by Jack Higgins
Roper did as he was asked. We re still in the van on the way to Holland Park, but it will be waiting when we get there.
Duval lit a cigarette, thinking of the sign he had noticed on the side of the Citro n van as it passed. Mary s Bower. Quite intriguing, that. Something to do with religion perhaps. And he walked away.
When they arrived at Holland Park, the four of them went into the computer room, and Henri Legrande was on one of the many screens. Roper had explained the situation to them on the way.
He said to Doyle, You re the copper. What do you think?
Doyle said, Mid-sixties, could be older. Very self-contained. Don t let the glasses fool you that s just age. He s been a soldier.
Sara said, How can you be sure of that?
Because I ve been a military policeman for seventeen years. We guard the wall, we take care of the bad things that ordinary folk can t face. We can kill when we have to. Not many people can do that.
Now then, Tony, you re waxing lyrical again.
Yes, I ll put myself on report, Major. There was some talk of Captain Gideon trying out her new weapon on the firing range. Shall I go down and prepare?
An excellent idea, Roper said. You carry on, Tony, and we ll catch up with you in fifteen minutes.
The firing range was at the rear of the main building, a long concrete bunker under the garden and dating from the Second World War. It was reached by a lengthy sloping tunnel, Roper leading the way into a cold and gloomy room, harsh white light at one end, illuminating a line of twelve targets representing charging soldiers in uniform, nationality unspecified. Tony Doyle was standing at a long table with a range of handguns laid out and sound mufflers for everyone.
Here we are, then, Roper said. What have you got for us, Tony?
There s a Glock here, a Browning Hi-Power, a. 44 Magnum, and a Beretta. Tony picked up the Browning. My personal favorite, Major.
Give it to me. Roper held out his hand, took the weapon, and lifted it. It s been a long time.
Tony slipped some mufflers on him. Roper gripped the left arm of his chair and fired from left to right three times, hitting each target in the chest.
You re still up for it, sir, Tony said, and Roper handed him the weapon. You finish.
Which Tony did, all heart shots. Will that do, sir?
Try not to sound so satisfied, Tony, Roper said.
And see to Captain Gideon.
Sara had covered her ears, taken the Colt from her shoulder bag, and loaded it. She weighed it, then fired, double-handed, very fast at the fourth target, riddling the heart and chest area.
Tony took the Colt from her. Not much left with those hollow points, ma am.
She picked up the Glock, remembering, face serious, extended her arm, and shot the fifth target in the heart. No one said a word, and she laid it down carefully. A good gun to have in a bad place.
She picked up her Colt and returned it to her shoulder bag, and Holley said, Lunch, anyone?
Roper sat there, a slight smile on his face, as if waiting for something, and Tony picked up the Browning, held it out without saying a word, and Holley took it. Do I have to?
Josef Lermov called it a gift from God, said Roper. We must show Sara.
More like a curse. Holley turned sideways, left hand on hip, right arm extended like some old Western gunfighter and double-tapped the last three soldiers, shooting out their eyes.
Oh, my God, Sara said softly.
Satisfied, Giles? Holley asked.
Absolutely, Roper said calmly. Let s go and have Maggie Hall s idea of a simple lunch. French onion soup, tossed salad, poached salmon with Lyonnais potatoes. Join us, Tony, when you re finished here.
He coasted out in his electric chair. Sara took Holley s hand without a word, and they walked after him.
After the meal, they went to the computer room and discovered the news screen alive with footage of the riot in Hyde Park. It had all been caught: Ali Selim s dramatic arrival, his appearance and subversive speech high above the crowd, including the rain of missiles, the riot police surging past the van. There was some further footage of Ali Selim, with what appeared to be blood on his face, emerging from the crowd, surrounded by minders, who bundled him into the back of a van waiting beside the Marble Arch entrance to the park and which had last been seen driving toward Bayswater.
