“Well, let’s just say if I want a bird or two or a hare or a nice pheasant, I know where to go.”
“You amaze me.”
The old man patted the side of his nose with his finger. “Mum’s the word. You don’t always need to go over a fence.”
There was cunning in his eyes, and Ivanov laughed.
“You old devil. You obviously know what other people don’t.” He rose. “Well, I must be away. It’s been great talking to you, Mr. Laker.” He went to the counter and paid his bill. “And give him another pint.”
“He can talk the hind leg off a donkey,” she said.
“Oh, he’s all right. Reminds me of my grandfather. You never know what you can learn!”
When he rode away, he took the road back to Horsham, slowing to have another look at the gates as he went past Huntley Hall. About four miles farther on, he turned into a nice quiet turnoff in some trees and called Greta Novikova, who was seated at the sitting-room table at China Wharf with Ashimov and the four Irishmen, various documents spread in front of her.
“Ivanov. What have you got for me?”
“Ferguson has definitely taken Selim to Huntley Hall, but there’s a lot more to it than that. Shall I leave it until I get back to London?”
“No, I want it now. Just let me plug in my recorder.”
When he was finished, she cut in, the recorder still on.
“What do you think?”
“About Harold Laker? He’s like my grandfather in Ukraine. A cunning old peasant. If you want my opinion, he’s known that estate all his life and he poaches it to suit himself.”
“But how? With all that security?”
“All I know is, the old bugger said when he needed a bird or two, or a rabbit or a hare, he knew where to go and, I quote, ‘You don’t always need to go over a fence.’ ”
“He’s got a way in,” she said, and there was awe in her voice.
“I’d say so.”
“You’ve done well. Come home, Sergei.”
She hung up and turned to Ashimov. “What do you think?”
“We’ll have to send one of these lads for a little chat with Mr. Laker. But first things first. Let’s have a look at those plans you showed us, Greta.”
She laid them out, Huntley Hall quite plain, and the rolling areas of woodland. “You can see where there are CCTV cameras and electronic devices in the trees at certain points. Mind you, these plans aren’t perfect.”
“Why not?” Kelly demanded.
“Because they’re based on memory. Five years ago, we had a British spy called Sharkey in our hands in Moscow, and an exchange was arranged for one of our men, Orlov, who was being held at Huntley Hall. On the odd occasion, he was allowed out for a walk in the grounds and picked up a certain amount of visual information.”
Tod said, “Sounds risky. Then I’m inclined to go with what Ivanov’s said. The old man has a way in. I think Kelly and I should go down there in the morning. We’ll put up at this trailer site Ivanov mentioned, get to know the old boy and find out his secret.”
“By breaking his fingers?”
“Oh, you always want to do things the hard way, Dermot. No, three bottles of Bushmills should do it, and he’ll turn out to be as greedy as people like him usually are.” He turned to Greta. “Ivanov didn’t sound Russian, what I heard. Does he have any kind of accent?”
“No, he was picked out because his mother was English.”
“Right, so he’s your English nephew, Dermot, who told you about the place. That’s why we’re calling in on our way to London from Brighton.”
It was Ashimov who said, “Sounds good to me, but let’s take it a step further. If in some way you can gain access to the grounds, what’s the next move?”
“There isn’t one,” Tod said. “Not in advance. If he’s taken out for a walk when we’re around, we’ll shoot him.”
“And if not?”
“We’ll handle things the way the cards fall.”
There was silence, then Fahy said, “What about us?”
“You’ll keep your eye on Major Roper. You’ve got all his details you need,” Tod said. “Even you can’t miss a bionic man in a wheelchair.”
“Do we waste him if we get the chance?” Regan demanded.
“No. You wait to hear how we fare with Ferguson and Selim.”
“And Dillon?” Fahy asked.
“You could try,” Greta said and pushed some papers over to them. “That’s his cottage in Stable Mews and a recent photo of him. Also his Mini car and its number.”
Tod laughed. “Did you itemize his body count?”
“I didn’t want to frighten anyone off.” She pushed some other papers over. “Dillon’s friends, the Salters. The young one is as bad as Dillon and his uncle was one of the biggest gangsters in London in his time, so be warned.”
“If the need for any extras arises while we’re away,” she went on, “a car or something like that, you call Danny Malone. He’ll fix you up. He used to be a supplier for the Provos.”
“The only one left is Bernstein, the Special Branch Superintendent.”
“Huh,” Fahy said. “I’m not worried about her. Woman coppers should stick to desk work.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure. It says here that she shot dead a woman, a leading Loyalist hard-liner named Norah Bell,” Greta pointed out.
“And wasn’t she the original bitch from hell, Protestant or not?” Dermot said.
Tod smiled. “Well, we’ve all got our wicked ways. Norah’s were just a little bit more wicked than most. Is that it, then?”
“I’d say so. We’ll keep an eye on Bernstein,” Greta said. She put her papers in her briefcase, got up and asked Ashimov, “Shall we go?”
“I think so.” He nodded casually to the others. “Stay in touch at all times.”
“We have all your mobile numbers, so if we don’t hear from you, you’ll be hearing from us.”
As she and Ashimov went to the door, Tod said, “You don’t think we can pull this off, do you?”
“Well, pigs might fly.” Ashimov lit a cigarette.
Dermot said, “Is it because of Dillon?”
Greta said, “Let’s put it this way. I saw him in action in Iraq the other night, and if I hadn’t seen it for myself, I wouldn’t have believed it. So take care.”
She and Ashimov went out, and Fahy exploded. “Dillon – fuggin’ Sean Dillon. That’s all we hear about.” He reached for a raincoat. “I’m away out for a drink.”
“And I’m with you,” Regan told him. “What about you two?”
“We have things to do for our morning departure,” Tod said. “But watch it, you two. Stay out of trouble.”
They went out and Dermot put a large canvas bag on the table and opened it. He took out an AK-47 and passed it to Tod. “Give it a thorough check. I’ll do the other.”
“Pass me a silencer,” which Dermot did. “What about you? Do you really think we can pull this off?” Tod asked as he took the AK apart.
“We’ve done it before, we can do it again. We’re still here, aren’t we?”
“And so’s Sean Dillon. That’s the trouble.”
At about the same time, Belov landed at Ballykelly in the Republic, close to Drumore. Practically the first thing he did was phone Ashimov, who had just parked outside an Italian restaurant in Bayswater, Greta at his side.
“Bring me up to date,” Belov demanded.
Ashimov did. “It’s all in place.”
“A lot of what-ifs,” Belov said, “and I don’t like that.”
For once, Ashimov took the hard line. “No, I disagree. Kelly and Murphy have good reputations. Major Novikova’s spadework has been excellent. This lead to Huntley Hall looks more than promising. I think we’re in good shape.”
“All right, I hear what you’re saying. I’ll stay here until we get some sort of resolution.”
Greta said, “The great man?”
“Getting nervous. To hell with him. Let me buy you a nice dinner.”
Walking along Wapping High Street, Fahy said to Regan, “This Dark Man pub the Salters own can’t be far from here. Why don’t we have a look?”