State of Siege - Tom Clancy [74]
Let them know when he was coming to pick up his weapons or they would turn Ustinoviks over to the American FBI.
The Russian had let them know when Georgiev was scheduled to pick up his purchase with the provision that they didn't take him at that time. They agreed. As it happened, they didn't want him then. They wanted him doing whatever it was he'd come here for, when the rest of the world could see, when they could draw attention to their own people, put an end to the countless murders in which they'd taken part as they tried to stop the Khmer Rouge and undermine the pathetically weak government of Norodom Sihanouk. They'd watched Georgiev's team make their buy from the roof of the club next door to the shop owned by Ustinoviks. Ty couldn't really see him clearly then. Not as clearly as she had when she'd been at the UN camp, working as a cook, watching for Khmer Rouge infiltrators and seeing the degrading things for which Georgiev was responsible. But the government couldn't do anything without proof of what was going on, and anyone who tried to get that proofor who tried to get away, like poor Phum had died. After Georgiev and his people made their arms purchase, Ty and Hang followed them back to their hotel. The adjoining rooms had been booked, so they took the room beneath theirs. They ran a wire through the ceiling fixture to the floor of his room, attached a sound amplifier, and listened as Georgiev and his allies reviewed their plans.
Then they'd gone to the Permanent Mission of the Kingdom of Cambodia across the street and waited. Ty Sokha turned her large, dark eyes from the stricken young girl lying beside her. The one who was barely older than Phum had been when she'd been murdered by one of Georgiev's thugs. Ty looked over at Sary Hang, who was sitting on the floor, inside the circular table. The Cambodian operative had shifted his position slightly so that he could see Ty without seeming to watch her. She nodded. He nodded back.
When Georgiev came back down the stairs, it would be time.
New York, New York Saturday, 11:37 P dism.
Georgiev stopped when he reached the double doors at the back of the Security Council chamber. He was holding his automatic, though he didn't think he would need it. Reynold Downer was standing to the right of the doors. He had a weapon in either hand. "Are you going to let her in?" Downer whispered. "No," Georgiev said. "I'm going out there.". Georgiev could see that Downer was surprised, even through his mask. "In God's name why?" "They need a lesson in futility," Georgiev explained. "Futility? They'll take you hostage!" Downer said. The secretary-general spoke again. She asked to be admitted.
"They wouldn't take the chance," Georgiev told Downer. "This will convince them they have no choice but to cooperate, and quickly." "You're sounding like a bloody diplomat now. What about them recognizing your accent?"
"I'll speak softly and deeply," Georgiev said. "They'll probably assume I'm Russian." Now that he thought of it, he would enjoy it if this entire takeover were blamed on Moscow or the Russian Mafia.
"I don't agree with this," Downer said. "I bloody don't." You wouldn't, Georgiev thought. Downer only knew how to bully, not how to finesse.
"I'll be all right," Georgiev said. Slowly, he reached for the knob on the left-side door. He turned and pushed the door open a crack. Mala Chatterjee was standing there, her arms straight at her sides, her shoulders and head back. Behind her several paces was her head of security. Beyond him, Georgiev could see a few of the security guards with their blast shields.
Chatterjee's face was calm but resolute; the officer looked as though he wanted to snort fire. Georgiev liked that in an adversary. It kept one from becoming complacent. "I'd like to speak with you," Chatterjee said. "Tell everyone to step back, past the council chambers," Georgiev said. He didn't feel it was necessary to add that if anything happened to him, the hostages would suffer. Chatterjee turned and nodded to Colonel Mott. Mott motioned for the rest