Time of the Assassins (20 page)

Rosie woke with a splitting headache. She was lying on a single bed in a small room with a chest of drawers, an armchair and a small basin by the window. The curtains were drawn. She swung her legs slowly off the bed then sat forward, her face in her hands. It was then that she smelled the chloroform on her clothes. Then it
all came back to her, a terrifying flashback: the two policemen; Kenny; then the blow on the back of the head.
When she had come round in the flat the man she knew as Marc had finished packing his belongings and the holdall and attache case stood by the front door. He had been sitting against the wall, his knees drawn up in front of him, watching her. The automatic hung loosely in his right hand. He had told her that they were going to walk down to the street together where a car would be waiting for them. Any attempt to draw attention to themselves and he would kill her. After all, he had nothing to lose.
He had draped the jacket over his gun hand and carried the attache case in the other. She had to carry the holdall. He had kept the barrel of the gun pressed firmly against her ribs until they reached the car parked in front of the building. The driver was a black man she had never seen before. The two men had spoken a language she didn't understand, then she was bundled into the back of the car and a chloroform-soaked cloth had been clamped over her face. That was the last thing she remembered. Until now. She didn't know where she was or how long she had been there. She rubbed her temples gingerly, trying to massage away the pain. What she would give for a headache tablet. She switched on the bedside lamp then got to her feet and moved to the door. It was locked. Then she went to the window. She drew back the curtains. A pair of shutters had been secured over the window. She tried to open the window. It was stuck. She tried again. It wouldn't budge. She looked
about for something to break the glass. There wasn't anything. She checked the chest of drawers - empty. She slumped dejectedly on the bed and struggled to hold back the tears. Suddenly there was the sound of a key being inserted in the door. It was unlocked and opened. Bernard entered the room and sat down in the armchair.
'Where am I?' Rosie demanded.
'Safe,' Bernard replied with a smile then glanced across at the chest of drawers. 'That was good thinking, looking for something to break the window, but it wouldn't have done you any good anyway. It's reinforced glass.'
'How did...' she trailed off and looked about the room before glaring at Bernard. 'Where's the camera?'
'Behind the mirror,' Bernard said, gesturing towards it.
'You're sick,' she snapped then winced as a sharp pain shot through her head.
Bernard held up two aspirin. 'You look like you need these.'
'Go to hell!'
Bernard chuckled. 'I admire your spirit, Rosie. You're quite a kid, you know that?'
'Why are you holding me here?'
Bernard put the tablets on the chest of drawers then got to his feet. 'You're my insurance policy.'
'What are you talking about? Insurance against what?'
'What you don't know won't hurt you. Let's keep it that way. I'd hate to see you end up like your friend Kenny. Strange as it may seem, I like you. You're a
good kid. Mixed up, but still a good kid. Take those tablets and come on through to the lounge when you feel better.' Bernard paused in the doorway and looked back at her. 'You remind me a lot of myself when I was your age.' He smiled thoughtfully then disappeared out into the hall.
She moved to the open door but the black man who had driven the car suddenly appeared in the doorway, his arms folded across his chest. He ran his eyes the length of her body then grinned to himself. She stepped away from the door then went to the chest of drawers and picked up the tablets. She poured some water into the plastic mug on the basin and washed down the aspirin.
Bernard called out to the man. When Rosie looked round he had disappeared from the doorway. She peered cautiously out into the hall. It was deserted. Then she noticed the door at the end of the hall. It had to be the front door. But was it locked? There was only one way of finding out. She could hardly contain her excitement as she hurried towards it. It was only on a Yale lock but when she unlocked it, it only opened a couple of inches. Damn, it was on a chain as well. She hadn't seen that.
'Rosie!' Bernard shouted from the doorway of the lounge.
She didn't look round. She fumbled desperately with the chain, half expecting to be ripped away from the door at any moment. She managed to unhook the chain and waited until he had almost reached her then, sidestepping his outstretched hand, she jerked the door back as hard as she could. The edge caught him in
the face and he stumbled back against the wall, blood pouring from a gash above his right eye. She darted out and slammed the door behind her. She found herself on a porch. A wood surrounded the house as far as the eye could see but there was a two-hundred yard clearing before she reached the first of the trees. She bounded down the stairs, ran down the narrow path, and wrenched open the gate before sprinting across the clearing towards the trees.
