Edge of Danger sd-9

by Jack Higgins

  'God bless all here, that's what the Fenians say.'

  'You're all right?' she asked.

  'Yes. Just show me where you parked my bags. A shower and a change of clothes and I'm ready.'

  'Then make it fast,' Paul Rashid said. 'We're leaving Westhampton in one hour.'

  'Has there been any news on the television yet?' 'There hasn't been a hint, which I find very strange. I don't like it, so let's get moving.'

  At the hospital, the President slept on a small bed in one of the interns' rooms. Blake dozed in a chair in the lounge and came awake to a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and found one of the surgeons, an Air Force Colonel, there.

  'Mr Johnson. He's come round, but it's not good. He's very weak.'

  'Can I talk to him?'

  'You can try, but I don't think you'll get much.'

  'Fine. Notify the President. I'll go in.'

  Liam Casey lay there, wired up to life support. A male nurse was in attendance.

  'I've got permission to try and speak to him,' Blake said.

  'I don't think you'll get far, sir.'

  Blake pulled a chair forward and Casey opened his eyes. For a little while, his voice proved surprisingly strong.

  'I'm dying, aren't I, and you're the guy who shot me. The Basement man. Dillon's friend.'

  'Look, what do I call you?'

  Behind him, the President and the Colonel eased into the room.

  'I don't suppose it makes any difference now. Casey – Liam Casey.'

  'Where are you from?'

  There was a little blood on Casey's mouth and the nurse wiped it away.

  'Drumcree. County Down.'

  Blake frowned. 'I've heard of Drumcree, but why do you call me the Basement Man, Dillon's friend?' "Cos I've seen your details in the file, your picture.'

  'Which file?'

  'The file Aidan prepared, the plan to do away with the President. Three million she promised when she saw us in Drumcree. She lied to Dillon, told him she was looking for protection for some business enterprise in Northern Ireland.'

  The President said, 'What in the hell is going on?'

  Blake waved him down and said to Liam, 'So Aidan is Aidan Bell and he was here and tried to shoot the President?'

  'Shot me. I thought he'd finished me off. Left me to carry the can and cleared off.'

  'How?'

  'Underwater.' He seemed suddenly stronger. 'Fishing boat three miles out, then back to Long Island. They have a house. The Rashids have a house.'

  'Just take it easy.' Blake soothed him. 'Why? Why would Paul Rashid want the President dead?'

  'American Russian double agent called Gatov killed his mother, so he killed him. The Arabs tried to kill Rashid for some Yank and Russian oil people. He wanted revenge.'

  'Only he didn't get it, did he? He failed?'

  'That's all right. Alternative target.'

  'What would that be?'

  'Rashid said it would be his choice.'

  Suddenly, he grimaced in pain and moved convulsively. The male nurse and the Colonel went in fast and Blake got out of the way.

  'Please leave, gentlemen,' the Colonel asked.

  In the lounge, the President said, 'For God's sake, what goes on?'

  'Let me remind you, Mr President, of my conversation with Charles Ferguson not too long ago, concerning a trip Lady Kate Rashid made to County Down using Sean Dillon as her minder.'

  When Blake went into the lounge a little while later, the President was drinking coffee, a frown on his face. He looked up. 'Well?'

  'Casey's dead. I've spoken to Harper in the Communications Room. He's checking out the Long Island situation, the Rashids.'

  Cazalet lit a Marlboro, got up, and paced around. 'It beggars belief. Rashid is one of the richest men in the world, an earl, a war hero, a friend of royalty. Who in the hell would believe it?'

  'Nobody, Mr President, nobody in the wide world. Casey's dead, and what he said could easily be dismissed as the ramblings of a dying man. Right now, we've got nothing to use against Rashid.'

  'But why is he so determined, Blake?' Cazalet asked.

  'A lot of reasons, I suspect. The attempt on his own life, the death of his mother, the perfidy of the Sultan, his desire to rid Hazar of our influence. We're the Great Satan, don't forget that. He may be English, but that Bedu side – well, I wouldn't like to be alone with him in the desert.'

  Cazalet said, 'All that money. It means nothing to him, does it?'

  'It's just a tool of power. It lets him fly down there in a helicopter so that he can roam on a camel with his warriors. There's nothing more important to him.'

