Текст книги "The Hit"

Автор книги: David Baldacci

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

“Even if everything goes according to plan we’re still talking about a catastrophic scenario.”

“The West used to pick their puppet and put him in power. The puppet kept everyone in line and the area was peaceful. Look at the shah of Iran. And Saddam was our friend until he stopped being our friend. I’m sure the people they want in power have been carefully selected. Remember Ahmadi? That was one guy and one country. Just hitting singles. They’re going for homers now by inserting puppets all at one time.”

“But there’ll be security in Canada too.”

“Not like in Dublin. And it’ll be a different sort of security.”

“But it still comes down to how do just the two of us stop it?”

“We have a plane ride to come up with a plan,” said Robie.

“You really think we can map this out in seven hours?”

“No.”

“What, then?” persisted Reel.

“We have eight. I checked the flight time. There’s a stiff headwind.”

“Robie, cut the crap!”

“An extra hour is an extra hour. But all I know is we have to try. Because if we don’t try it will happen.”

They boarded their flight. Thirty minutes later the private wings took off heading due west.

From the Internet Robie had assembled all the information he could on the event to which they were heading. After reviewing it, Reel finally sat back and said, “We don’t have enough intel to pull this off, Robie.”

“Well, Janet DiCarlo said something that could help us. Missing personnel. Missions that never should have been. So we might see some old friends on this one.”

“We might,” Reel said doubtfully.

He stretched out his tight shoulders. “We won’t have much time when we hit the ground. It starts tomorrow in the morning.”

“If they hit today, while people are still just arriving, we won’t even get a shot.”

“They won’t. They have to make it look like the real thing. Otherwise people will get suspicious. Terrorists always go for the symbolic blow. The summit will have to be up and running before they hit it.”

“So the opening ceremony?”

He nodded. “That’s what I think.”

He rose and poured two cups of coffee from the small bar set up against a bulkhead. He set one down for her and retook his seat.

“I have a question for you,” said Robie. “And it has nothing to do with what’s coming up.”

Reel sat back and stared at him. “What?”

“You saved my butt at DiCarlo’s, right?”

“Yes.”

“You didn’t have to do that. It was a big risk, in fact.”

“Everything we do has big risks.”

“That’s not an answer, Jessica.”

She took a sip of coffee. “I figured I got you into this mess, it was my responsibility to look after you.”

“Like you did on the Eastern Shore?”

“Nothing is absolute, Will. That was early on. I just wanted to survive to finish this. Later, my thinking changed.”

“Changed about me?”

“It would have given me no pleasure to see you die.” She looked away for a few moments. Robie saw her hand tremble.

When she turned back her features were calm. “Are we done with that? Good to go now?”

“Good to go,” said Robie.

For the rest of the flight they did nothing but troubleshoot what they had to do, looking for any weakness, any advantage. As they neared landing in Canada, Reel sat back, rubbed her eyes, and looked at Robie.

“So let’s assume we actually survive this,” she said. “What’s next for you?”

He shrugged. “Have you been thinking about your future?”

“I’m just tired, Robie.”

He nodded. “I can see that.”

Reel studied him. “Do you miss her? The woman who hurt you?”

“No,” he said, but his tone was unconvincing.

Reel sat back. “Okay.”

“I blame myself.”

“What, for being human?”

“For not doing my job.”

She settled her gaze on him. “Which requires you to not be human.”

“A job is a job.”

“And a life is a life. You only have one of those.”

He shook his head. “So call it quits?”

“How many out there have lasted as long as we have?”

“Not that many, I guess.”

“You must have thought about life after.”

“I have. But I guess I never thought about it seriously.”

“I would respectfully suggest that you do. Because we might get really lucky and actually survive this.”

CHAPTER

74

THE PRIVATE WINGS LANDED IN MONTREAL. That was where all the planes had come through on the way to the event.

After that Reel and Robie drove.

For a long way.

“Why here?” asked Reel. “Why have a summit for the Middle East all the way out here?”

“Where should they have held it? In the middle of Manhattan? On the National Mall in D.C.?”

“It’s not easy to get to.”

Robie said, “That’s one reason they chose it. Restricted access. They can more easily check people coming and going.”

“Who’s moderating the event? The UN?”

“The Canadians. The PM left the Dublin summit early to deliver the keynote at the opening ceremony.”

