"Bullshit!" Lori blurted. "Where's General Palmer?"
"He may be in the building," said the reluctant officer.
"Then you'd damned well better find him in a hurry. This is a Priority One emergency."
"Who did you say you were?"
"I'm Lorelei Quinn, a former officer of the Clandestine Service. My Dad was Cameron Quinn, who recently died in the service of your beloved Agency. Now get me General Palmer."
She didn't know the General very well, except that her father had characterized him as overly cautious because of his newness on the scene. Quinn indicated that Palmer deferred too much to his counterintelligence chief's recommendations. She was afraid to trust him with this.
"This is General Palmer, Miss Quinn. What's the problem?"
"It concerns Jabberwock, General. Where is Judge Marshall? I have to talk to him right away."
"Well, that's interesting. Mr. Elliott has just made a real breakthrough on that case. I can't discuss it, of course. What information did you have?"
So Hawk was already preparing the way, blaming things on the Israelis, no doubt. "I promised the Judge I would speak only with him. How can I reach him?"
The General sounded a bit miffed. "I don't know that he wants to be disturbed."
"Believe me, General, when he hears what I have for him, he'll be deliriously happy at being disturbed. Can you patch me through to him?"
"Yes, of course. But… oh, very well. Hold on. Let me see what I can do."
After a long delay, Judge Marshall's voice came on the line.
"Lori, General Palmer says you have something for me regarding Jabberwock. I hope your friend Hill isn't still trying to interfere. Hawthorne Elliott just made a breakthrough this morning. He has positive proof that it involves the Israelis."
"I hate to be the one to disabuse you, Judge," Lori said. "There is no Israeli involvement in Jabberwock. But Hawk Elliott is in it up to his eyeballs. He's one of the ringleaders."
"I know you dislike Hawk, but a charge like this. What do you think Jabberwock is all about?"
"It's about a plot to assassinate Presidents Giles and Petrovsky in Toronto this morning."
"That's preposterous!" Judge Marshall said in a voice that signaled shocked disbelief at the very thought of it.
"I'm afraid it isn't, sir. And fortunately you're right about Burke Hill. He kept pursuing the case until he turned up all the answers. Hawk Elliott had me kidnapped Tuesday morning on a ruse that I was being taken to a meeting with you at Langley."
"I was out of town on a Presidential mission."
"I didn't know where you were, but I believed him and wound up a captive in a house in Niagara Falls." Her voice rushed on as her brain snatched at bits of fact that might prove persuasive. "Burke tracked me down and came here last night. He taped part of a meeting of the Jabberwock conspirators before one of their goons jumped him. They planned to drown us in the Falls, but we managed to escape."
"Lori, I'm… I'm overwhelmed. I've never known you to make up such a farfetched tale. It's… it's unbelievable, yet… " He hesitated. "Now that I think of it, the kidnapping part makes a bit of sense. I had a strange call from Sydney Pinkleton of the SIS. I believe he was a friend of your father's. He asked how he might contact you. Said something about he had information that you were on a special mission for the Agency." The Judge, as he had a way of doing, suddenly shifted gears. "I'm on the way to Toronto right now. Hawk said he had learned the Mossad planned something in connection with the events there today."
"If you'll listen, sir, I'll play Burke's recording of the meeting. You can hear the plan from your counterintelligence chief himself, among others."
She started the tape and held the small player up to the phone. When the recording had finished, she heard the Judge's voice saying, "Good God! How can we stop them? The two Presidents are due there about now."
"Burke has seen the people involved. He knows more about it than I do. I'll put him on."
Burke took the phone. "Judge Marshall, do you know what time the parade is scheduled?"
"It's to start in about forty-five minutes. The Presidents are probably arriving at the reviewing stand now. There's a little ceremony planned before the parade. I'd better contact the Secret Service and have them cancel everything immediately."
"I don't think that would be wise, sir," Burke said. "This Abdalla character is watching the reviewing stand. If the Secret Service were to start any kind of evasive action, he would probably call for immediate firing of the weapon. By exploding above the stand, it would cover a wide area. Probably get them even if they started to move out."
"We can't just sit here," Judge Marshall said.
"I think we have a little time," Burke said. "They want to create maximum panic and the widest TV exposure. That means at the start of the parade. I know what the truck looks like from the air, and I have a plan." It was just taking shape in his mind. "Could you get me a Royal Canadian Mounted Police Specialty Team helicopter with a winch and a couple of their people aboard?"
"Where are you?"
"Niagara Falls, New York."
"Stand by on the line."
Burke waited agonizingly with nothing but a hum in his ear for several minutes, though it seemed an hour. Then Judge Marshall was back.
"Get over to the Customs and Immigration office on the American side of the Rainbow Bridge, that's the international bridge just below the Falls. The chopper will pick you up in fifteen minutes. What do you intend to do?"
Burke hastily outlined his plan.
"Why not send the Mounties in to storm the truck?" Judge Marshall asked.
"Keep the security forces away from it. They're monitoring every direction from inside that truck. If anybody approaches too close, I'm sure they'll fire immediately."
"Maybe we could get an artillery piece or an anti-tank weapon and destroy the truck. We don't know how much time we have."
"You're right," Burke agreed. "But could you locate such a weapon and get it there in time?"
"I don't know, but I'll find out. Meanwhile, you get over to that bridge. We'll radio you in the chopper."
The Customs officers waved their arms continuously like automated mannequins, attempting to keep traffic moving at the foot of the bridge. Everyone seemed intent on watching the big RCMP helicopter as it settled to the cleared area like a huge bumblebee, took on two passengers, then immediately lifted off and disappeared to the northwest out over Lake Ontario.
As they had ducked beneath the whirling rotor and were boosted into the chopper, Burke and Lori were met by a smiling Sydney Pinkleton as they moved across the narrow deck. He gave Lori a hug and a kiss. She had donned a pair of too-large boots contributed by a female Customs officer.
"I was worried about you, young lady." Pinkleton shouted above the throb of the rotor and the din from the engine as they strapped themselves in. "I called your office Wednesday and received an odd message from Miss Beasley. Something about your being out of contact on a mission for the Agency. She seemed to think it strange as well. Judge Marshall just told me why."
"I sure didn't expect to find you here," Lori replied.
He grinned. "A case of being in the right place at the right time." He turned to Burke. "Let me introduce you to a couple of people. This is Sergeant Ian Macleod."
The Sergeant unbuckled his seat belt and knelt on the deck of the chopper in front of them. He was dressed in his Specialty Team uniform, a hefty Sig Sauer P226 semi-automatic strapped to his waist, several other pieces of equipment hooked to his belt, including two hand grenades. His fellow teammate, a solemn-faced youth with sandy hair that appeared to curl at the edges, sat across from them as if deep in thought, hands clutching his automatic rifle. A large, muscular Scot with steely blue eyes and a bushy black mustache, Macleod shook hands with Burke. The grip, strong and forceful, mirrored the Mountie's personality. It took little imagination to picture him bundled in a parka, standing heroically behind a dogsled, in hot pursuit of some northern territory miscreant.