Red Alert (3 page)

He was a 56-year-old Scot with a gaunt face and red hair who had spent seven years as the head of Scotland! Yard's Special Branch before taking up his present pos as UN AGO Director in 1980. The man with the dolefu features and thinning black hair sitting opposite him haf*

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I deputy for the past three years. Sergei Kolchinsky, fwas four years younger than Philpott, had been a erative for twenty-five years, sixteen of those as a attache in the West, before he joined UNACO, ; a fellow Russian who had been sent back home

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VCO employed zo9 personnel, thirty of those being ratives who had been siphoned off from law it agencies around the world. They worked in eOl three, each team being denoted by the prefix Force', and their intensive training included all of unarmed combat and the use of all known (although operatives could choose their own for any assignment). The training took place ty at UNACO's Test Centre off the Interborough ay in Queens. The entire complex was housed aund to ensure maximum security. 3tt reached for his cane and crossed to the win He limped heavily on his left leg; the result of an he had sustained in the last days of the Korean ťoffice, situated on the twenty-second floor of the Nations Secretariat, looked out across the East

ft view of the report we received this morning we're to have to bring in Strike Force Three for this

it,' Philpott said. I agree.' Kolchinsky stubbed out his cigarette and lately took another one from the packet on the jtand lit it. 'But then I'd have used them anyway.' 11 detect a hint of favouritism there, Sergei?' Philpott I as he returned to his chair and sat down, nil it respect. Their track record proves they are the

we've got.' ilpott entered a code into his computer, read the

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information from the screen, then banged his fist angrily on the desk. 'They went on leave last week. As if we didn't if have enough problems.' He flicked a switch on his desk. 'Sarah?'

'Yes sir?' came the immediate reply.

'Get hold of Mike, Sabrina and C.W. Top priority.'

Til get on to it right away.'

'And Sarah, they're on a Code Red standby. Cancel j their leave, effective immediately until further notice.'

Sabrina Carver was UNACO's only female field operative, a It had initially caused some resentment amongst some of,, her more chauvinistic male colleagues when she had been S recruited from the FBI, but she had quickly proved that| 'she was more than capable of looking after herself and! now, two years on, Mike Graham and C. W. Whitloclc were the envy of those same colleagues who had made the| mistake of doubting her abilities.

Although she lived in New York she still tried to get| down to Miami at least twice a year to visit her parent at their Spanish-style mansion in the affluent Coral Gables* suburb overlooking Biscayne Bay. When her leave cam* through it was already the middle of March and she hadn't seen her mother and father since their annual Christma^ pilgrimage to New York. She had decided to spend thy first ten days of her leave in Miami before flying out t^ Switzerland to join some of her friends for a week skiing. The Miami weather was in the high eighties ani she had spent most of her time either lazing by the swinv ming pool listening to jazz on her portable compact dis j player, or else out on Biscayne Bay in her father's 4zf Maxum speedboat, the Port of Call.

She parked her father's BMW 730! opposite the Mariti*|

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close to the entrance of the Miamarina, and if as she remembered how she had managed him to call the speedboat the Port of Call |8f of her favourite songs by her jazz idol, saxophonSanborn. Heads turned to look at her when lit of the car. She was a strikingly beautiful with a near perfect figure which she kept in * attending aerobics classes three times a week wasn't on assignment. Her shoulder-length r, which she had tinted with auburn highlights, underneath a New York Yankees baseball Graham, a lifelong Yankees fan, had given it she had turned up at the Test Centre wearing ers cap. She had never worn the Dodgers cap was wearing an emerald bikini underneath a ike T-shirt and knew she was attracting the i of the men she passed on her way to where the f Call was berthed at the end of the pier. She had I ignore the salacious looks and wolf-whistles, for ved to acknowledge them would only be a sign )r. And she despised vanity in any form. ^"Stopped beside the Dream Merchant, a icy-foot Iwhich belonged to John Bernstein, one of Miami's f financiers and a close family friend for more years could remember. Her father had told her the >re that Bernstein was attending an international ary conference in Washington and wasn't due back Nhe following week. So what were the two men in pwetsuits doing in the saloon? She was sure there ? perfectly simple explanation but decided to check ' anyway. The gangway had been pulled in so she t on to the deck, landing nimbly on her toes. One pounds nen saw her and swung round, a Walther ?5 in his *5 She flung herself to the deck as he fired. The bullet