  There was a long pause. Cazalet was about to speak when Blake's mobile rang. He answered, listened, then said, 'Fine, I'll get back to you.'

  'Harper. The Rashids were in Quogue.'

  'And?'

  'Flew out of Westhampton four hours ago. Paul and Kate Rashid, and some man named Thomas Anderson.'

  'Aidan Bell?'

  'I'd say so. Destination Northolt RAF base.'

  There was a long pause before Cazalet said, 'There's nothing we can do, is there?'

  'To be frank, no, not at the moment. But I'll speak to Ferguson.'

  'Right. Do that, then get to London yourself. I want you to coordinate everything with the Brigadier.'

  'Actually, he's just been promoted. Major General now.'

  'Really? I'm very glad. I'll speak to him myself before you leave, but for the moment, it's been a hell of a day, so let's get back to the house.'

  On the Gulfstream, halfway across the Atlantic, the Rashids and Bell had a light meal of smoked salmon, salad and champagne.

  Bell emptied his glass. 'So what next?'

  'I'm thinking about it,' Paul Rashid told him.

  'I've other problems in Hazar. I'll be in touch.' 'Well, don't leave it too long. In the meantime, I'll go back to Drumcree and check that things are in order, that the lads are behaving themselves.' 'I'm sure they are,' Kate Rashid said. 'They usually do. They don't like to upset me.' Aidan Bell tipped his chair back and closed his eyes. It had, after all, been a long day.

  London At Cavendish Place, late that night, Ferguson sat with Dillon and Hannah Bernstein and went over the whole business. After hashing it out for hours, with no particular conclusion, Ferguson said, 'All right, so his personal hit man, this Aidan Bell, failed with Cazalet by a stroke of good fortune. I don't think they'll try him again now. So who's the alternative target?'

  Hannah Bernstein said, 'As he seems to have it in for both the Americans and Russians, General, what about the Russian premier?'

  'I can't see even Aidan Bell operating in Moscow,' Dillon observed.

  'He wouldn't have to,' Ferguson said gloomily. 'The Premier is due in London on the seventeenth of next month. Trade talks with the Prime Minister.'

  'I didn't know that, sir,' Hannah said.

  'It isn't public knowledge, Superintendent. But that's only six weeks away.'

  'So you think he could be the target?'

  'How do I know? What do you think, Dillon?'

  'It's a bit obvious.'

  'So's Cazalet, if you think about it in hindsight. A wonderful thing, hindsight. Who else could it be?'

  'Beats me,' Dillon said. 'So the best thing to do – is ask him.'

  There was a stunned silence. Hannah Bernstein said, 'Ask him?'

  Dillon turned to Ferguson. 'Brigadier…' He laughed. 'Sorry… General. In the past, you have talked about situations where they know that we know and we know that they know.'

  True.'

  'So let's push the good Earl a little. Make sure he knows we know and that we're on his case.'

  Ferguson nodded. 'Not a bad idea. Maybe it'll shake something loose, make him a little incautious. Let's wait until Blake arrives in the morning, then we'll beard Rashid in his den, as it were.'

  'Excellent,' Dillon said. 'And Aidan is back, we assume, in Drumcree. Let's make sure. Can you get people to check on that, Charl
es? Aidan Bell may be minus Liam Casey, but he's still got Tommy Brosnan, Jack O'Hara, Pat Costello – a whole crew of blackguards. Let's make sure they're all still in County Down.'

  The following evening, the Rashids walked into the Piano Bar at the Dorchester to find Sean Dillon seated at the piano. He was wearing a dark blue suit and a Guards tie, and a cigarette drooped from the corner of his mouth, unlit.

  Kate Rashid walked over to him, flicked her gold lighter and lit his cigarette. 'Is that better?'

  'God bless you, ma'am, for the decent soul you are, and I'll forgive you, only because I love you dearly, for conning me over our Drumcree trip.'

  'Conning you?'

  'Absolutely. I know all about the good Aidan trying to stiff the President. Very naughty, Kate, very naughty indeed.'

  She lit her own cigarette. 'Why, Dillon, I never knew you for a fantasist.'

  'Oh, I'm a realist all the way, sweetness. Aidan Bell tried to finish off Liam Casey on Nantucket, only Casey had a Browning tucked inside his diving jacket and it turned the bullet. Of course, that still left him with a bullet in the belly.'

