Time of the Assassins (28 page)

Lieberwitz opened the door and Mobuto, Masala and Rogers went into the outer office. Bailey remained in his seat. Lieberwitz looked from Bailey to Kolchinsky then withdrew discreetly, closing the door behind him.
'You're missing the tour,' Kolchinsky said, eyeing Bailey coldly.
'Scramble one of your helicopters immediately and have it sent over to the airport? Why?'
'That doesn't concern you,' Kolchinsky shot back.
'If it concerns this case, it does.'
'C.W., show Mr Bailey to the door.'
'No need, I'm going,' Bailey said, getting to his feet. 'You'd better not be holding out on me, Kolchinsky. Because if you are you can be sure that will go in my report to the White House. And UN A C O's in enough trouble as it is without my adding to your problems.'
Whitlock closed the door behind Bailey. 'Who was that on the phone?'
'Sarah,' Kolchinsky replied. 'Michael and Sabrina have just got back from Zimbala. Michael wants a helicopter to fly them over here. He says it's an emergency.'
'An emergency? That has to mean Bernard's already here. Did Mike say where Bernard intends to make the hit?'
Kolchinsky shook his head. 'But they should be here before the President starts his speech.'
'And if they're not?'
'We could stall for time, but we don't even know if there is an assassin, whether it be Bernard or not, let alone where and when the hit's going to be made.'
'The security's already been tightened in and around the main hall. I don't know what else we can do.'
'Nothing, for the moment.' Kolchinsky banged his fist angrily on the desk. 'Why couldn't he have called us? He must know we're here. Our hands are tied until they get here.'
'He must have had his reasons,' Whitlock replied.
'Especially if it involves Bernard,' Kolchinsky snapped. Til see you down at the hall. I've got to call the airport to get the necessary clearance for our helicopter to land there.'
Whitlock left the room. Kolchinsky ran his hands over his face then sat down behind the desk and picked up the receiver.
Bernard finished applying the foundation and powder to the scar on his cheek then studied his reflection carefully in the cracked, full-length mirror attached to the inside of the open locker door. He smiled to himself. The scar was gone. Then, taking the cap from the bottom shelf of the locker, he placed it carefully on his head. Now the disguise was complete. He was just another New York cop. He picked up the identity tag that had been left in the locker for him and clipped it onto his jacket. He unlocked the door then opened it fractionally and peered out into the corridor. It was deserted. He left the room, locking it again behind him, then slipped
on his sunglasses before walking to the stairs at the end of the corridor.
He glanced at his watch. One twenty-five. He climbed the stairs and found himself in another corridor. He knew where he was from the plans he had studied in Beirut. He made his way to a door further down the corridor which led onto another set of stairs. He descended them to the next level. There, as in the plans, were a men's and a ladies' room, and they had been specially set aside for the police for the day. He entered the men's room and smiled at the policeman standing in front of the urinal. He nodded in greeting. Bernard went to the nearest sink and washed his hands.
The policeman crossed to the row of sinks. He looked at Bernard's reflection in the mirror that ran the length of the wall in front of them. 'Hey, that's some bruise you've got there.'
'Happened last night,' Bernard replied, affecting a New York accent. 'Guy caught me by surprise with a baseball bat. But it's nothing compared to what I did to his face.'
The policeman chuckled then wiped his hands on the roller towel. 'I'm Hank Medford. Eighteenth Precinct.'
'Jose Mendoza, Twenty-sixth.' Bernard shook Medford's hand. 'So where have they got you working today?'
'I'm up on the roof,' Medford replied as they walked to the door.
'It's alright for some,' Bernard said, holding the door open for Medford. 'You've got the perfect weather to be outside.'
'And you?'
'Good question,' Bernard muttered. 'I'm helping out wherever they need an extra pair of hands. At least I get to see round the building.'
'Big deal,' Medford said facetiously.
'Yeah,' Bernard replied with a twisted grin. 'I've just been told to get my ass over to the hall where Mobuto's making his speech at two.'
Til walk with you. It's on my way back to the roof anyway.'
'Great,' Bernard said, patting Medford on the back. Two cops together were far less likely to draw attention to themselves than a single cop would by himself, especially one wearing dark glasses to help conceal a badly bruised eye. And by pretending to know Medford, it would add further credibility to his deception, especially when they reached the hall.
