State of Siege - Tom Clancy [66]
"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.
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,"