State of Siege

The Frenchman Relaxed And Walked Toward The Cockpit. Barone Turned His Back Toward Downer And Kept It There. Downer Sat Down On A Stack Of Money Bags And Ignored Baroneonce More.

When The Australian Reached The Combustion Stage, He Burned Hot But Fast. He Was Cool Again, No Longer Angry At Barone Or At Himself For Having Screwed Up.

Georgiev Locked The Door And Walked Over To The Cockpit. He Didn't Make Eye Contact With Downer As He Walked Past. It Wasn't An Intentional Snub, Just Another Habit That Came From Years Spent Working For The Cia. Always Try To Remain Anonymous. Vandal Was Once Again In The Copilot's Seat, Monitoring The French Police Radio Communications. Georgiev Stood Behind Him In The Open Cockpit Door. Barone Was Looking Out The Window In The Sliding Cabin Door.

Downer Shut His Eyes. He Enjoyed The Soothing Vibration Of The Floor. He Enjoyed The Soft Bed Of Money Beneath His Head. Even The Slamming Loud Noise Of The Rotor Didn't Bother Him.

He Allowed Himself The Pleasure Of Forgetting The Details They'd Had To Remember For This Morning. The Armored Car's Route, The Timing, Alternate Plans In Case The Police Got Through, An Escape By The River In The Event The Chopper Didn't Make It. A Deep Feeling Of Satisfaction Came Over Him, And He Savored It The Way He Had Never Enjoyed Anything In His Life.

Four Chevy Chase, Maryland Friday, 9:12 A.M.

Under A Bright Sky, Paul Hood, His Wife Sharon, Their Just-Turned- Fourteen-Year-Old Daughter Harleigh, And Their Eleven-Year-Old Son Alexander Eased Into Their New Van And Set Out For New York.

The Kids Were Hooked To Their Respective Discmans. Harleigh Was Listening To Violin Concerti To Get Herself In The Mood For The Concert; Every Now And Then, She Would Sigh Or Mutter A Mild Oath, Awed By The Composition Or Discouraged By The Brilliance Of The Performance. She Was Like Her Mother In That Respect. Neither Woman Was Ever Satisfied With What She'd Accomplished, Harleigh On The Violin, Sharon With Her Passion For Healthy Cooking. For Years, Sharon Had Used Her Charm And Sincerity To Lure People Away From Bacon And Doughnuts On A Half-Hour Weekly Cable Tv Show, The Mcdonnell Healthy Food Report. She Had Left The Show Several Months Before To Devote More Time To Putting Together A Healthy-Eating Cookbook, Which Was Nearly Finished. She Had Also Wanted To Spend More Time At Home. The Kids Were Getting Older Faster, And She Felt They Should All Spend More Time Doing Things As A Family, From Having Dinner Weeknights To Taking Vacations Whenever They Could.

Dinners That Hood Had Missed More Often Than Not And Vacations That He'd Had To Cancel. Alexander Was Much More Like His Father. He Liked Personal Challenges. He Enjoyed Computer Games-The More Complicated, The Better. He Liked Crossword Puzzles And Jigsaw Puzzles. As They Drove, He Listened To Some Flavor-Of-The-Month Singer And Worked On An Acrostic Puzzle. Beneath The Puzzle Book, On His Lap, Was A Short Stack Of Comic Books. To Alexander, There Was No Outside World Right Now. There Was Just What Was In Front Of Him. Paul Couldn't Help But Feel Proud Of The Kid. Alexander Knew His Own Mind.

Sharon Hood Was Sitting Quietly By Her Husband's Side. She Had Left Him A Week Before, Taken The Children, And Gone To Stay With Her Parents In Old Saybrook, Connecticut. She'd Returned For The Same Reason That Hood Had Resigned From Op-Center: To Fight For Their Family. Hood Had No Idea What He'd Do Next In His Career, And He Wouldn't Be Putting Out Feelers Until They Returned To Washington On Wednesday. He'd Cashed In Some Stock He'd Bought During His Years As A Broker, Enough To Run The Household For Two Years.

Income Wasn't As Important As Satisfaction And Banker's Hours. But Sharon Was Right. The Wholeness Of What He Felt In The Car, Imperfections And All, Was Something Very Special. One Of Those Imperfections-The Largest One-Was Still Between Hood And His Wife. Though Sharon Took His Hand And Held It As They Started The Trip, He Had The Feeling That He Was On Probation.

There Was Nothing He Could Pinpoint, Nothing That Seemed Different From Any Other Drive They'd Taken. But There Was Something That Stood Between Them. A Resentment?