  'How interesting.'

  'Still, he lived long enough to spill the beans. He was very annoyed with Aidan, Liam was.'

  'Yes, well, he would be, I imagine,' Kate said.

  'General Ferguson's due any minute, with Blake Johnson. I'd tell you who Blake is, but I'm sure you already know, don't you, Kate? I'd listen to what they have to say if I were you.'

  She turned and went back to her brothers. They had their heads together for a while when Charles Ferguson appeared at the head of the stairs by the bar, with Hannah and Blake Johnson. They came down and joined the Rashids. As they sat, Dillon eased off the piano bench and went to join the others.

  'So, Mr Dillon,' Paul Rashid said. 'What an extraordinary tale you have told my sister.'

  'The eyewitness account is even better,' Blake told him. 'I was there. Liam Casey tried to shoot me and I was the one who shot him in the stomach. The wound killed him eventually, but we had a fine old chat, did Liam and me.'

  'You can't prove any of this, you know,' Paul Rashid said.

  'You're right,' Charles Ferguson told him. 'Not yet. But we intend to, Rashid. I intend to pursue you to the ends of the earth. Dillon here is particularly looking forward to it.'

  'Is that so?' Paul Rashid smiled. 'It would appear you are declaring war on me, General Ferguson.'

  'Exactly.'

  Rashid stood up, followed by his two brothers and sister. 'Beware. I could declare jihad on you myself. But I do not think that will be necessary. Will it, General?'

  He walked out, the others followed. Blake said, 'You really pushed him, Charles.'

  Ferguson said, 'I intended to.' He looked at Hannah. 'What did you think?'

  'You didn't leave him much room to manoeuvre.'

  He turned to Dillon. 'And you?'

  'Me?' Dillon laughed. 'Jesus, your honour. I'm just a simple Irish boy. What intrigued me was the fact that he didn't actually deny any of it.'

  'Well, he's your business now,' Ferguson told Dillon. 'Stay on his case.'

  Hannah said, 'We should remember what he said, sir. He really could declare war on us.'

  'Are you querying my orders, Superintendent?'

  Dillon said, 'Oh, don't worry. She's good at taking orders, General, however stupid they are. I'm the one who looks at things differently, but then, as we both know, I've always been a little mad. Come on, Hannah, let's go and put the world to rights,' and he turned and led the way out, leaving Blake with Ferguson.

  At Kate Rashid's house, Paul held a council of war with the other three.

  'It's damn unfortunate Casey survived.'

  'Even more unfortunate that Aidan Bell was economical with the truth,' Kate told him.

  'True, but it's only to be expected with people like him. I'm going to let it go for now. I still need him.'

  'So what happens now?'

  'I think I'll teach Ferguson a lesson. He made Dillon into a direct threat, so it's time to get rid of Dillon.' He turned to Michael. 'That's your task. Use Ali Salim, from the Party of God. He's good enough. Only, keep out of it yourself.'

  'And when do you want this business handled, brother?'

  'As soon as possible. If Salim is available, let him get on with it now. But leave it up to him. You're a good boy, Michael, but not against the Dillons of this world.' He turned to Kate. 'You agree?'

  'Absolutely.' She kissed Michael on the cheek. 'Just give it to Ali Salim.'

  Dillon and Hannah had a light meal at a small Italian restaurant near his townhouse in Stable Mews. They'd discussed the situation until it was coming out of their ears, their chief worry being whether Ferguson had pushed it too hard or not. They were on tea and coffee when Blake, who had phoned on Dillon's mobile earlier, came in.

  'You want something to eat?' Dillon asked.

  'I had scrambled eggs with Ferguson at his place.' He sat down. 'I've spoken to the President. He thinks Paul Rashid is nuts.'

  'Then if he is, so am I.' Dillon shook his head. 'The curse of our civilization these days has been the unrestricted growth of capitalism and the interference of Western companies into places like Arabia, intent only on making a buck. We're from societies that think money is everything. What we should realize is we can be dealing with people who think it means nothing, and the Bedu are like that.'

  'That's all right for Rashid,' Blake said. 'He is a pretty rich Bedu.'

  'Yes, but everything he's involved in is Bedu-controlled, Rashid-controlled. There's a difference. Anyway, do you want to walk round to my place, have a drink there?'

