Edge of Danger

'Yes, we know that, Charles, but the ramifications would be far-reaching.'

'Which is why the President has sent you?'

'Yes.'

'And has spoken to the Prime Minister.'

'So I believe.'

'Well, we're going to Downing Street to speak to him now. You've done well, Blake – the President and the Prime Minister on the same day.'

At the door of the most famous address in the world, an aide greeted them.

'General Ferguson, Mr Johnson. The Prime Minister is waiting.'

He took them upstairs, past the pictures of previous Prime Ministers, knocked and opened the door of the Prime Minister's study. He was working at his desk in shirtsleeves, the youngest Prime Minister for more than a century. He glanced up, the face firm, and then smiled in a familiar way.

'General Ferguson.' He got up, came round the desk and shook hands. 'And Mr Johnson? About time.' He clapped Blake on the shoulder. 'The President has brought me up to date. I'd like to hear it from you two.'

Later, someone brought tea and coffee, and the Prime Minister sat there, his face very calm. 'It defies belief that the Rashids would behave in such a way. I know the Earl well.'

'It's a fact, Prime Minister,' Ferguson said.

'It's appalling. He tries to assassinate the President and now the Hazar Council of Elders.' The Prime Minister turned to Blake. 'Would you agree with me that this would be a disaster?'

'In our opinion, sir, that's exactly what it would be.'

The Prime Minister sat there, face calm, brooding. 'Well, you may act with my full authority.' He stood up. 'I have another appointment. Do what you have to do, General.'

They were ushered out. It was over.

Ferguson said, 'Hazar next stop, Blake.'

In Hazar, Kate Rashid and Bell had landed at the airstrip near Shabwa. Four hours later, they were waiting for the Rashid Gulfstream at the military base at Haman. Early in the Southern Arabian dawn light, the plane glided down and several Land Rovers moved forward. Kate got out of the first one, wearing a khaki bush shirt and slacks and an Arab headcloth.

Paul Rashid embraced her. 'Where's George?'

'With his men on the road to the Holy Wells, with Bell and his people. Is Michael well?'

'Holding the fort in London.'

Rashid warriors had emerged from the Land Rovers and stood there with their rifles in total silence. Kate turned and snapped her fingers. A young boy ran forward, holding a robe, helped

Paul Rashid into it, and then offered a headcloth. Rashid fastened it, then turned and raised his right arm, fist clenched.

'My brothers,' he called in Arabic, and put his arm around Kate.

They brandished their rifles and roared approval.

'So, let's get on with it.' He helped her into the lead Land Rover and got in beside her.

He lit a cigarette. 'So, Bell and his team are definitely on schedule?'

'Yes. As I told you, George and his warriors are supporting them. The only problem is that one of Bell's men went missing. A drunk and a womanizer. They tried to find him, but Bell thinks he's holed up in some whorehouse.'

'I don't like that. When a pattern is disrupted, I wonder why.'

'Well, he's that kind of guy, Paul.'

'And Dillon?'

'Still on the Sultan with Professor Stone and the two London gangsters.'

'Totally out of their element.'

'Whatever Hazar is, it's not Wapping. Over there they are something, here they are nothing.'

'True.' Paul Rashid brooded. 'And Shabwa is ours?'

'Absolutely. Dillon couldn't fly up there and land even if he wanted to.'

'And why should he? He doesn't know what's going on.' Rashid nodded. 'So, I go with an escort, to the Holy Wells ambush site, join George and his men and Bell.' He turned and smiled. 'Would you come with me?'

'It'd be a privilege, brother.'

'Good.' He lit another cigarette. 'We'll set the world on fire, little sister.'

She took his hand and held on tight.

At the airport, just after dawn, Carver checked out the Golden Eagle. Hal Stone was there with Dillon and the Salters. Dillon had opened the weaponry bag from London, the best the Sergeant Major could supply. Titanium bulletproof waistcoats, AK-47S, a couple of Brownings with silencers, half a dozen fragmentation grenades, two Parker-Hale machine pistols.

Dillon and Billy got kitted out. Carver said, 'What's going on here?'

'Are you still on the RAF Reserve?' Dillon asked.

'So what?'

'Well, you've got a DFC. After this, you might get another one. We're the good guys, Ben. Your guys. Does that give you a problem?'

Carver's smile was instant. 'No, it bloody well doesn't.'

'So let's do it.' Dillon turned. 'Are you coming, Harry?'

But it was Stone who said, 'Dillon, they won't believe this at high table at Corpus – but I'm coming, too. Billy was right. A life not put to the test is not worth living.'

Up in the high country, Bell, O'Hara and Brosnan worked on the road through the defile, laying packs of Semtex, stretching wires to a detonator. It was early, the real heat of the day still to come. Bedu squatted and watched. George Rashid crouched close by.

Bell said, 'Funny, isn't it? Back there in South Armagh, you were trying to stiff us.'

'Of course I was. I held Her Majesty's commission as a Second Lieutenant in One Para. You were the enemy. I shot two of your people personally.'

'Bastard,' Brosnan snarled.

Bell said, 'Don't be silly. He was doing his job. Now get on with the wiring.'

An hour and a half earlier in the dawn light, Carver had flown in at five thousand feet and descended. Dillon leaned over his shoulder.

'Is that it?'

'Rama, that's all I know.'

'Go down and let's make sure they're not there.'

The Golden Eagle descended to a thousand feet. Carver said, 'It looks clear to me.'

'Good. Go round again and we'll jump.'

'You're crazy, you know that?'

'Yes, but it does make life interesting, Ben.'

Dillon went back and nodded to Billy. 'Time to go. Get the door open.'

It was Harry who moved first as he wrestled with the locking bar. The airstair door opened, the steps went down and there was a huge intake of air. Stone and Harry hung on and Billy and Dillon moved forward, the AK-47S and Parker-Hales across their chests.

'After you,' Dillon shouted above the roaring. 'You're a younger guy.'

Billy laughed. 'You're an older guy, so I'll be on the ground first to protect you.'

He stepped out onto the airstair door, went headfirst and Dillon went after him. The Golden Eagle started to turn away, and Stone and Harry wrestled with the door and finally got it closed. Harry ran to a window and, as they banked, saw the two 'chutes land way below.

'They made it.'

'Good,' Professor Stone said. 'So let's get out of here before the other people notice us and start asking questions.'

At Northolt, Ferguson had found Lacey and Parry waiting with the Gulfstream, plus the Sergeant Major with two AKs and four Brownings.

'You're going into battle again, General?' he said.

'Well, it's not exactly good where we are going, so let's be ready.' He turned to Blake. 'You can handle an AK?'

'Charles, that's like asking if your grandmother can cook. I was in Vietnam.'

Ferguson shook hands with the Sergeant Major and turned to Lacey.

'Four Brownings, Squadron Leader. That's one each for you and the Flight Lieutenant. Hazar may prove a serious problem as regards your health. I thought you should be ready.'

'Very considerate of you, General,' Lacey said. 'We've got a young lady on board to handle catering. Flight Sergeant Avon.'

Ferguson turned to the Sergeant Major. 'Find another Browning.'

'Of course, sir.'

Later, sitting in the plane, the door closed, ready to go, the young Flight Sergeant appeared, not wearing an RAF uniform but an international-looking navy blue job.