37
Stratton hung the payphone back on its cradle and took a moment to muster his thoughts. This was it. He was going ahead with the plan. There was no turning back now and no point in delaying it further since Hobart knew about the manufactured explosives. A search of the building was no doubt imminent.
He buttoned up the Yankee baseball jacket that he had found in the trunk of Grant’s car where he had left the rest of his equipment and pulled the baseball cap down low over his face. Then he headed across the road past a television news crew preparing for a stand-up report.
The attractive female correspondent held a microphone in front of her while the cameraman focused the camera. ‘We’re just around the corner from the new Skender Square in Culver City,’ she announced seriously, ‘where police have set up roadblocks to keep people back from the brand new Skender business centre which was to have had its grand opening ceremony today. Reports are unclear at the moment but what we do know is that the building has been evacu ated, apart from some security guards. There are rumours of a bomb inside which, as you can see, police are taking very seriously.’
Stratton made his way past the news van into an alleyway that paralleled one side of the square. Halfway along it he turned in through the door of a building, past a large kitchen, along a narrow corridor and into a restaurant that was empty but for a man sitting behind the bar and reading a newspaper.
‘We’re closed,’ the man said as Stratton walked through without acknowledging him and opened the front door. ‘Ain’t no one s’posed to go out there. Cops say there’s a bomb.’
Stratton let the door close behind him and paused on the doorstep. He had approached the building from the side opposite to where he had been arrested and, seeing the square was now empty, he set off across the road. He stepped onto the square and as he crossed a flower bed to reach the side of the building a voice called out from behind him. He ignored it and continued around the corner.
He headed for the concourse, scanning in all directions, glancing quickly over his shoulder to check that he was not being pursued. As he approached the front of the building he unzipped his jacket to reveal the complex radio transmitter hanging from its strap around his neck.
Stratton stepped onto the marble concourse, flashed a look in the direction of the doors in the entrance portico to see that they were closed and made his way to Skender’s heavy bronze statue. He stepped between the outstretched arms and looked up to see the glass face of the building sloping all the way up to the pinnacle. As he extended the antenna of the transmitter, movement and a sound in front of him caught his attention. His gaze flashed to one of the heavy Indian doors as it slowly opened. Stratton’s hand flicked to the power switch and turned it on, a small red LED light glowing to indicate that it was operational. His stare stayed fixed on the door.
It opened just enough to let Hobart step through before it closed to leave the FBI man standing alone.
Stratton stood perfectly still, staring at the man who had arrested him a short time ago who was now looking seriously beaten up.
Hobart paused to take a breath and gather his strength. As he took a couple of hesitant steps forward he saw Stratton standing between the outstretched arms of Skender’s statue and stopped.
Stratton noted the pain that Hobart’s movements seemed to be causing him and could only assume the man had received an unexpected and unwelcome reception from Skender. But he could not even imagine why.
Hobart continued walking slowly towards Stratton, keeping stiffly upright and doing his best to maintain his dignity, and stopped several feet away. He saw the device with its complex panel of switches slung across Stratton’s chest, one of his hands hovering over it. Though Hobart knew little about electronics he knew enough to figure out that the box and its antenna were related to the explosive device.
‘Move on,’ Stratton said. ‘You’re all done here.’
Hobart looked into the man’s eyes, the resolve in them obvious. But more interesting was the similarity to the eyes he had looked into a short time ago before their owner had beaten the hell out of him: a dark madness, perhaps, or simply an unharnessed ruthlessness. The Albanian and the Englishman might be very different animals but there were parallels – most notably, they were stubborn and tenacious to the point of self-destruction. Skender was the egotist and king of a ruthless empire who could not comprehend an individual’s challenge to his will. Stratton, on the other hand, was a human cruise missile and once launched would weave past all obstacles until his objective was reached.
Hobart could see ways out of this madness for both men but they themselves could not see beyond their own needs. They were on a collision course and nothing now was going to stop them, certainly not Hobart. The ultimate loser would of course be the boy, wherever he was. Hobart appreciated how Stratton had little choice, though his solution was extreme to say the least. But above everything else it was Skender’s last words to him that echoed in Hobart’s head: the threat to him and his wife. Hobart would never admit it to anyone but he hoped Stratton succeeded in destroying the man if for no other reason than his own survival.
‘I’ll give you a minute to get clear,’ Stratton said. ‘Make sure no one is anywhere near the square.’
Hobart stared at Stratton, reminded of a failed suicide bomber he’d once seen in a jail. But that man had planned nothing on this scale, of course. He glanced up at the building behind him, his contempt for it and its owner impossible to hide, then back at Stratton. ‘Blow him to hell for all I care,’ Hobart said. Then he moved off painfully, past the statue and towards the edge of the square.
A movement caused Stratton’s gaze to flick to the balcony above, where Klodi and another of Skender’s thugs had arrived to look around. Klodi looked down onto the concourse and at the statue. The two goons were about to move on when the signal finally reached Klodi’s brain that someone was standing between Skender’s statue’s arms. Then he recognised who. Klodi disappeared instantly and Stratton ran his fingers along the transmitter to the first of four buttons. They hovered above it while Stratton drew the jacket across his body to hide the device from view.
Hobart crossed the street at the corner of the square towards the roadblock, moving faster, despite his injuries, than when he’d left Stratton. He was thinking of the remaining seconds of the minute that Stratton had given him that were ticking away.
Hendrickson hurried through the roadblock on seeing Hobart hobbling towards him. ‘Sir, are you okay?’ he asked, falling in alongside his battered leader.
‘Get these people back out of sight of the square. Now!’
‘Stratton’s escaped, sir. I tried to call you—’
‘I know!’ Hobart shouted, hurting his ribs in the process. ‘Get these people out of here! Tell the cops the bomb’s going off any second!’
Hendrickson ran off towards the chief of police who stood surrounded by his officers and members of the fire department on the other side of the checkpoint. They were immediately goaded into action. Seaton appeared alongside Hobart who had stopped to lean against the wall of a building and was glancing around the corner towards the pyramid at intervals.
‘You okay?’ Seaton asked dryly.
Hobart looked up at him in between clearing some congealed blood from his nostrils into his handkerchief. ‘I will be in a minute,’ he said to Seaton who was unaware of the irony.
‘What about Stratton?’
‘What about him?’ Hobart asked.
‘Any idea where he is?’
‘Take a wild guess,’ Hobart said, looking back around the corner.
Klodi hurried into the ballroom to find Cano briefing a dozen of his men, organising a search of the building. ‘He’s here!’ Klodi shouted.
Cano looked up at him, knowing exactly who he meant, a rush of excitement coursing through him. ‘Where?’
‘Outside. By the statue. He’s just standing there.’
‘Cover him,’ Cano said as he hurried past Klodi and across the lobby to the main doors, followed by half his men. The others trotted up the stairs behind Klodi.
Cano removed a large silver-plated semi-automatic pistol from a shoulder holster and pulled the slide back