  'I'm parked outside, we can drive,' Blake said.

  He went out with Hannah, Dillon hung on to pay the bill, then went after them.

  Ali Salim was a Yemeni Arab of thirty-five with wild eyes and a dark, pockmarked skin. He had accepted the contract without hesitation and made light of Dillon's reputation.

  'So, this one is trouble, you say? I will give him more trouble than he has ever known. Where will I find him?'

  They were in the sitting room of Ali's flat near Marble Arch. He opened a drawer and took out a Beretta. Michael was confused and unhappy. He found the man disturbing, but then his brother had been insistent that he stay out of the affair personally.

  'He lives in Stable Mews, number five. I'll take you there in my car and drop you off.'

  'Then let's do it.' Ali took a bunch of keys from a drawer. 'Picklocks, just in case he's not there to answer the door. Keep your money. This I do for your beloved brother, who is an example to us all.'

  Dillon unlocked the front door and led the way in, Hannah following, Blake behind. They moved down the hall and entered the sitting room, and Ali Salim was there, standing behind the door. He struck Dillon a heavy blow across the side of the head with his Beretta. Dillon staggered across the room and fell to one knee.

  Ali grabbed Hannah and pushed her hard, putting her on her knees, her purse flying from her hand. Salim pivoted and struck Blake a glancing blow across the head as well, then aimed his pistol at Dillon. Hannah grabbed for her purse, reached inside and took out her Walther and, glimpsing her out of the corner of his eye, Ali Salim turned and shot her three times.

  Blake grabbed at Ali Salim's legs and was hit across the head again. Dillon got to his feet and reached inside the chimney to where he kept his ace in the hole, a Walther suspended from a nail by the trigger guard.

  His hand swung up and he shot Ali Salim between the eyes, hurling him back over a chair. Ali writhed on the ground, blood all over his face, and Dillon stepped close and shot him twice in the heart.

  He dropped to one knee and checked Hannah. Her eyes were glazed and there was blood everywhere. He got up, went to the phone and dialled.

  'Rosedene? Dillon. There's been a major incident. Superintendent Bernstein's been shot three times. We're at my house. Get over here right away.'

  He went into his bedroom, ransacked a cupboard
and returned with two or three field service wound packs. 'Get these on her, Blake,' he said -Johnson was on his feet, looking no worse for wear – and went to Ali's body, searched it and came up with a wallet.

  He phoned Ferguson. When the General answered, he said, 'I came back to my house with Hannah and Blake, and an Arab hit man was waiting. According to his ID, he's one Ali Salim. He shot Hannah three times, and I shot him dead. I've spoken to Rosedene. An ambulance is on the way.'

  'Dear God,' Ferguson said.

  'If I were you, I'd notify her family. I'll send Blake with her. I'll stay here to clean up.'

  'Leave it to me,' Ferguson said, managing to stay calm.

  Dillon used the phone again. There was an instant reply. 'Dillon here, I've got a disposal for you. Immediate. The consignment is at my place.'

  'On our way,' a voice said.

  Dillon replaced the receiver, the doorbell rang, and when he answered, three paramedics came in with a stretcher. He led the way into the sitting room, where Blake crouched by Hannah.

  'Three gunshot wounds. Close range. This Beretta was used.' He handed over Ali Salim's weapon.

  They busied themselves over her quickly, put her on a drip, then got her onto a stretcher.

  'Go with her, Blake. I'll catch up.'

  Suddenly he was alone. He lit a cigarette and went and poured a Bushmills. He drank it down and poured another, his hand shaking a little.

  'If she dies, Rashid,' he said softly, 'then God help you.'

  A moment later, the doorbell rang again. He answered and admitted two cadaverous middle-aged men in dark suits and overcoats, one of them with a bodybag in black plastic over his left arm.

  'In here.'

  Dillon led the way through. 'Dear me,' the older one said when he saw Ali Salim.

  'Save your sympathy. He shot Superintendent Bernstein three times. I've got his wallet. I'll pass it on to General Ferguson. Just get him out of here.'

  'Of course, Mr Dillon.'

  Later, thinking about Hannah Bernstein and all they'd been through together, he felt not rage but concern. It was, after all, the business they were in. Rage would come later. He found a leather trenchcoat and let himself out.