A Scotland Yard commissioner made excuses for the police failure to arrest and detain Ali Selim, who could not be found at his home or the Pond Street Mosque. The Prime Minister emerged from 10 Downing Street to inform journalists that the speech could only be construed as advocating the assassination of the President of the United States and every effort would be made to find and arrest Selim.
Roper cleared the screen for a while. You noticed Ferguson, of course, standing at the back with a few other functionaries?
We certainly did, Holley said.
For future information, Sara, the rather jolly-looking chap with the permanent smile and the blond hair is a good friend of ours. Henry Frankel, the cabinet secretary.
He looked nice, she said. But what do you think Ali Selim was up to making such a speech? Was it really incitement to murder?
Others have made similar speeches with the hope that they will be imprisoned. They need martyrs to attract more followers to their cause. Al Qaeda knows damn well that the majority of Muslims don t want this kind of trouble.
So what do you think he s done?
Who knows? Roper said. Gone into hiding, done a runner. Maybe Al Qaeda has a plan for him. Anyway, I was thinking, Sara, maybe it would be a good idea if you spent the afternoon with me. I ll show you everything we get up to here, who our contacts are with outfits like GCHQ, the CIA, and the GRU, all the tricks of our rather nefarious trade.
I d like that very much, she said.
What do you think, Daniel?
I think it s an excellent idea. They coined the word Machiavellian for the great Giles Roper. Cunning and underhanded, but in the nicest possible way.
I would suggest you leave now, Roper said.
Well, make sure Tony takes the lady home. He smiled at Sara. Noon tomorrow, I ll pick you up.
Tony followed him out, and Sara found a swivel chair and sat beside Roper, looking up at the screens. It must make you feel like sort of lord of the universe.
That s true, particularly when I m watching people, their comings and goings. And the really spooky thing is they have no idea that it s happening.
Tony came in at that moment. Sorry to break this up, but it s shower time, Major, the full works. Can t have you sitting there smelling like an ashtray all day.
I hear and obey. Roper turned to Sara. Here s an exercise for you. Look up Professor Jean Talbot and a man named Jack Kelly.
At that precise moment, Mullah Ali Selim was enjoying a cup of coffee in the library of a country house called Stukely Towers. There was a knock at the door, it opened, and the young woman Sara Gideon had noticed running beside the palanquin entered, followed by a darkly handsome young man in jeans and a black bomber jacket. He was her fianc, Jemal Fateh, and she was Asan Selim, the mullah s niece. They were both dedicated jihadists.
So there you are, he said. Do you approve of the house, Asan?
Quite wonderful, Uncle.
Owned by a wealthy sheikh from the Gulf, one of many dedicated friends that we can always rely on. He also keeps a jet just ten miles from here.
I am glad to hear it. Now that Osama has been so brutally torn from our lives, your safety from our enemies is of crucial importance. You must leave England as soon as possible, she said.
Not yet. For the moment, I am safe here. Eventually, I shall leave for Pakistan, for Peshawar, and from there cross the border to a village called Amira, west of the Khyber Pass. I ll be safe amongst friends there, and I can plan our future campaign in peace. America, the Great Satan, shall pay for what they did to Osama. This I promise you.
In what way can we serve, master? Jemal asked.
Com
e with me and I ll show you, Ali Selim said, and led the way out.
It took a sizable staff to take care of such a house, and yet there was no sign of anyone, as if they were keeping out of sight. Selim led the way to a rear conservatory, through a tunnel, and they emerged in a vast garage containing many vehicles, the most interesting of which was an imposing yellow Central Accident Emergency ambulance.
This is exactly the same as the old and battered one you both spent two days being taught at the proving ground last week, Ali Selim said. The only difference is that this one is brand new and provided by the Brotherhood. Inside you will find uniforms and identity cards, plus a worksheet authorizing you to deliver emergency oxygen cylinders to level three of the underground garage at the House of Commons.
May we try driving it, master? Jemal asked.
Of course, but only in the courtyard. I ll see you in an hour and wear your uniforms.
He was going over papers at the library desk when the knock came, and they entered and stood together in the yellow uniforms, waiting for his approval.
