Graham watched, unsure what was going to happen next. Ngune had been handcuffed. That implied arrest. But why hadn't he been taken to the jeep? Then the lieutenant took his RF83 revolver from the holster on his belt and pressed it against the back of Ngune's head. Graham stepped forward, horrified at what he was witnessing. It was barbaric. Ngune's guilt wasn't in doubt. But he still had the right of a fair trial. That was the law, a universal law.
The lieutenant looked across at Graham and said something to him in Swahili. Graham shrugged helplessly but when he tried to get closer his path was blocked by the two soldiers, their Mi6 rifles aimed at his stomach. The lieutenant looked down at Ngune who was babbling incoherently as he pleaded pitifully for his life. Once the second-most powerful man in the country, Ngune was now nothing more than a sad, pathetic old man on the brink of death. The lieutenant pulled the trigger. Ngune's body jerked grotesquely as the back of his head disintegrated in a spray of blood and bone.
The mob cheered triumphantly when he slumped forward onto the pavement. The lieutenant bolstered his revolver then snapped an order at the two soldiers who quickly shouldered their rifles and returned to the jeep. This time the lieutenant ignored Graham as he walked back to the jeep. The driver started the engine and drove away. Graham stared at the body, still struggling to come to terms with the savage justice that had been meted out seconds earlier. But then this was Africa, a continent where mercy was so often regarded as a sign of weakness and where brutality and violent death had become just another acceptable everyday occurrence.
He shook his head sadly as he watched the mob singing and dancing only a few feet away from Ngune's crumpled body then turned away and walked off slowly down the street.
ELEVEN
Sabrina sat forward in the chair, her hands cupped over her face, her eyes riveted on the telephone. It had been over two hours since she had returned to the farm and there was still no news of Graham. She knew from Tambese that he hadn't been one of the casualties at Branco so where was he? And how had he managed to get out of the prison before it was bombed? The questions seemed irrelevant as she willed the telephone to ring.
Moredi and Laidlaw sat in the lounge with her. Neither of them had spoken for over thirty minutes, each engrossed in their own thoughts. She slumped back in her chair and banged the arm with her fist. Laidlaw glanced at her. She looked pale and drawn and he could see the anxiety mirrored in her eyes. She looked from Laidlaw to Moredi. He had been playing patience on the coffee table when she had arrived back at the farm. That had been an hour ago. He was still playing. He sensed she was watching him and looked up at her. He smiled fleetingly. She didn't respond. He was about to resume the game when the telephone rang. She was on her feet before she could check herself. She bit her lip nervously as Moredi lifted the receiver to his ear. He listened momentarily then extended the receiver towards her.
'Is it about Mike?' she asked anxiously.
'It is Mike,' Moredi replied with a reassuring smile.
She took the receiver from him. 'Mike?'
'Yeah,' Graham replied.
'Nice of you to call,' she said. 'Where are you? And where have you been for the past two hours?'
'I'm OK, Sabrina. Thanks for asking,' came the sharp reply.
She sighed deeply then rubbed her eyes wearily. 'I'm sorry, Mike. It's been a long night.'
'Tell me about it.'
'Where are you calling from?'
'The hospital.'
'Are you hurt?'
'No, nothing a few hours' sleep won't heal. You OK?'
'I'm fine. What happened? How did you get out of Branco?'
'It's a long story. I'll tell you about it when I see you. Tambese's also here. He's just finished questioning Mobuto. We should be with you soon.'
'Sure. And Mike, it's good to hear your voice.'
'Hey, don't get sentimental on me now.'
She grinned sheepishly. 'See you later.'
'Yeah,' Graham replied and hung up.
She replaced the receiver and looked round at Laidlaw and Moredi. 'He's OK. He'll be coming back with David.'
Moredi put a hand lightly on her shoulder. 'Now you know he's OK why don't you put your head down for a couple of hours? You looked exhausted.'
'I couldn't sleep even if I wanted to. There are too many unanswered questions up here,' she replied, tapping her head.
'Then how about a coffee while you wait for them to get back from the hospital?'
'I'd love one, thanks,' she replied then pointed to the door. Til be outside.'
