Cobalt (17 page)

The guide led the group down the hall way naming artefacts and items of interest as she went. Vanessa felt very important today. She had been working as a guide for nearly five years, part-time while she attended university, but she was yet to meet President Watson. She had not met his predecessor either. Today, she hoped she would get that opportunity. Vanessa hoped her group would be one of the lucky ones President Watson would spend time with. She really wanted to have her picture taken with him. A memento of her time at the White House, something she could send to her Grandfather in Savannah, Georgia. Her grandpa often voiced the opinion that President Watson was the first president he liked, the first President he actually voted for. Vanessa carried a standard-issue press picture from the Watson campaign with her everywhere she went in hopes that one day she would meet President Watson and have him personally sign the photo for her grandfather. Today she hoped that wish would be fulfilled. She was so preoccupied with planning what she would say to him, that she didn’t notice that  as they passed the kitchen two of the group broke away, and disappeared through the big wooden doors. She kept moving the tourists quickly through the building oblivious to  the slowly decreasing numbers of her group. They were now on the first floor, the heart of the White House’s political section. As they reached the military strategy room, or Situations room, as it was more commonly known as, one of the remaining men motioned to the group of six men still with him. As he did so, the men surrounded the group of tourists. Kellerin moved up to stand next to the tour guide.

     ‘Excuse me, Vanessa,’ he said, catching her by the shoulder. ‘Can you tell me again where I might find the President. I have urgent business to discuss with him.’

    ‘Well, Sir, if you would like to wait a few moments, we will all be heading down there, shortly.’ Vanessa continued unaware of the danger she was about to face.

     ‘I don’t think you realise just how urgent this business is.’ Kellerin smiled and motioned to his men. The men revealed their weapons to the group. There was a gasp from every member in the tourist party. Vanessa visibly paled as she realised what was happening. Without thinking she hit the emergency button on her communications radio, a procedure drilled into tour guides, in their training. All sound was automatically relayed to Samuel, one of the security guards at the front door.

     ‘Sir, from the Situations room, which is where we are now, you’ll find the President’s office down the hall, and around the corner to the left. Two gold eagles are on the door. Please don’t kill us.’ she pleaded. Hoping that Kellerin did not know that she had called security, Vanessa played the helpless victim perfectly. Her aim was to buy enough time for Samuel to run through the White House, gathering men, and save them. Kellerin beckoned to two of his men to follow him. The other four spread themselves around the room, positioning themselves at the two visible entrances to the room. Kellerin and his two fellow terrorists exited the room, and made their way along the hallway, towards the Oval Office.

            Two minutes had past before Samuel burst through the door, and in to the Situations room. Quickly he scanned it and called to Vanessa. ‘Which way did the other’s go? I have men coming to get these ones, but I have to get to the others before they reach the President.’

Vanessa answered smugly. Thanks to her quick thinking she had saved the President. I’m going to get a medal for this she thought. ‘They went to the Oval Office.’ She answered.

Samuel ran from the room and thundered down the hallway, after Kellerin and his men. Rounding the corner he saw them exit the oval office, and head off further down the hallway.

      ‘Halt!’ He called after them. The three men turned to face their attacker. Kellerin smiled, and motioned for the others to lower their weapons. ‘You’re going the wrong way. The President is in the residence lounge, along with his wife, Randal and Vice President Ackerly.’ Samuel continued. ‘Straight up those stairs, to the left, and you’ll be just out side the door.’ Samuel’s intercom buzzed and Peter’s voice crackled through it.

      ‘Samuel, reports of terrorists. Acknowledge. Vanessa held hostage in Situations room. Over.’

    ‘This is Samuel. Reports proved to be false alarm on investigation. Over.’

    ‘Acknowledged.’ Samuel then heard noises sounding like a struggle through the transmitter. He nodded, knowing it was Kellerin’s men securing the outer door, preventing escape, or entrance by personnel. He threw the radio transmitter to Kellerin. ‘Contact me on four, when you have the President. I’ll see to the rest.’

    ‘Thank you Comrade.’ Kellerin responded as he bounded up the stairs after his men.  

CHAPTER 23

Teslovich sat in the ‘American Bar’ one block from the edge of St Mark’s Square nursing a short black in one hand and a bottle of whisky in the other. The day had begun again in a cloud of grey, dank and damp. He took a mouthful of the whisky, swirled it around his mouth and swallowed it, gasping slightly at the after taste. He then downed the coffee in one mouthful. Not even the coffee is hot he thought. He was waiting for confirmation to approach Kellerin’s nightclub on the far side of the Piazza San Marco – St Mark’s Square. He had been waiting for nearly three hours. So far he had drunk over half the whisky and five very short, very black coffees. He was tired of waiting. His trigger finger was itching. He just wanted to conclude business in Venice, pick up the package for Kellerin and then join his partner in Washington. While he was furious that Kellerin had changed the plans he had to admit curiosity got the better of him as he tried to envisage exactly how Kellerin and his men would take the White House. He wanted to be there, to see the amazed, frightened faces as congress, as the staff of the White House, as the world realised that you were not safe anywhere. That if one of the world’s most heavily guarded buildings could fall, anything could be taken at a whim. Teslovich decided he needed another shot of coffee. He approached the cashier at the front of the building, placed his order and paid his two Euro. Teslovich then exchanged his receipt for the coffee at the serving counter. Once he had his cup he moved back to the small booth he had been sitting in since the café opened two hours ago. He poured a portion of whisky into his cup, and swirled the contents, before again swallowing it in one mouthful. It was then Teslovich remembered that you had to pay to use a restroom in Italy – sometimes more than what you paid for the coffee itself. He hoped he would receive confirmation soon, and then he could use the club facilities.