Excellent. He nodded. It should work, particularly because there ll be so many vehicles that day. An obvious workhorse has a better chance than anything else of being accepted. Now, sit down and let me explain what we re attempting here.
Yes, Uncle, Asan said, and she and Jemal pulled chairs forward and sat.
Both of you can pass as Europeans particularly you, Asan, with your hair cut and dyed. You proved that by going on that guided tour of Parliament last week, when they showed you and the other tourists the terrace.
Which was interesting, Jemal said. But I don t see how we could possibly get that far on Friday.
Of course not, Ali Selim said. Certainly not in uniform, and not with this.
He picked up a large and very yellow paramedic s bag and dumped it on the desk.
You re not going to the terrace. There s no way you could get close enough to blow up the Prime Minister and the President, as wonderful as that would be. But there is something we can do. We can remind them that Al Qaeda is still a force to be reckoned with. We re going to blow up the underground garage in the House of Commons. It will reverberate around the entire world. There s enough Semtex in the bag to cause huge damage. All you have to do is leave the ambulance there and switch on the timer. You ll have thirty minutes to walk away.
And what then? Jemal asked.
Cross from Parliament to Northend Street, where a Mr. Aziz will be waiting in a white Ford van. You will change in the back of the van while he drives you back here, then we ll leave at once for the jet. Naturally, I ll be taking you to Pakistan with me.
There was a heavy silence as they glanced at each other, Asan with rather more enthusiasm than Jemal. Her eyes were shining as she said to Ali Selim, It is an honor to do this, Uncle.
You make me proud, child. He nodded to Jemal.
I d appreciate a word with my niece alone.
Of course, master, Jemal told him, got up with some reluctance, and went out.
Ali Selim took a small pillbox from a drawer, got up, came round the desk, and placed a hand on her head. Bless you, my child. Your parents would have been so proud. If anything untoward happens, if you were to fall into the hands of our enemies, I fear what they might do. These evil ones use torture of the worst kind.
She looked up in adoration. Nothing could ever make me speak, Uncle.
I m sure you would do your best, but I d hate to think of you suffering. He slipped the small pillbox into her hand. The capsule in there will take you to eternity in an instant, where you will wait for me until my time comes. Hold it in your mouth until all is lost and then bite on it.
She took the box without hesitation. You are so good to me.
This is our secret, of course Jemal would not understand. You, child, have become a woman, and he is still a boy. He patted her on the head. Go to him now.
Jemal was waiting in the hall anxiously and took her hand.
What did he say to you?
My uncle only wished to hear that I was strong enough for this, and I was able to assure him I am. We are privileged to be tasked with such a thing, Jemal, so let us be as one.
He nodded, still a touch reluctant. If that is how you see it, so be it.
It is, loved one. She took his hand. Now we are no longer two, but one, and it is a time for acting, not talking, and she led him toward the kitchen.
At Holland Park, when Roper returned, he found Sara watching the news. Anything of interest?
Still no sign of Selim.
And how have you been getting on with the Talbot saga?
It s an incredible story. I can see where Jack Kelly would give you a problem. The peace process totally wiped the slate clean for men like him. She shook her head. And now he s at it again. Do you think Jean Talbot knows?
The received wisdom would be that she doesn t, but I was never totally certain about her.
So what can you do about Kelly?
The IRA threat at the moment is from a ragbag army composed of various factions, Roper said. Kelly, with all those years in the Provisional IRA under his belt, has a membership in the Army Council and is a force to be reckoned with, but coming to grips legally with men like him is very difficult. After all, some of them are serving in Parliament at Stormont.
So how do you keep an eye on him?
I allow my computer to do that. Apparently, he flew in on a private Talbot plane yesterday. If he turns up at Jean Talbot s house, we ll know.
How?
We have an asset in the area. Talbot goes for a run in Hyde Park most mornings, and often has dinner with Owen Rashid of Rashid Oil. Good-looking chap, unmarried, younger than her. Welsh mother, Bedu father. Lives in Park Lane.
