The Secretariat Building Stood Out More Than It Had When He And His Family First Arrived-Was It Only A Day Before? The Building Was Lit By Spotlights That Had Been Placed On The Rooftops Of Adjoining Skyscrapers. But The Offices Themselves Were Dark, Making The Structure Seem Cadaverous. The Un No Longer Reminded Him Of The Proud And Hale “Bat Symbol.” It Wasn’t The Living Chest Of The City But Seemed Like A Thing Already Dead.
When They Left The Airport Shortly After Eleven P.M., Deputy Chief Mohalley Called His Office To Find Out If There Were Any New Developments.
His Assistant Informed Him That As Far As They Knew, Nothing Had Happened Since The First Execution.
Meanwhile, Hood Had Brought Rodgers Up To Date. Characteristically, Rodgers Listened And Said Nothing. The General Didn’t Like To Reveal What He Was Thinking In Public. To Rodgers, Being With People Who Weren’t Part Of His Trusted Circle Was “In Public.” Both Men Were Silent As They Crossed Through The Tun Nel Back Into Manhattan. When They Were Through, Mohalley Turned To Them For The First Time.
“Where Will I Be Dropping You Off, Mr.
Hood, General Rodgers?” Mohalley Asked.
“We’ll Get Out Where You Do,” Hood Said. “I’m Getting Off At The State Department.” “That’ll Be Fine,” Hood Said. He Said Nothing More. He Still Intended To Go To The Cia Shell At The United Nations Plaza, Though He Didn’t Want Mohalley To Know That.
Once Again, Mohalley Didn’t Seem Happy With That Answer, But He Didn’t Press It.
The Car Emerged From The Tunnel On Thirty-Seventh Street. As The Driver Made His Way Up First Avenue, Mohalley Looked At Mike Rodgers.
“I Want You To Know I Hate What Happened Back There,” The State Department Officer Said.
Rodgers Nodded Once.
“I’ve Heard About Striker,” Mohalley Said.
“They’ve Got Quite A Rep. As Far As I’m Concerned, We Couldn’t Do Much Better Than To Send Your People In And Get This Thing Over With.” “It’s Sick,” Hood Said. “Everyone Probably Feels That Way, But No One Will Authorize It.” “This Whole Thing Is A Mess,” Mohalley Said As His Car Phone Beeped. “Hundreds Of Heads And No Brain. It’s Almost Breathtaking, In A Tragic Sort Of Way.” Mohalley Answered The Phone As The Car Stopped At The Fortysecond Street Barricade. A Pair Of Police Officers In Riot Gear Walked Over.
While The Driver Showed Them His State Department Id, Mohalley Listened In Silence.
Hood Watched The Man’s Face Under The Glow Of A Streetlight. Curiosity Gnawed At Him. He Looked Over At The United Nations Complex. From This Angle, Looking Up, The Secretariat Building Seemed Large And Imposing Against The Black Sky. His Baby Seemed So Small And Vulnerable As He Thought About Her Inside That Blue White Monstrosity.
Mohalley Hung Up. He Looked Back.
“What Is It?” Hood Asked. “Another Delegate Was Shot,” Mohalley Told Him. “And Possibly,” He Said, “Possibly One Of The Children.” Hood Stared At Him. It Took An Instant For “One Of The Children” To Translate As Possibly Harleigh. When It Did, Life Seemed To Lose All Forward Momentum. Hood Knew That He Would Never Forget Mohalley’s Somber Expression At That Moment, The Brilliant White Glare On The Windshield, And The Looming Secretariat Behind It. It Was Now And Forever The Picture Of Lost Hope. “There Was A Gunshot Prior To The One That Killed The Delegate,” Mohalley Went On. “One Of The Un Security People In The Adjoining Chamber Heard Someone Trying To Get Out The Side. Door There. There Was A Cry Or A Groan After That.” “Is There Any More Information?” Rodgers Asked As The Police Let The Car Through.
“There’s Been No Communication From The Security Council,” Mohalley Said, “But The Secretary-General Is Going To Try To Get Inside.” The Sedan Pulled Up To The Curb. “Mike,” Hood Said. “I’ve Got To Go To Sharon.” “I Know,” Rodgers Said. He Cracked The Door And Stepped Out.
“General, Would You Like To Come With Me?” Mohalley Asked. Rodgers Stepped Aside As Hood Climbed Out. “No,” He Said, “But Thanks.” Mohalley Handed Hood His Business Card.
“Let Me Know If You Need Anything.” “Thanks,” Hood Said. “I Will.” Mohalley Once Again Looked Like He Wanted To Ask Something But Didn’t. Rodgers Shut The Door.
The Car Pulled From The Curb And Rodgers Stood Facing Hood.
Hood Heard The Distant Sounds Of Traffic And The Hum Of The Helicopters Hovering Over The River And The Un. He Heard The Shouts Of Police And The Clump Of Sandbags Being Dropped Behind Wooden Barricades Along Forty-Second And Forty-Seventh Streets.