Bernard pulled open the door and emerged onto the porch. The front of his shirt was already streaked with blood and his sleeve was stained from where he had used it to wipe the blood from his face. The second man appeared behind him and aimed his Walther ?38 at Rosie.
Bernard pushed the man's arm down angrily. 'Put the gun away, Elias!' He hurried to the gate and cupped his hands around his mouth. 'Rosie, listen to me. Don't go into the woods. They're full of animal traps.'
She kept running.
'Rosie, don't go in there!'
Elias came up behind Bernard and handed him a torch. 'Animal traps?' he said in hesitant English then closed his hands together to represent the jaws of a trap snapping shut.
'Yes. The wood's full of them. If she stands on one of those it could take her foot off.'
'What can we do?' Elias asked, switching to Arabic.
'We go after her,' Bernard retorted then sprinted towards the section of the woods where he had seen Rosie disappear seconds earlier.
Elias stared after Bernard, reluctant to go near the trees.
Bernard stopped and looked round angrily at Elias. 'Go round the side, cut her off,' he shouted breathlessly then continued to run towards the trees.
Elias swallowed nervously. What was worse, the animal traps or Bernard's wrath if he refused to obey him? It wasn't a difficult choice. He moved towards the trees.
Rosie paused for breath when she reached the edge of the trees. The wood looked dark and forbidding by the light of the moon. She had heard Bernard's warning but had it been a bluff? Or was he telling the truth ? She had once seen a television documentary on the appalling injuries incurred by animals who had been caught in these traps. It had left her in tears. She looked back at the approaching silhouette of Bernard. She had to make a decision - and quickly. She had to go on. She picked up a branch then began to move further into the wood, using the branch to prod the ground in front of her. One mistake and she could be crippled for life. If, in fact, there were traps. But she couldn't afford to take the chance. She ducked behind a tree and listened carefully for the sound of Bernard behind her. It was silent. Not that she was surprised. He was obviously a professional. If only she could find somewhere to hide until daybreak. Then she could make her way safely through the wood. She was about to move further in the wood when she saw a light cut through the darkness to her left. She pressed herself against the tree, not daring to even wipe the sweat from her face.
She tried to blink it away as it stung her eyes. The beam scythed across the darkness then went out as suddenly as it had come on.
'Rosie?' Bernard called out.
The voice came from behind her. The torch light had come from a different direction. Were they trying to close in on her from different directions? She wiped her forearm across her face then moved tentatively to her right, the branch still scraping the ground in front of her. It was noisy, but there was nothing she could do about it. She heard a rustle in front of her and ducked behind a tree a split-second before the torch beam sliced through the darkness again, panning the trees around her. Elias shouted something in Swahili and she heard him approaching the tree. Had he seen her? Or was he trying to force her to break cover? The footsteps came closer then stopped and the torch went out. Where was he? She swallowed nervously and ran her tongue across her dry lips. The silence was agonizing. Where the hell was he? Keeping her back pressed firmly against the tree, she turned her head slightly and peered cautiously into the darkness behind her. Nothing. At least he wasn't on the other side of the tree. Then she heard another noise, this time to her right. It had to be Bernard. But did they know where she was? She forced herself to control her ragged breathing. She had to keep silent. It was her only chance. Then a torch beam shone onto a cluster of trees thirty yards away from her. They didn't know where she was! She felt a surge of relief flow through her. Bernard called out her name again. It came from the
direction of the torch beam. The light became fainter as he moved further into the wood.
She screamed in terror as someone grabbed her arm from behind and yanked her away from the tree. Elias switched on his torch then shouted to Bernard that he'd caught her. His voice seemed to bring her out of her shock. She lashed out with the branch, catching him on the side of the face. The Walther fell to the ground as he clutched his face in agony. She turned to run but he grabbed her roughly round the neck and threw her to the ground, winding her. He kept the torch beam trained on her as he felt in the darkness for the Walther. There was a sickening crunch of bone as the jaws of a trap, hidden under a pile of leaves, snapped over his wrist. He screamed in agony and the torch fell from his grasp as he slumped to his knees where he clawed desperately at the serrated edges of the trap in a frantic attempt to release his mangled wrist. Bernard reached them and shone his torch onto the trap. Rosie turned away sharply and clutched her stomach as she vomited against the tree.
