by Jack Higgins
'It sure is, Mr President.' 'Can't wait for my run. You'll join me?' 'If you'll excuse me, not this morning. Even though it's the weekend and early in the day, Harper is finding himself under considerable pressure in the Communications Room. There's a lot coming down from the Hill. I'd better stay and give him a hand.'
'All right, then come and look at my new toy. I had it shipped down during the week.'
He led the way round to the yard. The barn door stood open and inside was a large motorcycle on its stand. 'A Montesa dirt bike,' the President said. 'It'll be a lot of fun riding it along those roads.'
'I'll take your word for it,' Blake said. 'To be honest, Mr President, I haven't ridden a bike of any kind for years.'
'Hell, a child could work this thing. Shepherds use them to herd sheep.' He sat astride, started the engine, rode out and circled the yard. 'There you go.' He switched off and pushed it up on its stand. 'Feel free!'
'I will,' Blake said.
As they walked back to the porch, it started to rain. Murchison was sitting waiting, tongue hanging. Clancy Smith came over wearing a hooded oilskin coat in yellow and carrying another, which he passed to Cazalet.
'Knowing you, Mr President, I figure we're going, rain or no rain.'
'You're always so right, Clancy.' Cazalet pulled on the coat, buttoned it up, and whistled to Murchison. 'Come on, boy.'
He went down the steps and started to jog, the dog at his heels. Clancy Smith adjusted his earpiece, transferred his favourite old Browning from his shoulder holster to his right-hand pocket, and went after them.
Aidan Bell was not far off in his calculations and, helped by the strong current, they entered the estuary leading to the marsh in fifty minutes. It was a salt marsh, of course, a magnificent wilderness of tall reeds, deep water channels, mudflats, and birds of every description, who rose angrily as the Dolphin surfaced.
Bell coasted onto a sloping sandbank, then he and Casey dismounted, eased the Dolphin forward and got rid of their jackets and air bottles. All this was done in silence. Finally, Bell undipped the weaponry bag, handed Casey an AK assault rifle and Browning, and took out his own. They stood there, strangely medieval in their black diving suits.
Bell said, 'One thing we know is that he always runs before breakfast. That could mean he's halfway round the roads already or that he'll turn up at any minute. But there's only one main road from the house leading to the marsh network. I'd say three or four hundred yards. We wait there -we're bound to get him either going in or coming out – so let's move in.'
He turned and led the way through the reeds, feeling cool, calm, and completely unemotional.
Jake Cazalet, Clancy and Murchison were running fast now in the heavy driving rain, and the President was enjoying every minute of it. As he had said more than once, it washed the years away, and with the world as it was, he could certainly do with that.
Murchison ran strongly at his heel, Clancy was five yards back, and he paused on an old plank bridge that was roofed over, a temporary shelter from the rain.
'You okay, Mr President?' Clancy asked.
'Fine. I'll have the usual.'
Clancy produced a packet of Marlboros, lit two and passed one to Cazalet, who took it and inhaled with deep pleasure.
'Don't let any press photographers see you doing that, Mr President.'
'Hell, I'm entitled to one weakness. These things got me through Vietnam and you through the Gulf.'
'They surely did,' Clancy agreed.
They smoked in companionable silence, then ground out their cigarette butts. 'Let's go,' Cazalet said, and led the way out into the rain, breaking into a run again.
Hidden in the reeds beside the main road, Bell saw them coming. He whispered loudly across to Casey, who was on the other side.
'There they are. Get ready. You take the Secret Serviceman, I'll have the President, and don't be too eager. Take your time.'
He waited. There was no need for a long shot when it could be done virtually at point-blank range. He raised the AK to his shoulder, and Cazalet ran directly toward him.
And as Bell had told Kate Rashid, how often the best-laid schemes could go wrong. He'd planned meticulously, every contingency foreseen, except for the instincts of a flatcoat retriever named Murchison. With that special extra facility known only to dogs, he sensed something wrong, took off like a rocket and plunged into the reeds on the other side of the road.
Casey lurched out into the open, struggling to cope with the fact that Murchison had him by the left ankle, and his AK discharged.
