by Jack Higgins
'That's extremely kind,' Paul Rashid said. 'I'll make the necessary arrangements.'
When he and Kate went out, Ferguson was in the reception area talking to a middle-aged man in a raincoat and old-fashioned trilby hat.
The General nodded to the Rashids. 'I'll see you outside.'
The man in the trilby said, 'I'm Chief Inspector Temple. There's no evidence of foul play. Just a tragic accident.' 'Of course.'
'I presume the pathologist has told you that in these circumstances, under Section Three, he can release the body without a Coroner's Court hearing?' 'Yes.'
'I have to countersign it as investigating officer, so I'll do that now. After that, you'll be able to have the body at any time.'
There was a look in his eye, and after all, why should a Chief Inspector be the investigating officer in a drowning?
Paul Rashid smiled and took his hand. 'You've been very kind.'
Outside, Ferguson waited on the pavement beside the Daimler, his chauffeur at the wheel. Dillon stood close by with Blake, smoking.
Ferguson said, 'I don't know about you chaps, but I'm famished. There's that nice Italian restaurant next to the Dorchester, you know the one?' He turned. 'Ah, there you are.'
'My brother George's body was delivered earlier from Hazar. They're releasing Michael. We'll bury them at Dauncey in the family mausoleum the day after tomorrow. After that, it's open season.'
'Your brother drowned,' Ferguson told him. 'It's as simple as that.'
Kate walked up to Dillon and struck him in the face. 'And you drowned him.'
'Jesus, Kate, he was trying to kill me. Why is it the Rashids seem to think it's okay for them to shoot other people but not to get stiffed in return?'
She turned away and got behind the wheel of the Mercedes. Paul Rashid said, 'Vengeance is mine, Dillon. You should understand that. It's the Old Testament.'
'Well, I'll tell you what, My Lord, I'll make you a fair offer. Being just as mad as you, I'll come to the funerals. That way, you can try to finish me off, if you can – or I might just try the same with you. What do you say to that?'
Rashid's eyes gleamed for a moment and he almost seemed to smile. Then, with a brief nod, he said, 'I'll be expecting you,' and drove off.
'Jesus,' Ferguson said. 'That was really pushing it.'
Dillon turned to him. 'It's time this whole thing ended, General.' He stared after the departing car. 'One way or another.'
As Kate drove, her brother called the number of a service flat around the corner from the South Audley Street house. Normally, it was for the use of extra staff. At the moment, it housed Bell.
When he answered, Rashid said, 'It's me. Now listen.'
He told Bell exactly what had happened. When he was finished, Bell said, 'What a bastard Sean is, but then that's how he's lived so long.'
'You talk as if you admire him.'
'He's a decent enough stick. We've a lot in common.'
'Well, I'd like to take care of this myself, but if you can do it, so be it. The three of them are on their way to some Italian restaurant next to the Dorchester. Ferguson's car is a Daimler, you can't miss it.'
'What do you want me to do?'
'Take them out. Come round to South Audley Street. I'll supply a weapon. I'll pay you, of course.'
'You're on. See you soon.'
Rashid switched off his phone. Kate said, 'You mean it?'
'Kate, I told them when the funeral would be, and I got the reaction I wanted from Dillon. So the last thing they expect is a hit now.' He shrugged. 'This is right up Bell's alley. I'll give him one more chance. If he fails this time, then I'll kill Dillon myself. After I kill Bell.'
He was so calm, so certain, there was no way she could argue and she continued to drive.
Bell arrived at the back door at South Audley Street and was let in by Rashid, who took him upstairs and unlocked a door into what proved to be a gun room. Most things were on offer, but Bell chose an Armalite.
'An old friend, this one. A folding stock, and you have a silencer.'
'It's not completely silent. What would you want to do?'
'Shoot a tyre out, get all of them at the same time.'
'That sounds good. Let's see if you can do it. Whatever happens, return to the flat. I'll expect to find you there.'
'Good. Now find me some sort of road map.' Bell found an old raincoat with capacious pockets so that the Armalite, with its folding stock, was easily concealed. He walked down South Audley Street until he found the restaurant, and there was the parked Daimler, the chauffeur sitting with the light on, reading a newspaper.