They walked to the lift and, once inside, Bernard pushed the button for the sixth floor. He touched his cap to the two receptionists already in the lift but ignored their inquisitive eyes as he talked to Medford. The receptionists got off on the fifth floor and both looked back at Bernard as the door closed over again behind them.
'I'd say you made quite an impression,' Medford said with a salacious grin.
'So did the baseball bat. And that's all they were interested in - how I got the bruise - nothing more.'
'How can you be so sure?'
'It was in their eyes.' Bernard smiled at Medford's puzzled frown. 'You have a lot to learn about women, my friend.'
'Not much chance of that. I'm married.'
The lift stopped again and the door opened onto the sixth-floor corridor.
Bernard stepped out of the lift then looked round at Medford. 'See you around, Hank.'
'Sure thing,' Medford replied. 'And keep away from baseball bats.'
Bernard waited until the doors had closed before turning to the policeman who had approached him. 'I'm looking for Captain D'Arcy.'
'He's in the hall. If you've got a message for him, I'll see that he gets it.'
'I've been sent here as an extra pair of eyes on the catwalk. Mr Whitlock's orders.' Bernard took a sheet of paper from his pocket. 'That's his authorization.'
The policeman opened the letter and read it quickly. 'OK. I'll let Captain D'Arcy know you're here. You'd better get up there. The President's due here any time now.'
'How do I get up there?' Bernard replied, feigning ignorance.
'Use that door over there,' the policeman said, pointing further down the corridor. 'Report to Sergeant Mason. He's up there already.'
'How many men have we got up there?'
'Three.'
Bernard thanked the policeman and smiled to himself as he walked to the door. Everything was going according to plan. The door was unlocked. He went inside and locked it behind him with a key Rogers had given him. He found himself in a room behind two lengths of heavy grey curtain that hung at
the back of the stage. The irritating sound of bland muzak came from inside the hall. He moved to the metal ladder mounted against the wall and climbed effortlessly to the catwalk situated fifty feet above the stage. A tall, blond-haired policeman challenged him as soon as he reached the catwalk. Bernard recognized him from the dossier Bailey had prepared for him at the outset of the operation.
'Sergeant Mason?' Bernard said as a matter of formality.
'Yes,' came the terse reply.
'I'm Columbus,' Bernard said, taking off his sunglasses.
'What happened to your eye?'
'An accident,' Bernard replied dismissively. 'What about the other two policemen who're supposed to be up here with you?'
'Unconscious.'
'I'm impressed,' Bernard said absently, his eyes already scanning the catwalk for the best angle for the shot.
'They'll be out for another couple of hours. Those were the instructions - '
'Where's the rifle?' Bernard cut in.
'It was brought up earlier. I'll get it for you.'
Bernard waited until Mason had left then looked round him slowly. Everything was just as he had visualized it when he had studied the plans back in Beirut. The catwalk was hidden from the main body of the hall by the heavy grey curtains that hung from the ceiling to the floor on the sides of the room. He found the break in the curtains behind the stage and tweaked
one of them aside so that he could look out over the hall. The first of the businessmen had already taken their seats close to the stage and were talking amongst themselves as they waited for their colleagues to arrive.
Bernard looked down onto the stage. The lectern was centrally positioned at the front, perfectly placed for a head shot. But he didn't intend to wait until Mobuto reached the stage. He would pick him off as he entered the hall through the doors at the back of the room. That way all eyes would be on Mobuto and nobody would notice the slight movement in the curtains high above the stage. He let the curtain fall back into place then looked at his watch. One thirty-three. Bailey had already told him that Mobuto would reach the hall around one forty-five. Plenty of time. Mason returned with the black attache case and gave it to Bernard.
' O K. Keep an eye on the door,' Bernard said.
As Mason turned away Bernard clasped his hands on either side of the man's head and jerked it savagely to one side, breaking his neck. He grabbed Mason under the arms as his body went limp and eased him down noiselessly onto the catwalk. He was only carrying out Bailey's orders - no witnesses. He unlocked the case and opened it. Inside were the sections of the Galil sniper rifle. After he had put the rifle together, he connected the Nimrod X 6 telescopic-sight-attachment and screwed the silencer onto the end of the barrel. He picked up the magazine, containing twenty rounds of subsonic ammunition, and carefully clipped it into place. He peered through
the curtain again. More of the businessmen had filed into the hall but there was still no sign of Mobuto.
