Time of the Assassins (34 page)

Graham turned to Rosie. She was holding the Very pistol which had fallen out of the box when it landed on the floor. She threw it to him. He didn't even know
if it was loaded, but there wasn't time to find out. Bernard was already turning, the automatic in his hand. Graham aimed the Very pistol at him and pulled the trigger. The aluminium-cased cartridge slammed into Bernard's chest with the force of a hammer. He was rocked back on his heels and lost his balance as he stepped out of the doorway. He clawed frantically at the side of the cabin but his bloodied fingers couldn't get a grip on the smooth surface and his eyes widened in horror as he fell backwards. The wind tore the scream from his lips as he plunged to his death.
Graham picked up the Desert Eagle which had slipped out of Bernard's hand as he fell and pressed it into the back of Demerest's neck. 'Go back to the house.'
'Sure thing, man,' Demerest said nervously. 'I don't want any trouble.'
'Give me your piece,' Graham demanded.
'I ain't carrying,' Demerest replied, shaking his head vigorously. 'I never carry. I'm just a flier, man.'
Graham was convinced Demerest was telling the truth. 'Give me the radio.'
Demerest unhooked the radio and handed it to Graham who called Philpott to let him know that they were returning to the safe house. He closed the cabin door then sat down beside Rosie and tilted her head gently as he looked at the discoloured bruise that was already beginning to form on her left cheek.
'I'm OK,'she said softly.
'Did you load it?' Graham asked, gesturing to the Very pistol on the floor in front of them.
She nodded. 'I wanted to shoot him myself but I couldn't bring myself to pull the trigger. I'm sorry.'
Graham smiled gently at her. 'What are you apologizing for? You saved my life, Rosie. Thanks.'
'Who are you?'
'My name's Mike.'
'Mike Graham?'
'Yeah, how did you know?'
She took a cassette from her pocket and handed it to him. 'Bernard - that is his name, isn't it?' Graham nodded. 'Well, he gave it to me before we left the house. He said I was to give it to my uncle when I saw him again. He was to give it to you.'
'Did he say what was on the tape?'
She shook her head.
Graham sat back against the side of the cabin and turned the cassette around slowly in his fingers. His name had been printed in capital letters on both sides in black pen. It had to contain something about Carrie and Mikey. But it didn't make any sense. Bernard wasn't the sort of man to gloat. It wasn't in his nature. So why had he made the cassette for him? The question lingered in his mind for the rest of the journey back to the safe house.
The helicopter was surrounded by members of the SWAT team when it landed in the clearing. Demerest closed down the engine then unbuckled his safety belt and clambered out of the cockpit. He was immediately handcuffed and led away towards a police car.
The door was pulled open from the outside and Whitlock peered anxiously into the cabin. Rosie
smiled at him then bit her lip as a tear trickled down her face. Graham helped Whitlock into the cabin then went off to find something to use to cut Rosie free.
'Thank God you're safe,' Whitlock said, hurrying over to her.
She hugged him and suddenly the tears began to spill down her face. Whitlock took a handkerchief from his pocket and gave it to her. She smiled selfconsciously as she wiped her eyes.
'Who hit you ?' he asked, a sudden anger entering his voice. 'Bernard?'
She nodded. 'I'm OK. What happened to your arm?'
'It's nothing,' he replied with a dismissive shrug. 'Your parents are going to be over the moon when they find out you're safe. So will Carmen. We've all been out of our minds with worry.'
'Is it still alright if I come and stay with you and Carmen for a few days? Just until I feel strong enough to face my parents again.'
'The spare bed's already made up,' Whitlock replied. 'You can stay as long as you want, you know that.'
'Knock, knock,' Graham said, peering into the cabin.
'Come in, Mike,' Whitlock said, looking round at Graham.
Graham climbed back into the helicopter, a small hacksaw in his hand. 'We'll have you out of here in no time, Rosie.'
'How come you two know each other?' Rosie asked as Graham crouched down beside her.
Graham glanced at Whitlock, waiting for him to
answer. It was up to him to decide whether he was going to tell her about UNACO. In some ways Graham felt she deserved an explanation but he wouldn't say anything, not without Whitlock's lead.
Whitlock gave her a knowing smile. 'You get to meet a lot of different people in the diplomatic corps. I first met Mike at a reception at the UN. We've bumped into each other a few times since then. Mike called me when they'd found out where Bernard was holding you. I got over here as quick as I could.'
'Are you a cop?' she asked Graham.
Graham stopped cutting to look up at her. 'Yeah, a sort of a cop.'
