Bourne, opened his shirt.
"Jesus Christ," the guard said, leaning over to stare at Bourne's wounded torso, "what the hell happened to him?"
Khan reached up, jerked down hard on the front of the guard's uniform, slamming the side of his head into the concrete floor. As Bourne rose, Khan stripped the clothes off the guard.
"He's more your size than mine," Khan said, handing Bourne the fatigues. Bourne climbed into the guard's uniform while Khan dragged the unconscious form into the shadows.
At that moment the motion sensor alarm screamed and they took off to-ward the substation at a run.
The security guards were well trained, and, commendably, the Americans and Arabs who were on duty this shift worked together flawlessly. Each kind of sensor had a different-sounding alarm, so they knew immediately that the motion sensor had been tripped and precisely where it was. They were on hair-trigger alert and, this close to the summit, were under orders to shoot first and ask questions later.
As they ran, they opened fire, raking the grillwork with automatic fire. Half of them emptied their magazines into the suspect area. The other half stood back in reserve while the others used crowbars to pry off the ruined grilles. They found three bodies, two men and a woman. One of the Americans notified Hull and one of the Arabs contacted Feyd al-Saoud.
By this time, more security personnel from other sectors on the floor had converged on the site to offer added support.
Two of the personnel held in reserve climbed into the air shaft, and when it was determined that no other hostiles were in evidence, they se-cured the area. Others dragged the three chewed-up corpses out of the air shaft, along with Karim's paraphernalia for bypassing sensors and what at first glance looked like a time bomb.
Jamie Hull and Feyd al-Saoud arrived almost at the same time. Hull took one look at the situation and called his chief of staff via the wireless network.
"As of this moment, we're on red alert. There's been a breach of security. We have three hostiles down, repeat, three hostiles down. Put the entire hotel on absolute lockdown, no one in or out of the premises." He continued to bark orders, moving his men into the planned position for a red alert. Then he contacted the Secret Service, who were with the president and his staff in the dignitary wing.
Feyd al-Saoud had squatted down and was studying the corpses. Thebodies were pretty well shot up, but their faces, though blood-streaked, were intact. He took out a pen flash, shone it on one of the faces. Then he reached out, put his forefinger against the eye of one of the males.
His fingertip came away blue; the corpse's iris was dark brown.
One of the FSB men must have contacted Karpov because the Alpha Unit commander appeared at an ungainly lope. He was out of breath and Feyd al-Saoud guessed that he'd run all the way.
He and Hull briefed the Russian on what had happened. He held up his fingertip. "They're wearing colored contacts - and look here, they've dyed their hair to pass for Icelanders."
Karpov's face was grim. "I know this one," he said, kicking one of the male corpses. "His name's Akhmed. He's one of Hasan Arsenov's top lieutenants."
"The Chechen terrorist leader?" Hull said. "You'd better inform your president, Boris."
Karpov stood up, fists on hips. "What I want to know is where's Arsenov?"
"I would say that we're too late," Khan said from behind a metal column, as he watched the arrival of the two security chiefs, "except that I don't see Spalko."
"It's possible that he wouldn't put himself at risk by coming to the hotel," Bourne said.
Khan shook his head. "I know him. He's both an egotist and a perfectionist. No, he's here somewhere."
"But not here, obviously," Bourne said thoughtfully. He was watching the Russian jogging up to Jamie Hull and the Arab security chief. There was something vaguely familiar about that flat, brutal face, the beetling brow and caterpillar eyebrows. When he heard the other's voice, he said,
"I know that man. The Russian."
"No surprise there. I recognize him, too," Khan said. "Boris Illyich Karpov, head of the FSB's elite Alpha Unit."
"No, I mean I know him."
"How? Where?"
"I don't know," Bourne said. "Is he friend or foe?" He beat his fists against his forehead. "If only I could remember."
Khan turned to him and clearly saw the anguish that racked him. He felt a dangerous urge to grasp Bourne's shoulder and reassure him. Dangerous because