Vanishing Point - Marc Cerasini [61]
It did not matter in the end. Yizi possessed all the charms of a woman, and could use them to seduce and corrupt a man if so ordered. Though Yizi was a skilled espionage agent, Jong learned she was a superb assassin — efficient, cool under pressure, and pathologically addicted to her vocation.
Yizi appeared at his side. "It is done." It was true, Where Lev Cohen died, there was only blood.
Jong Lee nodded, then spoke. "You know the plan. Go back to the dry cleaners. Captain Hsu is awaiting your instructions. Use the phrase you have memorized. I will meet you at the airport at the appointed time..."
Jong watched as Yizi slipped a raincoat over her ebony jumpsuit, draped the purse over her shoulder and left the suite without a backward glance.
With a contented sigh, Jong Lee settled deeper into his chair and pondered the possibilities of success or failure in the next phase of his operation. Jong knew he was in control of Yizi and of his commandos. They would behave within the bounds of their training and his expectations. What Lee could not control were the Rojas brothers.
Jong Lee had helped facilitate the attack on the Pan Latin Anti-Drug Conference because it fit in with his own plans. The Rojas desired revenge against America, and against the law enforcement agencies that had targeted his family, interfered with their schemes and murdered Francesco Rojas, the youngest son in the family.
All Jong Lee wanted was a diversion — one so dramatic and violent that it would keep the American authorities too busy to figure out Lee's real goal, until it was too late to stop him.
In a few minutes, Jong Lee would leave this place, never to return. But before he fled the conflagration to come, he had to make one final phone call to set the last wheels of his elaborate plan in motion.
Glancing at his watch, Lee lifted the receiver and dialed the secret cell phone number of the traitor he controlled, a member of the research contingent inside of Groom Lake Air Force Base.
* * *
8:38:13 p.m. PDT
Nebuchadnezzar Ballroom
Babylon Hotel and Casino, Las Vegas
Lhe massive, three-story tiered ballroom was bathed in radiant light. The chamber's golden glow was rivaled only by the glittering array of guests, a mingling of international political figures, media barons, celebrities, literati, law enforcement officials, wealthy philanthropists and social activists.
The Babylon Hotel was built to resemble a Middle Eastern ziggurat — a circular tower ringed by a sloping ramp that descended from the rooftop ballroom all the way down to the atrium on the third floor. The ramp contained the hotel's famed hanging gardens — an amazing array of ecological-systems made up of thousands of trees, ferns, plants and flowers from all over the world. The gardens were separated by glass walls. Some of the gardens were open to the desert air. Others were enclosed in glass and climate-controlled.
The elegant decor in the ballroom repeated the ziggurat motif, with swirling ramps instead of staircases leading up to tiered dining areas and bars that overlooked the main ballroom far below. Crystal chandeliers in circular swirls dangled from a high roof that loomed a hundred feet over the revelers' heads. Most of the walls were made of glass — tall windows with striking views of the Las Vegas Strip.
Sherry Palmer watched her husband near one of those massive windows. Looking distinguished in his evening clothes, the Senator from Maryland was huddled with the ambassador from Nicaragua, and a military man from Peru, along with their jewel-bedecked wives. He must have been charming them, because the men were laughing, the woman gazing up at him with rapt attention.
She noted that her husband's mood had improved considerably, most likely because David was in his element now. As much as he hated impromptu speechmaking, David Palmer loved to be around people. He seemed to feed off their energy, and he took a genuine interest in those he met. David was able to instantly connect with someone on a person-to-person level. Even when he spoke to a crowd, many people