Disappointment?

Whatever, It Was The Reverse Of The Sexual Tension He Felt With Ann Faros.

Paul And Sharon Talked A Little At First About What They Were Going To Do In The City. Tonight Was An Official Dinner With The Families Of The Other Violinists. Maybe A Walk Through Times Square If They Got Done Early Enough. On Saturday Morning, They'd Drop Harleigh Off At The United Nations And Then Do What Alexander Had Requested: Visit The Statue Of Liberty. The Boy Wanted To See Up Close How It Was "Erected," As He Put It. At Six They'd Head For The Soiree, Leaving The Young Man In The Sheraton With Its Built-In Video Game System.

Paul And Sharon Wouldn't Be Permitted To Attend The United Nations Reception, Which Was Being Held In The Lobby Of The General Assembly Hall Building.

Instead, They'd Be Watching The Concert On Closed-Circuit Televisions In The Second-Floor Press Room Along With The Other Parents. On Sunday, They'd Take In An Afternoon Performance Of The Metropolitan Opera Orchestra Doing Vivaldi Sharon's Favorite--At Carnegie Hall, After Which, At Ann Farris's Recommendation, They'd Head Up To Serendipity Iii For Frozen Hot Chocolates. Sharon Wasn't Happy About That, But Hood Pointed Out That This Was A Vacation, And The Kids Were Looking Forward To The Dessert Stop. Hood Was Sure She Was Also Unhappy About The Fact That Ann Had Suggested It. On Monday, They'd Drive Out To Old Saybrook To Visit Sharon's Parents-This Time As A Family. That Had Been Hood's Idea. He Liked Sharon's Folks, And They Liked Him. He Wanted To Regain That Stability For The Family. Because It Was A Friday, Traffic Thickened Going Into And Out Of Baltimore, Philadelphia, And Newark. They Finally Reached New York At Five-Thirty And Checked Into The Hotel On Seventh Avenue And Fifty-First Street. The Tall, Busy Hotel Was A Sheraton Now; Hood Remembered When It Was The Americana Years Before. They Arrived Just In Time To Join The Other Families For Dinner Up The Street At The Carnegie Deli. The Meal Was Rich With Pastrami, Roast Beef, And Hot Dogs. The Only Couple The Hoods Knew Was The Mathises, Whose Daughter Barbara Was One Of Harleigh's Closest Friends. Barbara's Parents Both Worked For The Washington Police 4Partment. There Were Also A Few Mothers-Two Of Them Attractive, Single Parents-Who Recognized Paul From His Tenure As Mayor Of Los Angeles. They Treated Him With Celebrity-Worthy Smiles And Asked What It Was Like To "Run" Hollywood. He Said He Wouldn't Know.

They'd Have To Ask The Screen Actors Guild And The Other Motion Picture Unions.

All Of It, The Food And The Attention, Made Sharon Uneasy. Or At Least It Brought Out Whatever Discomfort She Had Been Feeling Since They Set Out. Hood Decided To Try To Talk To Her About It When The Kids Went To Bed.

There Was One Thing Sharon Had Been Right About, Though.

Paul Had Been Away From Home Too Much.

As He Watched Harleigh Interact With The Other Teenagers And Their Parents, He Realized He Was Observing A Young Woman And Not A Girl. He Didn't Know When The Change Had Happened, But It Had. And He Was Proud Of Harleigh In A Different Way Than He Was Of Alexander. She Had Her Mother's Charm Along With The Acquired Poise Of A Musician.

Alexander Was Focused On His Plate Of Well-Done Potato Pancakes. He Would Press The Back Of His Fork On Them, Wait For The Grease To Rise From The Top, And Then Watch To See How Long It Took For The Grease To Soak Back. His Mother Told Him To Stop Playing With His Food. Hood Had Reserved A Suite On An Upper Floor. After Alexander Had A Look Around The City With His Binoculars-Marveling At What He Could See On The Street And In Other Windows-The Kids Went To Sleep On Cots In The Living Room, Giving Him And Sharon Some Privacy, Privacy And A Hotel Room. There Was A Time When That Would Automatically Have Meant Lovemaking, Not Talk Or Uncomfortable Silence. Hood Found It Disturbing How Much Time And Passion Over The Last Few Years Went To Other Things, Like Guilt Or Holding Their Individual Ground Instead Of Holding Each Other. How Had Things Gotten To That Point? And How Did A Couple Get Them Back To Where They Should Be? Hood Had An Idea, Though It Would Be Tough Convincing His Wife.

