“I didn’t need any damn phrase book!” Kerrigan snarled. “A picture of Dom and Ingrid came up on the screen. It was one of the snaps you took at their wedding reception. Then there was a live report from outside the house. Christ, man, the reporter was standing almost exactly where you parked the car. As he was talking two bodies were brought out on stretchers from the house behind him. And the sheets were pulled up over their faces. In my book, that means you’re dead. And I know who killed them.”
Mullen sat down slowly and ran his fingers through his tangled hair. “Dom and Ingrid dead? God, no.”
“Didn’t you hear me? I said I know who killed them. Fiona.”
“What are you talking about?” Mullen snapped back. “She was with us all the time.”
“Oh no she wasn’t. She stayed behind when we went out to the car. Remember?”
“And how was she supposed to have killed them? All the guns were in the boot of the car. Remember?”
“She killed them. Who else could have done it?”
“You don’t have a shred of evidence–”
“I may not have the evidence, but I know why she did it,” Kerrigan cut in. “Dom told me confidentially that he was going to call the Army Council and tell them he thought she was cracking under the pressure of being in charge of the operation. They would have listened to him. And that would have put paid to her chances of running a cell of her own one day. She obviously found out somehow and that’s why she had to silence him. It’s the only logical explanation. But I’m damned if I’m going to let that bitch talk her way out of this when she gets back home. Because she will. The Army Council think she’s so bloody great, they’d believe anything she tells them. I’m not going to let her get away with it. Not this time.”
“I’ve always known you despised her but even I didn’t think you could sink this low. God, you disgust me. I know Dom would never have plotted against her like that. He loved her as if she were his own sister. If he’d had something on his mind, he’d have confronted her with it. I can’t believe you could say something like that with Dom only hours dead. You’re sick, Liam. This obsession’s going to destroy you.”
“You’re a fine one to talk about obsession,” Kerrigan snorted contemptuously. “What about your obsession with Fiona? You’ve wanted her since you first laid eyes on her. But you don’t have Sean’s good looks and quick wit so she was never interested in you. So instead you’ve tagged along behind her like a little puppy, believing all that crap she fed you about you being her confidant and best friend. If you want her so badly why don’t you just ask her her price? Every whore has a price.”
Kerrigan sidestepped Mullen’s lunging punch and brought his elbow up sharply into the small of Mullen’s back, propelling him face first into the wall. He followed through with two vicious kidney punches which left Mullen on his knees, gasping for breath. Kerrigan was turning to get the AK-47 when he saw Fiona standing in the doorway, the Colt .45 in her hand.
“Don’t even think it,” she said menacingly. “Now step away from the gun. Slowly.”
Fiona noticed Kerrigan’s eyes flicker toward the AK-47. She knew he was wondering whether he could get to it before she pulled the trigger. But she was a good shot. One of the best. No, he wouldn’t risk it. He stepped away from the AK-47, his hands half raised in the air. She glanced across at Mullen. He was doubled over on the floor with his back to them, still struggling to catch his breath. Perfect. She smiled coldly then shot Kerrigan in the chest. He was punched back against the wall and was still raising his head to look at her when she shot him again, this time through the heart. His body slid lifelessly to the floor, the disbelief still mirrored in his sightless eyes. She kicked the AK-47 away from his outstretched hand and checked for a pulse.
Mullen struggled to his feet, his face still twisted in pain. “Is he dead?”
She nodded slowly then slumped into the armchair behind her. “I told him to get away from the gun. But he wouldn’t move. He just stood there. Then he made a grab for it. I had to shoot him, Hugh. I had no choice. You must understand that.”
Mullen took the Colt from her fingers, placed it on the table and squeezed her arm reassuringly. “I heard you tell him to get away from the gun. You gave him every chance. If you hadn’t shot him he’d have killed us both.”
She sat back and closed her eyes tightly. “Sean’s going to be devastated. He and Liam were really close.”
“That wasn’t the Liam Sean knew. He hasn’t been himself these last few days. And tonight’s news finally sent him over the edge. You heard what happened?”
She nodded. “I could hear the two of you from my bedroom. Do you really think Dom and Ingrid are dead?”
“Liam seemed very sure of his facts,” Mullen replied softly.
“Oh God.” She rubbed her moist eyes then suddenly looked Mullen in the face. “You don’t think I–”
“I know you didn’t kill them,” Mullen replied quickly.
“I heard Liam say something about Dom calling the Army Council. I didn’t catch everything he said though.”
Mullen told her.
“Why would he do that? If Dom had something on his mind, he’d have talked it out with me. He’s always done that–” She trailed off and swallowed quickly. “He always did that with me in the past.”
“No, I don’t think he would have called the Army Council either. It was Liam’s last attempt to try and turn me against you.”
“The sooner we get out of here, the better.”
“Agreed. What are we going to do about Liam?”
“Leave him here,” she replied. “If we tried to bury the body the disturbed snow would be seen from the air. And if whoever did kill Dom and Ingrid are after us as well, then we don’t want to encourage them to find this place in a hurry. Certainly not until we’ve got a chance to report back to the Army Council. Then at least they can investigate the matter more fully.”
“What are you going to tell them about Liam?” Mullen asked.
“The truth. What else can I do? I only hope they believe me. He was a valued member of the organization.”
“I’ll back you up, you know that.”
“You’re a good friend, Hugh. Thanks for always being there for me.”
“That’s what friends are for.” Mullen moved to the door. “I know I’m not going to get to sleep for a while. You want a coffee?”
She nodded. “Please. But not in here.”
“I’ll take it through to my room,” Mullen replied as he went off to the kitchen.
Fiona slumped back in the chair and cast a sidelong look at Kerrigan’s body. A job well done. She had known she would have to kill him as soon as she’d overheard him talking to Lynch the previous afternoon. But she had still needed him to help kill McGuire. After that, he was as good as dead. She couldn’t let him report back to the Army Council about the conversation he’d had with Lynch. It would have been too risky. She suddenly remembered what Kerrigan had said about Mullen being infatuated with her. But then she’d known that for years. Kerrigan had been right, she did feed Mullen crap about him being her confidant and best friend. But it kept him happy. It made him feel wanted. A little puppy, following her wherever she went. She smiled to herself. Well, as long as he followed her for just a little bit longer. Then, like Kerrigan, he would become expendable. And when that time did come, she certainly wouldn’t have any qualms about killing him either …
Maurice Palmer replaced the receiver then got to his feet and left his study, closing the door behind him. He was a tall, angular man in his early fifties who had been commander of Scotland Yard’s elite anti-terrorist squad for the past four years.
His wife, Sheila, looked up from the Times crossword she was doing when he entered the lounge. Her eyes followed him as he crossed to the drinks tray and poured himself a small Scotch. Although he didn’t show it, she knew he was agitated. It was the only time he would take a drink. He sat down in his favorite armchair and held the glass between the palms of his hands, his eyes fixed on an imaginary spot on the wall above her head. She never questioned him about his work. And he never ventured anything. But she still worried whenever he was troubled. And she had done a lot of worrying in thirty-two years of marriage …