State of Siege

“I’ll find out who it is,” Rodgers said. “Don’t call Sharon. You may worry her for nothing.”

“Thanks,” Hood said.

Rodgers went to the office phone and called Bob Herbert. In order to keep track of known terrorists and underworld figures — many of whom were regularly hurt in explosions, car accidents, or gunfights — Op-Center had a program that was connected with all the big-city hospitals and interfaced with the Social Security Administration. Whenever a social security number was entered on a hospital computer, it was checked against Op-Center’s database to make sure that the person wasn’t someone the FBI or police were looking for. In this case, Herbert would have Matt Stoll check on everyone who was admitted to a UN-area New York hospital in the last half hour.

The conversation continued in the Secretariat.

“You did the right thing pulling out,” Chatterjee said.

“There’s something else,” the lieutenant said. “Two of the delegates were armed and firing.”

“Which two?” Chatterjee said.

“I don’t know,” the lieutenant replied. “One of the team members who got a good look said it was an Asian man and woman.”

“It could be Japan, South Korea, or Cambodia,” Chatterjee said.

“Both of the delegates were killed by the terrorists.”

“Who were the delegates shooting at?” Chatterjee asked.

“Believe it or not, they were firing at Colonel Mott,” he replied.

“At the colonel?” she said. “They must have mistaken him for—”

“The terrorist he replaced,” the lieutenant said.

A radio beeped as the lieutenant was speaking. Chatterjee answered it. “This is Secretary-General Chatterjee.”

“That was stupid and reckless,” said the voice on the other end. The man’s voice was scratchy and faint and spoken with an accent, but Hood was able to make out most of what was being said. Concentrating on that was a welcome distraction from thinking about the wounded girl.

“I’m sorry for what happened,” Chatterjee said. “We tried to reason with your partner—”

“Don’t try and make this our fault!” the caller snapped.

“No, it was all mine—”

“You knew the rules, and you ignored them,” he said. “Now we have new instructions for you.”

“First tell me,” Chatterjee said. “What is the condition of our officer?”

“He’s dead.”

“Are you sure?” Chatterjee implored.

There was a shot. “Now I am,” the caller replied. “Do you have any other questions?” he asked.

“No,” Chatterjee said.

“You can come and get him when we’re gone,” said the terrorist. “How soon that happens is up to you.”

There was a short, painful silence. “Go ahead,” Chatterjee said. “I’m listening.”

“We want the helicopter with six million American dollars,” he said. “We want cash, not transfers. You have our man; he may tell you our names. I don’t want our accounts frozen. Let us know when the helicopter is here. We will resume the killing in eight minutes and again every half hour. Only this time we won’t be killing delegates. We’ll continue on the young ladies.”

Hood realized he had never known hate until that instant.

“Oh please, no!” Chatterjee cried.

“You made this happen,” the caller said.

“Listen to me,” Chatterjee said. “We’ll get what you want but there must be no more killing. There has been too much already.”

“You have eight minutes.”

“No! Give us a few hours!” Chatterjee implored. “We’ll cooperate with you. Hello? Hello!”

All was quiet. Hood could imagine the depth of the secretary-general’s frustration.

August shook his head. “The troops ought to go back in now, hit them fast when they don’t expect it.”

“We ought to go in,” Hood said.

“They said they’ll release poison gas,” Ani told them.

“But they didn’t during the first assault,” August said. “Hostage-takers want to live. That’s why they’ve got hostages. They won’t give up that advantage.”

Rodgers turned from the phone. “It wasn’t Harleigh who was shot,” he said. “The girl’s name is Barbara Mathis.”

Everything was relative. Harleigh was still a prisoner, and one of her ensemble mates was injured. Yet relief washed over Hood from the inside out.

Despite the fact that Harleigh was still in there, Hood had to agree with August. The men in the Security Council chambers were not suicide bombers or political terrorists. They were pirates, here for plunder. They wanted to get out alive.

After a moment, Chatterjee informed the lieutenant that she was going to the infirmary. She wanted to talk to the captured terrorist. There was no further audio after the secretary-general left.

“She’s out of range of the bug,” Ani said.

Rodgers looked at his watch. “We’ve got less than seven minutes,” he said sharply. “What can we do to stop them?”

“There isn’t enough time to go to the Security Council and get inside,” August said.

“You’ve been listening to this for nearly five hours,” Rodgers said to Ani. “What do you think?”

“I don’t know,” she said.

“Guess,” Rodgers pressed.

“They’re leaderless,” she said. “There’s no telling what they might do now.”

“How do you know that?” Hood asked.

She looked at him.

“That they’re leaderless?” he said.

“Who else would have gone out to talk for them?” she asked.

The phone rang, and Ani picked up. It was Darrell McCaskey for Rodgers. Ani passed him the phone. Something else passed between Rodgers and the woman as well. A disapproving look. Or was it doubt?

The conversation was short. Rodgers stood there saying very little as Darrell McCaskey briefed him. When he was finished, he handed the receiver back to Ani. She turned and lay it in the cradle.

“UN Security fingerprinted the captured terrorist,” Rodgers said. “Darrell just got the intel.” Rodgers looked back at Ani. He leaned over her chair, his hands on the armrests. “Talk to me, Ms. Hampton.”

“What?” she said.

“Mike, what is it?” Hood asked.

“The terrorist’s name is Colonel Ivan Georgiev,” Rodgers said. He was still looking down at Ani. “He served with UNTAC in Cambodia. He also worked with the CIA in Bulgaria. Did you ever hear of him?”

“Me?” Ani asked.

“You.”

“No,” she said.

“But you know something about this that we don’t,” Rodgers said.

“No—”

“You’re lying,” Rodgers said.

“Mike, what’s going on?” Hood asked.

“She came to the office before the attack,” Rodgers said. He moved closer to Ani. “To work, you said.”

“That’s right.”

“You’re not dressed for work,” Rodgers said.

“I was stood up,” she said. “That’s why I came here. I had reservations at Chez Eugenie, you can check. Hey, I don’t know why I have to defend myself to—”

“Because you’re lying,” Rodgers said. “Did you know this was going to happen?”