Ms. Dom Was Sitting Three Seats Away. She Rose Slowly But Remained Behind Her Seat. “Laura, Sit Down, Was She Said Firmly. “No,” Laura Pulled Away From Harleigh. “I Can’t Stay Here!” She Screamed, And Ran Around The Table. She Was Headed Toward The Door On The Other Side Of The Chamber, The Door The Leader Had Been Guarding.
The Leader Started Down The Stairs As Laura Ran Across The Carpeted Floor. Ms. Dorn Ran After Laura, Shouting For Her To Come Back. The Man Who’d Been Standing On The Other Side Of The Room, Guarding The Other Door, Left His Post And Ran After The Teacher. The Australian Man At The Top Of The Stairs Had Stopped And Was Looking Down At Them. Everyone Was Watching Laura As The Leader, Ms. Dom, And The Other Man All Reached The Door. The Other Man Grabbed Ms. Dom Around The Waist, Pulled Her Back, Swung Her Around, And Literally Flung Her On The Floor. The Leader Reached The Door As Laura Was Pulling It Open. He Threw His Shoulder Into It, Closing It, And Pushed Laura Back. The Girl Stumbled, Fell, Got Up, And Rushed Toward The Stairs. She Was Still Shrieking.
The Door Isn’t Locked.
The Thought Hit Harleigh Like A Bright Light. Of Course It Wasn’t Locked. The Men Had Opened The Doors And They Didn’t Have The Keys To Lock Them.
They’d Opened The Door Laura Had Run Toward, And They’d Opened The Door Behind Harleigh. Harleigh Had Watched Them Do It. They’d Spent Some Time Putting Equipment Into The Hallway Down Here. The Door That Was About Twenty Feet Behind Where Harleigh And Barbara Were Sitting. The Door The Man Had Just Run From In Order To Catch Laura.
The Door No One Was Guarding.
The Leader Was Running After Laura. Ms. Dom Had Had The Wind Knocked From Her But Was Fighting With The Man Who’d Thrown Her Down. The Pressure Must Have Gotten To Her; The Music Teacher Wasn’t Thinking. But Harleigh Was, Clearly And Confidently. She Was Thinking Not Only Of Getting Out And Saving Herself, But Of Bringing What “Uncle” Bob Herbert Called “Intel” To The Outside. The Teenager Turned Slowly And Stole A Sideways Look At The Door. She Could Run A Dash Like That Easily. She’d Blue-Ribboned The Fifty-Yard Dash In High School Two Out Of Four Years. She Could Certainly Get To The Double Doors Before Any Of The Men Could Stop Her.
And Once She Was Out Of Here, There Had To Be A Way To Get Into The Economic And Social Council Chamber. She’d Seen The Double Doors On That Side During The Tour They’d Been Given.
Harleigh Used The Toe Of Her Right High-Heeled Shoe To Slip Off Her Left Shoe. Then She Slowly Did The Same With The Right. Her Fellow Students Were Watching The Struggle.
Harleigh Eased The Chair Back. Slowly, Without Rising, She Pivoted The Chair On One Leg So She Could Turn Her Body Around Slightly. Have A Clear, Straight Run At The Exit.
“Don’t Do It,” Barbara Said From The Side Of Her Mouth. “What?” Harleigh Said.
“I Know What You’re Thinking,” Barbara Said, “Because I’m Thinking The Same Thing. Don’t Go For It. I Am.
. ‘Ationo-[.Thorn] “I’m Faster Than You,” Barbara Murmured. “I Beat You Two Years In A Row.” “I’m Two Steps Closer,” Harleigh Pointed Out. Barbara Shook Her Head Slowly. Her Eyes Were Angry And Her Mind Was Made Up. Harleigh Didn’t Know What To Do. She Didn’t Want To Race Barbara For The Door. They’d Only Trip Each Other Up.
The Girls Looked Over As The Leader Caught Laura Mid-Way Up The Stairs. He Lifted Her Off The Floor And Threw Her Backward, Down The Stairs. Laura Bounced And Rolled And Came To A Stop At The Bottom. She Was Moving Her Arms And Head Slowly, Painfully. The Leader Hurried Down To Her. Barbara Took A Few Slow, Shallow Breaths. She Put Her Hands On The Edge Of The Wooden Table. She Waited Until She Was Sure That No One Was Looking Her Way. Then She Pushed Off From The Table, Rose, And Ran.
Her Legs Were Hindered By The Tight Gown She Was Wearing. Harleigh Heard A Rip Along The Side, But Barbara Kept Running. Her Arms Churned, She Kept Her Eyes On The Doorknob, And She Ignored Whichever Of The Terrorists Or Delegates Or Whoever Was Shouting At Her To Stop. Harleigh Watched As She Reached The Door. Go! Harleigh Thought.