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smashed through the glass door and hit the pier. His colleague shouted at him and they disappeared through a side door. Seconds later she heard the sound of engines and got to her feet in time to see the two men fleeing the yacht on red and white jetskis. She clambered back on to the pier, shouted at a startled couple on a nearby yacht; to call the police, then ran to where the metallic-gold Port of Call was moored. She untied it, started the engine, then; turned it sharply in the water and headed after the,jetskis,s| The two men saw her and split up, one heading fot| the busy harbour complex, the other continuing towards! Lummus Island. She spun the wheel violently and went! after the one making for the harbour. She knew she would| lose him if he reached the harbour first. There were toof many hiding places for a craft of that size. She accelerated;! sharply and the speedboat skimmed across the water but-| although she was closing on the jetski she knew sht| couldn't catch it. He glanced over his shoulder and mac the mistake of thinking she would cut him off before reached the safety of the docks. He panicked and reache for the Walther in his wetsuit pocket. He lost control the jetski. It somersaulted, catapulting him into the watet She throttled back the engine and pulled up alongside i man who offered no resistance as she helped him into th speedboat. He slumped dejectedly on to one of the padde seats, his hands over his face. Blood ran down the side < his head from a gash above his eye.

Then she noticed the approaching patrol boat. It dre| alongside the speedboat and a painter rope was throv to her.

v'There's another '

'Just tie the rope to your boat,' a ginger-haired mi commanded. He was in his early fifties and wore t| insignia of a lieutenant.

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I", She switched off the engine then scrambled on to the and threaded the rope through the ring, securing it ily with an overhand knot. The man was hauled over patrol boat's low railing and sent below to have his grund treated. Sabrina ignored the extended hands and ibed aboard the patrol boat by herself. She asked about pother jetskier. fe'A patrol boat has already intercepted him near amus Island.' The lieutenant stared at her, then shook |phead slowly to himself. 'You've been watching too

i Miami Vice, sweetheart.' pt"m not your sweetheart,' she snapped back.

New Yorker; I should have guessed,' he muttered I reached for her baseball cap. fou touch that and you'll be in the water quicker than i can draw breath,' she said icily. fd watch my tongue if I were you,' he shot back, icing a finger of warning at her. 'What the hell were ||jloing? You could have got somebody killed at the

jrina.'

^didn't know they were armed,' she replied defens , fThe yacht belongs to a friend of mine who happens fee out of town at the moment. What was I supposed Sj? Ignore the fact that two men were acting sus sly on board?'

were supposed to call the police and let them it.'

t bear it in mind next time, if I can find a policeman ť

i got a good mind to book you.' what?' she replied in amazement. 'Making a citipgrrest? You guys must really be having trouble

; your quota of collars for the month.' f bleeper sounded. She undipped it from the bottom

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half of her bikini and switched it off. 'I need to call New York urgently.'

'Don't tell me, your boyfriend's missing you,' the lieutenant said sarcastically.

There was a ripple of laughter from the men around them.

She bit back her anger. 'If it'll put your mind at rest, have one of your men radio through to police headquarters and check on the speedboat. The Port of Call. You'll find it's registered to George Carver, the former Democratic Congressman and Ambassador to Canada and the United Kingdom. He's my father.'

The lieutenant gestured to the door behind her. 'Make your call, but you're going to have a lot of explaining to do before we're through here.'

She let him lead the way to his cabin.

'I'll be waiting outside the door,' he told her gruffly.

She closed the door behind her and crossed to the telephone on the desk. She dialled an unlisted number.

'Llewelyn and Lee, good morning,' a female voice answered politely after the first ring.

'Sabrina Carver, 101730630,' she said, quoting the number on her personnel dossier in Philpott's office.

'Hello, Sabrina, the Colonel wants to speak to you urgently. I'll put you through.'

'Thanks, Sarah.'

There was a click on the other end of the line.

'Sabrina?' $ť

'Yes, sir,' she replied, immediately recognizing-* .Philpott's crisp Celtic accent.

'You're on an immediate Code Red standby. There's a! ticket waiting for you at the Continental checkin counter. | Your flight leaves in three hours. Briefing is scheduled fors three-thirty this afternoon.'

