There Were Still Tears But No More Sounds. Downer Was Nearly At The Bottom Of The Stairs When Georgiev Saw The Light On The Tacsat Flash. He Was Surprised.
He Had Spoken To Annabelle Hampton An Hour Ago, When She Let Him Know That The Secretary-General Intended To Try To Negotiate. For A Moment, Georgiev Wondered If Downer’s Fears Were Going To Be Realized And Security Forces Would Try To Move In. But That Wasn’t Possible. The Un Wouldn’t Risk It. He Walked To The Phone.
Annabelle Hampton Had Been Georgiev’s Riskiest But Most Important Acquisition. From The Time They Had First Met In Cambodia, Annabelle Had Impressed Him As A Determined And Independent Woman. She Was In Phnom Penh Recruiting Humint And Personnel For The Cia. Georgiev Provided Her With Intelligence His Girls Obtained From Their Customers. He Also Gave Her Intel He Picked Up From His Own Khmer Rouge Contacts. Though He Was Paying The Rebels And Getting Paid To Spy On Them, He Actually Made A Small Personal Profit On The Arrangement.
When The Untac Operation Ended In 1993, Georgiev Sought Annabelle Out In Order To Sell Her The Names Of The Girls He’d Been Using. Learning She’d Been Transferred To Seoul, He Contacted Her There. Annabelle Seemed More Angry Than Ambitious By Then. When He Mentioned That He Was Leaving The Army To Go Into Business, She Half-Joked That He Should Keep Her In Mind If He Heard Of Any Interesting Opportunities.
He Did.
Up Until This Afternoon, When Annabelle Gave Georgiev The Detailed Timetable For Tonight’s United Nations Event, He Wondered If She Was Going To Rack Out. He Was Confident She Wouldn’t Betray Him Because He Knew Where Her Parents Lived; He’d Made A Point Of Sending Them Flowers While Annabelle Was Visiting There For Christmas. Still, The Final Hours Before Any Mission Are What The Great Nineteenth-Century Bulgarian General Grigor Halachev Used To Call “The Times Of Gravest Doubt.” That’s When The External Plans Are Finally Set, And Soldiers Had A Chance To Examine Their Internal Condition.
Annabelle Had Not Backed Down. She Had As Much Steel In Her As Any Soldier In This Room.
He Picked Up The Phone. “Speak,” He Said.
That Was The Only Word Annabelle Had Been Told To Respond To. “The Secretary-General Is On Her Way Again,” Ani Informed Him. “Only This Time, She’s Planning To Cotta; Into The Security Council Chamber. She Hopes You’ll Take Her In.” Georgiev Smiled.
“Either That,” Ani Said, “Or She Hopes You’ll Target Her Instead Of The Italian Delegate.” “Pacifists Always Hope You’ll Target Them Until You Really Do,” Georgiev Said. “Then They Cry And Beg. What Are Her Advisers Saying?” “Colonel Mott And One Of The Undersecretary-Generals Are Encouraging A Strike As Soon As They Get Video Images Of The Chamber,” Ani Said. “The Other Officials Have Been Noncommittal.” Georgiev Glanced At Barone. The Security Unit Wouldn’t Be Getting Any Images. When Annabelle Had Informed Them Of The Plan, Georgiev Had Sent Barone To The Spot Where They Were Said To Be Drilling. As Soon As The Tiny Camera Came Through, He Would Cover It. “Was There Any Further Discussion About Paying The Ransom?” Georgiev Asked Her.
“None,” Ani Said.
“No Matter,” Georgiev Said. “No Video Images, More Dead–They’ll Turn To Our Needs Soon.” “There Is One Thing More,” Ani Said. “I’ve Just Been Informed By My Superior That A Swat Team From The National Crisis Management Center Is Coming Up From Washington.” “The Ncmc?” Georgiev Said. “Sanctioned By Whom?” “No One,” Ani Told Him. “They’re Going To Use My Office As Their Headquarters.
If The Un Gives Them The Goahead, They May Come In.” That Was Unexpected. Georgiev Had Heard That The Ncmc Staged A Very Creditable Action In Russia During The Coup Attempt Over A Year Before. Though He Had Poison Gas And Battle Plans For The Security Council Chamber, He Didn’t Want To Have To Use Either. On The Other Hand, The Un Would Have To Give The Swat Team Permission To Come In. And If He Could Get Chatterjee In Here, She Would Give Georgiev The Means Of Forestalling That. Georgiev Thanked Annabelle And Hung Up.
The Secretary-General Would Be A Welcome Addition To The Hostages. He Had Always Counted On Having Her As An Advocate For The Children. Telling The Nations Of The World To Cooperate For Their Release. Now She Would Also Help Him To Keep The Military Out. And When It Was Time To Go, She And The Children Would Make Ideal Hostages.