“Odd choice.”

“Odd everything,” agreed Robie.

The town’s main street wasn’t large, but it was well stocked with shops. To Robie, it looked like a place you might find inside a snow globe.

Trappedinside a snow globe, actually. Foot traffic was far higher than normal, as was the number of cars. But heavily armed checkpoints had been set up at all entry points. Cars were searched, the IDs of each vehicle’s occupants checked.

Because of this, Robie and Reel didn’t drive through any checkpoints. They were staying at a hotel outside of town. They had to leave their weapons behind when they separately entered the town on foot.

Robie walked the streets front to back, committing to memory all landmarks, the location of the major event—the town’s old city hall—and the security personnel who roamed the area. He knew that Reel was making the same sort of canvas of the area.

He had concluded that the multihit Godfather scenario was less plausible. It would require pinpoint timing and a lot of luck. And most professionals knew that neither one was, realistically, in ample supply during these sorts of missions.

It would be one hit, an all-out assault with concentrated fire or explosives on a central target. This included several leaders who headed up what amounted to terrorist organizations masquerading as governments. But then again, crazies had been allowed to address the UN in New York, so he supposed this wasn’t such a stretch. And some of them had been elected by a majority of voters exercising their democratic right to install whomever they chose to lead them.

Even if it was to oblivion.

He bought a cup of coffee and watched a group of turbaned and bearded men cross the street and enter another shop. There were many such groups here. All men. No women, at least that he could see. That was just how things were. And that was a big part of the problem, he felt.

Despite the chill he sat at an outdoor table and drank his coffee. His gaze kept wandering and he finally keyed on a group of men walking down the far side of the street.

He spoke into his mic. “Group of five guys on the east side of the street heading toward the hotel at the end of the street. Do a pass and tell me what you see.”

A few seconds later Reel emerged from an alley. She wore a hooded coat and sunglasses. She passed the group. Robie was the only one who noticed that she slowed down just a tad as she passed them. Her gaze seemed to be fixed straight ahead. But it wasn’t. It roamed over the men, taking in all relevant details.

That was what years of training got you, an almost supernatural talent for observation.

Over his earwig Robie heard, “Nothing.”

She kept walking and he heard her say, “Hold on a sec. Let me check something.”

She kept walking down the street. Robie watched as she passed a guy wearing a black warm-up suit, with a ski cap pulled low. He was looking down at the pavement but Robie could tell his gaze was also roaming.

Reel passed him. A few seconds later over his earwig Robie heard her say, “Bingo. Tag, you’re it.”

Robie immediately rose and took up the tail on the guy. As he walked he mumbled into his mic, “Talk to me.”

“That was Dick Johnson. Remember him?”

“Dropped out of the clandestine service about two years ago, or so I heard.”

“Disappeared was more like it.”

“You sure it’s him? I didn’t know him that well.”

“He’s changed. But what he didn’t change was a tat on his shooting hand.”

“What of?”

“Oh, pretty routine. A scorpion holding a gun with its stinger and the word ‘Mom’ inked on the scorp’s back.”

“Okay, that sounds about as good as a fingerprint for ID.”

“See where he goes.”

“You think he’s part of the missing personnel DiCarlo was talking about?”

“I doubt this village is a hot destination, particularly in winter. No place to ski.”

Johnson turned down one corner and a few seconds later so did Robie. He said into his mic, “Parallel us on the next street over. Then take up the tail after the next intersection. I’ll drop off and dogleg it over to the next street. We’ll keep up that rotation all the way to where he’s staying so he doesn’t get suspicious.”

“Copy that.”

They exchanged the role of trailing Johnson three times. The streets were crowded, which helped. Robie was behind him when Johnson went into what looked like a hostel. Robie went to a café across the street. He sat down at a table and waited.

A few minutes later Reel’s voice came over the mic. “Room 21, second floor. I saw three other guys in there I could swear were just like us.”

“I wonder how many they have.”

“More than four, that’s for sure.”

“Anybody pay you any attention?”

“One guy looked at me a little too long, so I turned around and started speaking German to the guy behind the desk in the lobby. He didn’t understand me, but the guy lost interest and walked off. Good thing I had a little plastic surgery done. But you didn’t, so keep low and your hat down and don’t talk much unless it’s in a foreign language.”

“Right,” said Robie.

“So what now?”