He had worked out from the map that, on leaving the restaurant, they would have to turn left down Park Lane, then make a U-turn into Curzon Gate to make for Cavendish Place along the other side of Park Lane. So, Bell crossed the road to the shadows of Hyde Park, scrambled over the fence and stood in the darkness of a tree. He had a pair of night glasses, which he clipped to his head, and he watched the front of the restaurant.
When Ferguson, Blake and Dillon emerged, they walked to the Daimler and got in. Bell took out the Armalite, unfolded it and waited. There was little traffic at that time of night and the Daimler turned out of Curzon Gate and picked up speed. Bell aimed at the rear wheel on the passenger side and fired. At that moment, Dillon happened to turn his head and saw the flash. The tyre burst and the Daimler slewed across the road, then back again, bumping over the kerb. Ferguson was thrown against the passenger door, Blake on his knees.
'This is a hit,' Dillon said, 'I saw the flash. I'm going.'
He jumped out, vaulted the fence and drew his Walther. Aidan Bell turned and ran, holding the Armalite across his chest.
Dillon went after him, chasing him through the shadows. They came to a huge monument, suffused with light all around, and Bell tripped and fell, and the Armalite went flying. Dillon came to a halt and stood there, chest heaving, holding the Walther to his side.
'Why, Aidan, it's you, old son. How much did the Earl offer?'
'To hell with you, Dillon.'
He grabbed for the Armalite and Dillon shot him twice in the heart.
He went back to the road and the car. Ferguson was holding his arm. 'I think it's broken.'
'What happened, Sean?' Blake asked.
'It was Bell. I shot him. He's by the monument. I don't know how you want to handle it, General. Do you want to leave a famous IRA terrorist to be found shot dead in Hyde Park or call in the disposal team?'
'In the circumstances, let's make it low-key. You call in, explain where you are and wait. Frankly, I need to get myself to Rosedene.' He got out of the Daimler with Blake and said to his chauffeur, 'Call in recovery for the car. Mr Johnson will see to me.'
Later, sitting in the shadows of the monument, Dillon rang Paul Rashid on his mobile. 'It's me, Dillon. Aidan Bell tried to take us out, but I'm afraid he's failed for the very last time.'
'You've killed him?'
'Yes.'
'Well, if you hadn't done it, I would have.'
'That doesn't surprise me. I'm looking forward to the funeral, Rashid. If you think you can take me, you're welcome to do it. This thing's gone on long enough.'
'I look forward to it as well, Dillon.'
Kate, sitting opposite him, said, 'What is it?'
'Bell's dead.'
'Dillon?'
'Who else.'
'So, he'll come to the funeral?'
'He'll come to his death as far as I'm concerned.'
Dillon sat on the steps of the monument, smoking a cigarette, and after a while, the disposal team arrived.
Dauncey Place Blake went home the following morning. Bell vanished off the face of the earth. Dillon visited Rosedene and found Ferguson with his left arm in a sling by Hannah's bed.
'How are you?' Dillon asked.
'I've been better.'
Dillon turned to Hannah. 'And you?'
'I'll survive. General Ferguson has filled me in. So, you killed Bell?'
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'You sound disapproving. For God's sake, woman, he tried to kill us.' He smiled. 'Ah, I see it now. You're not in favour of capital punishment.'
'Damn you, Dillon. The General says you told Rashid you'd attend the funerals of his brothers tomorrow.'
'So? You told me he'd challenge me. I figured I'd just challenge him first.'
'You stupid man. I told you, he's crazy. He'll do anything to finish you off now.'
'And as I've told you many times, Hannah, I just may be crazy, too.'
'I really don't think you should do it, Dillon,' Ferguson said. 'In fact, that's an order.'
Dillon said, 'And if I say no, what will you do, lock me up in Wandsworth Prison?'
'I could. Your past record condemns you.'
'Really? When you got me out of a Serbian prison, blackmailed me to come and be your enforcer, the important part of the deal was that my IRA slate would be wiped clean. Now, in effect, you tell me no. If you're serious, all I can say is that Billy Salter may be a gangster, but he's got a grip on morality that's far better than yours.' He reached over and kissed Hannah on the cheek. 'God bless, girl, and take care. As for Rashid wanting me dead, well, the British Army wanted that for long enough and I'm still here.' He nodded to Ferguson. 'You know where to get me if that's what you want to do. Otherwise I'll go down to Dauncey tomorrow to that funeral. I'll give Rashid his chance.'