Jake Cazalet stopped running some twenty-five yards away and Aidan Bell stayed hidden and took aim, but Clancy Smith was fast. In the same moment, he knocked the President sideways and took the bullet that Bell had intended for Cazalet in his right shoulder.
He staggered but never wavered. 'Take coyer, Mr President,' he cried and shoved Cazalet down into the shelter of the reeds.
Cazalet gave a piercing whistle and, a moment later, Murchison joined them. There was blood in quantity pouring from the rent in Smith's yellow oilskin jacket.
'Is it bad?' Cazalet asked.
'I'll be all right. You'd better take this, Mr President,' and he passed the Browning across.
Bell called softly across the road, 'Stay out of sight, Liam,' and then he loosed off several bursts in the general direction where he'd seen Clancy Smith and Cazalet disappear.
Clancy was already calling in and Cazalet fired back twice.
In the Communications Room, Blake Johnson was seated next to Harper working through some signals when Clancy's voice crackled over the loudspeakers with the shocking words. 'Blake. Empire Down! Empire Down!' At the same moment came the sounds of gunfire.
Blake reached for the mike. 'Where are you?'
'Halfway along the main road. I've been hit, but the President is okay. He's doing the shooting back.'
'I'm on my way.' Blake turned to Harper. 'Give me your piece. You know what to do.'
Harper, face wild, handed him a Beretta. Blake slipped it into his right-hand pocket, ran straight out onto the porch and to the barn. A moment later, he rode out on the Montesa and hurtled along the road.
Peering through the reeds, Clancy and the President could see him coming when he was still some distance away. So, of course, could Bell and Liam.
'Crazy damn fool,' Cazalet said. 'He'll get himself killed. Why couldn't he wait till the cavalry got here?'
'That'll be the day,' Clancy Smith said.
Blake pushed the little bike up to sixty, a ludicrous speed on the narrow road, and Aidan Bell fired through the reeds, a short burst that exploded the front tyre and sent the Montesa into a long sliding skid on one side as Blake kicked free.
Liam Casey made a bad mistake then, and emerged from the reeds, AK raised.
'I've got you now, you bastard.'
Blake's hand came out of his right-hand pocket holding the Beretta, and he shot the big Irishman in the chest. Casey cried out, his AK discharging, and plunged headfirst into the reeds beside Bell.
Further along the road, Cazalet stood up briefly. 'Over here, Blake. I'll cover you.'
He dropped out of sight and Blake staggered along the road, limping.
Liam Casey said, 'Can you get the bastard who shot me, Aidan?'
Bell watched Blake go and disappear into the reeds. 'It's not worth it, Liam.'
'God, it hurts, Aidan.'
Bell took in the bullethole in the stomach of the diving suit. 'Yes, it would.'
In the far distance, there came an ominous rattling sound. 'Oh dear, here comes the heavy brigade. Time to go.'
'What do you mean?' Liam demanded.
'What I mean is you win some and you lose some, and this one is very definitely down the plughole, thanks to that damn dog. Cazalet will buy him a gold collar after this. I'll just keep their heads down over there and be on my way.'
He sprayed the reeds in the general direction of the President's party, emptying his AK, droppe
d it into the mud, and picked up Casey's.
'But what about me?' Casey moaned.
'That's a problem, but I have a solution. Our friends didn't see two of us, only one. So, if they find one, that should keep them happy while the other one gets away.'
He stood up and took his Browning with the Carswell silencer from inside his diving jacket. Liam Casey said, 'You can't leave me, Aidan.'
'I'm being practical.'
Aidan Bell aimed for a heart shot, the Browning coughed once, Liam Casey jerked and lay still.
'Sorry, old son,' Aidan said softly, then he put the Browning back inside his jacket and slipped off through the reeds. Four hundred yards away, the Dolphin waited; that wasn't too far, and then he'd be back underwater before the security helicopters started to blanket the area. On the other hand, they'd find Liam soon enough, and that should hold them.
After that long final burst, there was silence. 'Maybe he's down,' Cazalet said.
'Or out of it,' Clancy observed.