Barbara Stopped To Pull It Open. She Heard The Latch Click, The Door Came Open, And Then She Heard A Whip–Loud Crack. It Stayed Inside Her Ears, Filling Them, Like The First Blast Of Music When Her Walkman Was Turned Too High.
The Next Thing Harleigh Knew, Barbara Was No Longer Standing. She Was Still Holding The Doorknob, But She Was On Her Knees. Her Hand Slipped From The Knob, And Her Arm Flopped To Her Side. Barbara’s Body Remained Upright, But Only For A Moment. Then She Fell To The Side.
She Was No Longer Angry.
New York, New York Saturday, 11:30 Secretary-General Chatterjee Stopped When She Heard The Muffled Gunshot. It Was Followed By Shrill Cries, And Then A Few Moments Later There Was A Second Gunshot, Closer To The Corridor Than The First. Almost Immediately After That, The Door Of The Security Council Chamber Opened. Ambassador Contini Was Thrown Out, And The Door Was Quickly Shut.
Colonel Mott Ran Over To The Body At Once, His Foot-Steps Breaking The Utter Stillness Of The Corridor. He Was Followed By The Emergency Medical Crew. The Delegate’s Well-Dressed Body Was Lying On Its Side, Contini’s Dark Face Toward Them. His Expression Was Relaxed, His Eyes Shut, His Lips Slightly Parted. The Man Didn’t Look Dead, Not The Way Ambassador Johanson Had. Then The Blood Started To Pool Beneath His Soft Cheek.
Mott Squatted Beside The Body. He Looked Behind The Head. There Was A Single Wound, Just Like Before.
As The Medical Team Placed The Body On A Stretcher, Chatterjee Walked Toward The Doors Of The Security Council Chamber. She Looked Away From The Body As She Passed. Mott Rose And Intercepted Her. “Ma’am, There’s Nothing You Can Gain By Going In There Now,” He Said. “At Least Wait Until We Have The Video.” “Wait!” Chatterjee Said.
“I’ve Already Waited Too Long!” Just Then, One Of The Security Force Personnel Came From The Economic And Social Council Chamber. Lieutenant David Mailman Was Assigned To A Makeshift, Two-Person Reconnaissance Team. He And His Partner Had Pulled A Fifteen-Year-Old Remote Infinity Eavesdropping Device Out Of Storage.
Designed To Work Over A Telephone Line, They Rigged It To Pick Up Voices Through The Headphones Of The Translating Units At Each Seat In The Security Council Chamber. Since The Range Was Only Twentyfive Feet, They Had To Work From The Adjoining Room. They Were Situated In The Small Corridor That Led To The Second-Floor Media Center And Was Common To Both The Trusteeship Council And Security Council Chambers. “Sir,” Lieutenant Mailman Said To The Colonel, “We Think Someone Just Tried To Get Out Of The Security Council. We Saw The Doorknob Twist And Heard That Latch Jiggle Right Before The First Shot.” “Was It A Warning Shot?” Mott Asked.
“We Don’t Believe So,” Mailman Replied.
“Whoever Was Back There Moaned After The Report.” The Lieutenant Looked Down. “It–It Didn’t Sound Like A Man, Sir. It Was A Very Soft Voice.” “One Of The Children,” Chatterjee Said With Horror.
“We Don’t Know That,” Mott Said. “Is There Anything Else, Lieutenant?” “No, Sir,” Mailman Said.
The Officer Left. The Colonel Balled His Fists, Then Looked At His Watch. He Was Waiting For Word About The Video Surveillance. Secure Phones Had Been Requested From The U.S. State Department Diplomatic Security Forces; Until They Arrived, All Communications Had To Be Done Person-To-Person. Chatterjee Had Never Seen A Man Look So Helpless.
The Secretary-General Was Still Facing The Door.
Ambassador Contini’s Death Hadn’t Hit Her Like The First One Did, And That Disturbed Her. Or Maybe Her Reaction Had Been Blunted By The News Lieutenant Mailman Brought. A Child May Have Been Shot– Chatterjee Started Toward The Door.
Mott Gently Grabbed Her Arm. “Please Don’t Do This. Not Yet.” The Secretary-General Stopped.
“I Know That There’s Nothing I Can Do From The Outside,” She Said. “If It Becomes Necessary To Take Action, You Won’t Need Me Here. But Inside, I May Be Able To Make A Difference.” The Colonel Looked At The Secretary-General For A Long Moment, Then Released Her Arm.
“You See?” She Said With A Soft Smile.
“Diplomacy. I Didn’t Have To Pull My Arm Away.” Mott Seemed Unconvinced As He Watched Her Go.
New York, New Yoic Saturday, 11:31 Pm.
Paul Hood And Mike Rodgers Sat In The Backseat Of The Sedan While Mohalley Sat Up Front With His Driver, Manhattan Seemed Like A Very Different Place As Hood Returned To It.