Sharon Slid Into Bed. She Curled On Her Side, Facing Him. "I'm A Mess," She Said.

"I Know." He Touched Her Cheek And Smiled Lightly. "But We'll Get Through This." "Not When Everything Is Pissing Me Off," She Said.

"Apart From The Food, What Else Bothered You?" Hood Asked. "I Was Angry At The Parents We Were With, At The Table Manners Of Their Kids, At The Way The Cars Raced Through Red Lights Or Stopped In The Crosswalks. Everything Got To Me. Everything." "We've All Had Days Like That," He Said.

"Paul, I Can't Remember When I Wasn't Like That," Sharon Said. "It's Just Been Building And Building, And I Don't Want To Spoil Things For Harleigh Or Alexander This Week." "You've Been Through Some Rough Times," Hood Said. "We Both Have. But The Kids Aren't Stupid.

They Know What's Been Happening With Us. What I Wanted, What I Hoped For, Was That We Not Let Anything Get To Us While We're Here." Sharon Shook Her Head Sadly. "How?" "We're Not In A Rush," Hood Said. "The Only Thing We Have To Do Over The Next Few Days Is To Build Some Good Memories For Ourselves And The Kids.

Start To Pull Ourselves Out Of This Funk. Can We Focus On That?" Sharon Placed Her Hand On His. There Was A Hint Of Garlic From Something She'd Cooked The Night Before. That Didn't Do A Hell Of A Lot For Passion Either, Hood Had To Admit. The Routine Of Life. The Smells That Became More Familiar Than That Unforgettable First Scent Of A Woman's Hair. The Chores That Turned The Tip Of Your Angel's Wing Back Into A Hand.

"I Want Things To Change," Sharon Said. "I Felt Something In The Van Driving Up" "I Know," Hood Said. "I Felt It, Too. It Was Nice." Sharon Looked At Him. Her Eyes Were Moist. "No, Paul," She Said. "What I Felt Was Scary." "Scary?" Hood Said. "What Do You Mean?" "The Whole Ride Up, I Kept Remembering The Drives We Used To Take When The Kids Were Small.

Out To Palm Springs Or Big Bear Lake Or Up The Coast. We Were So Different Then." "We Were Younger," Hood Said. "It Was More Than That." "We Were Focused," Hood Said. "The Kids Needed Us More Than They Do Now. It's Like Monkey Bars.

You've Got To Stand Close Together When Their Reach Is Small. Otherwise They Fall." "I Know," Sharon Said. Tears Began Trickling From Her Eyes. "But I Wanted To Feel That Togetherness Today, And I Didn't. I Want Those Good Times Again, Those Old Feelings." "We Can Have Them Now," Hood Promised.

"But There's All This Crap Inside," Sharon Said.

"All This Bitterness, Disappointment, Resentment. I Want To Go Back And Do Things Over So We Can Grow Together, Not Apart." Hood Looked At His Wife. Sharon Had A Habit Of Looking Away Whenever She Was Confused And Of Looking Directly At Him When She Was Not. She Was Looking Straight Into His Eyes. "We Can't Do That," Hood Remarked. "But We Can Work On Fixing Things, One At A Time." He Pulled Her Closer. Sharon Moved Across The Bed, But There Was No Warmth In Their Proximity. He Didn't Understand This At All. He Was Giving Her What She Had Wanted, What She Said She Needed, And She Was Still Withdrawing. Maybe She Was Just Venting. She Hadn't Really Had A Chance To Do That. He Held Her Silently For Several Minutes.

"Hon," Hood Went On, "I Know You Haven't Wanted To Do This Before, But It Might Be A Good Idea If The Two Of Us Talked To Someone. Liz Gordon Said She'd Give Me Some Names, If You're Interested." Sharon Didn't Say Anything. Hood Held Her Closer And Heard That Her Breathing Had Slowed.

He Craned Back Slightly. She Was Staring At Nothing And Fighting Back Tears.

"At Least The Children Turned Out All Right," She Said.

"At Least We Did That Right." "Sharon, We Did More Than Just That Right," He Said.

"We've Made A Life Together. Not Perfect, But A Better Life Than A Lot Of People. We've Done Okay.

And We'll Do Better." He Pulled Her Close Again As She Began To Sob Openly. Her Arms Went Around His Shoulders.

"That Isn't What A Girl Dreams Of When She Thinks Of The Future, You Know?" She Wept.