Murchison whined, then snuffled, nose up. 'Something's getting to him,' the President said.
The helicopters were close now, two of them. 'He won't wait around for this lot,' Blake said. 'He's either on his back or on his way. I'm going out.'
He stepped out of the reeds before the President could order otherwise and stood on the path and waved with both arms as the two Hawk helicopters swung down. They made their landings, each one disgorging six Secret Servicemen in navy-blue assault gear, each one carrying the new Parker-Hale machine pistol. They crowded round, and the President emerged, helping Clancy Smith, who had lost a considerable amount of blood.
'The President's fine,' Blake said.
'Only because Clancy took a bullet meant for me,' Cazalet said. 'Two of you get him into one of the choppers.'
'And you, Mr President, you know the rules. We take you straight out of harm's way till everything is sorted out,' Blake said.
'All right, damn you.' Cazalet whistled to Murchison and followed them as they took Clancy Smith.
One of the Hawks lifted off and Blake turned to the others. 'There was one man wearing a black diving suit. He tried to shoot me with an AK. I shot him for sure and he sort of dived into the reeds on that side down there. Don't come back without him.'
About the same time, Aidan Bell, back in his diving gear, was sliding the Dolphin into the water. He switched on, climbed on board and took her down to twenty feet as a precaution. Within ten minutes, he was moving out to sea.
'Always the great survivor, Aidan,' he told himself. 'Always the great survivor.'
They found Liam Casey and at first thought he was dead. One of them went for Blake, but by the time he'd arrived the situation had changed, and they were carrying him out of the reeds toward the second Hawk.
Campbell, the agent in charge, said, 'He's got a real bad stomach wound – your shot, I'd say, but you did say you only fired once.'
'Absolutely.'
'Then there's been someone else around. Someone tried a heart shot, probably to finish him off, but he had a Browning inside his jacket and it turned the bullet. I think he's on the way out, mind you.'
'Well, let's get him into surgery as soon as possible.' There was a military hospital on a small air force base twenty miles away on the main coast.
'I just heard the President's there already with Clancy,' Campbell told him.
'Then let's get moving.'
On the Hawk, they put Liam Casey on a stretcher, battle packs taped to his wounds. His eyes opened and he stared around him, and there was a kind of recognition when he saw Blake.
'I know you,' he whispered.
Blake leaned close. 'How do you know me?'
'The Basement. You're Dillon's friend. The Basement man.'
Blake had never been so astonished. 'How in the hell do you know that?' But there was no reply, for Liam Casey had passed out.
At the hospital, he was taken away and Blake found the President having coffee in a private lounge.
'How's Clancy, Mr President?' Blake asked.
'He'll be fine. He should get a medal. Hell, he shoved me aside and took that bullet, Blake. I've been informed you've found the assassin. How is he?'
'Being rushed into surgery. He spoke once.' Blake told him what the Irishman had said.
'The Basement man? Dillon's friend? Blake, what have we got here?'
'God knows, sir. We'll have to wait.'
'Well, one thing is certain. I don't want any publicity. Keep this totally under wraps. It never happened. You, me and the Secret Service – that's all who know. But what I want to know is: who is behind this, and why?'
'Should I call Ferguson, Mr President? The man did mention Dillon. I should check.'
'That makes sense. Okay, talk to Charles and Dillon, too. No one else.'
'Not Murchison, he already knows.'
Murchison, lying by the electric fire, got up and the President of the United States kissed him on the nose. 'He went straight for that bastard. Saved my life.'
'He's special, all right.' Blake smiled. 'Excuse me. I'll get on with this if you'll follow me, Mr President.'
The Alice Brown rose and fell on a heavy rolling swell as Bell surfaced on the Dolphin. Nets trailed into the water, all very businesslike, and Grant came to the stern rail.
Bell undid the Velcro ties of his jacket and eased off his air bottles into the water. He pulled off his mask and flippers; the AK he had dropped off a mile back.
'Throw me a line.'
Grant frowned. 'Where's your friend?'
'There was an accident.'
Grant didn't like it, his face clouding. 'Now look, what's going on here?'