He turned and went out.
Hannah said, 'Are you going to have him banged up, sir?'
'Of course not.' Ferguson sighed. 'I just wanted to see if I could bluff him out of it. These past eight or nine years, I've grown rather fond of him. You, too, I think.'
'You could say that, sir, but I'd appreciate it if you'd promise not to tell him.'
'Of course, my dear. Now, as I'm feeling perfectly wretched, I think I'll go home,'
Paul and Kate Rashid went into the Dauncey Arms at lunchtime. Betty Moody was behind the bar and all the usual locals were there. Everyone stood up.
Rashid said, 'No, my friends, sit down. Get a drink for everyone, Betty, but I'm hungry as a hunter. Whatever you've got.'
There were tears in her eyes. She reached and touched his face. 'Oh, Paul,' and then Kate was crying, too, and Betty took her hand and lifted the bar flap. 'You stop snivelling, girl. I've told you that since you first learned to listen. Come and do some useful work in the kitchen.'
Later, they ate, she opened a bottle of champagne for them and they sat by the fire.
'Tomorrow,' she said hesitantly. 'The funerals. You haven't said much.'
'Service at the church is eleven thirty. We're scaling it down this time, Betty. No general invitation like the last time. The villagers are welcome, though. You could do us a buffet here at the pub. We don't want a fuss. I don't even want staff at the house after the funeral.'
'Whatever you want, Paul, leave it with me.' She moved away. Kate said, 'Will he come?' 'Oh, yes, he'll come,' her brother said. 'I've never been more certain of anything in my life.'
Dillon called in on Harry at the Rosedene and found him propped up in bed, Dora hovering, the epitome of the barmaid turned nurse.
'Watch it,' Dillon told her. 'If you keep doing such a good job, the old bugger might decide to marry you.'
Her eyes gleamed. Harry said, 'Don't give her ideas above her station!' He slapped Dora's bottom. 'Go and find me a bottle of Scotch, there's a good girl.'
She went out. Dillon said, 'You think you've got her, but she's got you by your bits and pieces, Harry. Mind you, you're a lucky sod. She's actually a damn nice woman and she'd kill for you.'
'You don't need to tell me.' 'Then treat her right.'
Salter looked at him. 'Why do I get the impression you're not exactly on top of the world?'
'Ah, well, we all have our ups and downs. I've seen Hannah. You know how it is. She loves me and hates me and worries about me.'
'You're going to do something stupid,' Harry said. 'Christ, Dillon, you really are going down to Dauncey to that double funeral tomorrow.'
'It's a challenge, Harry. He wants to face me. I killed his two brothers. He's entitled.'
'You know what, my old son, that sounds like a death wish to me. Are you thinking of pulling Billy in? There isn't anybody else.'
'No. I'm going to drop in at the Dark Man and have a bite to eat, but Billy's done enough. You know, Harry, he calls himself my younger brother, and in a way that's what he's become. I'm not putting him in harm's way again. I won't ask him to go to Dauncey tomorrow. For all I know, the Earl could set the dogs on us.'
'So you're going to go down there wearing a black suit and stand in the congregation at the Dauncey parish church?' 'It has to be done, Harry.'
'Well, that's nice, isn't it? Just when I was willing to accept you as Billy's older brother, you're going to put your head on the chopping block.'
Dillon got up. 'Harry, you're a diamond, and so is Billy, but there comes a time…'
'Yes, I know. When a man's got to do what a man's got to do. John Wayne, rest in peace.' Dora came in with a bottle of Scotch. Harry said, 'Go on, clear off, Dillon, you're making me angry.'
Dillon went. Harry sat there, absentmindedly fondling Dora's rear, then reached for the bedside phone and rang his nephew's mobile. Billy was at the Cable Wharf office.
'Listen, Dillon's just left me. He said he was going to call in and have a bite of lunch with you. As you know, Rashid's burying his brothers at Dauncey church tomorrow, and Dillon's determined to go and face up to him. Like some kind of Gunfight at the OK Corral. What's more, he's going to go on his own.'
Billy said, 'No way. If he goes, I go with him. I know you might not approve.'