He carefully adjusted the telescopic sight until he had a perfect image of the doors. It would be a simple shot, one bullet through the head. That's all it would take. But he couldn't escape. He knew that. It would only take the authorities a few seconds to realize the bullet had come from the catwalk. And there was only one way to get off the catwalk, and that was down the ladder. He would never make it. But he had known that even before he accepted the assignment. So, once he had killed Mobuto, he would put the rifle down and wait for the police to arrest him. Not that he would be in custody for very long. Bailey had already paid off several senior policemen to arrange for Bernard to 'escape' later that night. He would then be driven to an abandoned airstrip where a plane would be waiting to take him back to Beirut.
It wouldn't be in Bailey's interests to double-cross him. He had only gone along with Bailey's plan after he had written down a detailed account of all the CIA operations he had been involved in over the years which he had then passed onto a lawyer with instructions that it be forwarded on to the New York Times if anything were to happen to him before he made contact with the lawyer again. And Bailey had been made aware of the document's existence. He knew he was safe as long as the document remained in the lawyer's possession. And he would be in no rush to collect the document, no rush at all.
He looked at his watch. One forty. Mobuto could appear any time now. He picked up the rifle, wrapped
the strap tightly around his arm, then rested the barrel lightly on the top railing, the telescopic sight trained on the doors. Now all he had to do was wait.
Kolchinsky and Whitlock were already waiting on the helipad as the UN AGO helicopter came in to land. The cabin door was thrown open before the pads touched the ground and Graham jumped nimbly onto the helipad and ran, doubled over, to where they stood.
'What the hell is going on?' Kolchinsky demanded.
'Bernard's here. And he's got a sniper rifle with him,' Graham shouted above the noise of the rotors.
'Mobuto's due at the hall in a couple of minutes,' Whitlock said, glancing at his watch. 'We have to warn him.'
Kolchinsky opened his mouth to speak but Graham and Whitlock had already disappeared through the door behind him. Wiutlock grabbed Graham's arm and pointed to the fire escape. Graham pushed it open and they bounded down the stairs, two at a time, and arrived breathlessly at the sixth floor less than a minute later. Whitlock's arm was throbbing from where it had banged against his chest but he ignored the pain as he emerged into the corridor. Mobuto was talking to Bailey at the door. Bailey looked up sharply at Whitlock then his eyes narrowed with uncertainty when he saw Graham appear behind him. Bailey knew something was wrong. He had to get Mobuto into the hall. Fast. He was still opening the door when Graham slammed it shut with his palm.
'What are you doing?' Bailey snarled.
'What's going on, Clarence?' Mobuto demanded, looking from Whitlock to Graham. 'And who is this man?'
'Mike Graham,' Whitlock replied with evident satisfaction.
'Mike Graham ?' Mobuto said in a startled voice. He held out his hand. 'It's a pleasure finally to meet you.'
'Likewise,' Graham said, shaking Mobuto's hand quickly. He noticed D'Arcy standing beside Whitlock. 'Are you the senior officer here?'
D'Arcy nodded.
'Then arrest this son-of-a-bitch,' Graham said, pointing to Bailey.
Rogers reached for his bolstered Smith & Wesson but his hand froze on the butt when he saw the Browning in Whitlock's hand. He slowly withdrew his hand.
'You touch me and you'll be walking the beat for the rest of your days,' Bailey snapped, glaring at D'Arcy.
'Clarence, what is going on?' Mobuto said in desperation.
'Robert Bailey was the mastermind behind the plot to assassinate you, sir,' Graham said. 'Ngune and Bernard work for him.'
'Is this true?' Mobuto said, staring at Bailey.
'Of course not,' Bailey retorted angrily.
'Are you calling the President's brother a liar?' Graham said, his eyes never leaving Bailey's face.
'Remy told you that?' Mobuto asked Graham.
'He told Tambese, and Tambese told us. Who do you believe? Bailey or your brother?'
'There must be some - '
'Arrest him!' Mobuto said contemptuously, cutting across Bailey's outburst.
Whitlock nodded to D'Arcy. 'And take him while you're at it,' he said, indicating Rogers.
D'Arcy had the two men handcuffed. Whitlock gave instructions for them to be taken to a lounge further down the corridor then turned to D'Arcy and explained that Bernard was already in the building.
'I think it would be unwise of you to go ahead with your address until we've rechecked the hall, sir,' Graham said to Mobuto.
'There's only one area a sniper could use in the hall, and that's the catwalk,' D'Arcy said behind Graham. 'And we've got that covered.' He looked at Whitlock. 'It seems that extra man you sent could come in useful after all.'