Bell unzipped his nylon diving jacket, produced the Browning, and shot him between the eyes. Then he reached for the rail and pulled himself over and turned and fired several shots into the Dolphin, which started to settle into the water. He went through the lockers in the wheelhouse and found a length of chain, which he wound around Grant's ankles before pushing him under the rail. The body slid under the surface and Bell hauled in the nets quickly, then went below, got a bottle of Irish from the galley and hurried back on deck. He went into the wheelhouse, switched on the engines and moved away, one hand on the wheel while he poured whiskey, a very large one, into a plastic cup. He swallowed the lot, then poured another as rain started again.
In the living room of the great house at Quogue, Paul and Kate Rashid sat by a log fire. Michael and George were in London. Rashid's coded mobile rang, he answered and found Bell.
'What news?'
'There was a screw-up. This is the story.'
He gave an account of what had happened, which was a reasonably true version, omitting only the fact that he'd finished off Liam Casey.
'I'd like to say I'm sorry,' Bell said, 'but I did nothing wrong and everything right. It was just that damned dog.'
'You know what the Arabs say? Inshallah. As God wills,' Paul Rashid told him. 'You couldn't shoot the dog?'
'There was no time.'
'When will you arrive?'
'Four hours.'
'All right. I'll have the Gulfstream waiting at Westhampton Airport. My sister is here. We'll fly back to the UK together.'
'Suits me.'
'What about Grant? I hate loose ends.'
'Taken care of. What's the expression? Arthur Grant is asleep with the fishes.'
'And what about his boat?'
'I'll swim ashore.'
'We'll see you soon, then.'
Paul Rashid switched off and turned to Kate. 'A dog – a flatcoat retriever called Murchison.' He started to laugh, then he reached for his mobile. 'I'll phone the airport and tell them to get the Gulfstream ready. Then we'll have a glass of champagne.'
'But what do we drink to?'
'Why, Murchison, of course.'
At the hospital, the fight for Clancy Smith's life continued for four hours. The Air Force flew in two additional trauma surgeons and the President's own doctor.<
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After the surgery, Cazalet and Blake sat for a while with Clancy, whose pain had been dulled by drugs. The chief surgeon came in and had a look at him.
'You'll be fine, son, just fine.'
'Thank you, sir.'
The surgeon nodded to Cazalet, who followed him out. 'Mr President, does this mean what I think it means?'
'Robert, I need your holy oath on this,' Cazalet said.
'Of course, Mr President. That was an AK bullet we took out of that young man. I had one in me myself in Vietnam.'
'Well, this one was meant for me, and that brave boy pushed me aside, turned his back and took it for me.'
'God in heaven. And the other?'
'Is the assassin, although we think there could have been another one, too. Will he live?'
'Debatable. I'll keep you posted. We're just finishing in there.'
Cazalet went back in the room and brought Blake up to date. 'Let's hope he survives. It's a bizarre business and I'd like an answer.'
Clancy was drifting off. 'Do I still have a job, Mr President, or are you having Campbell move someone else in?'
'Over my dead body.'
Clancy started to laugh helplessly. 'God, that hurts, but you've got to admit it's kind of funny.'
'Get some sleep, Clancy,' Blake said. 'The President and I are going to grab something to eat. We'll see you later.'
Aidan Bell was really lucky on the final approach to Quogue in the Alice Brown. There was a heavy sea mist blanketing everything. He tipped the dinghy over the side with its small outboard about half a mile out, then went below and opened the seacocks. He went over the side, switched on the outboard and moved some little distance away and waited. It didn't take long. The Alice Brown settled, decks awash, then went very quickly. Bell opened the throttle and sped away toward the shore.
In the living room, Rashid and his sister were talking. 'So what now?' she asked.
'I have an alternative target. I always did.'
'Am I permitted to know?'
'Soon, my dear, but not yet.'
There was a rapping at the french windows. Paul Rashid opened a drawer near at hand and took out a Walther. He stood up and nodded to Kate. It was Bell standing out there. When she opened the window, he stepped in with a smile, still wearing the diving suit.
