The Eleventh Commandment Read online

  In seven minutes Marine One would land on the South Lawn of the White House, to be met by Andy Lloyd and the White House senior staff.

  Connor flicked off the three televisions, rewound the tapes and began considering the alternatives. He had already decided not to go to New York. The United Nations and the Metropolitan Museum offered virtually no possibility of escape. And he was aware that the Secret Service were trained to spot anyone who appeared on more than one occasion during a visit such as this one, including journalists and television crews. Added to that, at least three thousand of New York’s finest would be guarding Zerimski every second of his visit.

  He would use the time while Zerimski was out of town to check out the two most promising venues. The Mafya had already arranged for him to be a member of the catering team that would visit the Russian Embassy that afternoon so he could be taken through the details of Saturday night’s banquet. The Ambassador had made it clear that he wanted it to be an occasion that neither President would ever forget.

  Connor checked his watch, put on a coat and went downstairs. The BMW was waiting for him. He climbed into the back seat.

  ‘Cooke Stadium,’ was all he said.

  No one in the car commented as the driver eased the car into the centre lane.

  As a transporter laden with new cars passed on the other side of the road, Connor thought of Maggie and smiled. He had spoken to Carl Koeter earlier that morning, and had been reassured that all three of the kangaroos were safely in their pouches.

  ‘By the way, the Mafya are under the impression that they were sent straight back to America,’ Koeter had told him.

  ‘How did you manage to pull that one off?’ asked Connor.

  ‘One of their guards tried to bribe a customs officer. He took the money and informed him they’d been caught with drugs, and had been “returned to their port of embarkation”.’

  ‘Do you think they fell for it?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ said Koeter. ‘They were made to pay a lot of money for that piece of information.’

  Connor laughed. ‘I’ll always be in your debt, Carl. Just let me know how I can repay you.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary, my friend,’ Koeter had replied. ‘I will simply look forward to meeting your wife again in more agreeable circumstances.’

  Connor’s watchdogs had made no mention of Maggie’s disappearance, so he couldn’t be certain whether they were too proud to admit that they’d lost her, Stuart and Tara, or whether they were still hoping to catch up with them before he found out the truth. Perhaps they were afraid he wouldn’t carry out the job if he knew his wife and daughter were no longer in their hands. But Connor never doubted that if he failed to honour the agreement, Alexei Romanov would eventually track down Maggie and kill her, and if not Maggie, Tara. Bolchenkov had warned him that until the contract had been completed - one way or the other - Romanov wouldn’t be allowed to return to his homeland.

  As the driver swung onto the beltway, Connor thought about Joan, whose only crime was to have been his secretary. He clenched his fist, and wished that his contract with the Mafya had been to take out Dexter and her conniving Deputy. That was an assignment he would have carried out with relish.

  The BMW passed the Washington city limits, and Connor sat back, thinking about just how much preparation still needed to be done. He would have to circle the stadium several times, checking every exit, before deciding if he would even enter it.

  Marine One landed gently on the South Lawn. The two Presidents stepped out of the helicopter, and were greeted by warm applause from the six hundred assembled White House members of staff.

  When Lawrence introduced Zerimski to his Chief of Staff, he couldn’t help noticing that Andy seemed preoccupied. The two leaders spent an unusually long time posing for the photographers before retiring to the Oval Office with their advisors to confirm the subjects that would be covered at the later meetings. Zerimski put forward no objections to the timetable Andy Lloyd had prepared, and seemed relaxed about the topics that would come under consideration.

  When they broke for lunch, Lawrence felt the preliminary discussions had gone well. They moved into the Cabinet Room, and Lawrence told the story of when President Kennedy had dined there with eight Nobel Laureates, and had remarked that it was the greatest gathering of intellect there since Jefferson had dined alone. Larry Harrington laughed dutifully, although he had heard the President tell the story a dozen times before. Andy Lloyd didn’t even attempt a smile.

  After lunch Lawrence accompanied Zerimski to his limousine, which was waiting at the diplomatic entrance. As soon as the last car of the motorcade was out of sight - once again Zerimski had insisted he should have one more vehicle than any past Russian President - Lawrence hurried back to the Oval Office. A grim-faced Andy Lloyd was standing by his desk.

  ‘I thought that went as well as could be expected,’ said the President.

  ‘Possibly,’ said Lloyd. ‘Although I wouldn’t trust that man to tell the truth even to himself. He was far too cooperative for my liking. I just get the feeling that we’re being set up.’

  ‘Was that the reason you were so uncommunicative during lunch?’

  ‘No. I think we’ve got a far bigger problem on our hands,’ said Lloyd. ‘Have you seen Dexter’s latest report? I left it on your desk yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ the President replied. ‘I spent most of yesterday holed up with Larry Harrington in the State Department.’ He flicked open a file bearing the CIA emblem, and began reading.

  He had sworn out loud on three occasions before he had reached the second page. By the time he’d come to the final paragraph, his face was drained of colour. He looked up at his oldest friend. ‘I thought Jackson was supposed to be on our side.’

  ‘He is, Mr President.’

  ‘Then how come Dexter claims she can prove that he was responsible for the assassination in Colombia, then went to St Petersburg intending to kill Zerimski?’

  ‘Because that way she clears herself of any involvement, and leaves us to explain why we hired Jackson in the first place. By now she’ll have a cabinet full of files to prove that it was Jackson who killed Guzman, and anything else she wants the world to believe about him. Just look at these pictures she’s supplied of Jackson in a Bogota bar handing money over to the Chief of Police. What they don’t show is that the meeting took place almost two weeks after the assassination. Never forget, sir, that the CIA are unrivalled when it comes to covering their asses.’

  ‘It’s not their asses I’m worried about,’ said the President. ‘What about Dexter’s story that Jackson’s back in America, and is working with the Russian Mafya?’

  ‘Isn’t that convenient,’ said Lloyd. ‘If anything goes wrong during Zerimski’s visit, she already has someone lined up to take the rap.’

  ‘Then how do you explain the fact that Jackson was recorded by a security camera in Dallas a few days ago buying a high-powered rifle of near-identical specifications to the one used to kill Guzman?’

  ‘Simple,’ said Lloyd. ‘Once you realise it wasn’t actually Jackson, everything else falls into place.’

  ‘If it wasn’t Jackson, then who the hell was it?’

  ‘It was Connor Fitzgerald,’ said Lloyd quietly.

  ‘But you told me Fitzgerald was arrested in St Petersburg, and then hanged. We’d even discussed how we might get him out.’

  ‘I know, sir, but that was never going to be a possibility once Zerimski had been elected. Unless …’

  ‘Unless?’

  ‘Unless Jackson took his place.’

  ‘Why on earth would he do that?’

  ‘Remember that Fitzgerald saved Jackson’s life in Vietnam, and has the Medal of Honor to prove it. When Fitzgerald returned from the war, it was Jackson who recruited him as an NOC. For the next twenty-eight years he served the CIA, and gained the reputation of being their most respected officer. Then, overnight, he disappears and can’t be traced on thei