Chaos Theory (34 page)

He lifted out the aluminium case and walked back until he was only fifty feet away from the main gate, but hidden by bushes from the security guard who was sitting in his sentry box by the barrier. The security guard had his feet up and he was reading a newspaper.

Noah checked the time again. 11.36 a.m. Right now, the President and his entourage should be arriving at the Century Plaza. Right now, the room where His Excellency Ato Ketona Aklilu and Alvin Metzler would be signing their agreement would be filling up with invited dignitaries and media.

Noah waited until 11.40 a.m. Then he took out his cellphone and punched 7. Instantly, there was a loud, flat thump, which echoed and re-echoed from the surrounding hills. A cloud of dark grey smoke rolled up into the sky, and fragments of concrete and pieces of wire mesh began to clatter on to the roadway.

The security guard threw down his newspaper and hurried out of his sentry box. He hesitated for a few seconds, but then he went back into his sentry box and activated a klaxon alarm. After he had done that, he put on his cap and went running along the perimeter fence to the place where Noah had set his explosive.

Noah waited until more men came running out of the factory. Then, crouching low, he dodged in through the main gate, underneath the grey-and-white barrier pole, and headed for the nearest building. There were twenty or thirty men swarming across the factory yard now, all of them shouting, and the regurgitating noise of the klaxon was adding to the general confusion. Noah had done this several times before, in Kuwait, setting off a decoy explosive and then taking advantage of the panic to set more devices.

He had no idea where Silja and Adeola were being held, but he guessed that the likeliest location was the office block, rather than the factory. He reached one of the aluminium buildings and ran the whole length of it, until he reached the door. Three men in pale blue coveralls came hurrying out, and one of them even held the door open for him.

‘Thanks, man,’ he said, and stepped inside.

The interior of the building seemed even larger than the outside. It was brightly lit, with rows and rows of production lines, belts and pulleys and moving tracks. For the moment, production had been stopped, because the building was silent, except for a few echoing clanks and bangs, and only four or five men were standing around, obviously waiting to find out what the explosion had been, and whether they ought to carry on working or not.

Considering what they were putting together, they were probably wise to wait. As Noah made his way between the production lines, he realized that he was surrounded on all sides by missile warheads, painted red and white.

He knew from his experience in the Gulf what these were, and what they could do. Sunburst pyrophoric missiles, which were designed to penetrate a tank’s armour and then ignite inside the hull, starting a fire so intense that the crew would be virtually vaporized.

He worked quickly and expertly, attaching devices to three parallel production lines, right underneath, where they would be difficult to detect. Each device was a large block of RDX, a smaller block of Thermite-TH3, and four 4 July sparklers. There were several different ways of igniting thermite, such as magnesium strips and blowtorches, but Noah had always preferred sparklers because they were safer and more effective, and they gave him plenty of time to get away before the thermite reaction started, and everything started to melt.

He used less than half the explosive that George had given him, but he left the aluminium case underneath one of the production lines, with its lid open.

 

Noah left the factory building and walked quickly across to the office block next to it. A few men were still standing around the breach that he had blown in the perimeter fence, but most of them were walking back across the yard.

He pushed open the office doors and found himself in a large reception area, with potted palms and white leather couches. On the rear wall was a stainless steel bell shape with the stainless steel letters ‘Tocsin Weapons and Rocketry Systems’. A girl with a blonde French pleat and a pale blue suit was sitting at a curved, stainless-steel desk.

She raised her thinly-plucked eyebrows. ‘May I help you, sir?’

‘I think so. Mr Hubert Tocsin here, by any chance?’

‘You do have an appointment, sir?’

‘Not exactly. But I have to see him pretty urgently.’

‘I’m sorry, sir. Mr Tocsin doesn’t see anybody, except by appointment.’

‘Oh, I think he’ll want to see me.’

‘Excuse me, sir, but if you don’t have an appointment, may I ask how you passed through security?’

Noah looked at the clock on her desk. It was 11.54 a.m. He was running out of time. He took out the Colt .45 that George had given him, cocked it, and pointed it at her.

‘Will you please tell Mr Tocsin that I need to see him, right now.’

