Edge of Danger

In the drawing room at South Audley Street, Paul, Kate and Michael sat at a table with Bell. It was the moment Aidan Bell disclosed the truth.

'Ferguson's going to be on tenterhooks. He's expecting a hit, and by now he's convinced himself it'll be on the boat trip. But it won't.'

'What? Then what's your plan?' Kate asked.

'The Premier's staying on the top floor of the Dorchester. There are some lovely flat roofs below, with perfect lines of fire. I'll climb up there and do it myself.'

There was silence. Michael said, 'I'll go with you.'

'Hey, that's not necessary.'

'Bell, this time I want to make sure. I was trained as a marksman myself. I'm going with you.'

Paul Rashid said, 'And so am I.'

Kate said, 'For God's sake, Paul, what are you thinking of? Three people? It's much too dangerous.'

'I don't care. This is our last chance, Kate. If we fail this time, then it doesn't matter if we get caught anyway.' He turned and smiled, and for the first time she thought it the smile of the truly mad. 'This is for George, Kate, and for our mother. There's no turning back.'

Dillon, Blake and Ferguson visited the Dorchester and were shown up to the suite. The views from the terrace were as advertised. They were extraordinary – and extraordinarily dangerous.

'Dillon's right,' Ferguson said. 'The Premier can't stay here.'

'How will you handle it?' Blake asked.

'No need to make a big fuss. I'll just tell the Prime Minister's office that I'm not happy with the overall security.'

'Which means you won't need to explain the plot,' Blake said.

'Exactly. Low key, that's how we'll keep it. I'll see the Prime Minister again.'

At Downing Street, Dillon sat in the Daimler while Ferguson and Blake were taken to the Prime Minister's study. He was sitting with a small man in his early fifties, with white hair and the look of the academic he'd once been. He was Simon Carter, the Deputy Director of the Security Services, and no friend of Ferguson.

'So what happened in Hazar?' the Prime Minister asked.

'Well, for one thing, the Council of Elders is still intact, thanks to Dillon.'

'Not that little Irish swine again,' Carter said.

'Carter, we're not friends, but I've never disputed your efficiency in the past. Let me tell you what Dillon achieved, if you'll allow me, Prime Minister.'

'Of course.'

Afterwards, the Prime Minister said, 'Extraordinary,' and even Carter had to agree.

'Now tell him about Nantucket,' the Prime Minister said.

This time, when Ferguson had finished, Carter said, 'It's incredible, the whole damn business.' He looked more shaken than Ferguson had ever seen him. 'Well, it's clear we'll have to cancel everything with the Premier, wipe it all out.'

'Hold on,' Ferguson said. 'We have a better idea.'

'What is that?' the Prime Minister said.

'Russian security must be told we might have a problem. I would handle it this way, if the Deputy Director approves. Allow the arrangements at the Dorchester to go through. That would be for the media.'

'And then?'

'Cancel the cocktail party on the Prince Regent, but only at the last moment. Any excuse will do. Change the dinner venue to somewhere like the Reform Club. I'm sure they'd love to have you, sir.'

The Prime Minister smiled. 'I'm certain of it.'

Carter said, 'And then?'

'The Premier is taken back, not to the Dorchester but to his Embassy.'

'But what would the final point be?' the Prime Minister said.

'That I would wait in the suite at the Dorchester with people of my choosing.'

'Dillon?'

'Yes, sir, and some friends of his. They did great service in Hazar. However, you wouldn't put them on the New Year's Honours List.'

'And they'd wait to see if Rashid or this man Bell turned up?'

'Yes, sir, but it's even better than that. I think the Deputy Director already sees what I'm getting at.'

Carter smiled. 'Yes.' And he turned to the Prime Minister. 'There's been no indictable proof against Rashid up to now. But if he comes, or one of his men, and we get him alive, he won't be untouchable any more. He must be getting desperate by now. At last, we can lay a trap for him instead of the other way around.'

'Then so be it.' The Prime Minister stood. 'It's in your hands, gentlemen. Mr Johnson, I'll speak to the President.'

Outside, it was cold. Dillon stood beside the Daimler smoking a cigarette as Ferguson, Blake and Carter approached.

Ferguson said to Carter, 'Can I give you a lift?'

'No, I feel like a walk, and sitting in the car with someone who once mortar-bombed Downing Street is more than I can take.'

Dillon said, 'Jesus, sir, the grand man you are, and absolutely right.'

In spite of himself, Carter laughed. 'Damn you, Dillon.' He moved away toward the Downing Street gates, paused and turned back, and he wasn't smiling. 'I don't care who he is, I don't care about his medals or his money. Stop him, Dillon.'

He walked away.

Ferguson phoned Rashid at the company offices and found he was not available. A secretary asked him to wait, and after a moment, Kate Rashid came to the phone.

'General Ferguson. What can I do for you?'

'I'll be in the Piano Bar at the Dorchester at eight o'clock.'

'Am I supposed to be interested?'

'I'd earnestly advise it, Lady Kate. Bring the Earl.'

He put down the phone.

She reported to Paul, who was down at the Dauncey Arms with Bell and Michael, and told him of her conversation with Ferguson. 'I'll handle it, if you want me to,' she said.

'No,' Paul said. 'We'll come up this afternoon. I'm not going to leave you on your own with Dillon and Ferguson. Never underestimate the General. I'll see you later.'

He switched off his phone. Michael said, 'Trouble?'

'Ferguson wants a meeting. We'll go back.'

'All of us?'

'Oh, yes.' He turned to Bell. 'You'll have to keep your head down.' He smiled at Betty Moody. 'We're heading out, love.'

As they sat in the Rolls-Royce, the glass divider closed, the Earl said to Bell, 'I think you'd better not stay at the South Audley house.'

'Where would you suggest?'

'Michael has a motor cruiser parked at a place called Hangman's Wharf at Wapping. You can stay there overnight.'

'That sounds good to me.'

'This meeting, brother,' Michael asked. 'What does Ferguson want?'

'Whatever Dillon wants. We'll see.' Paul Rashid closed his eyes and leaned back.

But in London, Dillon had been doing some thinking himself. He had hooked up to Ferguson's computer and trawled the list of the Rashid company's assets. Then he called Harry Salter at the Dark Man.

'Harry. Michael Rashid has this boat parked at Hangman's Wharf in Wapping. You know everything that's going on along the river. What's the story?'

'Let me check my computer.' After a while, Salter came back, laughing. 'It's called Hazar.'

'Well, that fits. Is Billy there?'

'Yes.'

'Put us on conference.'

After explaining the situation, Dillon said, 'So he must have Bell tucked up somewhere. What do you think? South Audley Street or Hangman's Wharf?'

'Could be either,' Billy said. 'I'll check out South Audley for an hour or two this evening. If there's no result, I'll try the Hazar.'

That evening, Kate Rashid arrived first, to find Dillon waiting for her.

'What? No piano this evening, Dillon? I'm disappointed. I came all this way just to hear you play. You'd never know that your true vocation is for killing people.'

'But not torture, Kate. Not killing a young, decent man in the most horrific way. Bronsby deserved better.'

'Well, fuck you, too,' she said.

'Jesus, girl, did they tell you that at Oxford?'

In spite of herself, she showed a glimmer of a smile. 'Oh, posh girls can be worse than the tarts.'

'How exciting.'

He lit a cigarette, and she reached and took it from his mouth and smoked it for a moment. 'You killed my brother.'