‘We wouldn’t have threatened to send round a couple of hatchet men to rape her.’
‘Who said anything about rape?’ Calvieri exclaimed with a look of feigned disbelief.
‘Spare the theatrics, we both know what you meant.’
‘He’ll call before two forty-five,’ Calvieri said.
‘And if he doesn’t?’ she challenged.
‘He will, end of subject.’ Calvieri looked at the television screen. ‘What’s happening?’
‘The Dutch Prime Minister’s making a speech about the need for European unity in 1992’ Ubrino replied.
‘Still no sign of Bellini?’
Ubrino shook his head. ‘The Foreign Secretary is still representing the Italian Government.’
‘Good.’ Calvieri watched the screen for a couple of minutes, then got to his feet and took a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. It was empty. He crumpled the pack into a ball and threw it angrily against the wall.
‘You got a cigarette?’ he asked Ubrino.
‘I smoked my last one twenty minutes ago,’ Ubrino said with an apologetic shrug.
‘Great. We could be here all night and we’re already out of cigarettes.’ Calvieri crossed to the side table and rifled through the drawers.
‘Pens, paper, even peppermints. But no damn cigarettes.’
‘What do you expect?’ Sabrina said. ‘It’s a conference room, not a tobacco stall.’
Calvieri closed the bottom drawer, then tugged back his sleeve to look at his watch.
‘Tempus fugit,’ Sabrina said, looking at the clock on the wall.
‘He’s still got six minutes.’ Calvieri leaned back against the side table and folded his arms across his chest. ‘He’ll call. Wouldn’t you? Or perhaps you don’t think I’d carry out my threat against Alexis, just as you don’t think I’d press the button if it came to the crunch.’
‘I’m sure you would, under the circumstances.’
‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’
‘As you said earlier, who’s going to take you seriously unless you’re prepared to back up your threats? But I still don’t believe you’d push the button, even as a last resort. You’d have so much to lose.’
‘If I found myself in a situation where I was forced to press the button, I’d have reached a stage where I had nothing left to lose.’ Calvieri dismissed the subject with a curt flick of the hand. ‘This is all idle speculation. Bellini will resign, the money will be paid and the virus will be returned to the authorities intact.’
‘Let’s hope the ELA have read the script as well.’ Sabrina looked up at the clock. ‘Three minutes left. Are you still so sure he’s going to call?’
‘Of course,’ Calvieri replied indifferently.
They lapsed into silence, both caught up in their own thoughts.
She knew he wouldn’t push the button. He couldn’t. He wasn’t the megalomaniac the others believed him to be. She knew him better than them. He had even managed to fool Ubrino then again, that wouldn’t be very difficult. She smiled faintly as she looked at Ubrino, who sat in front of the television set, as enthralled as a child. She had her doubts whether he even understood what was being said at the conference. He was slow, even gullible. But he was also very dangerous. He wouldn’t touch her as long as Calvieri needed her.
They were sure to use her as a hostage to get clear of the building once the ransom had been paid. Then what? She suddenly realized her life was entirely in Calvieri’s hands. There was little comfort in that thought.
Calvieri flexed his fingers and winced as the pain shot through the back of his hand. He took the transmitter from his pocket again and turned it around slowly in his hands. It seemed to ease the pain. Strange. His eyes flickered towards the telephone. Damn the ELA. What if Kozanakis couldn’t contact his aide? What if the bomb went off? The building would be evacuated. Then what? He looked at the transmitter. The button. He smiled to himself. Would he press it? Not according to Sabrina. Only he knew the answer. If it did come to the crunch, he–
The telephone rang.
He snatched up the receiver.
‘Calvieri?’
‘About time,’ Calvieri replied, recognizing Kozanakis’s voice. He glanced at his watch. ‘You just made it. What did you find out?’
‘The Semtex is in the boot of a white Audi Quattro. It’s parked close to the building.’
‘Number plate?’
‘He doesn’t remember,’ Kozanakis replied hesitantly.
‘Brilliant! Does it have any distinctive features?’
‘A plaid rug on the back seat, that’s all he can remember.’
‘Is the boot booby-trapped?’
‘Yes,’ came the resigned reply. ‘It’ll blow if any attempt is made to open it.’
‘You’ve done well, Andreas.’
‘What’s going on?’ Kozanakis demanded. ‘I had this number checked with the operator. You’re at the Offenbach Centre.’
‘That’s right,’ Calvieri said brusquely.
‘The ELA has planned this for months–’
‘You’re way out of your league,’ Calvieri interrupted him sharply. ‘The Red Brigades have got something big going down here. It’ll be in the news soon enough. But until then you’re to keep your mouth shut. If only for Alexis.’
‘This is going to cost you, Calvieri.’
‘I’m sure we can come to some arrangement.’ Calvieri cut the connection and smiled at Sabrina. ‘What did I tell you?’
‘What did you mean about it being in the news?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘I thought the whole point of the exercise was to keep the media in the dark.’
‘It is, while we’re here. But I intend to hold a press conference once I reach my final destination. I want the world to know what happened here today. And I’ll exploit it to the full. The capitulation of the smug Western governments who have always vowed publicly never to bow to so-called terrorism. They will be humiliated and discredited in the eyes of the world. The Red Brigades will become legendary. But more importantly we’ll have sent out a message to our revolutionary comrades fighting for justice the world over. And that message will be: we can win. We will win.’
‘You’re deluded,’ Sabrina said, shaking her head sadly to herself.
‘Am I?’ Calvieri said almost to himself, as he picked up the receiver to call Philpott.
Philpott consulted Kolchinsky’s list after he had spoken to Calvieri. Teams One and Three were the closest to the building. He bleeped them then chewed the stem of his unlit pipe as he anxiously waited for them to call, his eyes continually flickering towards the desk clock as the seconds slipped away.
Graham and Marco located the white Audi Quattro within a minute of contacting Philpott. It was parked fifty yards away from the building.
It had been positioned for maximum effect. A plaid rug lay crumpled on the back seat. It had diplomatic plates which later turned out to be false.
‘We need a piece of wire to unlock the door,’ Marco said.
‘To hell with that,’ Graham replied, then picked up a rock from a nearby flowerbed and pitched it through the driver’s window. He reached through the broken window to unlock the door, then used the rug to brush the glass from the seat.
Two security guards, who had seen what had happened from their posts at the main gate, sprinted across to the car, batons drawn. One of the guards prodded Graham painfully in the chest with the tip of his baton and ordered him in German to put his hands on the roof of the car.
Graham punched him. The guard fell as if pole axed. The second guard shoved Marco aside but found himself staring down the barrel of Graham’s Beretta. Whitlock and Paluzzi arrived breathlessly, having been alerted by the sound of breaking glass. Whitlock immediately pushed Graham’s gun hand down to his side. Paluzzi was about to reach for his NOCS card when Vlok emerged from the building and ran towards them, shouting at the guard to leave Graham alone. The guard did as he was told. Vlok looked down at the unconscious man, then took the second guard to one side and explained briefly about the bomb. The guard, obeying Vlok’s orders, dispersed the small crowd of onlookers, then turned his attention to his colleague sprawled beside the open car door.