State of Siege - Tom Clancy [96]
"Someone's coming!" shouted one of the security police. "Quiet, damn you!" Mailman hissed.
The lieutenant ran over to the police line. He arrived just as the barefoot Colonel August shouldered through the crowd of delegates. August raised both hands to show the security people that he was unarmed, but he didn't stop moving.
"Let him through!" Mailman said, his voice an insistent whisper. The line of blue shirts parted immediately, and August stepped through. As he did, he reached into his pants pockets and withdrew both Berettas. The officer's movements were fast and sure, no wasted action. He was less than ten feet from the door. All that stood between him and the Security Council chamber was Mala Chatterjee.
The secretary-general looked at August's face as he neared. His eyes reminded her of a tiger she'd once seen in the wild in India. This man had smelled his prey, and nothing was going to come between them. At the moment, those eyes seemed like the only steady thing in her universe.
This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Leon Trotsky had once written that violence seemed to be the shortest distance between two points. The secretary-general didn't want to believe that. When she was a student at the University of Delhi, Professor Sandhya A. Panda, an acolyte of Mohandas Gandhi, had taught pacifism as though it were a religion. Chatterjee had practiced that faith devoutly. Yet in five hours, everything that could go wrong did. Her best efforts, her self-sacrifice, her calm thoughts. At least Colonel Mott's aborted attempt had managed to get a wounded girl to the hospital.
Just then, there was a soft cry from the other side of the door. It was a girl's voice, high and muffled. "No!" the voice sobbed. "Don't!"
Chatterjee choked on an involuntary cry of her own. She turned reflexively to go to the girl, but August stopped her with a firm nudge as he rushed past.
Armed with a handgun, Lieutenant Mailman followed August. He stopped several paces behind the colonel. Chatterjee started after them. Mailman turned and held her back.
"Let him go," the lieutenant said quietly. Chatterjee didn't have the energy or will to resist. In a madhouse, only the insane are at home. They both watched as the Colonel paused at the door, but only for a moment. He turned the handle with the heel of his left hand and remained standing. Once again, his movements were clean and efficient.
A hearbeat later, he followed both guns in.
New York, New York Sunday, 12:07 A.M.
Shortly after answering the TACSAT call from Barone, Annabelle Hampton went to the closet, took one of the last remaining Berettas, and walked into the hallway. The corridor was empty. The bastards who had tried to bully her were gone. She headed past the closed offices, custodial closet, and rest rooms toward the stairwell.
Annabelle didn't want to take the elevator for two reasons. First, there were security cameras built into the ceiling. Second, the men from Op-Center might be waiting for her in the lobby. She wanted to take the stairs to the cellar and slip out the side door. She would reconnect with Georgiev later, as planned. She had sent the two CIA floaters to pick him up at the UN infirmary. Annabelle would tell her superior that she had Georgiev removed because of what he knew about CIA operations in Bulgaria, Cambodia, and in the rest of the Far Fast. She didn't want that information falling into the hands of the United Nations. She would also tell him that the men from Op-Center were in league with the terrorists. That would keep them at bay long enough for her to collect her share of the ransom and get