'A sort of a cop?' she queried. 'What kind of an answer's that?'
'The only one you're getting,' Graham replied then went back to cutting through the handcuff around her wrist.
'I can take a hint,' she said.
It took Graham another minute to cut through the handcuff. He plied apart the two halves and she pulled her wrist free.
'Well, are you ready for a hot bath, a good meal and a long sleep in a warm bed?' Whitlock asked her.
'You bet,' she replied, rubbing her chafed wrist.
'Come on then,' Whitlock said, helping her to her feet.
'Thanks, Mike,' she said softly then kissed him lightly on the cheek.
'Get out of here,' he said good-humouredly.
She followed Whitlock to the door then looked back at Graham. 'Are you an undercover cop?'
d
'Yeah, a sort of an undercover cop,' Graham replied poker-faced.
She smiled. 'Bye, Mike.'
'See you, Rosie,' Graham replied with a smile.
Sabrina waited until Whitlock and Rosie had been helped out of the helicopter before looking in at Graham. 'You're crazy, do you know that?'
'Sure, I know that,' Graham replied, nodding his head. 'How come it's taken you so long to realize it?'
'Why didn't either of you say anything before you went off like that?'
'I'm sure the Colonel would have sanctioned what we had in mind, aren't you? I take it he's pretty pissed off about what we did.'
'He's only pissed off that neither of you told him what you were going to do. He actually seems quite pleased with the outcome. He wants to see you. Now.'
Graham moved to the door and was about to jump to the ground when something caught his eye on the floor in the corner of the cabin. He went over for a closer look.
'What is it?' Sabrina asked.
'It's a computer disc,' he replied then picked it up and looked round at her. 'Are you thinking what I'm thinking?'
'Aha,' she said, slowly nodding her head. 'Bernard's insurance policy.'
'It must have fallen out of his pocket when we were fighting. This is quite a coup for UN AGO.'
'Especially as the CIA don't even know we've got it,' Sabrina added.
'And knowing the antagonism that exists between /
the Colonel and Langley, you can bet your life he's going to keep it that way.'
'We'll have to return it to them, of course,' Philpott said, taking the disc from Graham.
'Return it to them?' Graham said in disbelief. 'I don't understand, sir. We could monitor all the operations on this disc for years to come without Langley's ever knowing about it.'
'We will,' Philpott replied. 'These covert operations are obviously very important to the company so it's highly unlikely that they'll be terminated after Bailey's gone. They'll just be assigned to a new controller, possibly Bailey's successor. But if Langley know we're monitoring these operations, they'll want to make sure that none of their agents are compromised. And that's where we can turn it to our advantage. Our silence will have a price. I think you'll find that they'll be a lot more co-operative in the future. And let's face it, that can't be a bad thing, can it?'
'No, sir,' Graham replied with a knowing smile.
Philpott slipped the disc into his pocket. 'Now, about this little escapade of yours.'
'It was my idea, sir,' Graham said.
'Strange, those were C.W.'s exact words as well. Whose idea it was is irrelevant. What does bother me is that neither of you said anything before you sloped off. I thought you'd have both learned your lesson by now about keeping things from Sergei and me. Obviously you haven't.'
'You wouldn't have sanctioned it anyway, sir.'
'That's not the point, Michael,' Kolchinsky said sharply. 'We're your superiors. Not that that seems to have made much impression on any of you these past few days, especially you. It's because of your maverick tendencies that Strike Force Three is the subject of this internal investigation.'
'Bernard killed my family, Sergei - my wife and my five-year-old son. What the hell was I supposed to do when I heard he'd been seen in Beirut?' Graham held up his hand before Kolchinsky could answer. 'Yeah, I know, tell you. Then you could have made the necessary arrangements to have him taken into custody. Then what? Would they have extradited him to face charges over here? You know they wouldn't. He'd probably have been put on a plane bound for Libya and been given a hero's welcome when he got there. I don't expect you to understand the torment I've been through these last two years.
'Hell, I'm not going to stand here and explain myself to you, Sergei. I did what I thought was right not only for the memory of my family but also for my own piece of mind. My only regret is that I had to drag Sabrina and C.W. into it as well. That's why I resigned - to spare them any further trouble. And if you've got any sense you'll accept my resignation and put an end to the matter.' '
'Your resignation is on my desk,' Philpott said, holding Graham's stare. 'And it'll be considered more carefully when the results of the investigations are known. Until then, you're still part of this organization. And that means co-operating fully with the investigation. You'll each be interviewed individually
this afternoon. The panel will use my office as a base. So be there at two o'clock sharp.'