"I Know." He Cradled Her Tighter. "We'll Make It Better, I Promise." He Didn't Say Anything Else. He Just Held On As Passion Sent Sharon's Regret Into A Power Dive. She Would Bottom Out And Then, In The Morning, They'd Start The Long Climb Back. It Would Be Difficult To Take Things Slow And Easy, As He'd Said. But He Owed That To Sharon. Not Because He'd Let His Career Dictate His Hours But Because He'd Given His Passion To Nancy Bosworth And Ann Farris.

Not His Body, But His Thoughts, His Attention, Even His Dreams. That Energy, That Focus, Should Have Been Saved For His Wife And His Family.

Sharon Fell Asleep Snuggled In His Arms. This Wasn't How He Wanted To Feel Closeness, But At Least It Was Something. When He Was Sure He Wouldn't Wake Her, He Released Her Gently, Reached Over To The Night Table, And Snapped Off The Light. Then He Lay Back, Staring At The Ceiling And Feeling Disgusted With Himself In The Hard, Unforgiving Way You Can Only At Night.

And He Tried To Figure Out If There Was A Way He Could Make This Week-End A Little More Special For The Three People He'd Somehow Let Down.

Five New York, New York Saturday, 4:57 A.M.

Standing Outside The Rundown, Two Story Brick Building Near The Hudson River Made Lieutenant Bernardo Barone Think Of His Native Montevideo.

It Wasn't Just The Dilapidated Condition Of The Body Shop That Reminded Him Of The Slums Where He Grew Up. For One Thing, There Were The Brisk Winds Blowing From The South. The Smell Of The Atlantic Ocean Was Mixed With The Smell Of Gasoline From Cars Racing Along The Nearby West Side Highway. In Montevideo, Fuel And The Sea Wind Were Ever Present. Overhead, A Steady Flow Of Air Traffic Followed The River To The North Before Turning East To La Guardia Airport. Planes Were Always Criss-Crossing The Skies Over His Home.

Yet It Was More Than That Which Reminded Him Of Home.

Bernardo Barone Had Found Those In Every Port City He'd Visited The World Over. What Made It Different Was Being Out Here By Himself. Loneliness Was Something He Felt In Montevideo Whenever He Returned.

No, He Thought Suddenly. Don't Get Into That.

He Didn't Want To Be Angry And Depressed. Not Now. He Had To Focus. He Backed Up Against The Door. It Felt Cool On His Sweaty Back. The Door Was Wood Covered With A Sheet Of Steel On Both Sides. There Were Three Key Locks On The Outside And Two Heavy Bolts On The Inside. The Sunfaded Sign Above The Door Read Viks" Body Shop. The Owner Was A Member Of The Russian Mafia Named Leonid Ustinoviks.

The Small, Bony, Chain-Smoker Was A Former Soviet Military Leader And An Acquaintance Of Georgiev'"S Through The Khmer Rouge. Barone Had Been Informed By Ustinoviks That There Wasn't A Body Shop In New York That Was Exclusively A Body Shop. By Night, When It Was Quiet And No One Could Approach The Building Unseen Or Unheard, Either They Were Chop Shops Selling Stolen Cars, Drug Or Weapon Dealerships, Or Slavery Operations. The Russians And Thais Were Big In This Arena, Sending Kidnapped American Children Out Of The Country Or Bringing Young Women Into The United States. In Most Cases, The Captives Were Put To Work As Prostitutes. Some Of The Girls Who Had Worked For Georgiev In Cambodia Had Ended Up Here, Moving Through Ustinoviks's Hands. The Size Of The Crates Used To Ship "Spare Parts" And The International Nature Of The Trade Made These Businesses A Perfect Front.

Leonid Ustinoviks's Business Was Arms. He Had Them Brought In From Former Republics Of The Soviet Union. The Weapons Came Into Canada Or Cuba, Usually By Freighter. From Them, They Were Slipped Into New England And The Middle Atlantic States, Or Into Florida And The Other Gulf Coast States. Typically, They Were Moved Piecemeal From Small-Town Storehouses To Places Like This Body Shop. That Was To Prevent Losing Everything If The Fbi And The Nypd's Intelligence Division Caught Them In Transit. Both Groups Quietly Monitored The Communications And Activities Of Persons From Nations Known To Sponsor Illicit Trade Or Terrorism: Russia, Libya, North Korea, And Many Others. The Police Regularly Changed Signs Along The Riverfront And In The Warehouse Districts, Altering Parking Restrictions And Hours When Turns Could Be Made On Certain Well-Traveled Corners. This Gave Them An Excuse To Stop Vehicles And Clandestinely Photograph The Drivers. Ustinoviks Had Told Him To Keep An Eye Out For Anyone Who Turned Off The Highway Or Any Of The Side Streets. If Anyone Came Here, Or Even Slowed Down While Driving By, He Was To Rap Three Times On The Body Shop's Door.

