The operation was scheduled to begin at 11:00 P.M. sharp. The five kobun had already synchronized their digital watches and stashed their H&K automatics in the two gray Fords now waiting in the building's underground garage. No flashy limousines tonight; the operation would be lowest of low profiles.
Three more of their team were already at the hotel, with walkie-talkies, monitoring the entrances. The KGB security in the lobby would be quietly diverted and then neutralized. The guard upstairs would simply be overpowered, or taken out with a silencer if the situation got out of hand. Since they were professionals, however, matters rarely went that far.
The time had come to move. All five lined up in front of Jiro Sato's massive oak desk and bowed to the waist; then one by one they filed out.
It was going to be a simple operation, that much he was sure of. No violence, no bloodshed. The bottle should take care of the situation. All the same, he had a 9mm automatic in a shoulder holster. Life had taught him that when something could go wrong, chances were good that it would.
After this one last job, he was going to disappear. The situation had deteriorated far past where any reasonable man would want to touch it. The time had come to bail out and let the chips fall. One more day, that was all.
Standing now at the side entrance of the Strand Palace, the small alleyway named Burleigh that curved around the rear of the hotel and met the main avenue, he pulled his overcoat tighter and glanced down at his Piaget.
It read 10:28. Time to get started. Everything was synchronized down to seconds.
He'd already made sure the service entrance was unlocked. He'd taped the latch on the metal door during the comings and goings of the staff during the evening shift change. Now all he had to do was slip through and the rest should go like clockwork.