The girl stared at the gun, wide eyed.

‘
Tell him
,’ Noah repeated.

The girl clicked a switch and said, ‘Mr Tocsin? I’m sorry to interrupt your meeting, sir, but there’s a gentleman in reception who insists on seeing you.’

She listened to her earpiece for a moment, and then she said, ‘Yes, sir. I know, sir. But he has a gun.’

She listened again, staring at Noah all the time she was doing so. ‘A gun, sir. A real one, I think. Yes.’

Eventually she said, ‘He’s coming right down.’

 

The presidential suite was crowded now. A large table had been covered with a purple cloth, and decorated with the Stars and Stripes, the national flag of Ethiopia, and the DOVE flag, which depicted a white dove with an olive branch in its beak. In front of the table, over a hundred gilt chairs had been arranged in a semicircle, and these were now filled with diplomats and specially-invited guests.

Alvin Metzler came in first, smiling broadly. There was a smattering of applause and he raised his hand to acknowledge it. Then His Excellency Ato Ketona Aklilu came in, wearing a traditional green silk robe and a gold-embroidered hat. He bowed, and there was more applause.

Captain Madoowbe stood close to the left-hand end of the table, and Rick stood only inches behind him. He felt breath on the back of his neck, and when he turned around he saw that another Ethiopian security guard was almost on top of him. The other four weren’t far behind. Rick had always been sensitive about personal space, and these five made him feel almost unbearably claustrophobic, particularly since the nearest security guard smelled as if he had been eating some kind of dried fish.

It was 12.03 p.m. and the signing ceremony was running a few minutes late. But eventually Josephine Blascoe appeared, the Under Secretary for Democracy and Global Affairs at the State Department – a terrifyingly smart woman in her late thirties with a shining chestnut bob and a bright ‘can-do’ look in her eyes, wearing a pale jonquil suit.

There was more applause as she took her seat between the Ethiopian Foreign Secretary and Alvin Metzler.

‘Today –’ she said, speaking in a clear South Carolina accent that was a little too high for comfort ‘– today, we are reaffirming our hope that the peoples of Africa can at last find peace.’

Captain Madoowbe turned to Rick and said, ‘Only a few minutes now. You are ready?’

‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’

 

Hubert Tocsin pushed open the door into the reception area. Close behind him came the spidery man with his arm in a sling, and the bald man with the walrus moustache.

He walked directly towards Noah as if he intended to snatch his gun right out of his hand. But when Noah swung his arm around and pointed the gun directly at his head, he stopped.

‘You think I’m afraid of you?’ he demanded.

‘I sure hope so,’ said Noah.

‘I’m not afraid of you, and whatever it is you want from me, you can’t have it.’

‘Well, you’ve got stones,’ said Noah. ‘I have to grant you that.’

‘So what is it you want?’

‘Adeola Davis and Silja Fonselius. That’s all. And I want them now.’

Hubert Tocsin’s left eyelid twitched. ‘What makes you think that I’ve even got them?’

‘I know you have. And you have ten seconds to produce them. I just hope for your sake that they’re safe and well.’

‘And supposing I say no?’

‘You won’t. Because if you do, I’ll blow your head off. And then I’ll find out where you’re keeping them, and I’ll take them anyhow.’

Hubert Tocsin glanced at the clock on his receptionist’s desk. It was 12.06 p.m.

‘They’re not here,’ he said. ‘It may take some time to find them.’

‘I don’t have time,’ Noah told him. ‘I want them now. Don’t try to stall me, Mr Tocsin. I know why you took them. I know about Nakasu and I know what Nakasu is planning to do today.’

‘Could be you’re too late already,’ said Hubert Tocsin, with a sloping smile.

‘Too bad for you if I am. You have
five
seconds now.’

‘And if I refuse? What are you going to do? Shoot me in cold blood?’

‘I can do better than that.’ Noah took out his cellphone and held it up. ‘You see this cellphone? All I have to do is press one number and your missile plant next door is history.’

‘I suppose that was your doing, then? That firework display outside?’

‘You got it.’

Hubert Tocsin glanced at the clock again. 12.08 p.m.