You mean she s under surveillance? She frowned. I don t like the sound of that.
Her son was a traitor to the Crown, and she is chairman of one of the biggest arms groups in the world. It s the name of the game. Do you want to go on?
She took a deep breath. Of course I do. So what next?
Holley had spent his day on Malik Shipping business, dealing with agents worldwide, mainly on screen. A final hour had been with Hamid Malik, his partner in Algiers, who treated him like a recalcitrant son.
Why can t the firm be enough for you, Daniel? Business has never been better. We re making millions.
I ve got millions, Holley told him.
Since they gave you Algerian nationality, the foreign minister is delighted with how well you speak for us abroad, even the President.
I m glad to do it, and not only for the diplomatic immunity it gives me. Algeria means a lot to me.
But still you crave for this violent world of action that Ferguson offers you. You re soon to be fifty, and still no woman in your life.
Holley answered instinctively, Oh, I wouldn t say that.
Malik was on it like a tiger. Ah, so there is someone? Tell me at once, Daniel. After all these years, am I not a father to you? Who is she?
It doesn t matter. She s twenty years too young for me.
Are you mad? Malik demanded. What is twenty years to a man and a woman in love? In any case, the way you live your life, you could take the fatal bullet at any time and probably will if you don t change your ways.
She also happens to be a Sephardic Jew.
Malik was suddenly angry. Daniel, I ve managed to survive with a Christian for my partner for almost thirty years. I m that kind of Muslim. Seize the day. Now go in peace. And by the way, there were Sephardic Jews living in Algiers a thousand years ago.
He was so tired that he undressed and went to bed in the early evening and drifted into sleep. It was the sound of his mobile that pulled him awake at ten-thirty. He was surprised at how late it was, but then, it had been a long day.
It was Sara. It s me, Daniel what a day I ve had. Roper is a hard taskmaster. Come and pick me up. I d love to sit on the terrace and have a drink with you.
He wanted to say yes, but forced himself to
say no. It couldn t go on, it wasn t right, and to his surprise he realized that for once in a reasonably self-centered life, he was thinking of the welfare of another human being as more important than his own.
I don t think so, Sara. We ve got a big day tomorrow, the noon meeting. Try and get a good night s sleep.
Damn you, Daniel Holley. She sounded close to tears. I m going to walk all the way down South Audley Street to the Dorchester, look up and imagine you in your solitary splendor on the terrace, wish you a thoroughly rotten night, and then walk back.
She clicked off. Holley lay there thinking about it. Was it a tantrum or had she really meant it? But then, he didn t have a choice, because if they were being targeted, the last thing she should be doing was walking down any street at night, even in Mayfair. So he got out of bed and dressed quickly, cords and boots, a khaki shirt and his flying jacket, the holster on his right ankle. He was out the door fast, and behind him the curtains ballooned, stirred, then settled again.
Events had made it clear to Henri Legrande that Holley and Sara were more than just good friends. Their behavior on the walk to Hyde Park and during the riot had convinced him that they were a couple. The chance that Holley would deliver Sara home late from dinner or a show one night seemed obvious, as did the planning of an ambush. It might take two or three nights of waiting, but the moment would surely come.
He sat behind the wheel of the Citro n now, Kelly beside him, and behind were two hardheaded London Irish boys named Fahy and Regan, who had salivated over the prospect of a thousand pounds cash between them for crippling Daniel Holley. They were already drunk, a half bottle of whiskey shared between them, and were rowdy with it.
Where the fuck is this red Alfa you re going on about? Fahy demanded. We ve been here for an hour, man.
Just shut up and wait, Henri said grimly.
That s if you want to see the other half of your money.
From the dark end of Highfield Court where they were parked, they could see the house, and suddenly the door opened and security lights came on and Sara appeared. She was wearing a black leather belted coat, a scarf around her neck, carried a walking stick in her right hand, and her shoulder bag was slung across her front. She started to walk briskly, using the stick, already limping.
