Read Online Time of the Assassins by Alistair MacLean - Free Book Online

lounge then Masala discreetly withdrew, closing the door behind him.

Mobuto was alone. He was seated on the sofa sifting through a batch of papers he had taken from his

attache case. He looked up, removed his reading glasses, then got to his feet and indicated the second sofa. Kolchinsky sat down and asked if Mobuto minded if he smoked.

'Please, feel free,' Mobuto replied then turned to Whitlock. 'You saved my life tonight. Thank you. I believe you were injured while chasing the gunman. Nothing serious, I hope?'

Whitlock shook his head. 'I cut my leg when I fell off the motorbike. It's nothing. I'm sorry about your man. He's the one who really saved your life.'

'He died without ever regaining consciousness. At least he was spared the pain.' Mobuto folded the glasses and placed them on the coffee table in the centre of the room. 'Can I offer either of you a drink?'

'Nothing for me,' Kolchinsky replied, shaking his head.

'Clarence?'

'Nothing, thank you.' Whitlock sat down beside Kolchinsky. 'Where's Brett?'

'He's next door,' Mobuto replied indifferently.

'And Masala's in the other room. You've got no protection -'

'I've got half the New York police force in the corridor and bodyguards in every adjoining room,' Mobuto cut in sharply. 'I feel like a prisoner.'

'It's important that you always have at least one bodyguard in the room with you at all times,' Whitlock countered.

'Even when I'm sleeping?'

'Even when you're sleeping,' Whitlock shot back. 'These assassins are obviously prepared to sacrifice

r

their own lives to kill you. That means they'll go to any lengths to get you.'

'What exactly are you implying?'

'What I'm saying is that even in this room you're not safe. They could come through the window - '

'We're thirty floors up, for God sake,' Mobuto cut in then chuckled softly to himself. 'I think you're being a little melodramatic.'

'No, sir, he's not,' Kolchinsky said sternly. 'C.W.'s right. You must always have at least one bodyguard with you at all times. Tonight proved that.'

Mobuto sat down opposite them and sighed deeply. 'Very well. You are the experts.'

Whitlock got to his feet. 'Which room's Brett in?'

Mobuto pointed to his left. 'He's next door.'

Whitlock left the suite and knocked on the adjoining door. He grabbed Brett the moment he opened the door and slammed him up against the wall. 'You're supposed to be next door, not sitting here on your arse watching a ball game.'

Brett broke free from Whitlock's grip and stared angrily at him. 'The President told me to go. What the hell was I supposed to do?'

'You were supposed to explain to him that it's your job to stay with him. You don't tell him his job and he doesn't tell you yours. You're supposed to be a professional. Start acting like one.'

Brett glared furiously at Whitlock then slipped on his shoulder holster and scooped up his jacket before leaving the room. Whitlock followed him into Mobuto's suite. Brett pulled up a chair and sat discreetly in the corner.

'The President's just received a telephone call from Zimbala,' Kolchinsky said. 'His brother's been kidnapped.'

'What happened?' Whitlock replied, looking at Mobuto.

'He went to meet an informer. An hour later the newspaper's deputy editor received an anonymous call to say that Remy had been abducted by Ngune's men. That's all the caller would say.' Mobuto glanced at Whitlock. 'I presume you have been briefed about the Ngune breakout?'

'Yes, sir, I have,' Whitlock replied. 'Has Ngune got the backing to attempt a coup d'etat?

'He's got men and money,' Mobuto answered matter-of-factly. 'The men are his ex-Security Policemen. The money comes from the wealthy Moslem community in the south of the country. Many of them built up vast fortunes under my father's regime, illegal fortunes, I hasten to add. They know that if I do bring a new democratic freedom to my country then it'll mean the confiscation of those fortunes. And as you know, greed knows no bounds. They'll go to any