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She swore inwardly. 'There's a slight problem, sir,' she lid, and went on to tell him what had happened.

Til call Miami's Chief of Police and have him clear lings with this lieutenant. You say his name's Grady?' | 'That's what it says here,' she replied, touching the imeplates on the desk. | 'Fine. See you later.'

The line went dead. She replaced the receiver and found bdy waiting in the corridor. |The Chief of Police?' he said in amazement, when she

told him to expect the call. 'Who are you?' ||ust another New Yorker,' she replied, touching her 'See you on deck.'

icn he reemerged fifteen minutes later she was busy ing to a couple of the men about the intruder, who ^already confessed to attempted theft. They saw it as

:n and shut case.

fou're free to go,' Grady told her, barely able to keep contempt from his voice. 'You'll still need to testify in

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jfou know where to get hold of me, Lieutenant.' abrina climbed back into the speedboat, untied the then turned the boat around and headed back is the Miamarina. at I'd give for one date with her,' one of the men

wistfully.

now what your wife would give you,' a voice piped rind him.

pie others laughed.

" ay, the fun's over,' Grady snapped. 'Let's get that i jetski out of the water before it drifts any further tsea.'

*7

Mike Graham's first thought on hearing the gunshots had been for the safety of the small herd of white-tailed deer that lived in the forest near his log cabin on the banks of Lake Champlain in southern Vermont. He had spent his vacations watching them since moving from New York two years earlier and the idea of them being harmed both angered and horrified him. Arming himself with an Mzi rifle and a powerful pair of Zeiss binoculars, he had set off in the direction from which the gunshots had originated. Not that he had needed to draw on any of his tracking experience to find the culprits. A ten-year-old could have followed the trail of empty beer cans. The two men were sitting against the side of a white jeep in a clearing by the lake, each with a beer in his hand. They were cooking a rabbit over a crudely constructed fire, occasionally turning it on a makeshift spit. He could smell the meat from where he lay. He could also smell the joint they were sharing.

Graham was a youthfully handsome 37-year-old with tousled collar-length auburn hair and penetrating pale blue eyes who kept himself in shape with a daily predawn run followed by a gruelling workout in the converted mini-gym behind the cabin. His obsession with fitness dated back to his childhood in the Bronx when his only ambition was to wear the famous blue and white uniform of the New York Giants. His ambition was realized when he was signed up as a rookie quarterback after he gradu- ;| ated from UCLA with a degree in Political Science. A If month later he was drafted into Vietnam where a shoulder ^ injury cut short his promising football career. He joined S| the C1A to help train Meo tribesmen in Thailand and oil. ^ his return to the United States he was accepted by the elitt t| antiterrorist squad, Delta. He was promoted to leader of =1 Squadron-B eleven years later and his first mission was to jjj

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a five-man team into Libya to destroy a known bgrist base on the outskirts of Benghazi. He was about Ipve the order to close in on the base when news reached jljji/tbat his wife, Carrie, and son, Mike Jnr, had been l^cted outside their New York apartment by Arabjeaking gunmen. He refused to abort the mission and was destroyed. The FBI launched an intensive mwide search but Carrie and Mike Jnr were never He was retired from Delta at his own request three is later but was initially turned down for UNACO Secretary-General on the basis of his psychiatric Philpott personally overruled the Secretary's decision and Graham was accepted as a "AGO field operative, subject to periodic reevaluation every year.

older of the two men, who was wearing a peaked ^Šver his grey hair, tossed the joint into the fire then |f JO his feet and helped himself to another beer from Jer on the passenger seat. He was about to sit down when a movement caught his eye in the scrub behind $eep. He tapped his blond-haired companion on the ler, gestured for him to be quiet, and pointed Is the scrub. The blond-haired man took a .300 :f Hale from the back of the jeep, raised it to his r and fired. He shouted in triumph and slapped id on the back.

'0u only hit it in the leg, Ray,' the grey-haired man then took another mouthful of beer. 'Hell, that ;S big enough to keep us in jerkey for the next

is,' Ray replied with a grin. 'Hey, look at it tryin' up. It's not goin' to get far on three legs.' companion laughed. 'Shoot it in another l
eg.
I bet f$i ten dollars you can't.'

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'You're on, Sam,' Ray replied and raised the rifle to his shoulder again.

