Day of Reckoning

'More trouble, Signore?'

'We'll see, Aldo.'

The phone rang and he answered it. Maud Jackson said, 'Boy, do I have a good one for you. This Roper was blown up by the IRA, all right, and now he's a legend — in computers. Jack, if he's into your affairs, you've got serious trouble.'

'Thanks, Maud, you're an angel.'

'Yeah, well, don't forget to send a cheque.'

Fox put down the phone and said to Falcone, 'Take him out.'

'Me personally, Signore?'

'Of course not. Get over to Regency Square. See Borsalino and Salvatore. Give them their instructions. Have them get rid of him. I smell big trouble where he's concerned.'

'At your orders, Signore,' Falcone said. 'I'll leave Russo here.'

He used Fox's Mercedes limousine, driven by Fox's Italian driver, Fabio, closed the screen, and called Don Marco on his mobile and brought him up to date.

'This isn't good,' Don Marco said. 'I'm beginning to smell trouble here myself. Keep me informed, Aldo.'

Falcone found Borsalino and Salvatore in the Ford parked in the square very close to Roper's place. They were, of course, all attention.

'Stay here for the moment. This guy in the wheelchair? You take him out, but make it look like an accident. You wait if it takes all night. You wait if it takes until tomorrow, but he's finished. Capisce?'

'Anything you say,' Borsalino told him.

Falcone left then, went back to the Daimler. Fabio said, 'Back to the Dorchester?'

'No, I'm hungry. Find somewhere close by where we can get something simple. You know, a bacon and egg sandwich.'

'I know just the place, Signore.'

'Good. Then we'll come back and see what the situation is.'

At the computer bank, Roper trawled all the way through from Jack Fox to Brendan Murphy, the pride of the Provisional IRA. There were some fascinating facts there. Then he tried the Jago brothers and found a litany of crime on a Dickensian level. He sat back. Excellent.

He checked his watch. Eleven o'clock, and he felt hungry, which was okay, because Ryan's Irish Restaurant on the far side of the square stayed open until one and knew him well.

He eased himself into a raincoat and then transferred to his electric wheelchair and made for the front door.

Rain bounced down. He raised a small telescopic umbrella as he went down the ramp and started along the pavement. Falcone, sitting in the Mercedes, saw him go.

Fabio said, 'Signore?'

'Let's leave it to the boys.'

Roper coasted along, his umbrella raised, a slightly incongruous figure. In the Ford, Borsalino and Salvatore saw him.

'Now what?' Salvatore demanded.

'We take him out,' Borsalino said. 'Come on.'

He was out of the Ford in a second, Salvatore on his heels, and ran after the wheelchair.

'Hey, Signore, you need a hand?'

Roper knew trouble when he saw it, but said, 'No, thanks, I'm fine.'

Salvatore was on one side of the chair, Borsalino the other.

Borsalino said, 'No, really, I think you need some help — like, into traffic. What do you think about that?'

'That really would be unfortunate,' Roper said.

Falcone, watching from the Mercedes, said to Fabio, 'You've

been around the family for a long time. What do you think?' 'That it stinks, Signore. Where do they find these kids?' 'I agree. Just coast along and let's see what happens.' The end of the square before the main road was dark, and

at that moment deserted.

Borsalino said, 'Shit! There's no traffic here. What are we going to do?'

Salvatore said, 'Roll him down the block. We'll find it. You having a good time, my friend?'

'Depends on your point of view.' Roper's hand came out of the right-hand side pocket of his wheelchair, holding a Walther PPK with a Carswell silencer on the end. He jammed it into the back of Salvatore's left knee and pulled the trigger. There was a muted cough, and the Italian cried out and stumbled into the gutter.

Roper turned slightly in the chair, the gun raised, and Borsalino jumped back. 'You really wouldn't have got by in Belfast, old son,' Roper said. 'Not for a minute,' and as Borsalino turned to run, shot him in the back of the right thigh.

They lay together on the pavement. Roper paused and looked down. He took out a mobile phone and dialled nine, nine, nine. When the operator answered, he said, 'There are two men down on the pavement in Regency Square. Looks like a shooting.'

'Your name, sir?'

'Don't be stupid.'

He switched off his coded mobile and moved on.

In the Mercedes, Fabio said, 'My God, Signore, what do we do?'

Already, in the distance, they could hear the sound of a police siren.

'Nothing,' Falcone told him. 'We do nothing.' He watched the two men trying to get up. 'Just get out of here.'

As they left the square, a police car turned in, and as they moved up the main road, an ambulance appeared.

In Ryan's Restaurant, Roper ordered Irish stew and a pint of Guinness, phoned Ferguson on his mobile, and gave him the bad news.

'Where are you?' Ferguson asked, and Roper told him. 'All right, stay where you are. We'll come for you.'

Ferguson put down the phone at his Cavendish Square flat and turned to Hannah, Dillon and Blake. 'That was Roper. He went out for a late meal and two men of Italian persuasion had a go. Told him they'd push him into the late-night traffic.'

'What happened, sir?' Hannah asked.

'He shot them in the legs,' Ferguson said. 'Would you believe that? Left them on the pavement.'

'Frankly, I don't have the slightest difficulty in believing it,' Dillon told him. 'Jack Fox moved fast.'

'So now what?' Blake asked.

Ferguson turned to Hannah. 'Superintendent?'

'I doubt they'll talk, sir, not if they value their lives. And I doubt that this will be the last attempt that Jack Fox makes.'

'You're right,' said Ferguson. 'We'll move Roper to the Holland Park safe house. Anything he wants, you know, all his gadgets and so on, make sure he gets. I think we'll need him. Will you take care of that, Superintendent?'

'As you say, sir.' Hannah went out.

Blake turned to Dillon. 'All right, we've taken care of the casino. What do we hit next?'

Blake turned to Dillon. 'The Jago brothers? The army dump? Beirut?'

'Let's get Roper into the safe house. Once he's got his equipment in order, we'll see.'

At the Dorchester, Fox listened to Falcone's account of what had happened in Regency Square. He actually laughed.

'You mean this fuck in the wheelchair shot them both in the legs?'

'Something like that, Signore.'

Fox shook his head. 'Mind you, with what I've learned about him, I'm not surprised. You can check if he's at his house, but if he's not there, leave it. We've got other things to do.'

'Like what, Signore? I spoke to Mori. The Colosseum will remain closed, as well as the betting shops, until the police and the Director of Public Prosecutions decide what to do, which could take months.'

'We concentrate on other matters. There's the Lebanon connection that Murphy arranged.'

'Beirut, Signore?'

'No, Al Shariz to the south, I believe. Murphy is due in Beirut next week. We'll meet and agree on the goods we're supplying. Forget the casino. There's a fortune to be made there, Aldo, and he pays in gold. I'll see you in the morning.'

Falcone left, went to his room, and phoned Don Marco. The Don said, 'He's digging himself in deeper, isn't he?' 'Do you want me to do anything?'

'No. Just stay in touch.'

'Of course, Don Marco.'

The Holland Park safe house was an Edwardian town house in an acre of gardens surrounded by huge walls. The notice by the gate said Pine Grove Nursing Home, which it definitely wasn't.