State of Siege - Tom Clancy [29]
There was an ear-ringing roar, and then a seven-foot-wide section of the concrete barrier was gone. Several large chunks flew across the plaza like cannonballs, some landing in the fountain, others bouncing across the drive. But most of the wall rose in a wide, fifty-foot-high plume of jagged white shards, then rained down like hail. Behind the wall, five of the tall white flagpoles snapped near the bases. They fell straight and hard and landed on the asphalt with a loud clang. Vandal could hear it even though his ears were still clogged from the explosion. Even as the bits of concrete were still falling, Georgiev gunned the engine and pushed the van ahead. Timing was critical. They had to keep moving. He roared through the breach in the barrier, clipping the driver's side on an outthrust of concrete, but didn't stop. Downer had ducked back into the van, but Sazanka continued to lie in the open side door, ready to fire at anyone who shot at them. No one did. While they were part of the PKO and first conceived of this idea, the men had easily obtained a copy of the United Nations police guidelines. They were very explicit: No one was to act individually against a group. The threat was to be contained, if possible, by whatever personnel were on hand, but not challenged until sufficient units were made available. It was pure United Nations philosophy. It didn't- workin the international arena, and it wasn't going to work here. Georgiev headed northeast across the plaza. Though the windshield had shattered, it was still in the frame. Fortunately, there wasn't much the Bulgarian needed to see. The van shot across the exit lane of the courtyard and hopped onto the lawn that led to the General Assembly Building. Georgiev sped east around the Japanese Peace Bell. As Vandal ducked again, the van crashed through the large plate glass windows that opened onto the courtyard from the small lobby. The van slammed into the statue of El Abrazo de Paz, a stylized human figure "embracing peace" that stood just inside. The statue fell over, and the van rode up on it; that was as far as the van was going. But that was also as far as they needed the van to go. By the time guards and attendees at the delegates' soiree first became aware of the disturbance, the five men were already out of the van. Georgiev fired a short burst at the guard who was posted outside the corridor that led to the staff elevators. The young man spun and fell, the first UN casualty. Vandal wondered whether he'd get a peace statue in his honor as well.
The five men ran down the corridor and swung onto the escalators. The escalators had been shut down by security personnel. That was something they hadn't anticipated, not that it mattered. They quickly ran up the two flights, then turned to their left. The stalled escalator was the only form of resistance they met. What Germany had proved in Poland in 1939, what Saddam Hussein had proved in Kuwait in 1990, is that there is no effective defense against a well-planned lightning strike. There's only recovery and then a counterattack. And in this case, neither would be of any use. Less than ninety seconds after turning off First Avenue, the five men were inside the heart of the Secretariat Building. They ran alongside the tall windows that overlooked the courtyard. The fountain had been shut down to allow clear visbility into the Secretariat windows. Traffic had been stopped, and tourists were being herded onto side streets. Police and security forces were everywhere now.
Seal off the building, contain the problem, Vandal thought. They were so damned predictable.
There were also several guards running toward them. The three men and one woman were wearing bulletproof vests and listening to their radios. They had their guns drawn and were obviously