“We sit on Johnson and his team. Let them lead us where they’ll lead us. You know what they’re going to do?”

Reel said, “They’ll have to recon the site and do a walk-through.”

“That’s probable.”

“Do we hit them then?”

“Love to, but we have one problem.”

“Our weapons are outside the checkpoints,” she noted.

“Right. Now, Johnson wasn’t wearing any security badges like the other grunts we’ve seen, so I’m wondering how they’re getting their firepower. Because it has to be here somewhere. They’re not going to beat these guys to death with sticks.”

“Maybe it’s waiting for them inside the security checkpoint,” said Reel.

“Along with whatever else they’re going to need to do this.”

“Which might just solve our dilemma.”

“And kill two birds with one stone.”

“Would be nice,” she commented.

“Yes, it would.”

CHAPTER

75

DICK JOHNSON WENT ON THE move late that night. And Robie and Reel, who had changed clothes and looked as different as possible from earlier, were right there with him.

The town was actually larger than it looked, and there were many streets and back alleys off the main roads. Johnson took one of these and kept going for about fifteen blocks until the snow globe town turned into something a little less picturesque.

As before, Reel and Robie took turns trailing Johnson. They were wearing layers, and when one broke off from the tail they would shed a layer and stuff it in the knapsack each of them carried. With different clothes and staggering their surveillance, even someone as trained Johnson would have been hard pressed to spot them.

But he was taking steps to make sure he wasn’t followed. He continually crossed the street. And occasionally when he would pass a darkened plate glass window he would stop in front of it and pretend to look at the merchandise while he used the reflective surface to check who was around. Sometimes he would simply stop, turn around, and start walking in the opposite direction, his gaze swiveling in all directions. Robie and Reel knew all of these tricks but still had to hustle to keep their cover.

The trail finally ended at a large old building on the outskirts of town, far away from the scheduled event and security perimeter.

Johnson went inside and Reel and Robie stood next to each other in the deep shadows of a nearby alley.

“Warehouse?” said Robie.

“Or operations center more likely,” said Reel.

“Then we need to get in.”

“Tricky. It’s probably better guarded than the Middle East event.”

“And yet here we are just a few feet away with a target under surveillance.”

The front door of the place opened and a man came out.

Robie lifted his night optics to his eyes and took a peek. He handed the optics to Reel, who watched the man slowly walk down the street.

“Judge Samuel Kent,” said Reel.

“They brought in the big gun for the finale.”

“That validates our decision to come here.”

“validates, but that’s all.”

“We need to split up,” said Reel. “I’ll take Kent. You take the warehouse.”

She started to head off, but he gripped her arm. “Follow, don’t kill. We need him alive. For now.”

She pulled free from his grip. “Do you really think you need to tell me how to do my job?”

“I’m thinking about your lost friends. Sometimes the temptation can be too great.”

“I don’t want just him. I want them all, Robie. And if he needs to keep breathing in order to do that, so be it.”

“Just so we have it straight.”

“We have it straight.”

She headed off into the darkness.

Robie watched her until she and Kent disappeared into the night.

He turned his attention back to the building. Slowly he made his way around its footprint, checking out all entry and exit spots as he went along. Most of the windows were dark, but not all.

Three lighted windows, and he saw movement at two of them. They were all on the lower level.

He figured perimeter security was posted 24/7 if this was really their command center. And because Kent had been here, Robie had to assume it was. So how to get in and then out with what they needed but no one the wiser?

“Pretty much impossible,” he told himself as he crouched in the alley staring up at the building. But then another idea struck him.

He spoke into his mic. “Progress report?”

“very little, actually. Still walking,” answered Reel. “Don’t think he’s staying at the same place as the hired help. You?”

“Gonna try something.”

“What does that mean exactly?” she said, sounding a little startled.

“It means exactly that I’ll let you know when I’m done.”

“Robie, if you’re going to go in there I’m coming with you.”

“I didn’t say I was going in there.”

“You didn’t say you weren’t either.”

“I’ve been doing this sort of thing solo for a long time, okay?” he said harshly.

“Right, okay,” she said, sounding sheepish. “Report back when you can.”

Robie took a few careful steps out of the alley and peered upward. The front and rear doors were out. They would be guarded. The lower-level windows were out for the same reason.