Moredi nodded and left the room. She pushed open the door and walked out onto the porch. The sun was just beginning to creep over the horizon which was bathed in a mirage of orange and gold — the unparalleled beauty of an African sunrise.
'Exquisite, isn't it?'
She looked round sharply at Laidlaw who had emerged silently onto the porch, a mug of coffee in each hand.
'Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,' he said, handing one of the mugs to her.
'Thanks,' she said then moved to the edge of the porch and sat down on the top step.
'Do you mind if I sit down?'
'It's a free country now,' she replied without looking round.
Laidlaw sat in the wicker chair by the door. 'Can we talk?'
She put the mug down and glanced round at him, a look of irritation on her face. 'Talk? What about?'
'Look, I know we haven't exactly hit it off these last few days. And a lot of it's been my fault, I realize that now. I'm sure I'm not the first guy to have doubted your ability because you're a woman.'
'And you won't be the last either,' she replied then sat back against the railing and drew her knees up to her chest. 'But I've come to expect it now. It's all part of being a woman in a male-orientated profession. Not that it bothers me. I've got a job to do and I'll do it to the best of my ability. And if you guys can't accept that, that's your problem not mine.'
'Well, you can count me as one of the converted after tonight.'
'Hallelujah!' she retorted.
'I should have known better than to try and talk to you,' he snapped, getting to his feet.
'Then talk to me, don't patronize me,' she said, glaring up at him.
He sighed deeply then moved to the railing. 'I didn't mean to sound patronizing. I'm sorry. Like you said, you're a woman in a male-orientated profession. I guess I'm just not used to dealing with that.'
'At least you're honest. Most of my colleagues wouldn't have admitted to that.'
'You and Mike seem to get along,' he said.
'We do, up to a point.' She smiled thoughtfully. 'But it wasn't always this amicable. We've been partners for two years now, and it's only been in the last few months that we've started to get along. The first year was a nightmare, an absolute nightmare. All we seemed to do was argue and bicker about every little thing. It got to the point where it was starting to affect our work. That's when it came to a head. We had to decide whether we could continue working together or whether we'd be better off with different partners. I don't think the outcome was ever in doubt. We work well as a team. We always have. So we decided to bury the hatchet and get on with the job. We still have our differences, mainly because we're both very independent. But we've learned to live with that.'
'You care a lot about him, don't you?'
'I guess,' she replied with a nonchalant shrug. 'He is my partner.'
The evasive answer wasn't lost on Laidlaw. He decided against pursuing the matter. He leaned back against the railing and folded his arms across his chest. 'I can't believe how much he's changed. It's hard to believe it's the same Mike Graham I knew at Delta. You mentioned how independent he is. If I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I'd never have believed you.'
She shifted round until she was facing him. It was the first time she had ever heard anyone talk about the Mike Graham she had never known, and it fascinated her. 'What do you mean?' she prompted, desperately trying to keep the conversation alive
.
'Mike always encouraged a team spirit at Delta. We'd go places as a unit, not as individuals. And he was the worst practical joker I've ever come across. You always had to be on your guard when Mike was about. You never knew what to expect.'
'Yeah?' Sabrina said with a grin.
Laidlaw shook his head slowly. 'It's hard to believe it's the same man, it really is.'
'It's understandable under the circumstances,' she said, her face serious again. 'From what he's told me about them, I get the impression he doted on Carrie and Mikey.'
'Yeah, he did,' Laidlaw replied then lapsed into silence.
A jeep appeared on the approach road to the farmhouse. She scrambled to her feet as it turned into the driveway. She could make out two occupants sitting up front but it was only when it reached the courtyard that she realized it was Graham and Tambese. The jeep came to a stop in front of the porch and Tambese killed the engine. Graham was the first to get out.
'Like the outfit,' Sabrina said with a grin, indicating the white tunic and trousers Graham had borrowed from the hospital.
'Very chic, isn't it?' he replied, mounting the steps onto the porch.
'You've got a couple of nasty bruises there, buddy,' Laidlaw said, pointing to Graham's face.
'Ngune caught me with a couple of good punches.'