Whenever A Deal Was Taking Place, Operations Like This Always Had Someone Who Would Come Out And Demand That A Search Warrant Be Read To Him-A Right, By New York City Law-While Anyone Inside Escaped By The Roof Onto An Adjoining Building. Not That Ustinoviks Was Expecting Trouble. He Said There Had Been A Flurry Of Raids Against Russian Gangsters Two Months Ago. The City Didn't Like To Give The Appearance Of Targeting An Individual Ethnic Group.

"It's The Vietnamese's Turn," He Quipped When They Arrived Here From The Hotel.

Barone Thought He Heard A Sound Off To The Side Of The Building. Reaching Into His Windbreaker, He Withdrew His Automatic. He Walked Cautiously To The Darkened Alley To The North. There Was A Club Behind A High Chain-Link Fence. The Dungeon. The Doors, Windows, And Brick Walls Were All Painted Black.

He Couldn't Imagine What Went On There. It Was Odd. What They Had To Do In Secret In Cambodia, Sell Girls For Money, Was Probably Done Openly In Places Like This.

When A Nation Stands For Freedom, He Thought, It Has To Tolerate Even The Extremes.

The Club Was Closed For The Night. A Dog Was Moving Behind The Fence. That Must Have Been What He Heard.

Barone Slid The Gun Back Into Its Shoulder Holster And Returned To His Post. Barone Pulled A Hand-Rolled Cigarette From His Breast Pocket And Lit It. He Thought Back Over The Past Few Days. Things Were Going Well, And They'd Continue To Go Well. He Believed That. He And His Four Teammates Had Reached Spain Without Any Problem. They Split Up In The Event That Any Of Them Had Been Identified, And Over The Next Two Days, Flew To The United States From Madrid. They Met At A Times Square Hotel.

Georgiev Had Been The First To Arrive. He Had Already Made The Connections Necessary To Obtain The Weapons They Needed. The Negotiations Were Going On Inside While Barone Stood Guard.

Barone Drew On The Cigarette. He Tried To Concentrate On The Plan For Tomorrow. He Wondered About Georgiev's Other Ally, The One Known Only To The Bulgarian. All Georgiev Would Tell Them Was That It Was An American Whom He Had Known For Over Ten Years. That Would Be About The Time They Were In Cambodia Together. Barone Wondered Who He Could Have Met There And What Role They Could Possibly Be Playing In Tomorrow's Action. But It Was No Use. Barone's Mind Always Went Where It Wanted To Go, And Right Now, It Didn't Want To Think About Georgiev Or The Operation. It Wanted To Go Back. It Wanted To Go Home. To The Loneliness, He Thought Bitterly. A Place Familiar To Him Strangely Comfortable.

It Wasn't Always That Way. Though His Family Had No Money, There Was A Time When Montevideo Seemed Like Paradise. Located On The Atlantic Ocean, It's The Capital Of Uruguay And Home To Some Of The Most Spacious And Beautiful Beaches In The World. Growing Up There In The Early 1960'S, Bernardo Barone Couldn't Have Been Happier. When He Wasn't In School Or Doing His Chores, He Used To Go To The Beach With His Twelve-Years-Older Brother Eduardo. The Two Young Men Would Stay There Long Into The Night, Swimming Endlessly Or Building Forts In The Sand. They Would Light Campfires When The Sun Set And Often Went To Sleep Beside Their Forts.

"We'll Rest In The Stables With The Magnificent Horses," Eduardo Would Joke. "Can You Smell Them?" Bernardo Could Not. He Could Only Smell The Sea And The Fumes From The Cars And Boats. But He Believed That Eduardo Could Smell Them. The Young Boy Wanted To Be Able To Do That When He Grew Up. He Wanted To Be Like Eduardo. When Bernardo And His Mother Went To Church Every Weekend, That Was What He Prayer For.

To Grow Up Just Like His Brother. Those Were Bernardo's Happiest Memories. Eduardo Was So Patient With Him, So Friendly With Everyone Who Came By To Watch Them Build The Tall, Creaellated Walls And Moats.

Girls Loved The Handsome Young Man. And They Loved The Handsome Young Man's Cute Little Brother, Who Loved Them Right Back.

Bernardo's Beloved Mother Was A Baker's Assistant And Their Father Martin Was A Prizefighter. Martin's Dream Was To Save Enough To Open A Gym So His Wife Could Quit Her Job And Live Like A Lady. From The Time Eduardo Was Fifteen, He Spent Many Days And Nights Traveling With The Elder Barone, Working As His Corner Man. Often They'd Be Gone For Weeks At A Time, Participating In The Rio De La Plata Circuit.

