Tom Clancy – Op Center 6 State Of Siege

There Was A Shot. “Now I Am,” The Caller Replied. “Do You Have Any Other Questions?” He Asked.

“No,” Chatterjee Said. “You Can Come And Get Him When We’re Gone,” Said The Terrorist. “How Soon That Happens Is Up To You.” There Was A Short, Painful Silence. “Go Ahead,” Chatterjee Said.

“I’m Listening.” “We Want The Helicopter With Six Million American Dollars,” He Said. “We Want Cash, Not Transfers. You Have Our Man; He May Tell You Our Names. I Don’t Want Our Accounts Frozen.

Let Us Know When The Helicopter Is Here. We Will Resume The Killing In Eight Minutes And Again Every Half Hour. Only This Time We Won’t Be Killing Delegates. We’ll Continue On The Young Ladies.” Hood Realized He Had Never Known Hate Until That Instant. “Oh Please, No!” Chatterjee Cried.

“You Made This Happen,” The Caller Said.

“Listen To Me,” Chatterjee Said. “We’ll Get What You Want But There Must Be No More Killing. There Has Been Too Much Already.” “You Have Eight Minutes.” “No! Give Us A Few Hours!” Chatterjee Implored. “We’ll Cooperate With You. Hello?

Hello!” All Was Quiet. Hood Could Imagine The Depth Of The Secretary-General’s Frustration.

August Shook His Head. “The Troops Ought To Go Back In Now, Hit Them Fast When They Don’t Expect It.” “We Ought To Go In,” Hood Said.

“They Said They’ll Release Poison Gas,” Ani Told Them. “But They Didn’t During The First Assault,” August Said. “Hostage-Takers Want To Live. That’s Why They’ve Got Hostages. They Won’t Give Up That Advantage.” Rodgers Turned From The Phone. “It Wasn’t Harleigh Who Was Shot,” He Said. “The Girl’s Name Is Barbara Mathis.” Everything Was Relative. Harleigh Was Still A Prisoner, And One Of Her Ensemble Mates Was Injured.

Yet Relief Washed Over Hood From The Inside Out.

Despite The Fact That Harleigh Was Still In There, Hood Had To Agree With August. The Men In The Security Council Chambers Were Not Suicide Bombers Or Political Terrorists. They Were Pirates, Here For Plunder. They Wanted To Get Out Alive. After A Moment, Chatterjee Informed The Lieutenant That She Was Going To The Infirmary. She Wanted To Talk To The Captured Terrorist. There Was No Further Audio After The Secretary-General Left.

“She’s Out Of Range Of The Bug,” Ani Said.

Rodgers Looked At His Watch. “We’ve Got Less Than Seven Minutes,” He Said Sharply.

“What Can We Do To Stop Them?” “There Isn’t Enough Time To Go To The Security Council And Get Inside,” August Said.

“You’ve Been Listening To This For Nearly Five Hours,” Rodgers Said To Ani. “What Do You Think?” “I Don’t Know,” She Said. “Guess,” Rodgers Pressed. “They’re Leaderless,” She Said.

“There’s No Telling What They Might Do Now.” “How Do You Know That?” Hood Asked. She Looked At Him. “That They’re Leaderless?” He Said.

“Who Else Would Have Gone Out To Talk For Them?” She Asked.

The Phone Rang, And Ani Picked Up. It Was Darrell Mccaskey For Rodgers. Am Passed Him The Phone. Something Else Passed Between Rodgers And The Woman As Well. A Disapproving Look. Or Was It Doubt?

The Conversation Was Short. Rodgers Stood There Saying Very Little As Darrell Mccaskey Briefed Him. When He Was Finished, He Handed The Receiver Back To Ani.

She Turned And Lay It In The Cradle. “Un Security Fingerprinted The Captured Terrorist,” Rodgers Said. “Darrell Just Got The Intel.” Rodgers Looked Back At Ani. He Leaned Over Her Chair, His Hands On The Armrests. “Talk To Me, Ms. Hampton.” “What?” She Said.

“Mike, What Is It?” Hood Asked.

“The Terrorist’s Name Is Colonel Ivan Georgiev,” Rodgers Said. He Was Still Looking Down At Ani. “He Served With Untac In Cambodia. He Also Worked With The Cia In Bulgaria. Did You Ever Hear Of Him?” “Me?” Ani Asked. “Y.” “No,” She Said.

“But You Know Something About This That We Don’t,” Rodgers Said. Less-Than ‘Ationo “You’re Lying,” Rodgers Said.

“Mike, What’s Going On?” Hood Asked.

“She Came To The Office Before The Attack,” Rodgers Said. He Moved Closer To Ani. “To Work, You Said.” “That’s Right.” “You’re Not Dressed For Work,” Rodgers Said. “I Was Stood Up,” She Said. “That’s.Why I Came Here.

I Had Reservations At Chez Eugenie, You Can Check. Hey, I Don’t Know Why I Have To Defend Myself To” “Because You’re Lying,” Rodgers Said. “Did You Know This Was Going To Happen?” “Of Course Not!” She Said.