That was why Robie was peering upward. He figured this strike team didn’t have unlimited manpower. They would have to conserve what they did have and utilize it optimally. That meant not wasting it guarding portals that were literally out of reach.

But few things were truly out of reach. And this building was old. And the veneer was brick. Uneven brick.

That meant there were handholds.

The back of the building faced an abandoned structure. Robie gripped an edge of brick with fingers that were nearly as strong as steel. Handling a fifteen-pound sniper rifle, pulling triggers, and bracing for recoil to immediately fire again had made his grip one of the strongest things about him.

It would come in handy tonight.

He had to make the climb in darkness, because even a penlight would seem like a ship’s beacon. But there was a dull glow of moonlight. That was both good and bad. Good if it made him see a handhold he ordinarily wouldn’t have seen. Bad if they had a patrol passing around the outside of the building and one of them happened to look up.

He kept going, slipped twice, nearly fell once, but his hand finally gripped the ledge outside a darkened window and he lifted himself up and perched on the narrow space. The window was locked.

He pulled out his Swiss Army knife, which the security checkpoint had missed, and a few seconds later passed through the open window and dropped noiselessly to the floor. Now he used his penlight to see, because the darkness was nearly complete in here.

The room was empty except for a few odd pieces of furniture, some old paint cans, tarps, and rusted tools. It seemed someone was going to renovate the space and then thought better of it.

He moved to the door very slowly. The floors were wooden and old, and such floors creaked. He didn’t take actual steps. He slid his feet along the floor to minimize the noise. He reached the door and put his ear to it.

He could hear sounds. But they all seemed to be coming from downstairs.

He shined his penlight on the hinges. They looked old and rusty. That wasn’t good. They might sound like a fighter jet shrieking in when he opened it.

Robie looked around and his gaze lighted on the stack of paint cans, tools, and tarps. He slid over there, quietly rummaging around until his hand snagged a can of oil.

He went back over to the door and soaked the hinges with it. He let the lubricant seep deeply into the metal joints and then he slowly opened the door.

Thank God for small treasures, he thought as he peeked between the door and jamb.

The hall was clear.

He moved out into the corridor. There were three doors facing him across the hall, with stairs heading down in the middle of the landing.

He shuffled across the hall and over to the other doors. He pulled his knife, a poor weapon against guns, but all he had. The hall was thankfully dark, so he used his penlight to examine the lock and floor in front of the three doors.

Bits of rust were in front of only one door, the one obviously that had been opened. He noted that the hinges had been lubricated.

The door was locked. But with his knife it was unlocked ten seconds later.

He opened it, the hinges moving silently, and stepped in. He shut the door behind him and locked it.

He shined his light around.

In one corner, on pegs, was a long line of clothing items. He examined some of them. Now the other side’s plan started to take shape for him. It actually made sense. In fact, it was a tactic that had worked well for terrorists in other scenarios.

As he continued to look around he realized he had hit the jackpot. It looked like the armory at a military base. There were so many weapons here that Robie wondered how they could possibly miss a few. They were stacked haphazardly and weapons of different capabilities were mixed together. He could sense from this disorganization that the team here either lacked military precision or deemed their opponents too weak to put up much resistance. From what he had seen in the town so far, Robie opted for the latter explanation.

These weapons hadn’t come in through the checkpoints. The people who had missed Robie’s knife couldn’t possibly have missed this. Either people had been paid off or, more likely, the weapons had been placed here before the checkpoints were set up.

Robie grabbed a few pistols, two subguns, and as much ammo as he could carry in his knapsack. Ideally, he could sabotage the rest of the weapons by knocking out the firing pins. But he didn’t have the tools to do so. And it would take too much time and make too much noise.

But as he looked down at the weapons an idea occurred to him. He took photos of all of them with his cell phone.

What he was planning to do with these photos was incredibly risky, but in the end, he deemed the risk of not doing it far greater.

CHAPTER

76

REEL WAS WAITING FOR ROBIE at a small inn they had chosen as their rendezvous point. They had taken one room, and when Robie knocked on the door, she peeked through the peephole and let him in.

From under his coat and his knapsack he pulled out the weapons he’d taken and dropped them on the bed.

Reel picked up one MP5. “How much did they have?”

“Enough to take down this entire town and then some.”

“How many men you figure?”

“At least two dozen, going by the amount of firepower. What happened with Kent?”

