Graham saw the Skorpion at the last possible moment and grounded Scoby with a bruising football tackle a split second before a row of bullets ripped into the tree behind them. The Rover immediately accelerated after the Polo as it sped away from the two crumpled figures on the pavement.
Fiona leaned out of the window and fired a burst at the Rover before ducking back inside the car. The bullets dimpled the bullet-proof windscreen but the Rover stayed with them. She wiped the sweat from her forehead and looked around desperately as the Rover continued to gain on them. It would only be a matter of time before the Rover managed to force them off the road. Mullen eased his foot on the brake pedal as they reached the Cumberland Gate. Marble Arch loomed up ahead of them. He swung out from behind a black taxi and, as he turned into the bend, Fiona fired a burst at the taxi’s tires. She scored a direct hit on the left tire and the taxi skidded out of control, forcing the Rover’s driver to slam on his brakes. The wheels locked on the icy road and the Rover plowed into the side of the taxi which mounted the pavement and smashed head-on into a wrought-iron fence. By the time the driver had managed to regain control of the wheel the Polo had already maneuvered around Marble Arch and on to the other side of Park Lane. Seconds later it disappeared up North Row.
Graham reholstered his Beretta at the back of his tracksuit then helped Scoby to his feet. “Are you all right, senator?”
“I think so,” Scoby replied, still visibly shaken by what had happened.
Graham radioed Sabrina and told her what had happened. She arrived minutes later with Cross and Johnstone, all of them still breathless from the run.
“Where’s Corbyn and Turnball?” Cross asked.
“They went after the car,” Graham told him. “I heard gunfire but they haven’t reported in yet.”
“May I borrow that?” Cross said, gesturing to the two-way radio in Graham’s hand. He managed to get through to Turnball.
“The bastards got away,” Turnball hissed furiously as he told Cross what had happened.
“Have you called for backup?” Cross asked.
“It’s on its way. I’ve also radioed in for an ambulance for the cabbie. Is the senator all right?”
Cross glanced at Scoby. “He’s a bit shaken up but otherwise unharmed.”
“We almost had them, Pete. Another ten seconds and we would have rammed them off the road.”
“Yeah, I know,” Cross said despondently and handed the radio back to Graham.
“The first thing we’ve got to do is get you back to the hotel,” Graham said to Scoby.
“There should be a car along from headquarters any time now,” Johnstone added.
“Forget it,” Sabrina said. “We’re exposed out here in the open. What if the assassins decide to come back?”
“What do you suggest?” Johnstone asked her.
“Simple,” she replied, then moved to the edge of the road and flagged down the first black taxi that came along.
Whitlock was waiting for them in the foyer. “Senator, are you all right?” he asked anxiously as they entered the hotel.
“Yeah, thanks to Mike. If he hadn’t sacked me when he did, I’d be on the way to the mortuary right now.”
So now it’s Mike again, Graham thought sarcastically to himself. Until the next time they crossed words and it would be back to Graham again. Not that it bothered him what Scoby called him. He didn’t like the two-faced son-of-a-bitch one little bit and he’d be glad to see the back of him after the weekend.
As long as he survived that long. But irrespective of his feelings toward Scoby, he’d make damn sure no harm came to him while he was under UNACO’s protection. He knew Sabrina and Paluzzi shared those sentiments. Sabrina seemed to dislike the man even more than he did, regarding him as conceited, arrogant, devious and self-opinionated. All necessary attributes to become a future President of the United States.
“Sabrina, why don’t you and Mike come up to the suite and have a coffee with us?” Scoby said. “I know Melissa would like to meet you both.”
“Go on,” Whitlock said. “I’ve called Eastman, he’s already on his way. We’ll sort out everything with the local boys. I’ll see you back here in a couple of hours.”
Sabrina shot Whitlock a thanks-for-nothing look then followed Scoby and Graham to the lift.
Melissa Scoby was still in the bedroom when they arrived at the suite. Scoby went through to explain what had happened and a few moments later she followed her husband into the lounge. Sabrina noticed that her eyes immediately went to Graham, who was standing by the window, appraising him carefully and smiling faintly to herself. Suddenly aware of Sabrina’s watchful gaze, Melissa Scoby eyed her coldly, then looked away sharply and extended a hand of greeting toward Graham. “Jack told me what happened this morning. Thank you.”
Graham shrugged it off awkwardly, easing his hand from her lingering grip. Scoby then introduced her to Sabrina. She shook Sabrina’s hand with a grip that was hard and uncompromising. Sabrina could sense the animosity toward her and knew it stemmed from Melissa Scoby’s interest in Graham. But Graham and Scoby seemed unaware of the atmosphere: only Sabrina had seen through the façade straight away. And Melissa Scoby knew that …
Scoby ordered four coffees from room service. Graham and Sabrina declined the offer of breakfast. They would eat later with Whitlock.
“Please, sit down,” Scoby said, gesturing to the chairs behind them.
Graham sat on the nearest sofa. Sabrina was quick to sit beside him and immediately noticed the sharp look from Melissa Scoby. She smiled pleasantly as she met Melissa Scoby’s eyes.
Scoby sat down in the armchair opposite them. “I have to admit I initially thought UNACO had got it wrong when your Mr. Whitlock told me that the IRA might try and assassinate me when I came to Britain. But it would seem you’ve been right all along. I still don’t see what they hope to achieve by killing me though. It would only serve in turning even more Americans against the IRA. The funds would dry up overnight. It doesn’t make any sense to me.”
“It doesn’t make any sense to us either,” Sabrina told him. “But until we get some answers, we’ve got to treat the situation very seriously. That much is apparent after what happened this morning.”
“I refuse to cancel any of my engagements,” Scoby was quick to tell them.
“It would be a major propaganda victory for them,” Melissa Scoby said, perching on the edge of the armchair beside him.
“Not just for them,” Scoby replied, taking her hand. “Imagine what damage the Democrats could do with that kind of propaganda in a future Presidential election. But it’s more than just that. I’ve always believed that the only way to defeat terrorism is to confront it head on. Because the more we avoid confrontation, the stronger they become.”
“We’re not suggesting you cancel your engagements, senator,” Sabrina assured him. “But there will be a tighter security presence around you for the rest of your stay here in Britain.”
There was a knock at the door. Johnstone answered it and took the tray from the room service waiter and brought it through to the lounge. Having poured the coffees, Melissa Scoby handed them around. There was another knock at the door. This time it was Tillman who, clearly agitated, brushed past Johnstone and entered the lounge. “Jack, are you all right?” he asked, approaching Scoby.
“Sure,” Scoby replied with a quick smile. “Sit down, Ray. You want a coffee?”
“Jack, why didn’t you call me when you got in?” Tillman crossed to the window then turned back to Scoby, his fingers tapping nervously against the side of his legs. “Whitlock told me what happened. You should have told me, Jack.”