'When will the results be known?' Sabrina asked.
'Late this afternoon. I'm dining with the Secretary-General tonight. We'll discuss the findings then.'
Sabrina glanced at her watch. Three forty-seven a.m. She stifled a yawn. 'Can we get some sleep now, sir?'
'Yes, go on. I won't see you this afternoon. I'll be in Washington talking to Morgan Chilvers, the CIA Director. But Sergei will be at the UN. We'll all meet again in my office at nine o'clock tomorrow morning to discuss the implications of the findings. By then I'll also know how the Secretary-General stands on the issue. Sabrina, will you give Mike a lift back to his hotel?'
'Sure,' she replied. 'Does C.W. know about the meeting tomorrow morning?'
'Yes, I told him before he took Rosie home.' Philpott's eyes flickered towards Graham. 'You did well tonight, Mike.'
'Rosie's safe, that's all that matters now,' Graham looked at Sabrina. 'Ready?'
She nodded then said good night to Philpott and Kolchinsky before hurrying after him.
'You got a tape deck in your car?' Graham asked.
'No, only a CD player. Why?'
He took the cassette from his pocket and showed it to her. 'Bernard gave this to Rosie before they left the house. It's for me. It has to be something about Carrie and Mikey.'
'I've got a tape deck at the apartment. You can listen to it there.'
He looked at his watch. 'You sure you don't mind?'
'Don't be silly,' she replied, unlocking the driver's door.
'Thanks, I appreciate it.'
She climbed into the car and opened the passenger door for him. He slipped the cassette back into his shirt pocket then got in beside her. She drove back up the approach road and rejoined the highway.
'Thanks,' Graham said, taking the cup of hot chocolate from Sabrina and placing it on the table beside him. 'It's a nice place you've got here.'
'Liar,' she said with a grin.
'Sure, it's a bit arty for my taste but it's still a lot better than I thought it would be - seriously. I'll tell what does impress me, though: your CD collection. You've got some good jazz there.'
'You know how much I love jazz music,' she said, glancing down at the row of compact discs on the shelf beside the player. Her eyes shot to the cassette on the table. Til leave you alone to listen to the tape. I'll be in the kitchen when you're through.'
'Yeah, thanks,' he replied then waited until she had left the room before pressing the 'play' button. He sat down, his arms resting on his knees, his eyes riveted on the cassette as it turned slowly on the spools.
'When you receive this tape, Graham, I'll have already left the country with the intention of starting up a new life in some distant corner of the world. I know you'll never stop looking for me and, frankly, I
can't say I blame you. I know you've always held me personally responsible for what happened to your wife, Carol, and your son, Michael. This tape isn't an attempt to try and exonerate myself. I can't. I'll always be partly responsible for their deaths, I know that. But you have the right to know what really happened that afternoon outside your apartment in New York.
'I was in Libya at the time on the orders of the CIA - or Robert Bailey, to be more specific. As you no doubt know by now, he's been my handler ever since I first started working for the company. The reason I was there was because Salim Al-Makesh, who was then a senior advisor in Abu Nidal's Black June movement, had come up with a plan to mount a bombing operation across the United States. The idea was to hit, amongst others, shopping malls, sports stadiums and school buildings - in other words, a soft target campaign. The CIA found out about it through a mole they had in the Black June movement but he was killed under mysterious circumstances before he could pass on all the information to them. Whether he was murdered, or whether he died accidently, was never established. But the CIA were worried because they still didn't know exactly where and when the bombs were due to go off. That's why I was sent to meet with Al-Makesh - to fill in the missing dates so ù that the bombers could be arrested when they arrived in the United States.
'We'd been talking for about forty minutes, without much success I might add, when we first heard that you, and your men, had surrounded the base camp. But at the time we had no idea who you were or where
you'd come from. So I called Bailey in Washington and told him what was happening. He knew that if Al-Makesh were killed, the CIA would have lost their last chance to prevent the bombing campaign. I don't know how he found out but it wasn't five minutes later when he rang back to say that it was a unit of the US anti-terrorist squad, Delta. Then I knew we were in trouble. Apart from the two of us, there were another eight men at the base-no match for a crack Delta unit. Bailey said he would "arrange something". Those were his exact words. He called back a few minutes later to say that the Delta unit would be pulled out. That was great news - until you attacked. Al-Makesh ordered his men to stand and fight then he took me to an underground tunnel and we managed to get out only minutes before your unit overran the camp.