Groups Of Fighters Traveled Together By Bus From Mercedes To Paysandu To Salto, Boxing One Another Or Ambitious Locals. Pay Was A Share Of The Gate, Less Fees For The Doctor Who Traveled With The Fighters. Eduardo Learned Basic Medical Skills So They Could Save The Price Of The Doctor.

It Was A Difficult Life, And It Put A Terrible Strain On The Boys" Mother. She Worked Long Hours Over A Hellishly Hot Brick Oven, And One Morning, While Her Husband And Eldest Son Were Away, She Died In A Fire At The Bakery. Because The Family's Credit Was Bad, The Woman's Body Was Brought To The Barone Apartment, And Bernardo Had To Sit With It Until His Father Could Be Contacted And Funeral Arrangements Could Be Made And Paid For.

Bernardo Was Nine.

During His Travels With Their Father, Eduardo Had Learned Other Things, As Well. Quite By Chance, In A Small Tavern In San Javier, He Discovered The Marxist Movimiento De Liberacion Nacional Tupamaros. The Guerrilla Group Had Been Founded In 1962 By Raul Antonaccio Sendic, Leader Of The Sugarcane Workers Of Northern Uruguay. The Government Had Been Unable To Control Inflation, Which Went As High As 35 Percent, And Laborers Were Particularly Hard Hit. In The Aggressive Sendic Movement, Eduardo Saw A Means By Which He Could Help Others Like His Father Who Had Lost The Love Of Their Life And The Will To Dream. In Eduardo, The Group Saw Someone Who Could Fight And Administer Medical Treatment. It Was A Good Fit. With His Father's Blessings, Eduardo Joined The Mln-T. In 1972, The Despotic Juan Maria Bordaberry Arocena Was Elected President. Bordaberry Had The Backing Of The Well-Trained, Well-Armed Military. And One Of The First Orders Of Business Was To Crush The Opposition, Including The Mln-T, Which Eduardo Had Recently Joined. There Was A Bloody Shoot-Out In April; By Year's End, Members Were In Jail Or In Exile. Eduardo Had Ended Up In Prison, Where He Died Of "Unknown" Causes. Bernardo's Father Died Less Than Two Years Later. He Had Taken A Severe Beating In The Ring And Never Recovered. Bernardo Always Felt That His Father Wanted To Die. He Had Never Been The Same After The Loss Of Those Who Had Been So Precious To Him.

The Death Of His Family Turned Bernardo Into P Angry Young Firebrand Who Hated The Government Of President Bordaberry. Ironically, The Military Also Became Disenchanted With The New President And Staged Its Own Coup In February 1973. They Established The Consejo De Seguridad Nacional. Bernardo Enlisted In 1979, Hoping To Become Part Of A New Order In Uruguay. But After Twelve Years Of Being Unable To Deal With Economic Hardship, The Military Simply Returned Rule To The People And Literally Faded From The Political Scene. The Economic Situation Hadn't Changed Markedly.

Once Again, Bernardo Felt Betrayed By A Cause. The Young Man Remained In The Military. As A Tribute To His Father, He Had Become Skilled In All Forms Of Hand-To-Hand Combat; He Was Suited For Nothing Else. But He Never Stopped Hoping That He Would Find A Way To Re-Kindle The Spirit Of The Mln-T.

To Work For The People Of Uruguay, Not The Leaders.

Serving With The United Nations In Cambodia, Barone Found A Way To Do Just That. To Raise Money And Get Attention From The World Press, All At The Same Time.

Barone Finished His Cigarette. He Crushed It On The Sidewalk And Stood Looking At The Traffic On The West Side Highway. That Was One Difference Between Montevideo And New York City. In Montevideo, Except For The Tourist Hotels And The Bars, Everything Shut Down At Sunset. Here, The Roads Were Busy Even At This Hour. It Had To Be Impossible For Authorities To Monitor All Of It, To Keep Track Of Who Was Coming And Going, Of What Was In The Trucks And Vans. Lucky For Us, He Thought.

It Was Also Impossible For The Police To Watch Every Plane That Came Into The Small Airstrips That Surrounded The City. Airports And Even Open Fields In Upstate New York, Connecticut, New Jersey, And Pennsylvania Were Perfect For Small Planes To Slip In And Out Unnoticed.

