Time of the Assassins

'Jacques Rust at our headquarters in Zurich, the Colonel and myself. They're completely confidential; that's why we've never told any of the staff about them. But you're an exception. You'll have access to them when you join the management team at the end of the year. You need to know about them.'

'And what if I wasn't joining the management team at the end of the year?' Whitlock countered.

Kolchinsky smiled faintly. 'Then you wouldn't be here, would you?'

'Are these relatives ever tailed?'

'If we feel it's necessary, yes.'

'And Rosie?'

'No,' Kolchinsky replied softly as they mounted the steps.

A policeman opened one of the glass doors for them and they stepped into the foyer.

Kolchinsky pressed the button for the lift. 'In retrospect, I should have had her tailed. Who knows, perhaps this could have been averted. Truth is, I didn't even know she had violated her bail restrictions until tonight. I thought she was still in the custody of her parents.'

They got into the lift and Kolchinsky pressed the button for the third floor.

'Did you know she was here?' Kolchinsky asked suddenly.

'No, but I knew she wasn't at home. She walked out the day she was released into her parents' custody. She had an argument with her father. He and I went looking for her in Times Square, that's where she usually hangs out, but we couldn't find her. If we'd called in the police she'd have been done for bail violation, and that would almost certainly have made the difference between a suspended sentence and a jail sentence.'

'I'd already had a word with the commissioner. The charges were to have been dropped, even with a bail violation. But that was before this. It's out of my hands now, C.W. I'm sorry.'

Whitlock nodded grimly but said nothing. The lift stopped at the third floor and Kolchinsky identified himself to a uniformed policeman who told him where the deputy police commissioner was waiting for them. Kolchinsky thanked him and led the way into the flat.

Whitlock stopped in the entrance and looked down at the two dead policemen before following Kolchinsky into the lounge. The man seated in the armchair was in his early fifties with fine brown hair and a rugged, leathery face.

'Sergei, how are you?' the man asked in a surprisingly gentle voice.

Kolchinsky shook the extended hand. 'C. W. Whitlock, Deputy Commissioner Sean Hagen. C.W. works for us. He's also Rosie's uncle.'

'Pleased to meet you, sir,' Whitlock said, also shaking the extended hand.

'Sit down, won't you?' Hagen said, indicating the sofa opposite him.

'What happened, Sean?' Kolchinsky asked, taking the proffered seat.

Hagen rubbed his hands over his face then explained about the note Doyle had left with his friend which had been forwarded on to the police after Doyle had failed to keep a rendezvous that afternoon.

'And the two patrolmen came here looking for Doyle?' Kolchinsky said.

Hagen nodded. 'They were shot in cold blood, Sergei. Neither of them even had time to draw his weapon. Both were married with kids.' His eyes instinctively flickered towards Whitlock. 'I want their killer brought to book, and I'll leave no stone unturned in doing it.'

'You think Rosie shot them?' Whitlock fired back in amazement. 'A sixteen-year-old kid? She's never picked up a gun in her life.'

'C.W., that's enough,' Kolchinsky said softly, but firmly, and put a hand lightly on Whitlock's arm.

'No, I don't think your niece shot them, Mr Whitlock,' Hagen said at length. 'All three murders were professional hits.'

'Who was the third victim?' Kolchinsky asked. 'Doyle?'

'Yes. He was shot several hours before the two patrolmen. He was killed in the hall then taken into the bedroom and put under the bed. We found bloodstains on the carpet in the hall.'

'What about fingerprints?' Whitlock asked.

'We've already lifted several sets. The only ones to be positively identified so far are your niece's. I've got a team working around the clock trying to match the other sets.'

'If you need any help — '

'No,' Hagen cut across Kolchinsky's words. He sighed deeply. 'But thank you anyway. We'll trace them ourselves.'

'And no other clues?' Whitlock asked.

'Only that a neighbour saw your niece leave here with a tall man about five o'clock this afternoon. She couldn't describe him because he was wearing dark glasses, a fedora and a leather jacket with the lapels up. But apart from that, nothing. Which only strengthens my belief that this was a professional job. It could have been the work of a hitman from one of the drug cartels, who knows? Your niece was mixed up in that scene, wasn't she?'

'She smoked a bit of pot, that's all. Christ, you make it sound as if she was a mule or a pusher for one of the cartels.'

'Drugs are drugs,' Hagen retorted.

'So ban nicotine and alcohol,' Whitlock snapped then got to his feet and moved to the window.

Hagen stood up. 'Well, if you'll excuse me, Sergei, I've got a press conference in twenty minutes.'

Kolchinsky walked with Hagen to the door. 'I'm sorry about C.W., Sean. He's upset, naturally. He and Rosie have always been close. She's probably closer to him than she is to her own father.'

Til call you if anything comes up,' Hagen said then shook Kolchinsky's hand and walked into the kitchen to consult with his detectives.

'We might as well go,' Whitlock said behind Kolchinsky. 'There isn't anything we can do here anyway.'

'You're right; you've done enough already,' Kolchinsky retorted angrily. 'What got into you speaking to the deputy police commissioner like that? You were well out of turn.'

Til see you outside,' Whitlock retorted and strode out of the apartment towards the lift.

'C.W., wait up,' Kolchinsky called out then hurried after him.

Whitlock held the lift and they descended to the foyer in silence.

'Hagen and I have different values, Sergei,' Whitlock said as they walked towards the entrance. 'He wants to find a cop's killer. I want to find Rosie. She's out there somewhere and you can be sure she's scared as hell. Whoever killed Doyle and those cops isn't going to just let her go, is he? She's a witness. It had crossed my mind that she might already be dead but I don't really think that's very likely now. Why take her away and kill her when he could have done the job here? No, I think he needs her for something. Why else take her with him? I'm scared for her, Sergei, really scared.'

Kolchinsky put a consoling hand on Whitlock's arm then led the way down the steps into the street. He gave a curt 'No comment,' to a news reporter who was hovering hopefully for a story then ducked underneath the police tape and forced a path through the crowd to where the driver was waiting for them. Kolchinsky sent him off to fetch the car.

Til keep you posted on any new developments, C.W.,' Kolchinsky assured him, 'but there really isn't much else either of us can do tonight. And you need to rest that arm.'

'It's OK,'Whitlockreplied.

'Then why were you cursing every time someone touched it when we were making our way through the crowd?' Kolchinsky smiled gently. 'Of course it hurts. You need to rest it. Let Rogers handle the security tomorrow. It's the President's last engagement before he flies out and the Trade Center has to be one of the most security-conscious buildings in the state of New York.'

'I want to be there,' Whitlock said stubbornly.

'You've already prepared a schedule for the security team. You don't need to be there.'

Tm in charge of Mobuto's security until he flies out of JFK tomorrow night. End of story.'

Kolchinsky shrugged helplessly. Tm not going to argue with you. Ah, here comes your driver.'

Whitlock slipped his hand into his inside jacket pocket and withdrew a newspaper. 'Ask the lab boys to dust it for prints.'

'What?' Kolchinsky replied in surprise.

'It was down the side of the sofa in the flat. I lifted it when you walked Hagen to the door. Some of the prints will be smudged from its being in my pocket but they're sure to pick up something, even if it's only Rosie's prints.'