was answered immediately.
'It's Columbus,' Bernard said.
'What is it?' came the suspicious reply.
'The plans have been changed. Is the plane refuelled and ready for take-off?'
'It's been ready since yesterday. What's happened?'
Bernard explained the situation briefly. 'You told me you can fly anything, right?'
'Yeah,' came the hesitant reply.
'Helicopter?'
'Sure. I flew them in 'Nam.'
'I want you to get over here as fast as you can. I'll arrange to have a helicopter on standby. You can fly us to the plane then we can get out of here.'
'Come over there? Are you crazy?'
'Listen, Demerest, you've been well paid for your troubles - if anything, overpaid. But believe me, if I go down you're coming with me. You'll be inside for a long stretch.'
'I want a Huey,' Demerest said after a lengthy pause. 'It's the chopper I know best.'
Til arrange it,' Bernard replied.
'You said there were cops there. How the hell am I supposed to get past them?'
'What car will you be driving?'
'A Datsun.'
'Colour?'
'Light blue.'
Til see to it that you aren't stopped. When you get here, drive round to the back of the house. Park as close to the back door as you can, understood?'
'Understood,' Demerest replied. 'If this backfires..."
'It won't, as long as you play by my rules,' Bernard said then dropped the receiver back into its cradle.
Philpott hung up after he'd finished talking to Bernard then looked at the others who had congregated outside the van. 'He's threatened to kill Rosie unless we get him a helicopter by three o'clock. It has to be a Huey. He was very insistent on that.'
'We've got a Huey at Newark Airport,' Kolchinsky said.
'Can you fly it?'
Kolchinsky nodded. He'd flown almost every heli-
copter imaginable since he'd got his licence when he was still with the KGB.
Philpott looked at Stephens. 'We could have it here by three.'
'Yeah, sure,' Stephens replied absently. He was still stunned by what he'd heard minutes earlier over the loudspeaker in the back of the van. Hagen worked for Bailey - a CIA stooge. Much as he had disliked the man, he wouldn't have believed it unless he'd heard it with his own ears. The son-of-a-bitch!
Til get over to the airport straight away,' Kolchinsky said. 'Will you clear everything with the necessary people?'
'Yes, don't worry about that,' Philpott replied. 'Sabrina, take Sergei in your car.'
'I'll get one of the police cars to take me,' Kolchinsky said. 'With the siren on, it won't take us long to reach the airport.'
'It'll be even quicker in Sabrina's car. It's fast and she knows how to handle it. I'll see to it that you're given a free passage to the airport.'
Sabrina held up the keys and grinned at Kolchinsky. 'Well, what are we waiting for?'
Kolchinsky shot Philpott a despairing look then hurried after her. ^
'I have some calls to make,' Philpott said then indicated the telephone in front of him. 'May I use it?'
'Yes, of course,' Stephens replied.
'They are private calls,' Philpott said to the communications officer who was hovering behind him.
Stephens nodded to the communications officer who climbed down the metal steps and closed the door
behind him. He waited until the man was out of earshot then told Whitlock what Hagen had said before he went into the house.
'It makes sense,' Whitlock said thoughtfully. 'But I doubt he cared any more about those two officers than he did about Rosie. He'd obviously been sent here by Bailey to kill Bernard. That's why he was so insistent that Bernard leaves the house in a body bag. Bernard knows too much about the CIA and their operations.'
'Hagen was right about the CIA sending an assassination squad after Bernard, especially now that he's got the disc,' Stephens said. 'That would be sure to blow the lid off some of the CIA's most covert operations if it were ever made public.'
'Which is exactly why I think he'll be given a wide berth from now on, at least until the disc's been recovered,' Whitlock replied. 'Bernard's nobody's fool. He'll have stashed the disc away somewhere safe so that if the CIA do hit him, it'll be made public. And that's the last thing Bailey would want to happen.'
'I'd have to go along with C.W. on that,' Graham said. 'Bailey can't afford to have those files made public, even if he has left the CIA by then. The whole point of their release tonight was to cover up a potential scandal. But if this is made public, he won't be able to hide behind the cover-up any more. There would be a public outcry if those responsible weren't brought to trail, starting with Bailey.'
'You're forgetting one thing. He still has to leave the house to get to the helicopter,' Stephens said, looking at each of them in turn. 'If any of my men gets a clear shot, they'll take him out. Those are their orders. Then
let's see what happens to Mr Bailey and his precious files.'
'If anything happens to Rosie as a direct result of your team you can be sure I'll come after you,' Whitlock said in a soft, menacing voice. 'You bear that in mind, Lieutenant.'
'These men are highly trained, Mr Whitlock,' Stephens shot back defensively. 'They'll only fire if they're one hundred per cent sure of hitting their target.'
'For your sake, I hope you're right,' Whitlock said then walked back towards the van.
It was a side of Whitlock that Graham had never seen before - cold, cynical, threatening. He hadn't realized until then just how close Whitlock was to Rosie. Had he not known better, he would have sworn that Whitlock was her father, not just her uncle. He smiled sadly to himself. Whitlock would make a great father. Well, perhaps one day. Hell, he was only in his mid-forties. Yeah, a great father...
Philpott removed a pair of headphones and placed them on the table in front of him. 'Sergei's on his way. He should get here within the next ten minutes.'
Whitlock looked at his watch. Two forty-six a.m. 'Is Sabrina with him?'
'No, she driving back. If she were to suddenly emerge from the helicopter after it landed, Bernard might think it was some sort of trap. I don't care how much of a professional he is, right now he'll be on edge. It's only natural with a dozen highly trained snipers just waiting for him to make a mistake. So there's no use in adding to the tension.'