The boy stood over the body.

"The Teacher says, 'Good day to you,'" he whispered.

Hiding in the back of the car, the cameraman took some photos. Then

he quietly climbed out of the car and disappeared into the trees.

A few minutes later, another vehicle arrived. The door opened and

three soldiers climbed out. A tall, well-dressed African man followed them and walked slowly toward the stadium.

 The United Nations Building, New York

 The main hall was full of people. Ambassadors from around the world

and their assistants were listening to the Spanish Ambassador's speech. The interpreters sat in glass booths above them, repeating his words into Chinese, Russian, French, Arabic...

Outside the hall, U.N. Security Chief Lee Wu spoke to Assistant

Chief Rory Robb: "There's a security problem at the main entrance. Put the Secretary-General in the safe room. Take the Spanish Ambassador out of the building, then get everybody out."

A U.N. guard came into the English interpreters' booth as Silvia

Broome finished interpreting the Spanish Ambassador's words into English.

"Can you leave the building quickly, please?" the guard said.

Silvia, a tall woman of about thirty, with long fair hair and clear blue

eyes, picked up her coat but left her music case in the booth.

"I'm teaching a student tonight," she said. "This bag's heavy and I

don't want to take it downstairs. I'll get it later."

The U.N. security officers worked quickly and emptied the building.

Then they took the Spanish Ambassador outside to his car.

Rory Robb watched the large black car drive through the U.N. gates.

He used his radio to call his chief.

"The Spanish Ambassador has left the U.N.," he said. "He's in the

U.S. again."

Silvia spent the next few hours in a restaurant with a group of other

interpreters. It was nine o'clock at night when she returned to the U.N.

building. She didn't see anyone as she ran upstairs.

She opened the door to the interpreters' booth and picked up her

music case. Suddenly, she heard a man's voice.

"The Teacher will never leave this room," he whispered. He was

speaking in Ku, the language of Matobo.

Silvia turned on a light and looked at her desk. One of the

microphones in the hall below was still switched on. As the booth lit up, the man stopped talking. Quickly, Silvia switched off the light, but it was too late. She couldn't see him, but he could see her.

She was shaking as she left the booth and ran down the stairs. She

heard footsteps, then a door opened and closed. Someone was following her. She ran into the nearest room - the men's restroom - and hid behind the door. The footsteps came nearer and stopped outside. Silvia pressed her back against the wall. Then, slowly, the footsteps moved away.

At the same time, on the other side of town, Secret Service Agent

Tobin Keller, a tall, thin man with tired, sad brown eyes, was sitting alone in a bar. He sat there for a long time, then he went to the pay phone in the corner of the room and called his apartment.

A woman's voice on the answering machine said, "You've reached the

Keller's. We're out having a good time. Please leave a message." It was his wife's voice.

He put more money into the pay phone and called the number again.

And again. And again.