Highlander - Donna Lettow [109]
“No,” she said. “I just don’t have a good feeling about this.”
“It will be fine,” he assured her with more certainty than he actually felt. He was certain that Avram would try something at the signing. But it would do no good for her to worry, too. “I’ll be close by all night. You’ll be fine. I promise.”
It made her laugh to think he could chase away the bogeyman with only his word. “Well, if you promise,” she smiled wistfully. If only he could …
The signing ceremony took place in the ballroom of the embassy, a functional but not ornate reception area in the eastern wing of the building surrounded by the offices of embassy officials. Maral took her place with the other representatives of both peoples on a raised dais that stretched nearly the length of the room. Just in front of the dais was a podium with a cloth-covered table on which lay a copy of the historic agreement, waiting for the signatures of the two men upon whom the fate of two nations rested. The walls of the room had been tastefully decorated with the flags of the two peoples, and the theme was repeated on the table in a gold-embossed mahogany pen stand, which featured miniatures of the two flags and the actual pens used by Menachem Begin and Anwar Sadat to sign the Camp David Accords two decades before.
The rest of the room was filled with the world’s media, arranged in their standard pecking order—CNN, the BBC, and the big three American networks jockeying for space up front, while the lowly print journalists from the smaller Asian or South American papers had to settle for room at the back.
Once he was sure Maral was settled in, MacLeod roamed the ballroom and the surrounding hallways looking for trouble—looking for Avram. He knew there were both Palestinian and Israeli agents throughout the crowd and on every entrance, but he was also well aware that only he knew what they were looking for. Periodically he would make sure to return to the front of the room, where he hoped Maral would see him and take some comfort from his presence.
The French Foreign Minister served as moderator for the event, quite proud of France’s contribution to this historic moment, as he pointed out many times in his endless opening remarks at the podium. As he finally wound down, he introduced each of the Israeli delegates who worked on the agreement, then the Palestinians as MacLeod paced through the assembled media, poised, alert.
Every security operative in the room seemed to tense when the Foreign Minister introduced the Israeli Prime Minister, Benjamin Netanyahu, and the President of the Palestinian Authority, Yasser Arafat. The two men entered from opposite sides of the room, crossed the dais, and shook hands at its center. The press stood to applaud and the ballroom was aflame with the flashes of a thousand cameras. Although he couldn’t see him through the crowd and lights, MacLeod suddenly sensed another Immortal.
As the two leaders took their seats near the podium, MacLeod found him. Avram had entered through the side door with the Israeli Prime Minister’s retinue, but remained off to one side of the dais with some other security men. As the French Minister droned on, MacLeod carefully made his way across the room. Then, to another round of applause, Arafat took the podium for his remarks and Avram ducked out the side door.
MacLeod was right behind him. He followed him down a corridor lined with offices and out the east entrance into a manicured garden. Two security men stood vigil at the entrance, one Israeli and one Palestinian. As he stalked Avram across the garden, MacLeod knew he’d have to wait until they were out of sight of the two guards and the security cameras on the grounds before he could reach for his katana.
At the edge of the garden stood a garage of maintenance vehicles. Avram passed behind it and MacLeod followed him cautiously, expecting an ambush, but when he cleared the corner, he saw Avram standing in a patch of light behind the building, waiting for him.
“I’ve heard that the