Day of Reckoning

An hour later, Charles Ferguson was in his Cavendish Square flat, enjoying a nightcap, when his phone rang. Dillon was at the wheel alone, the others below. Pushing out into the Irish Sea, he had switched to automatic pilot and lit a cigarette as he spoke.

'Is it yourself, Brigadier?'

'Dillon! Where are you?'

'On our way back to Oban.' Dillon was using his Codex Four mobile. 'We can talk.'

'What's happened?'

'Well, the Kilbeg bunker is no more, and the Sergeant Major's proved a treasure. Killed two of Murphy's gang. Billy saved our bacon by killing another at the right time.'

'Good God! Is everyone all right?'

'Oh, right as rain, Brigadier. We're a tough lot.' 'Well, thank God for that. And Murphy?'

'Oh, I saw to him myself.'

'Well, you would, wouldn't you? So what now?'

'I'd say, six hours to Oban. The weather's not too good. If you could alert Lacey and Parry for a flight back to London around breakfast time?'

'Consider it done.'

'How's Blake?'

A post-operational infection. Daz and Martha have it in hand.'

'That's good. Fox is really going to be mortified over this lot.'

'I like that, Dillon, a good choice of words. I'll see you tomorrow.'

Dillon sat there at the wheel, and then the door opened, there was a bacon smell, and Billy appeared, a plate of sandwiches in one hand and a mug of tea.

'There you go, Sean.'

Billy turned to leave, and Dillon said, 'Billy, you were great. Harry will be proud of you.'

'Yes, but he won't know, will he? What I mean is, nobody knows unless they've done it, been there, bought the teeshirt, isn't that what they say? Jesus, Dillon, this wasn't some punch-up in an East End pub. I killed two men tonight.'

'They shouldn't have joined, Billy, if they didn't want the risk. Remember that.'

'Okay, I suppose so. So — now it's the Jagos and Fox?' 'Yes. I suppose it is.' Dillon finished the last sandwich. 'Go on, Billy. Get some sleep. You've earned it.'

Billy left, and Dillon turned from automatic pilot to manual and took the Highlander onwards over an increasingly turbulent sea.

13

LONDON

Jack Fox had gone down to the Grill Restaurant at the Dorchester to enjoy an English breakfast. He was reading The Times and just finishing poached eggs, sausage, ham and toast, when Falcone appeared.

'We've got a problem, Signore.'

'What now?' Fox asked.

'I've just seen Sky Television's news programme. I think you should see for yourself.'

'That bad?' Fox asked.

'I'm afraid so, Signore.'

In the suite, Fox watched the next news update with horror. The story of a large explosion at Kilbeg in County Louth led the hour. There were pictures of the Irish police on site, and reports of some kind of IRA connection, although the IRA and Sinn Fein had denied it. One thing was certain — four bodies had drifted on to the beach, three dead from gunshot wounds. The fourth was Brendan Murphy, a well-known dissident who had left the Provisional IRA and formed his own group. The suggestion was that the PIRA had taken his men out. It was thought that the explosion had involved an underground arms bunker, and this was being investigated.

There was a ring at the door. Russo answered and returned with a waiter carrying a tray with fresh coffee. He was dismissed and Russo poured.

Falcone said, 'Murphy owed you money, Signore.'

'Well, we can kiss that goodbye,' Fox said.

Falcone said, 'Please forgive me if I overstep the bounds, Signore, but I've been loyal to you for so many years that I feel I can ask this question: How bad are things?'

Fox looked at him. 'Pretty bad, Aldo. But we still have one ace in the hole left. The White Diamond Company heist on Tuesday.'

'You said ten million sterling.'

'With four to the Jagos.' Fox smiled. 'And you disagreed.' 'I sure did, Signore. I say we take the lot.'

'I'm beginning to agree, Aldo, but afterwards. Let these bastards do the hard work.'

Falcone smiled broadly. 'Excellent, Signore.'

'Okay, get in touch with the Jagos. I want a meet at lunchtime. Pick a quiet pub.'

'I'll arrange it, Signore.'

Falcone left to make the arrangements, but first he phoned Don Marco who, because of the time difference, was still in bed, but then, Falcone's instructions had been to call at any time of the day or night. The Don listened patiently.

Finally he said, 'Fucked again, my nephew. Fucked at the Colosseum, then at Al Shariz, and now in Ireland. You know what they say, Aldo? Once is okay, twice is coincidence, and three times is enemy action.'

'So what do we do, Don Marco?'

'Nothing. This is Jack's problem. He succeeds or fails on his own. But if he fails… Understand me, Aldo. I'll never let any physical harm come to him. He's my nephew. But the family needs a leader in whom it can be confident. This diamond heist is his last chance. If something happens to that, too… Jack's out. Capisce?'

'Capisco, Don Marco.'

In the back bar of the Horse Guards pub not far from St Richard's Dock, Harold and Tony Jago waited. It was misty on the river and a little rain drummed against the window.

Harold looked out. 'I like it like this, Tony, it's the way the Thames should be. England for the English, eh? Who needs Europe? A bunch of frogs and krauts.'

'You're right, Harold. Mind you, we're stuck with the fucking Mafia right now.'

'They don't worry me. We can handle them.' At that minute, Manchester Charlie Ford came in through the far door, Amber Frazer with him.

'Jesus, here they come,' Harold said. 'What a pair. I mean, if they want their own thing instead of a woman, that's all right, but I don't like blacks. They're nothing but trouble.'

Ford had the file under his arm and passed it across. 'Everything's taken care of, Harold.'

'Good. Let's wait for Fox. What do you want to drink?'

At Rosedene, Blake was feeling a lot better and greeted Dillon and Helen Black with enthusiasm when they turned up.

'Miller filled me in. We watched Sky Television. You really took them apart.'

'Which just leaves the White Diamond Company.'

'Hey, don't leave me out this time, Sean. I want to be part of that.'

'You can't be, because I won't be part of it, and neither will Bernstein or Ferguson. We've given it to Harry Salter. We're not involved, Blake.'

'Okay, but I can't just sit around here. I need to be with you.'

'Fine. If Daz will release you, that's okay by me.'

Daz agreed he could go, as long as Blake did not take part in any physical activity, so just before noon they repaired to Ferguson's office at the Ministry of Defence, Blake wearing a sling for his right arm. Hannah stood beside Ferguson at his desk.

The Brigadier said, 'I hardly need to say well done. However, we're left with the final nail in Jack Fox's coffin, the White Diamond Company job. What happens now, Superintendent?'

'Frankly, sir, the Salters won't talk to me. It's up to Dillon.'

'Well, according to Roper, tomorrow's the day because that's when the big diamond consignment comes in.'

'What we do know is that they've cut open the old grille gate in the tunnel,' Hannah said. 'The thing we still don't know is, once they've smashed into the basement, how do they bypass the security to get into the vault?'

'That's what I'm going to see Harry Salter about,' Dillon said. 'I'll take Blake. You stay out of it, Hannah. I know you don't like our using a villain like Salter, and I don't want to offend your fine police morality.'