Graham, who had crept up silently behind them, struck Ray in the small of the back with the butt of the Mzi, slamming him against the side of the jeep. The Parker Hale fell to the ground. Sam made a move towards it.

'If you pick it up, you'd better be prepared to use it,' Graham threatened.

Sam swallowed nervously and stepped away from the Parker Hale. Graham picked it up and threw it into the water.

'Who are you?' Ray demanded, his face still twisted in pain. 'There ain't no law 'gainst us huntin' round here.'

I t Graham ignored him, then reached inside the jeep and released the handbrake. It rolled towards the lake. Graham hurried over to where the deer lay, its eyes wide and fearful as it struggled to stand up. He tried to comfort it j by stroking its head. There was nothing he could do to save it. The leg was shattered. He shot it through the back of j the head. Its body jerked, then lay still.

'I hope you're proud of yourself, boy,' Graham snapped I at Ray, who had managed to stop the jeep inches away] from the water.

'We was only havin' some fun,' came the sullen reply, j

'Is that what you call it? Well now, it's my turn to have some fun. Take off your boots, both of you.'

'Go to hell,' Sam snarled. 'You've got no right to threaten us like this. Ray's right, we haven't broken an) hunting laws.'

Graham looked out across the lake. 'One of the reason I came to live out here was because of its seclusion. Hard! anybody comes around these parts. I could kill you botl dump your bodies in the jeep, and drive it into the laki

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Your bodies would never be found. And if you don't think I'd do it, call my bluff.'

Ray shook his head nervously. 'We ain't doubtin' you'd do it, mister. If it's money you want -- ' Take off your boots!'

The two men exchanged glances, then untied their boots and kicked them off. Graham threw them as far as he could into the lake, then shot out the jeep's back tyres. : 'What the hell are you doing?' Sam shouted, his eyes 'fixed on the deflated tyres. 'We're only carrying one spare.' ; 'The nearest town's Burlington. It's about five miles ifrom here. Ask for Charlie, he'll sell you a tyre, if you pay shim enough.'

| 'How we supposed to get there?' Ray wailed, staring [at his stockinged feet.

'If you run you should make it by mid-afternoon.' raham pointed east. 'It's in that direction.' 'We'll cut our feet to pieces,' Sam said, looking around n desperation. 'There's nothing but forest for miles.' 'Yeah, deer country.'

Graham shouldered his Mil and disappeared back to the undergrowth, deaf to the shouted pleas of the n behind him. It took him twenty minutes to get back his cabin and as he neared the door he could hear his r in the bedroom. He hurried inside and switched :. The telephone beside the bed started to ring. He sat the edge of the bed and picked up the receiver. 'Mike?' 'Speaking.'

'It's Sarah, from Llewelyn and Lee.' '1913204,' Graham quoted his UNACO ID number. 'Finally,' she said, the relief evident in her voice. 'I've trying to get hold of you for the past two hours. Isn't r bleeper working?'

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'I guess not,' Graham replied, turning it around in his j hand.

'Bring it in, I'll order a replacement from the Test! Centre. Colonel Philpott wants to speak to you urgently.! Oh, Mr Kolchinsky's just come in. He wants to speak to| you.'

'Michael, what's going on down there?' Kolchinsk barked down the line. 'Why haven't you been answerit your bleeper?'

'It must be acting up,' Graham replied dismissively 'What's the big panic?'

'You're on a Code Red standby. Nash has been waitir for you at the Burlington airstrip for the last hour. Pac some summer clothes, the Mediterranean can be we warm at this time of year.'

'You've whetted my interest already.'

'And don't forget to bring your bleeper with you. Wl can't have you running around with a faulty one, can we!) ,'j Kolchinsky's sarcasm wasn't lost on him. He smiled I 1 ;; himself, then replaced the receiver and crossed to j j cupboard to find his suitcase.

Sabrina found a space for her champagne-colour Mercedes-Benz 500 SEC in the parking bay next to United Nations Headquarters, then crossed to the retariat Building where she produced a pass to gain I entry into the main foyer. The pass identified her as interpreter based at the General Assembly, the perf^ cover considering her degree in Romance languages her subsequent postgraduate work at the Sorbonne.

She took the lift to the twenty-second floor, then walk to an unmarked door at the end of the corrid and punched a code into the numerical bellpush on'