RAPP AND COLEMAN were back down in the van. Dumond had accessed the George Washington University Web site and was showing Rapp and Coleman a map of the campus. He had tracked down Cameron's office. It was on the fifth floor of Funger Hall on the comer of G and 23rd.
Rapp keyed his radio and said, «Guys, bring the Explorer around.» Looking at Coleman, Rapp said, «You and I will go check out the office while Kevin and Dan keep an eye on the apartment.»
Hackett and Stroble were there in seconds. They got out of the Explorer and climbed into the van. Coleman got behind the wheel of his SUV; and he and Rapp were off. They took a right on 28th and headed down the steep hill toward M Street and the Potomac. Rapp called Kennedy and told her they were on their way over to the university. When they reached M, Coleman cut all the way across and turned left onto Pennsylvania.
Rapp checked the face of every pedestrian. Three blocks later, they hit Washington Circle and shot to the right. At the southern end of the traffic circle, they turned onto 23rd and entered the beginning of the George Washington cam- pus. Coleman slowed; the sidewalks were crowded with students walking to class and workers heading into the GW Medical Center. Funger Hall was up on the left across the street from St. Mary's Episcopal Church, a Washington landmark. There were no spots on the street, so they took a right down a narrow alley next to the church and found a spot in back.
Before getting out of the car, Rapp looked at Coleman and said, «I want this guy alive, but if things get tight, I don't want you to hesitate.» Rapp tapped himself on the forehead. «Put a bullet right in the center of his head.»
DONATELLA CIRCLED THE building once, looking for any signs of surveillance, and then entered the lobby of Funger Hall. She was slightly surprised to see the lobby teeming with students, most standing in groups talking and others heading off in earnest. Then Donatella remembered that there was a class due to start in five minutes. She approached the bulletin board and acted as if she were searching for something. It was a good excuse to stop and see if anyone was watching her. The night before, after she had scouted out Cameron's apartment, she had walked to the university. She timed everything, checked out every alley and walkway. She had thoroughly checked Funger Hall, noting all of the exits and memorizing where the security cameras were. On her way back to the hotel, she picked up a schedule at the Foggy Bottom Metro stop. The underground station was only two blocks from Cameron's office. If something went wrong, that would be her best bet.
As the crowd of students started to thin, she walked to the south staircase. Funger Hall had six stories above ground. Cameron's office was on the fifth floor. Donatella went up to the second floor and exited the staircase. She walked casually down the hall, passing two students who paid her no attention. When she reached the north staircase, she paused and looked down and up, checking for anyone who didn't fit in. There were five students coming up the stairs. They left the stairwell on the second floor and Donatella continued up. She knew from her visit the night before that the fifth and sixth floors were occupied chiefly by offices. Donatella hoped that would mean fewer people.
She stopped on both the third and fourth floors and checked the hallways. She saw nothing unusual and continued to the fifth floor. Donatella was not nervous. Compared to many of her assignments, this was easy. Whether or not it remained that way would be learned in the next few minutes.
RAPP AND COLEMAN ran across 23rd Street, drawing the finger and a horn from an irate cab driver. They ignored the man and continued into Funger Hall, where they walked right past a security guard who was more concerned with his cup of coffee and newspaper than he was with the two highly trained killers who had just passed within feet of his post.
«Stairs or elevator?» Coleman asked.
«Elevator. Cameron doesn't look like he uses the stairs.»
They continued across the lobby to the elevators and waited. Coleman looked around and said, «It would have been nice if we could have brought Kevin and Dan to keep an eye on the exits.»
Rapp was also taking in the surroundings. «Yeah, I know, but I'm not comfortable leaving Marcus alone to watch the apartment.»
«Yeah, you're right. We need more people.»
A moment later, the elevator arrived, and they stepped in with six backpack-toting students.
BEFORE LEAVING THE stairwell, Donatella checked the items in her purse to make sure they were exactly where she wanted them. Her pistol with its silencer attached was in the right spot, but she was hoping she wouldn't need it. Her teacher, Colonel Freidman, had made sure that Donatella was schooled in the most subtle of assassination techniques. Freidman had always said that anyone could use a gun to kill, even a child. She had instead been trained to use everything from a shoelace to a pencil. Donatella knew all of the vulnerable points of the human body. Given the right tools, she could kill someone and barely leave a mark. And, more important, she could do it quietly and quickly.
She checked the position of two other weapons in her bag and then entered the long hallway; Donatella immediately noticed two people at the far end. Her right hand slid into her purse to touch the cold steel of her pistol. She watched the man and woman carefully. Both fit the profile of an academic type. The man had a beard and was wearing jeans with a plaid shirt and loosely knotted tie. The woman was in a dress and a pair of Birkenstock sandals. She relaxed a touch and continued down the hall.
Cameron's door was closed. Donatella approached and listened for a second. She heard the squeaking of a chair and decided to knock. There was no answer at first, so she knocked again and said, «Professor Cameron, my name is Amy Vertine. Dean Malavich sent me over to get a signature so I can register for one of your grad school classes next semester.»
«I'm in the middle of something right now. Could you come back later?»
«Actually, I can't.» Donatella placed a hand on the knob while she continued to talk. «I'm on my way to work. I really want to take this class.» The door was locked. «I've heard you're a great teacher. It'll only take a second, I promise.» Donatella looked down the hall and was relieved to see that the two teachers were no longer there. She began weighing the risk of shooting through the lock, and then the door opened.
Peter Cameron waved her in and closed the door. «I'm sorry, I have to keep this door closed or another one of my students will drop in, and I'll never get out of here.»
Donatella stuck out her right hand. «My name is Amy. It's nice to meet you, Professor Cameron.»
Cameron smiled at the pretty woman and took her hand. «Please call me Peter.»
Donatella returned the smile and turned her head to the left, knowing full well that her target would do the same. Pointing at a plaque on the wall, she asked, «Is that from the CIA?»
Cameron turned to look at the award he had been given by some mends at the Agency. It commemorated his twenty-four years of service. As he proudly began to answer the question, Donatella's right hand slid into a pocket in her purse. Her hand wrapped around the rubber handle of a four-inch steel pick that had been sharpened to a fine point. She slowly slid the weapon out, keeping it close to her body. Pointing to a photograph next to the plaque, she asked, «Who is that?»
As Cameron's head started to turn, Donatella brought the pick up and moved with lightning speed. Her aim was perfect as she jammed the sharp, thin object into Cameron's left ear. Before he could scream, Donatella was on him, clamping her left hand down on his mouth and twisting the pick with amazing force. His body began to crumble as the four inches of steel slashed through his brain. Donatella lowered him to the floor and twisted the pick around one more time to make sure he was dead. Then she slowly extracted the weapon, and, lifting Cameron's arm, she wiped the pick against the fabric of the armpit to remove what little blood there was on it. Donatella put the pick back in her purse, and then, as if nothing had happened, she opened the office door, locked it, and closed it behind her.