Downer Arrived. The Only Question Was What To Do About The Italian Delegate. If They Shot Him, It Would Undermine The Secretary-General’s Credibility As A Peace-Maker. If They Spared Him, They’d Seem Weak.
Deciding That The Secretary-General’s Credibility Was Not His Concern, Georgiev Nodded To Downer. Then He Watched As The Australian Half-Pushed, Half-Pulled The Weeping Delegate Up The Stairs.
New York, New York Saturday, 11:29 P.M.
“They’re Going To Do It Again.” Brown-Haired Laura Sabia Was Sitting On Harleigh Hood’s Left. She Was Staring Ahead Blankly And Shaking Worse Than Before. It Was As If She Were On A Bad Sugar High. Harleigh Placed Her Fingertips Back On The Girl’s Hand To Try And Calm Her. “They’re Going To Kill Him,” Laura Said.
“Shhhh,” Harleigh Said. Barbara Mathis, Who Was Sitting On Harleigh’s Right, Was Watching The Terrorists. The Raven-Haired Violinist Was Sitting Up Straight And Seemed Very Intense. Harleigh Knew The Look. Barbara Was The Kind Of Musician Who Got Irrationally Angry If Someone Made A Noise That Caused Her To Break Concentration. Barbara Looked Like She Was Getting To That Point Now. Harleigh Hoped Not.
The Girls Watched As The Masked Men Led The Delegate Up The Stairs. The Victim Fell To His Hands And Knees On One Of The Steps And Was Crying, Saying Something Fast And High In Italian. The Masked Man, The Australian, Grabbed Him By The Back Of His Collar And Yanked At Him Hard. The Italian’s Arms Crumpled And He Fell Forward. The Masked Man Swore, Crouched, And Put His Gun Between The Man’s Legs. He Said Something To The Italian, Who Grabbed Onto A Chair And Quickly Struggled Back To His Feet. The Men Continued To The Top Of The Stairs. Near The Young Violinists, In The Center Of The Circular Table, A Delegate’s Wife Was Comforting Another Woman. She Was Holding Her Close And Pressing Her Hand Over Her Mouth. Harleigh Guessed That This Was The Wife Of The Man Who Was About To Die. Laura Was Literally Fluttering Now, As Though There Were An Electric Current Running Through Her. Harleigh Had Never Seen Anything Like It. She Closed Her Fingers Around Laura’s Hands And Squeezed.
I “You’ve Got To Calm Down,” Harleigh Said Under Her Breath. “I Can’t,” Laura Said. “I Can’t Breathe. I Need To Get Out Of Here.” “Soon,” Harleigh Said. “They’ll Get Us Out.
Just Sit Back And Shut Your Eyes. Try And Relax.” Harleigh’s Father Had Once Told Her And Her Brother That If They Were Ever In A Situation Like This, The Important Thing Was To Stay Centered. Invisible. Count The Seconds, He’d Said, Not The Minutes Or The Hours. The Longer A Hostage Crisis Went On, The Better The Chance For A Negotiated Settlement.
The Better The Chance For Survival. If There Were An Opportunity To Escape, She Had To Use Common Sense. The Question She Had To Ask Herself Was Not, Is There A Chance I’ll Make It? The Question Was, Is There A Chance I Won’t Make It? If The Answer Was Yes, It Was Better To Stay Where You Were. He’d Also Told Her To Avoid Eye Contact Wherever Possible. That Would Humanize Her To Her Captors. It Would Remind Them That She Was One Of The People They Hated. She Should Also Say Nothing, In Case It Was The Wrong Thing. Above All, She Was Supposed To Relax. Think Happy Thoughts, Just Like They Did In Two Of Her Favorite Musicals, Peter Pan And The Sound Of Music.
“Uura?” Harleigh Said.
Laura Didn’t Seem To Have Heard. “Laura, You Have To Listen To Me.” She Wasn’t Hearing Anything. The Young Woman Had Slipped Into Some Kind Of Weird State. Her Eyes Were Staring And Her Lips Were Pressed Tight.
The Two Men Had Reached The Top Of The Stairs. On Harleigh’s Other Side, Barbara Mathis Was The Opposite Of Laura, Taut As A Violin String.
She Was Sneering In A Way That Harleigh Knew Well.
Harleigh Felt Like The Statue At The Justice Department. Only Instead Of The Scales Of Justice She Was Between Emotional Extremes.
Suddenly, Laura Shot From Her Seat. Harleigh Was Still Holding The Girl’s Hand.
“Why Are You Doing This To Us?” Laura Shrieked As She Stood There. “I Want You To Stop It Now!” Harleigh Tugged Gently On Her Hand “Laura, Don’t Do The Leader Of The Gang Was Standing Halfway Up The Steps. He Turned And Glared At The Girls.