‘All right, then,’ he said. ‘I expect it’s all over by now, in any event. You can have your two lady friends back. But don’t think that we won’t be coming after you.’

He clicked his fingers at the receptionist. ‘Tell Michael to bring our two guests downstairs. He’ll know what you mean.’

They waited uneasily for two or three minutes. Then the door opened again and Adeola and Silja appeared, accompanied by the black man who had been guarding them. Both of them looked tired, and Adeola’s hair was a mass of untidy curls.

‘My God!’ said Silja. ‘I don’t believe it!’

‘It turns out that you have a knight in shining armour,’ said Hubert Tocsin.

Adeola went right up to him and said, ‘You are going to pay for this, Mr Tocsin. I am going to make sure that you rot in jail for the rest of your life.’

‘We’ll have to see about that,’ said Hubert Tocsin. ‘But first you need to think how
your
story is going to sound.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘What do I mean? You actively participated in a little charade in which you deceived the world into thinking you had been shot dead, didn’t you? And why? So that an associate of yours could be accepted by Nakasu and become an assassin.

‘He
was
accepted, thanks to you, and his very first assignment was to shoot not only Mr Alvin Metzler, of DOVE, and the Foreign Secretary of Ethiopia, but the President, too.’

‘
What?
’ said Adeola.

‘Oh, yes. The President was due to make an appearance at DOVE’s little demonstration of international huggy-kissy.’

He nodded towards the clock. ‘I haven’t heard the news yet, but it should all be over by now.’

Adeola was shaking. ‘You’re insane,’ she said. ‘You’re absolutely stark staring mad.’

‘Who are you calling insane, Ms Davis? You want to know what insanity is? Trying to make peace is insanity, Ms Davis. It flies in the face of human nature. Men have always been at war. Men always will be. The enemy is people who try to suppress struggle, and the progress that always comes out of it. The enemy is
you
.’

‘My God, Mr Tocsin,’ said Adeola, ‘you’re a murderer! Hasn’t that ever occurred to you? Any man who makes a weapon that kills innocent people, and makes a profit out of it, he’s a murderer, and he deserves to burn in hell.’

‘Come on, Adeola,’ said Noah. ‘Come on, Silja. Let’s get the hell out of here.’

Hubert Tocsin said, ‘It’s a long way back to Los Angeles. Don’t count on making it in one piece. And even if you do – just remember that there are plenty of men in grey suits who will be happy to welcome you.’

 

 

A
lvin Metzler signed the peace agreement and passed it across to His Excellency Ato Ketona Aklilu. His Excellency signed it, too, in a blizzard of flashlights.

At that moment, the double doors behind them opened, and four Secret Service men came through, followed by the President. Everybody in the room stood up and applauded.

The President lifted both hands in acknowledgement. He was very tall, with an eagle’s wing of grey hair, and a well-weathered face that looked as if it had already been sculpted on the side of Mount Rushmore. He stepped up to the centre of the table, smiling and giving that special twinkle of his eyes to those members of the media whom he personally favoured.

‘Friends,’ he said, as the applause died down. ‘And let me say this: it is more than just a pleasure to call you “friends”, because this is a day on which the word “friends” has taken on a new political significance. A day when the people of Ethiopia have decided at last that they can
all
be friends, no matter what their tribes, or their religions, or their different ways of life.’

Rick reached inside his coat for the plastic-clad butt of his Stechkin APS. Flashlights were flickering like summer lightning, and five or six photographers had pushed their way forward to hunker down right in front of the table, so that they could get more intimate shots.

The President took hold of His Excellency Ato Ketona Aklilu’s hand and shook it, turning towards the assembled dignitaries as he did so. Then he grasped Alvin Metzler’s hand, and leaned forward to say something in his ear.

Captain Madoowbe hissed ‘
Now!
’ in Rick’s ear.

Rick lifted out the APS, cocked it, and pointed it at Captain Madoowbe’s right ear. There was an ear-splitting report, and half of Captain Madoowbe’s head was blown across the room, splattering up against the pink fleur-de-lis wallpaper. He fell sideways, with the left side of his face missing, and only a curved piece of skull at the back.