“He’s staying at the finest hotel in this little hamlet. I left him having a glass of sherry by the fireplace.”

“What do you think his role is? He won’t be in the attack itself. You said he was one of us, but that was a long time ago.”

Reel shook her head. “I think he was sent here to oversee things. He was at the building where the weapons were. He probably went over the plan with the troops and their respective assignments.”

“What do you think their exit plan is?”

“With the sort of firepower you saw, I would say they could easily shoot their way out of here. Private wings lifting off a private runway and they’re out of the country.”

“And Kent?” asked Reel.

“He probably has some official role here as a representative of the U.S. He’ll act as surprised as everyone else. He goes home, glad to be alive and properly mournful for all of the dead.” He paused. “So we still think the opening ceremony is where it will happen?”

“It’s in one big room, Robie. Open spaces, multiple firing lines once the security perimeter is pierced. No place to hide.”

“So they exit, fly away, and Kent goes home to report the success.”

“But if we stop it here?”

He said, “We haveto stop it here. We’re the last line of defense.”

“A damn thin line.”

“I figure if they have two dozen guys nearly as good as we are, we can take out at least half of them, maybe two-thirds if luck and the element of surprise are on our side. That may be enough to save the day.”

She gazed up at him, a smile playing across her lips. “Not a bad legacy. ‘Robie and Reel; they saved the world.’”

“At the sacrifice of their own lives?”

“Nobody’s that lucky, Robie, not even the good guys.” She picked up a pistol, checked the mag, and stuck it into her belt.

“We’ll have to figure out where and how to hit them for maximum effect.”

“The tactic they’re going to employ will make that a little difficult.” He explained what he had found in the room along with the guns.

Before he’d finished Reel was nodding. “I get that. But it allows some opportunities for us as well.”

“Yes, it does.”

“So it’s a waiting game?”

Robie said, “Patience is a virtue. And tomorrow it’ll be the only thing keeping us alive.”

“You know we’ll have two sides gunning for us as soon as we show our hand.”

“We concentrate firepower on the target. They’ll show their hand and we can only hope the official security understands what’s going on.”

“When shots are going off all around and people are running and screaming? It’ll be mass confusion.”

“That’s why I said hope. We’re going to have to split up.”

“Two targets to shoot at.”

“Right.”

“But that means we dilute our fire concentrations.”

“Can’t be helped. Benefit outweighs the downside.”

“Then let’s pick our spots well.” She paused, studied him. “If we manage to survive this, I’ve got another set of problems. I’m a wanted woman.”

“Not by me. Not anymore. I’ll help you, Jessica.”

“You can’t do that, Robie. What you’ve done so far could be construed as treason. If you stop this, all will be forgiven. But not if you keep consorting with the enemy. And that happens to be me.”

“Extenuating circumstances.”

“Not proved. And probably won’t matter even if they were. You know how the system works.”

“You mean how the system doesn’twork.”

“Let’s just see how tomorrow goes. Things might just take care of themselves,” she added ominously.

“Okay,” said Robie. “They just might.”

CHAPTER

77

THE DAY BROKE CLEAR AND COLD. With each breath taken, tiny puffs of smoke rose into the air. The leaders of various Arab countries made their way to their official motorcades looking discomforted by the chill, their robes buffeted by the stiff breeze.

It was eight o’clock in the morning. People were tense. There was a collective feeling that the citizens of the town simply wanted this to be over. Their wish would come true shortly, but not in a way that they ever imagined.

There was only one way in and one way out of the building where the opening ceremony was taking place, which made it appealing from a security point of view. But it also had its disadvantages.

The motorcades drifted down the street with Canadian police providing the traffic security. There were a number of Canadian Mounties on their horses; they looked resplendent in their red uniforms. But they were also brightly colored sitting ducks when it came to an actual armed confrontation.

Reel’s and Robie’s plan had come together at five in the morning.

Neither of them felt the least bit tired. Adrenaline trumped exhaustion.

Reel was across the street from ground zero, just beyond the security checkpoint. That was a no-go for her because she was armed to the teeth.

Robie stood on the opposite corner, nearer the building but again beyond the checkpoint. Jersey barriers had been erected to prevent a truck bomb from getting close enough to drop the structure. Thus there was barely enough room to get a single car through at a time.

Bottlenecks like that could cause other sets of security problems, but on the whole Robie felt the plan had been well thought out.

