Edge of Danger

Rashid took it. 'Colonel Tony Villiers, Kate. You know the story. The Gulf War.'

Villiers turned on his considerable charm. 'Guardsmen are all the same, Lady Kate. You see the tie and always ask which regiment.'

'And you and the Earl and General Ferguson were all Grenadiers,' Dillon said.

'And Cornet Bronsby,' Billy put in. 'Let's not forget him. The Household Cavalry, Blues and Royals.'

There was a pause. It was Rashid who said, 'So I believe.'

Tony Villiers said, 'The trouble with the Households is that all that people see are those glamorous uniforms. They don't see them in places like Kosovo, in Challenger tanks and armoured cars.'

'They also provide a lot of volunteers for G Squadron in Twenty-Two SAS,' Ferguson put in.

'Well, that's a bleeding show stopper,' Harry said. 'I'm Harry Salter. Can I get you a drink?'

'I've heard about you, Mr Salter. You used to know the Kray brothers,' Kate said.

'They were gangsters, love, and so was I. It was what we were, only I got smart and turned legitimate.'

'Almost,' Billy said.

'Okay, almost. Glass of champagne, love?'

'No. With all due respect, there is a limit,' Paul Rashid told him. He turned to Dillon. 'I saw you, I knew it was you. With George, I mean.'

'And Bronsby, that means nothing?'

'George meant more.'

'The Arab side rising to the surface.'

'You couldn't be more wrong, Dillon. The Dauncey side.'

It was Ferguson who said, 'I'll be formal, my Lord. Leave it. It's gone too far. I would hope you have no expectations.'

'Of course he has,' Dillon said. 'That's why Aidan Bell isn't here.'

'Really?' Ferguson turned to Rashid. 'Could that be true?'

'Wait and see.'

'I've spoken to the Prime Minister about you. He was very angry.'

'And so was the President,' Blake Johnson said.

'What a pity.' Rashid smiled, a smile that could chill the heart. 'And I so much wanted to please the both of them. Well, I will just have to think of some other way. Good night, gentlemen.' Paul Rashid walked out, his sister on his arm.

There was silence and it was Harry Salter who said, 'I just hope you've got the message. We're going to get fucked when we leave here.'

'Really?' Ferguson opened a menu. 'Well, the kebabs they mention sound delicious. We might as well eat and enjoy ourselves.'

'And then walk down the dark streets of Hazar shoulder to shoulder?' Blake said.

'Yes, something like that, so make your choice,' Ferguson told him.

The Rashid Gulfstream took off from Haman and Aidan Bell sat back, accepted a whiskey and started to read a supply of English papers which had come out from London on the trip in.

The Premier and the Prime Minister were going to take a trip down the Thames to the Millennium Dome. The two-page article in the Daily Telegraph carried an itinerary. A night trip down the river. The major television companies would be involved and the two leaders, everything you could want.

Bell sat back, a half-smile on his face. It was like Time magazine and Cazalet all over again, not that Nantucket had worked out as expected, but this could be different. He'd always done well in London. All right, he'd lost the team, but this could be one of those jobs where you were better on your own.

He called to the steward for another drink and started to work through the article again.

Ferguson was right. The kebabs were excellent, and they ate with enthusiasm.

Billy said, 'All right, so we survive, which I certainly intend, we survive and get back to Wapping in one piece. What happens then, General? What's Rashid's next move?'

'Dillon?'

Dillon sat back. 'It has to have something to do with Bell. That's why he isn't here.'

'Seen getting onto a Rashid Gulfstream at Haman military airbase, booked for London,' Villiers said.

'Nice of you to tell us.'

'I decided to save it in case you didn't want dessert.'

Blake said, 'Come on, Sean, what is his agenda?'

Dillon lit a cigarette. 'He failed with the American President. He failed with the Elders. Maybe this time his target really is the obvious one. The Russian Premier's due soon in London, isn't he, Charles?'

Ferguson said, 'Come on, even he wouldn't try that now. With all the new security? Impossible.'

'You think so?' Blake shook his head. 'It should have been impossible to get as close as Bell got to the President on Nantucket. With the greatest respect to my fine Irish friend Sean Dillon here, if I gave him the job, he'd find a way. People like him always do.'

'Thank you. I love you, too,' Dillon said. 'But he's right. Rashid would go for the Premier without a second thought.'

'And that's where Bell comes in?' Harry Salter asked.

'Well, the other year, we had the President in London. Two people, Loyalist terrorists, a man and a woman, tried to knock him off. I managed to stop them, with some assistance, and I still bear the scars.'

'What's your point?' Blake said.

'That, to use an English underworld phrase Harry and Billy know well, you don't need to go in team-handed. One person is enough, two at the most.'

'And that's true,' Billy said.

'Yes, but we're talking as if Rashid had this agenda,' Ferguson told them. 'Maybe he's had enough.'

'General,' Sean Dillon said, 'if you think that, you'll believe anything.'

'All right,' Ferguson said. 'Coffee, then let's go.'

'Tea,' Dillon said. 'I'm Irish. It goes with the rain, General.'

From the Gulfstream, Bell called Rashid on his coded mobile and caught him at the villa.

'Listen, I've had a thought.'

'Tell me.'

Bell went through the article in the Telegraph. 'There's a real opportunity here.'

'All right, but not the Prime Minister,' Rashid said. 'Just the Premier. The minute you're in London, go into the situation. I'll be over in a day or two anyway. I'll send instructions to give you any support you need.'

'And Dillon and company?'

'Well, I'm hoping they'll be distant history after tonight.' Bell laughed. Rashid said, 'You find this amusing?'

'Only the idea of Sean Dillon being distant history. If he's on your case, he's your worst nightmare. Having said that, I'll get on with it.'

On board the Sultan, Hal Stone stood in the stern, drinking a glass of cold beer, and Ali hovered. It was raining again, a fine spray, and Stone was enjoying it. He'd have to go soon, of course, back to Cambridge and students instead of being here and what he was involved with.

There was a splash in the water as Ali poured him another beer, and as Stone turned, a man pulled himself over the rail, a knife between his teeth. Ali cried out, 'Sahb!'

Hal Stone saw, and in the same moment reached for the Browning under his left arm. He pulled it out and as the man took his knife from between his teeth shot him so that he went back over the rail. Another appeared. Stone fired again, but the Browning jammed. He grabbed Ali by the shoulder. 'The cabin. Come on.' Then he pulled him away.

Inside, he slammed and locked the door, then unloaded the Browning and took out the clip. As he discharged his bullets, someone started to kick the door in.

Dillon and the others walked down through Hazar, ready for anything and finding nothing. They reached the harbour, found the motor launch, got in and cast off, making for the Sultan. They coasted in.

The stern light was on under the awning, and it was quiet as Billy climbed up the ladder to tie up. Harry followed him, then Ferguson, Blake and Dillon.

At that instant, Hal Stone managed to reload the Browning and fired through the cabin door. The next moment, four Arabs ran out of the darkness to attack Ferguson's party.

Dillon fired at one of them, but the man, in a drug-crazed frenzy, rammed into him and drove him over the rail. Dillon took a deep breath, went under the Sultan and surfaced on the other side.

There were a couple of shots. He pulled himself up the ladder, moved in behind a crouching Arab with a knife in one hand, took his neck and twisted. There was a crack and the man slumped.