'Did you get him?' Sabrina asked.
'Not personally. He's under the tarpaulin in the back of the jeep. The army's going to put the body on public display in Habane.' He moved to the door. 'I'm going to change. I'll be down in a minute.'
Sabrina watched Graham disappear into the house then looked round at Tambese. 'What happened to Ngune?'
Til explain everything inside,' Tambese replied, opening the door for them.
Moredi and Okoye were waiting in the lounge for Tambese. They shook hands and the three of" them spoke amongst themselves until Graham returned to the lounge, dressed now in a pair of faded jeans and a black T-shirt.
'Please, won't you all sit down?' Okoye said.
Graham and Sabrina sat on the sofa, Okoye, Laidlaw and Moredi in the armchairs close by. Laidlaw reached down to put his mug on the floor and his hand brushed against Sabrina's Uzi which was propped up against the wall. He immediately picked up the mug again and put it on the other side of his chair. It made him feel better.
'How is Mr Mobuto?' Sabrina asked, looking up at Tambese who had decided to remain standing.
'Drowsy, but otherwise he's fine. The doctor who examined him said there would be no side-effects from the drugs. He'll be discharged tomorrow morning.'
'I still don't understand why Ngune didn't kill him if he was such a threat,' Laidlaw said.
'Ngune needed him alive in case his coup failed. Then he could have used him as a hostage to get out of the country. Jamel and Remy have always been close. It's a bond that's developed over the years through their mutual abhorrence of their father's regime. Jamel refused to contemplate any military action against Ngune until he knew Remy was safe.'
'Why was he kidnapped?' Moredi asked. 'What did he have on Ngune?'
'Plenty. His mysterious informer was Ngune's personal secretary.'
Moredi whistled softly. 'No wonder Remy was so secretive about him. He must have been a mine of information.'
'Oh, he was. He knew about the coup; he also knew about the plot to assassinate Jamel; and he passed all this information on to Remy. When Ngune found out what had happened he had to stop Remy from printing the story, so he had him kidnapped.'
'Did Ngune's secretary identify the third man?' Sabrina asked.
'It is Bernard,' Tambese replied. 'But what really interested me was the fact that the actual plot to assassinate Jamel didn't originate here in Zimbala, as our intelligence sources have been led to believe. It's been a CIA operation all along. Ngune was their man. He's been working for the CIA for the past twenty-four years.'
'Ngune, CIA?' Moredi said in amazement. 'Why would he work for them?'
Tambese shrugged. 'I couldn't tell you. All I know is that it's been one of the CI A's best-kept secrets for all those years. His secretary only found out by chance.'
'Did he know who was behind the operation at Langley?' Sabrina asked.
'No.'
'It could be Bailey,' Sabrina said, looking at Graham.
'Could be,' Graham agreed. 'But right now we've got more important things to worry about.'
'What do you mean?' she asked suspiciously.
Graham looked at Tambese. 'Tell her.'
'You know that Jamel will be attending a trade fair in New York later this afternoon. It'll be his last public engagement before he flies out tonight.'
'Yes,' she replied hesitantly.
'Bernard will be there as well, armed with a high-powered sniper rifle. Ngune was told that a final attempt would be made to assassinate Jamel at the
Trade Center if he was still alive on the last day of his trip to America.'
Sabrina looked at her watch. 'New York's seven hours behind Zimbalan time. That means it'll be almost eleven thirty at night back home.' She turned to Graham. Til call Sergei and tell him about Bernard.'
'What can he do without alerting the CIA?' Graham asked, holding her stare. 'He'd have to tell the NYPD if he wanted to carry out a search of the building. And they're sure to have CIA moles at the highest level. It wouldn't take long for word to reach Langley that Bernard had been compromised, and he'd be told to pull out. Then we'd be back to square one again.'
'Surely the CIA will abort the operation anyway when they find out the coup has failed and that Ngune is dead?' Okoye said, looking from Graham to Sabrina.