'Help me!' Elias screamed at Bernard in Arabic.
'Why? You're no use to me now,' Bernard said disdainfully and shot him through the head.
Rosie huddled against the tree as the gunshot echoed across the silent wood. Bernard grabbed her arm roughly and hauled her to her feet. She purposely averted her eyes from the body at her feet.
'Have you finished playing games now?' Bernard snapped, bolstering his automatic.
She could only nod mutely.
'Then let's get out of here before we have another
Z52,
accident,' he said then tightened his grip on her arm and marched her back to the house.
'That's better,' Bernard said after he had handcuffed her to the radiator in the bedroom.
She tugged angrily at the handcuffs then slumped back against the wall. He left the room, closing the door behind him, and went to the main bathroom to attend to the cut above his eye. The bleeding had stopped and the area around the eye was already swollen and puffy. It would be closed by morning. He wet a cloth and dabbed it gingerly against his eyebrow. The wound turned out to be deeper than he had originally thought. He washed his hands and face then found some disinfectant and cotton wool in the wall cabinet above the basin. He sprinkled some of the disinfectant onto the cotton wool then pressed it against his eyebrow. His face remained expressionless as the disinfectant seeped agonizingly into the wound. He discarded the swab then went to his bedroom and changed into a clean shirt.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, he picked up the telephone and dialled an unlisted number then propped a pillow against the headboard and sat back against it, waiting for the call to be answered. When it was, there was only silence on the other end of the line.
'It's Columbus,' Bernard said.
'This is Seabird. I've been trying to contact you for hours. Where the hell are you?'
'At the safe house off the Garden State Parkway.'
'What?' came the incredulous reply. 'You weren't cleared to stay there.'
'I didn't exactly have much time to pick and choose, did I? Or haven't you heard about what happened at the apartment?'
'Of course I heard,' Seabird retorted angrily. 'That was one of our best safe houses in the city. And thanks to you it's been blown. Three bodies, two of them cops - what the hell happened there? And what's this about Whitlock's niece being involved?'
Bernard explained briefly about Rosie, her connection with Doyle and the reason the police had come to the apartment.
'And why wasn't I informed that you're holding Whitlock's niece?' Seabird said once Bernard had finished speaking. 'You could blow the whole operation.'
'You weren't informed because it doesn't concern you. She's my insurance in case something should go wrong tomorrow.'
'Insurance against what? Do you honestly think UN AGO will just let you walk away because you've got Whitlock's niece? Credit them with some professionalism.'
'Of course they won't. But I can use her to buy time.' Bernard swung his legs off the bed. 'But we're speculating here. Nothing will go wrong, I guarantee that.'
'Why don't I feel reassured?'
'I need a favour, that's why I called,' Bernard said, then went on to explain what had happened earlier at the house. 'I need another babysitter for the girl.'
'Do you, now?' came the sarcastic riposte. 'And who the hell was this Elias anyway?'
'The fifth member of the Zimbalan team.'
'Fifth? I was told there were only four.'
'I included a fifth man as backup. It seemed the sensible thing to do in case one of the others was killed or arrested before the operation began.'
'You included him? This whole operation was devised after months of detailed planning. But that doesn't seem to bother you, does it? You just do what the hell you want, don't you? You work for us, in case you'd forgotten. And we tell you what to do. Is that understood?'
'Sure,' Bernard replied disinterestedly. 'What about that baby-sitter?'
'You're not getting one!'
'Then find yourself another assassin,' Bernard replied and slammed the receiver back into the cradle.
The telephone rang moments later.
Bernard picked it up. 'Yes?'
'Columbus?'
'Yes.'
'Don't you ever do that to me again!'
'Then we'd better come to an arrangement about a babysitter,' Bernard said matter-of-factly.
'Very well,' came the bitter reply. 'You'll have one in the morning. That's the best I can do.'