Waterways In Those States Were Also Ideal Spots. A Deserted Bay Or Riverbank In The Small Hours Of The Morning. Crates Quickly And Quietly Loaded From Boat Or Seaplane To Truck. Easy Entry, And So Close To New York. That, Too, Was Lucky For The Team. An Hour Passed, Then Another.

Barone Had Known This Was Going To Take A While, Since Downer Needed Time To Examine Each Of The Weapons.

Though Arms Dealers Could Usually Get A Client What He Wanted, That Didn't Necessarily Mean The Weapons Would Be In Perfect Working Order. Like Refugees, A Hot Weapon Never Got To Travel First Class. The Wait Didn't Bother The Uruguayan.

What Mattered Was That The Weapon Work When He Aimed And Fired. Something To The Left Caught His Eye. He Turned. Near The Mouth Of The River, The Statue Of Liberty Was Just Catching The First Rays Of Dawn.

Barone Hadn't Realized The Monument Was Out There, And Seeing It At First Surprised And Then Angered Him. He Had No Gripe With The United States And Her Cherished Notions Of Freedom And Equality. But There, In The Harbor, Was A Giant Idol Celebrating A Spiritual Concept. It Seemed Sacrilegious. The Way He Was Raised, These Things Were Very Personal.

They Were Celebrated In The Heart, Not In The Harbor.

Finally, Shortly Before Seven A.M., The Door Behind Him Opened. Downer Leaned Out. "You're To Come Around Back," The Australian Said, Then Shut The Door.

Barone Didn't Feel Like Making Fun Of Downer's Accent. Since The Incident In The Helicopter Over Paris, He Hadn't Felt Like Talking To The Unrepentent Mercenary Downer At All. Barone Turned To His Left And Walked Around The Side Of The Building. His New Boots Had Deeply Treaded Rubber Soles That Squeaked On The Asphalt As He Made His Way Along The Driveway. To His Right Was A Tire Shop Surrounded By A High Chain-Link Fence. A Guard Dog Slept In The Shadows. Earlier In The Evening, The Soldier Had Tossed Him Some Of His Hamburger-American Meat Tasted Funny To The Uruguayan-And The Animal Became His Best Friend.

Barone Walked Past A Pair Of Green Trash Bins To Where The Rented Van Was Parked. There Were Seventeen Weapons-Three Guns For Each Man And A Pair Of Rocket Launchers-Plus Ammunition And Bulletproof Vests. Each Weapon Was Swaddled In Bubble Wrap Sazanka And Vandal Were Already Carrying Them From The Body Shop As Barone Hopped Into The Open Side Door Of The Van. As The Men Handed The Weapons Up, Barone Carefully Placed Them In Six Plain Cardboard Boxes. Downer Watched From The Back Door Of The Body Shop, Making Sure None Of The Weapons Were Dropped. It Was The First Time Barone Had Ever Seen The Australian So Quiet And Professional. As He Worked, The Sense Of Loneliness Left The Uruguayan. Not Because He Was With His Teammates But Because He Was Moving Again. They Were Close To Their Goal Now.

Barone Had Always Believed In The Plan, But Now He Believed They Might Actually Pull This Off. Just A Few Small Steps Remained. Months Before, Georgiev Had Obtained A Counterfeit New York State Driver's License. Since Rental Car Companies Routinely Checked Police Records Before Letting Cars Off The Lot, The Bulgarian Had To Pay Extra To Have It Entered Into The Motor Vehicle Department Computer System. He Even Gave Himself A Traffic Ticket A Year Before, Not Just To Show Residency But Because People Who Drove In Big Cities Usually Got One. A Clean Record Might Arouse Suspicions.

All The Team Had To Do Now Was Make Certain They Didn't Run Any Lights Or Have An Accident Before Reaching The Hotel. They'd Drawn Straws Earlier, And Vandal Would Be Sleeping In The Van While The Others Went Up To The Room To Rest. Georgiev Didn't Want To Risk The Van Being Stolen By Ustinoviks.

Then, At Seven P.M., They'd Leave The Hotel Garage And Head To Forty-Second Street. They'd Drive East, Across Town, And At First Avenue They'd Turn North. Once Again, Georgiev Would Drive Carefully.

Then, Suddenly, He Would Speed Up. He Would Approach The Target At Between Sixty And Seventy Miles An Hour, And In Less Than Ten Minutes, The Target Would Fall.

The United Nations Would Be Theirs. And Then The Third And Final Part Of Their Plan Could Commence.

Six New York, New York Saturday, 6:45 P.M.