'But they don't know that,' Tambese told him. 'All they'll know at the moment is that Branco and the rebel garrison have been destroyed by troops loyal to the government. We haven't released any casualty figures yet. What Mike suggested we do is put out some disinformation that Ngune and about two hundred of his men have amassed on the Chadian border to try and retake Kondese within the next twelve hours — so the CIA will still believe that they can overthrow Jamel and the government.'
'I'd like a word in private,' Sabrina said to Graham then looked round at the others. 'Would you excuse us for a moment, please?'
Graham followed her out onto the porch.
' Yow suggested that they should spread some disinformation about Ngune? Why, Mike?' She held up her hand before he could answer. 'No, let me guess. So that it would give you enough time to get back to New York and deal with Bernard yourself.'
'Not me, us,' he retorted.
'This has become an obsession, hasn't it? You'll go to any lengths to confront Bernard yourself. Even to the point of deliberately putting an innocent man's life in danger. It doesn't bother you, does it?'
Graham rested his arms on the railing and nodded his head slowly to himself. 'I admit I was wrong going after Bernard like I did. At the time it was an obsession. But not any more. I've seen what Mobuto means to this country. The people need him.' He glanced round at her. 'Don't get me wrong, I still want to see Bernard brought to justice. But right now it's more important to stop him before he can get to Mobuto.'
She sat down slowly on the wicker chair by the door. Her emotions had ranged from anger to guilt in the space of a few seconds. And it wasn't the first time it had happened either. She knew she was vulnerable to this quiet, softly spoken side of him that rarely showed itself. But he was the one who had given her an ultimatum in Beirut to work with, or without, him to find Bernard, irrespective of the danger to Jamel Mobuto. How was she to know he'd had a change of heart? She wasn't a mind-reader. So why the hell was she feeling guilty?
'I know we should tell Sergei what's happening, but what could he do? Never mind the NYPD; that was just a smokescreen I put up in there. What about the CIA men working with C.W.? They're Bailey's men. And if he is behind this whole operaton, which I'm certain he is, he'd be the first to know if Bernard was compromised. How could Sergei have a description of Bernard circulated amongst t
he security staff at the Trade Fair without Bailey's men finding out? He couldn't, could he? That's why we have to stop Bernard ourselves. It has to be done in complete secrecy so that by the time we get there it'll be too late for Bernard to pull out. He'll be trapped. Then we can take him and bust this whole case wide open.'
She gave him a resigned nod. 'How are we going to get back to New York in time?'
'Tambese's arranged for one of the presidential planes to be put on standby for us in Habane. The Cessna's already been refuelled. All we're waiting for now is a pilot. Tambese would have flown us to Habane himself but he's still got a lot of loose ends to tie up down here. He said we should reach New York with a couple of hours to spare.'
'And if we don't make it?'
'Then we'll have to radio through to Sergei and explain the situation to him. He could still prevent Mobuto from attending the Trade Fair but then Bernard would almost certainly get away. But it shouldn't come to that. We do have time on our side.'
'God, I hope so,' she replied, rubbing her hands over her face. 'If something does happen to Mobuto, C.W. will be breaking in two new partners. We'll be out so fast our feet won't touch the ground.'
'Nothing's going to happen to Mobuto,' Graham replied.
The door opened and Tambese looked out. 'Sorry to disturb you, but I thought you'd like to know that the pilot's on his way. He should be here in about ten minutes.'
'Great,' Graham said then looked around him slowly. Til be sad to leave this place. It seems so tranquil.'
Tambese stepped out onto the porch. 'It is, believe me. I've been coming down here with my wife for the last ten years. It's the perfect tonic when you want to get away from the hustle and bustle of Habane.'
'I didn't know you were married,' Sabrina said.
'Twelve years now. Matthew Okoye's my brother-in-law. That's why we come down here so often. We've always been close. After all, there weren't many of us who could stand up to Alphonse Mobuto and get away with it. Jamel, Remy and Matthew were his staunchest critics, Joseph Moredi and I to a lesser degree because we didn't have the same clout that they did. That's what brought us all together in the first place: our revulsion at Alphonse Mobuto and his puppets like Ngune and his deputy, Thomas Massenga. We were determined to bring peace to Zimbala in our lifetime.'
Time of the Assassins u-6 Page 23