'Actually, Billy, I'm proud of you, only don't tell him. Just say he's stupid. We'll let him go, then catch up later.'
'You say we?'
'Billy, even with Dora, I can't be here for ever. At least I can give you moral support. We'll follow Dillon down.'
At the Dark Man, trade was busy, with plenty of cars parked on Cable Wharf. It was raining on the river again, that season of the year. Dillon found an old umbrella in the Mini Cooper's boot, put it up, lit a cigarette and walked for a while.
He was strangely melancholy, a feeling that he was somehow at the end of things. He didn't hate Paul Rashid, and Kate, as most men would have to admit, he admired tremendously. He had killed many times over the years. It was his nature. He'd excused himself by claiming the death of his father, caught in the middle of a firefight in a Belfast Street between IRA members and British paratroopers.
But what if it really was his nature, his father's death only an excuse? What did that say about him? He could argue that, in his way, he'd been a soldier for years, but could he condemn Rashid and not condemn himself? The only difference between them, the thing that really was unacceptable, was Cornet Bronsby's appalling death.
He lit another cigarette, slightly morose and depressed. 'Oh, to hell with it. What's getting into me?'
At that moment, he was hailed from the door of the pub and turned to find Billy running toward him. He ducked under the umbrella.
'What are you trying to do, drown yourself?'
'Something like that.'
'Oh, I see, a bad hair day. Let's all feel sorry for Sean Dillon.'
'Go to hell,' Dillon told him.
'Yes, well, you need some Dark Man food in you, and a drink. I mean, you're an older guy. You can't go through what we have in the last few weeks and come out of it as fresh as I do.'
Dillon laughed out loud. 'You cheeky young sod.'
'That's better.'
He led the way inside, where the bar was busy, but Baxter and Hall had the end booth. Billy and Dillon found them, and Billy said, 'Scarper, you two, we've got things to discuss. Tell the bird at the bar to bring us a bottle of Bollinger, two glasses and some Irish stew.'
The Irishman said, 'What is this, be nice to Dillon week?'
'Come off it. You killed Rashid's two brothers, and now he wants your ba
lls and expects you to go to Dauncey tomorrow and face up to him, Superintendent Bernstein said, and for some reason, you want to give him his chance. He's the one who's crazy.'
'And maybe me, too, Billy, like I said.' 'Bollocks. I've never known when you didn't know exactly what you're doing. You speak several languages, you can fly any kind of plane, you're a master diver. Harry told me all about it. You were the one who challenged Rashid -and now you've got this daft idea you're going to do it on your own. Well, I won't let you. I told Harry that.'
'He must have loved that.' 'Actually, he approved. He told me to let you go, then he and I would follow you down. "Moral support" was a phrase he used.'
One of the young girls behind the bar brought a bucket of ice, Bollinger and glasses. Dillon nodded to Baxter and Hall at the bar, drinking beer. 'A glass each for those two.' 'You're so considerate,' Billy said. 'I'll show you how considerate I can be. I'm actually going to give you your wish, Billy. You can walk down the street with me just like in a bad movie. I'll supply Walthers and titanium waistcoats, because he means it, Billy. Like Hannah Bernstein said, he couldn't live with me alive. He'd love getting you, too.'
'I know,' Billy said. 'But I'm going to cover your back.'
'There's only one thing, Billy. Ferguson knows I'm going and won't stop me, but Harry, as much as he may joke about it, really is getting older. I don't want him worrying about you.'
'So what do we do?'
'You phone him late tonight at the Rosedene and tell him Ferguson's had me put in the nick to stop me doing anything stupid. You and I can clear off for Dauncey in the morning. You provide the limousine. The service is at eleven thirty. Will you do it that way?'
'He'll never forgive me, but yes, I will.'
Dillon toasted him. 'Cheers, as you say in the East End, and Billy, try and make it a black suit. I will.'
'The undertaker look?'
'Exactly.'
'Terrific' The girl brought Irish stew. 'I can't wait,' Billy said, and called Joe Baxter and Sam Hall to him. 'Joe, I need the Jaguar first thing in the morning. Dillon and I are taking a run down into the country. The Rashid place, Dauncey, so wear a chauffeur's uniform. We're going to a funeral.'
