Hawk shook his head. "He's sinking. Pulse is weaker and his heartbeat has slowed."
"Damn! What time does the conference begin tomorrow?"
"At exactly ten A.M. the Pope will open the conference with a short prayer," he said. "The President of the United States will follow, welcoming the guests."
Hawk walked away. I spied a phone in one of the rooms and put in a call to my place. It rang only once and Rita's voice answered, excitement in her tone.
"Where are you?" she said instantly. "At the airport?"
"I'm still in New York," I said. Even across the telephone wire I could feel her freeze.
"I didn't know it took so long to conduct business," she said.
I chuckled. "It doesn't always, but this time I had a lot to do. Ill be back tomorrow."
"I'll wait," she said, her voice suddenly soft. "A lot longer if I have to. Be careful, Nick."
I hung up and knew I hadn't called just to tell her that. I'd needed to speak to her, a strange, sudden kind of need, almost a premonition that maybe I'd never have another chance. I went back to the little room and lay down on the narrow bed, hardly more than a cot. The time for thinking, for wondering, for worrying, was over. The time for action was at hand.
I forced my eyes to close and made' myself sleep, putting aside all thoughts except the need for rest. I'd learned the technique many years ago. It worked for a few hours.
I woke when dawn beckoned the day and dressed quickly. The city was a sleeping giant still covered with a gray and grimy blanket. I walked slowly across First Avenue toward the United Nations buildings.
I hadn't taken one step onto the avenue when six of New York's finest converged on me. I had to show my clearance pass five more times before I finally got inside the main building. It was good security all right, I had to admit, and maybe Hawk was right. But I kept remembering what tight security they had at the Cumberland plant where it all started.
I glanced at my watch. Six o'clock. In four hours the world would take the first step in a march toward true international cooperation — or an enemy against which there was no defense would strike down its leaders. I began a slow walk of the entire United Nations area, starting inside its walls and moving up from floor to floor.
I was still looking, still checking, still trying to find some hole as the building came alive with more and more people — the regular UN delegates, the special delegates, the important special guests, hordes and hordes of newspaper and television men, all with clearances, all carefully screened. At the seven entrances to the Assembly Hall I saw our men intermingled with the police and the UN guards, their eyes flicking from face to face, boring into every person that approached them. I saw Hawk at one side, standing next to a police captain, and I went over.
"Who has clearance to come in here this morning?" I asked. The police captain looked at a long list in his hand.
"Besides the newspeople, guests and delegates, only the hand-picked and screened employees of the banquet outfit that supplies the UN with tablecloths, napkins and equipment for these huge dinners. One truck, with the men in it, will bring in the needed supplies for the affair."
"And the men have been cleared and screened, you say," I repeated.
"Thoroughly," the captain said. "Their passes carry their photos on them, too."
"Everyone's pass at Cumberland carried a photo, too," I muttered.
Hawk's eves flickered. "And no outsider cracked Cumberland, Nick," he said quietly. "It was Carlsbad, remember, a trusted inside person."
I nodded and sauntered off. A trusted inside person. Could Carlsbad have someone here, on the inside, working with him? Could the strain have been transferred to that person? Then all the security in the world would make no difference. It was a possibility but one I had to discard. To accept it would have meant going home and forgetting about everything. There was no possible way to check out everyone who'd already been cleared.
I glanced at my watch. Nine o'clock. I saw an empty phone booth and slipped inside. I called Walter Reed Hospital and asked about Carlsbad. He was still in a coma and his heartbeat was continuing to weaken. I hung up the phone and walked down the staircase, away from the excited, humming noise of the throng. I should have felt reassured. I hadn't come up with anything. Security was tremendous.
I paused on the main floor and watched as the President of the United States arrived, surrounded by Secret Service men, the New York police and UN guards. I glanced across the main entranceway and saw more uniforms than anything else. Some men were stationed at posts, others moved back and forth, circulating through the crowd. Her Majesty, the Queen of England, entered the building, a gracious, poised figure. The Russians were next, impassive, their smiles fixed. Once again I saw a huge detail of police and security guards with them.
Maybe Hawk had been right after all. What was it he had said, I asked myself. They couldn't get close enough to open that vial in the Assembly Hall if they shot it out of a rocket. The remark hung in my mind, waiting for me to examine it again. And then, suddenly, I froze on the spot, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. Maybe they didn't need to get into the hall itself, nor did they need a rocket. All they needed was something equally effective. I thought of what I'd been told about the properties of the X–V77. Unlike some strains which require personal contact, it was one hundred percent effective airborne. All Carlsbad's men had to do was free it in the Assembly Hall.
My watch said nine thirty-five. I turned and raced down the stairs, past the first basement with its rows of files and offices, past the second one and down into the third where long rows of pipes lined the narrow corridors. I looked down the longest hallway and saw a maintenance man at the far end. I called to him and ran. He waited, watching me race toward him.
VIII
I didn't know it then, of course, but at that moment the light turned red on the corner of Third Avenue and Fifty-first Street. The closed panel truck of the Superior Banquet Supply Company came to a halt. The two men in the cab watched a parade of miniskirts cross the intersection. When the doors of their truck were yanked open, they didn't have time to do more than open their mouths before they were killed.
One bullet each was fired from guns equipped with silencers. Two men, both Orientals, leaped into the truck, shoved the bodies aside and started off as the light became green. They made a fast turn into Third Avenue and then another at the next corner where they pulled up before a boarded-up building slated for demolition. A huge man, moving surprisingly quickly for his size, opened the rear of the truck and squeezed inside.
Meanwhile, the other two opened the door between the driver's section and the rear of the vehicle. They pushed the two dead men into the back and took their identification cards from them. Slipping the photos out of the plastic cover, they replaced them with photos of themselves. It all took six minutes, including the waiting time at the light. The Superior Banquet Supply Company truck started off again for the United Nations.
They were halted at the first police line, showed their clearance cards and were passed through. They were stopped twice more and each time the police checked the photos against the occupants of the truck and passed them on.
They drove slowly to the side service entrance of the Assembly Building and got out. A small metal ramp was lowered at the back of the truck and they wheeled a huge, closed box down it. The box contained a full supply of fresh linens, tablecloths, dish towels and other banquet supplies. And one thing more. They left the truck and wheeled the huge box into the United Nations, taking the ramp that led down to the basement.