He checked his watch. It was nearly time. He said into his mic, “Just about there.”

“I’ve counted seven motorcades so far. From my list that makes five more to go.”

“They’ll want them all in place. Give it a few minutes and then they’ll pull the trigger.”

“Here we go,” said Reel.

Here we go, thought Robie.

The last motorcade pulled through and disgorged its occupants. They walked into the building and the setting was complete.

The program was on a tight schedule. Opening ceremonies and remarks would last forty-five minutes. After that the group would be dispersed to different places for other discussions and events. This was one of the few times all of them would be in the same place at the same time.

From the heightened looks of concern of the security arrayed around the place, this fact was not lost on them either.

Robie moved to an alley and his hand closed around the butt of his gun as he did so. He looked at his watch. The program had been going on for twenty minutes.

Tactically the attackers wouldn’t want it to get close to the end on the off chance that any of the attendees left early. It was critical to get them all.

He said into his mic, “I think—”

That was as far as Robie got.

Flames shot out from the front door of the building and all four front windows. The same thing happened at the rear entrance.

Thirty seconds later the front of the building was engulfed in fire, blocking the entrance. The rear was similarly cut off.

Robie braced himself as he heard it coming. Fire trucks and ambulances raced down the street, sirens blaring.

Security let them through and the emergency vehicles screeched to a stop in front of the building. Men poured off the trucks and out of the ambulances.

Robie stepped out, his gun ready.

Reel did the same from across the street.

Robie fired and his shots blew out the front tires and windshield of an ambulance.

Reel killed one of the firefighters before he could deploy the subgun he had pulled from under his coat.

Both Robie and Reel opened fire directly on the group of men, forcing them to scurry for cover.

But before they could return fire someone shouted, “Freeze!”

Robie watched as an army of FBI and Canadian security agents charged forward from both ends of the street. They wore body armor and toted subguns. Emerging from hiding places along rooftops were snipers who pointed their long barrels at the fake first responders and fired shots close enough to the heads of the targets to make them realize any resistance would result in a slaughter.

So the targets did the only thing they could do.

They gave up.

A minute later more than twenty men were on their knees on the street, hands over their heads, with an array of pointed guns keeping them there.

Robie came forward and greeted her. Nicole Vance had on body armor and held her pistol in her right hand. Her smile was wide and welcoming.

She said, “Thanks for the heads-up last night. And the photos of the arsenal you found. Couldn’t really believe it at first, but you were very convincing. And in turn, I was very convincing with my superiors. And I can’t tell you what good things this will do for my career.”

Robie looked over as two men came forward holding another man between them. Sam Kent didn’t look very pleased at the sudden turn of events. But he wasn’t saying anything either. No protests of innocence. No demands to know why he was being held.

Robie stared at the man. When Kent caught his gaze he stiffened. Robie thought he caught a hint of a resigned smile pass over the man’s features.

“You can help us,” said Robie quietly. “You know what we need.”

“I highly doubt that I can help you or myself.”

“Going to claim that you know nothing about this?”

“Not at all. It’s just that dead men don’t make capable witnesses.”

“Come again?”

“Can I tell you something?”

“A name would do.”

“No, the message is much simpler.” He smiled and said, “Goodbye, Robie.”

The two men stared directly at each other.

“Robie!”

Robie turned and saw Reel on the other side of the street.

She shouted, “Robie! Johnson isn’t there. He’s not there.”

Robie looked over at the line of men on their knees in the street. He glanced down the faces one by one.

Dick Johnson wasn’tthere.

Robie started to move, but knew he was already too late.

The shot hit Kent full in the face and blew out the back of his head, taking a large chunk of his brain with it.

Robie had looked back at Kent a second before the round hit.

There had been no fear in the man’s features. Just resignation.

CHAPTER

78

ROBIE AND VANCE WERE SITTING in the lobby of the local police station. The fire had been put out and the event had been moved to another location. At first it seemed likely to be canceled. But after the FBI promised to help with security for the event, the participants had changed their minds and agreed to go forward.

The hit team was being held in cells under the eye of both Canadian special agents and the FBI. The joint mission had come together quickly. The FBI was taken seriously by everyone in the world. It also didn’t hurt that the Canadians were such close allies. And the last thing they wanted was a slaughter of foreign leaders on their soil.