Yet He Didn’t Feel Like He Was There. He Was Still In The Car, Still Staring At Mohalley.
Still Hearing Him Say, “And Possibly One Of The Children.
Was “Paul,” Rodgers Said.
Hood Was Staring At The Buildings As They Shrank Into The Darkness Of Upper First Avenue. He Had To Force Himself To Breathe. “Don’t Go Away On Me,” Rodgers Said. “I’m Going To Need You Later, And Sharon Needs You Now.” Hood Nodded. Rodgers Was Right. But He Couldn’t Seem To Get Out Of That Damn Car, Away From Mohalley’s Sad Face And The Horror Of That Moment.
“I’m Going Across The Street,” Rodgers Went On. “Brett Is Going To Meet Me At The Shell.” That Got Hood’s Attention. His Eyes Shifted To Rodgers. “Brett?” “We Saw The Mp’s When We Were Taxiing To The Ter Minal,” Rodgers Said. “We Had A Pretty Good Idea Why They Were There. Brett Told Me He’d Get Out Somehow And Meet Me Here.” The General Found A Little Smile. “You Know Brett. No One Tells Him To Run.” Hood Came Back A Little. Whoever The Possible Victim Was, There Were Still Lives At Risk. He Looked Over At The State Department Tower. “I’ve Got To Go.” “I Know,” Rodgers Said. “Take Care Of Her.” “You Have My Cell Phone Number-Was “I Do,” Rodgers Said. “When We Find Something Out Or Have Any Ideas, I’ll Call.” Hood Thanked Him And Started Toward The Redbrick Building.
New York, New York Saturday, I1:Sz P.M.
Georgiev Was Carrying The Panicked Girl Back To Her Seat When Barbara Mathis Went Down. Downer, Who Had Fired The Shot, Was Running From The Top Of The Gallery. Barone Was Also Running Over. It Was He Who Had Shouted For Barbara To Stop. Heedless Of Her Own Safety, One Of The Asian Delegates” Wives Had Gotten Up From The Table And Was Walking Over To Barbara. She Was Smart. She Didn’t Run. She Also Stopped With Her Back To The Door; She Didn’t Intend To Run. The Bulgarian Didn’t Order The Woman Back. She Set Her Purse Down, Knelt Beside The Girl, And Carefully Plucked The Blood-Soaked Gown From Around The Wound. The Bullet Had Struck The Teenage Girl In The Left Side.
Blood Was Oozing From The Small Opening. The Girl Wasn’t Moving. The Flesh Of Her Slender Arms Was Pale.
Georgiev Continued”Toward The Circular Table.
He Wondered If That Whole Thing Had Been Planned: One Girl Runs Screaming To Get Everyone’s Attention While Another Girl Runs In The Opposite Direction And Tries To Get Out. If So, It Was A Clever, Dangerous Maneuver. Georgiev Admired Courage. But Just Like Some Of The Girls Who Used To Work For Him In Cambodia Some Of Whom Were No Older Than This Girl-She Had Acted Disobediently.
And She Had Been Punished.
Unfortunately, The Lesson Was Probably Lost On The Other Hostages. They Were Already Getting Surprisingly Bold. Some Were Pushed By Fear, Others By Outrage Over What Had Happened To The Girl And The Delegates. A Mob Mentality, Even Among Hostages, Had A Way Of Shutting Down Reason. If They Turned On Him, He’d Have To Shoot Them. Shooting Them Would Rob Him Of His Leverage, And The Sound Of Gunfire And Cries Would Embolden Security Forces To Move In. Of Course, He Would Shoot Them If He Had To. All He Really Needed To Get Out Of This Were The Children. Even One Child Would Do, If It Came To That.
Suddenly, Two Other Delegates Stood Up. That Was The Problem With Giving One Person Some Extra Leash.
Everyone Assumed They Had It, Too. Georgiev Dropped The Stunned Laura Into Her Seat, Where She Sat Sobbing. He Ordered The Other Delegates To Sit Down. He Didn’t Want Too Many People On Their Feet Or Someone Else Might Be Tempted To Run.
“But That Girl Is Hurt!” One Of The Delegates Said. “She Needs Help.” Georgiev Raised His Gun. “I Haven’t Selected The Next One To Die. Don’t Make My Choice Easy.” The Men Sat Down. The One Who’d Spoken Looked Like He Wanted To Say Something Else; His Wife Urged Him To Be Silent. The Other One Looked Sadly Toward Barbara.
To Their Right, Contini’s Wife Was Sobbing Hysterically.
One Of The Other Wives Was Hugging Her Tight To Keep Her From Wailing. Vandal Brought The Music Teacher Back And Ordered Her To Sit As Well. Ms. Dorn Said That She Was Responsible For Barbara And Insisted That She Be Allowed To Take Care Of Her. Vandal Pushed Her Back Down.