            Finally his mobile vibrated on the table beside him. He picked it up and answered it. ‘Da?’

     ‘Michlov. Plans have changed again. Get your package and then meet me in Washington.’

    ‘What do you mean plans have changed again?’ Teslovich spat into the phone.

    ‘We had to move sooner than expected.’

     ‘Sooner? How much sooner Dominic? Will I still be able to play a part in the taking of the White House?’

    ‘You already have Comrade. More vital than you will ever know’

     ‘ Where are you? Dominic?’

     ‘I am standing in the White House Residence. I will see you when you get here. You will be able to simply walk in through the front door…just as we did. Get your package and hurry to us. There is much to do. I await your arrival.’

    ‘Dominic, this is unacceptable. You should have notified me. I would have returned sooner. I could have picked up this package after we completed this mission.’

   ‘You have no right to tell me what to do. I make the decisions. You follow orders. You have followed them perfectly until now, and I expect you to follow them further. Collect the package and bring it to me in Washington. You will be paid handsomely. I have been promised a substantial bonus from our employer. A bonus I will share with you, when you deliver the package to me. I value that package highly, Michlov. The plan, the mission will not run smoothly without it. Contact me in four hours, when you have secured the package and are on your way to Washington. Your flight leaves in one hour forty minutes. My assistant has checked your luggage through. ’ The phone call disconnected. Teslovich glanced around the café, wondering how many people had witnessed his conversation, he was in the right mood for having to clean up messes involving witnesses. The cashier sat reading ‘La Fiamma’ the daily newspaper while the barista was sweeping behind the counter, both seemed oblivious to Teslovich. And he was the only customer in the bar. He stood and left the ‘American Bar,’ heading directly for the nightclub. The sooner he got this job over and done with, the better.

***********

Madeline stood on the edge of the raised platform, directly in front of St Mark's Cathedral, watching Rick. They had been on surveillance for half an hour, and in order to seem inconspicuous, they had assumed the role of tourists. Rick stood on a slightly raised section of the cobbled square, completely surrounded by water.

    ‘Watch this Madeline.’ he called to her, as he ripped open the bag of bread crumbs, he had purchased from a vendor moments earlier. Madeline feigned interest as the bag was torn and the crumbs burst out all over him. With in an instant Rick was completely engulfed in a cloud of pigeons. They appeared from nowhere, in order to claim their breakfast. They circled around him in flight, landed on any space he had on his body and squabbled at his feet for the crumbs. Amusement shone in Madeline's eyes as she watched her partner's struggle to stay upright. As quickly as it had begun the birds took flight, and went in search of some other unsuspecting victim. Rick was left to assess the damage. His hair was ruffled and on the shoulder of his navy suit was the tell-tale sign of his close encounter of the winged kind. Using his tie he wiped at the offensive object, before pocketing his tie and undoing the top button of his shirt. As he did so, he looked at Madeline. She was attempting to look at him, without giving away her obvious amusement at the situation.

    ‘Madeline, look at this. I paid one dollar to have thousands of birds literally crap on me!’ he said as he finished wiping his sleeve.

    ‘No wonder the Italians think tourists are stupid.’ She replied, her voice betraying her attempt to remain focused on the task at hand, and not her partner's latest fiasco.

       Rick moved towards her. Accusingly he addressed her as he went to embrace her. ‘Are you calling me stupid?’

    ‘I merely implied it,’ she teased, turning her back in an attempt to avoid a hug from his pigeon covered arms. Rick grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her to him, nuzzling his face through her hair, to rest against her shoulder.

    ‘Well, that's all right then.’ he whispered into her neck, his breath tickling her skin.

Madeline closed her eyes for a moment. When she re-opened them, she saw him. Teslovich was weaving his way through the crowd, towards them, on the very same walkway. When he was only twenty metres from them, their eyes met. Madeline, not daring to shift her gaze for a second, alerted Rick. Seeing Rick appear behind her, Teslovich turned and bolted down the walkway, in the opposite direction, dazed onlookers were knocked off into the water as he went. Rick jumped off into the water and looked at Madeline.

    ‘Coming?’

    ‘I'm not getting in there!’ she gestured at the water. ‘I'll go through the cathedral, and cut him off near the Rialto. You'd better go.’

Seeing Teslovich reach the end of the platform, fifty metres away, Rick made a dash for him. Closing the distance, Rick chased Teslovich through the streets of Venice. Shoppers, tourists and sales personnel all dropped what they were doing, to watch the chase. Teslovich dodged in and around the people, in an attempt to loose his pursuer. Rick, familiar with the technique, followed, like a hound on a fox.           

Madeline turned against the crowd and fighting the momentum headed towards the entrance to St Marks cathedral. She walked casually, not wishing to draw unnecessary attention to herself. Rick, splashing off, had done enough of that already.

Once inside the darkened church, Madeline quickened her pace across the uneven, gold-plated, fresco covered floor, being careful not to slip on the condensation. She couldn't help but admire the beauty of this bold, gold structure as she moved towards the back exit.

            Rick continued chasing Teslovich through the narrow streets, towards the Rialto Bridge. Twisting and turning through the lanes was wearing him down, and he had lost all sense of direction. Teslovich, tiring also, continued to run further and further from the club, and his original destination. His only thought was that when he reached the un-covered section of the Rialto, there was the possibility that a motorboat would pass beneath. His only chance of escape was a hijack from the bridge.