“But You Knew Something Was Going To Happen,” Rodgers Said. “You Served In Cambodia.

Colonel Mott Was Killed By A Pair Of Cambodians Posing As Delegates To The United Nations. Did They Think They Were Shooting Ivan Georgiev?” “How The Hell Should I Know?” Ani Cried.

Rodgers Shoved The Chair Back. It Rolled Across The Tile Floor And Slammed Into A Filing Cabinet.

Ani Started To Rise, And Rodgers Pushed Her Back Down.

“Mike!” Hood Shouted.

“We Don’t Have Time For This Bullshit, Paul,” Rodgers Said. “Your Daughter Could Be The Next One They Kill!” He Glared Down At Ani. “Your Tacsat Is On. Who Were You Calling?” “My Superior In Moscow–“Call Him Now,” Rodgers Said. She Hesitated.

“Call Him Now!” Rodgers Yelled. Ani Didn’t Move. “Who’s On The Other End Of That Line?” Rodgers Demanded. “Was It The Cambodians, Or Is It The Terrorists?” Ani Said Nothing. Her Hands Were On The Armrests. Rodgers Slapped One Of His Hands On Top Of Hers. She Couldn’t Move It. He Pushed A Thumb Under Her Index Finger And Bent It Back. She Screamed And Reached Over With Her Other Hand To Try And Pry Him Off.

He Used His Free Hand To Shove Her Hand Back To The Armrest And Kept Up His Pressure On The Other.

“Who’s On The Other End Of The Goddamn Phone?” Rodgers Yelled. “I Told You!” Rodgers Bent The Finger Back Until The Nail Was Nearly Touching The Wrist. Ani Screamed.

“Who’s On The Other End?” Rodgers Pressed.

“The Terrorists!” Ani Cried. “It’s The Terrorists!” Hood Felt Sick. “Are There Any Other Outside Units Besides You?” Rodgers Demanded.

“No!” “What Are You Supposed To Do Next?” Rodgers Asked. “Tell Them If The Money’s Really Being Delivered,” She Said. Rodgers Released Her Hand.

He Rose.

Hood Was Staring At The Young Woman. “How Could You Help Them? How?” “We Don’t Have Time For That Now,” Rodgers Said.

“They’re Going To Kill Someone Else In Three Minutes. The Question Is How Do We Stop Them?” “By Paying Them,” August Said. Rodgers Looked At Him. “Explain.” “We Get Chatterjee’s Number From Op-Center,” August Said. “We Ask Her To Get On The Radio To Tell The Terrorists She Has The Money. Then Our Lady Here Corroborates That. We Contact The Nypd, Get A Chopper Over There Like They Asked For, And Have A Swat Unit Take Them When They Come Out.” “They’ll Come Out, But With Hostages,” Hood Said.

“We’re Going To Have To Risk The Hostages At Some Point,” August Said. “At Least This Way We’ll Save More Than We Could In The Security Council-And One Of Them For Sure.” “Do It,” Hood Said, Glancing At His Watch.

“Fastcom” New York, New York Saturday, 11:55 Secretary-General Chatterjee Raced Down The Escalator To The Infirmary, Which Was Located On The First Floor Not Far From The Visitor’s Lobby. An Aide Had Joined Her At The Foot Of The Escalator And Was Walking With Her. Enzo Donati Was A Young Graduate Student From Rome Who Was Earning Credits For His Degree In International Relations. He Had Her Cell Phone And He Was In Touch With The New York Office Of Interpol. They Had Learned That The Prisoner’s Name Was Ivan Georgiev, A Former Officer In The Bulgarian Army. The Bulgarian Ambassador Had Not Been At The Soiree And Had Been Notified.

Chatterjee Passed Through The Delegates Only Doorway Near The Hiroshima Exhibit And Made Her Way Along The Brightly Lighted Corridors. She Tried Not To Think Of The Loss Of Colonel Mott Or The Other Security Personnel, Or Of The Deaths Of The Delegates. She Focused On The Approach Of Midnight, On The Impending Death Of One Of The Young Violinists, And How To Avoid It. Chatterjee Had It In Mind To Offer Georgiev A Deal. If He Would Urge His Accomplice To Postpone The Shooting, And Help To Defuse The Situation, She Would Do What She Could To Get Him Clemency. Chatterjee Assumed, Of Course, That Georgiev Was Even Awake. She Hadn’t Spoken To The Emergency Medical People Since They’d Brought Him Down Here. If Not, She Didn’t Know What She Was Going To Do. They Had Less Than Five Minutes. Molt’s Military Approach Had Been Repulsed, And Her Own Diplomatic Efforts Had Failed. Cooperation Was An Option, But The Six Million Dollars They Asked For Would Take Time To Put Together. She Had Called Deputy Secretary-General Takahara And Asked Him To Sit Down With The Other Members Of The Emergency Team To Figure Out How To Do That. She Knew That Even If They Paid, There Would Still Be Further Bloodshed. The Nypd Or The Fbi Would Move In As Soon As The Terrorists Tried To Leave. But At Least There Was A Chance That They Could Still Get Some Of The Delegates And Young Violinists Away Safely.

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