The League Of Nations Was Formed After World War I, Conceived, In The Words Of Its Covenant, "To Promote International Cooperation And To Achieve International Peace And Security." Though President Woodrow Wilson Was A Fierce Advocate Of The League, The American Senate Wanted No Part Of It. Their Key Objections Involved The Potential Use Of United States Troops To Help Preserve The Territorial Integrity Or Political Independence Of Other Countries, And Acknowledging The Jurisdiction Of The League In Matters Pertaining To North, Central, Or South America. President Wilson Collapsed And Suffered A Stroke As A Result Of His Ceaseless Efforts To Promote American Acceptance Of The League And Its Mandate.

Housed In A Spectacular, Six-Million-Dollar Palace Built For It In Geneva, The League And Its Noble Intentions Proved Ineffectual. They Were Unable To Prevent The Japanese Occupation Of Manchuria In 1931, Italy's Taking Of Ethiopia In 1935, And The German Conquest Of Austria In 1938. It Was Also Notably Ineffective In Preventing World War Ii. It's A Matter Of Ongoing Debate Whether An American Presence In The League Would Have Changed The Unfolding Of Any Of These Events.

The United Nations Was Formed In 1945 To Try To Ac Complish What The League Of Nations Had Failed To Do. This Time, However, Things Were Different. The United States Had A Reason To Be Actively Involved With The Sovereignty Of Other Nations. Communism Was Perceived As The Greatest Threat To The American Way Of Life, And Each Nation That Fell Gave The Enemy Another Foothold. The United Nations Chose The United States As The Home Of Its International Headquarters.

Not Only Had The United States Emerged From World War Ii As The World's Dominant Military And Economic Force, But It Had Agreed To Provide One-Quarter Of The United Nations's Annual Operating Budget. Moreover, Because Of The Despotic Tradition Of Many European Nations, The Old World Was Deemed Unacceptable As A Site For A World Body Promoting A New Era Of Peace And Understanding. New York Was Selected Because It Had Become The Hub Of International Communications And Finance And Was Also The Traditional Fink Between The Old World And The New.

Two Other Potential Sites In America Were Rejected For Very Different Reasons. San Francisco, Which Was Favored By The Australians And Asians, Was Vetoed Because The Soviet Union Did Not Want To Make Travel More Convenient For The Hated Chinese Or Japanese. And Rustic Fairfield County, On The Long Island Sound In Connecticut, Was Disqualified When New Englanders, Opposed To What They Perceived As The Onset Of "World Government," Stoned United Nations Prospectors Who Were Looking At Possible Locations. A Large Parcel Of Land For The New United Nations Headquarters-The Site Of An Abattoir On The East River-Was Bought With $8.5 Million Donated By The Rockefellers. The Family Was Granted A Tax Exemption For Their Gift. The Rockefellers Also Benefited From The Develop Ment Of Land They Still Owned All Around The New Complex. Offices, Housing, Restaurants, Shopping, And Entertainment Came To The Once-Dilapidated Neighborhood In Order To Service The Thousands Of Delegates And Workers Who Staffed The United Nations. The Limited Acreage Made Available For The Project Caused Two Things To Happen. First, The Headquarters Had To Be Designed In Skyscraper Form. The Skyscraper Was A Uniquely American Invention Created To Maximize Space On The Small Island Of Manhattan, And The Look Of The Complex Would Make The United Nations Even More American. However, This Limitation Suited The Founders Of The United Nations. It Gave Them An Excuse To Decentralize Key Functions Of The Organization, From The World Court To The International Labor Organization. These Were Located In Other World Capitals. The Un's Principal Ancillary Headquarters Was Established At The Old League Of Nations Palace In Geneva. This Was A Pointed Reminder To The United States That A World Peace Group Had Been Tried Once Before And Failed Because Not Every Nation Was Committed.

Paul Hood Remembered Some Of That From Junior High School. He Also Remembered Something Else From Junior High School. Something That Had Permanently Shaped His View Of The Building Itself. He Had Come To New York From Los Angeles For A Week During The Christmas Vacation With Other Honor Students. As They Drove To The City From Kennedy International Airport, He Looked Across The East River And Saw The United Nations At Dusk. All The Other Skyscrapers He Saw Were Facing North And South: The Empire State Building, The Chrysler Building, The Pan Am Building. But The Thirty-Nine-Story Glass-And-Marble United Nations Secretariat Building Was Facing East And West. He Happened To Mention That To James Lavigne Who Was In The Seat Next To Him.

The Thin, Bespectacled, Very Intense Lavigne Looked Up From The Mighty Thor Comic Book He Was Reading. The Magazine Was Hidden Inside A Copy Of Scientific American.