Target Response by William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone Page A
Authors: William W. Johnstone, J. A. Johnstone
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collisions and near-collisions. The air rang with a din of horns honking, tires screeching, and unmufflered engines racketing.
Across the boulevard, on its far side, lay a row of newly built apartment and office buildings, a pricy and much prized new addition to the cityscape.
It was a hot, sweltering day with a hazy, gray-white sky. Behind an overcast of clouds and brown smog, the sun was a broad, blurred smear of sullen, simmering yellow-white heat.
The palace’s main gate opened on a broad paved drive as long as three football fields laid end to end, leading to the fantastic structure housing the seat of government and key ministerial offices.
An open courtyard paved with massive tan flat stones fronted the palace. A wide white stone staircase angled upward to the columned front entrance, with its multidoors set in a two-story-high rounded archway.
A half dozen or so official vehicles were parked in the courtyard. Most were shiny air-conditioned limousines reserved for the use of important government officials. Pride of place was held by the showiest and most important official vehicle of all, a limousine belonging to Minister of Defense Derek Tayambo.
A shiny stretch limousine as long as a cabin cruiser, this ornate land yacht was purple with gold trim. Real gold.
Here was no creampuff, however. The custom-made machine was sheathed in armor plating hidden beneath layers of a glossy, mirror-finish purple paint job. Windshield and windows were made of bulletproof glass several inches thick. Under the hood was a sixteen-cylinder diesel engine.
The undercarriage, springs, and suspension were specially reinforced to bear the weight of all that armor. The tires were made of solid rubber to bear the heavy load without bursting. Which also hardened them against bullets.
The interior was customized with genuine leopard-skin upholstery. Exterior roof and side panels were covered in special leopard-skin-print vinyl. They would have been covered with real leopard skin had the genuine article been able to withstand the rigors of the capital’s steamy, seething climate.
Tayambo’s personal chauffeur, the brother of his second wife, was more smartly uniformed than most of the soldiers on duty, and they were an elite palace guard. He sat in the shade with some of the soldiers, smoking and chatting.
Off to the side where they wouldn’t block the coming and going of high-powered officials and VIPs were several sand-colored Hummer-type vehicles assigned to the security forces. With all the heavily armed troops stationed on the grounds, the palace was better guarded than many state military posts.
On the palace’s third, top floor, a row of glassed-in French doors opened onto a tan stone balcony with a waist-high balustrade. The glass doors were banded with strips of black iron grillework. Above them was a high, arched, plate-glass window. Doors and windows were closed, sealed tight.
Within lay an impressive ministerial conference room. Here was where the president met with his cabinet. A meeting was now in session.
Brightness flooded into the room through the French doors and arched windows. A long mahogany table stood at right angles to the balcony windows, parallel to the room’s long axis. At the far end, seated at the head of the table in a high-backed throne chair, was Minister of Defense Derek Tayambo.
The seat was normally reserved for the president, but the chief executive was a sickly man, ill and aging, who rarely attended cabinet meetings—or, for that matter, properly over-saw the orderly operation of the country’s executive governmental functions.
Power, like Nature, abhors a vacuum, and in the absence of strong (or any, really) leadership from the president, Minister Tayambo had taken up control.
The administration’s ostensible Number Two man, Vice President Johnny Lisongu, was seated way down at the foot of the table, far from the august presence of the high-and-mighty Tayambo.
The defense
Across the boulevard, on its far side, lay a row of newly built apartment and office buildings, a pricy and much prized new addition to the cityscape.
It was a hot, sweltering day with a hazy, gray-white sky. Behind an overcast of clouds and brown smog, the sun was a broad, blurred smear of sullen, simmering yellow-white heat.
The palace’s main gate opened on a broad paved drive as long as three football fields laid end to end, leading to the fantastic structure housing the seat of government and key ministerial offices.
An open courtyard paved with massive tan flat stones fronted the palace. A wide white stone staircase angled upward to the columned front entrance, with its multidoors set in a two-story-high rounded archway.
A half dozen or so official vehicles were parked in the courtyard. Most were shiny air-conditioned limousines reserved for the use of important government officials. Pride of place was held by the showiest and most important official vehicle of all, a limousine belonging to Minister of Defense Derek Tayambo.
A shiny stretch limousine as long as a cabin cruiser, this ornate land yacht was purple with gold trim. Real gold.
Here was no creampuff, however. The custom-made machine was sheathed in armor plating hidden beneath layers of a glossy, mirror-finish purple paint job. Windshield and windows were made of bulletproof glass several inches thick. Under the hood was a sixteen-cylinder diesel engine.
The undercarriage, springs, and suspension were specially reinforced to bear the weight of all that armor. The tires were made of solid rubber to bear the heavy load without bursting. Which also hardened them against bullets.
The interior was customized with genuine leopard-skin upholstery. Exterior roof and side panels were covered in special leopard-skin-print vinyl. They would have been covered with real leopard skin had the genuine article been able to withstand the rigors of the capital’s steamy, seething climate.
Tayambo’s personal chauffeur, the brother of his second wife, was more smartly uniformed than most of the soldiers on duty, and they were an elite palace guard. He sat in the shade with some of the soldiers, smoking and chatting.
Off to the side where they wouldn’t block the coming and going of high-powered officials and VIPs were several sand-colored Hummer-type vehicles assigned to the security forces. With all the heavily armed troops stationed on the grounds, the palace was better guarded than many state military posts.
On the palace’s third, top floor, a row of glassed-in French doors opened onto a tan stone balcony with a waist-high balustrade. The glass doors were banded with strips of black iron grillework. Above them was a high, arched, plate-glass window. Doors and windows were closed, sealed tight.
Within lay an impressive ministerial conference room. Here was where the president met with his cabinet. A meeting was now in session.
Brightness flooded into the room through the French doors and arched windows. A long mahogany table stood at right angles to the balcony windows, parallel to the room’s long axis. At the far end, seated at the head of the table in a high-backed throne chair, was Minister of Defense Derek Tayambo.
The seat was normally reserved for the president, but the chief executive was a sickly man, ill and aging, who rarely attended cabinet meetings—or, for that matter, properly over-saw the orderly operation of the country’s executive governmental functions.
Power, like Nature, abhors a vacuum, and in the absence of strong (or any, really) leadership from the president, Minister Tayambo had taken up control.
The administration’s ostensible Number Two man, Vice President Johnny Lisongu, was seated way down at the foot of the table, far from the august presence of the high-and-mighty Tayambo.
The defense
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