Edge of Danger

Kate gave a sharp intake of breath. 'He came.'

'Didn't you think he would?' Rashid moved through the crowd with her, grasping hands, thanking people for coming.

'Glad you could make it, Dillon.'

'A great performance,' Dillon said to him.

'Glad you approve. I love the coats. Amazing what will go in those big pockets. And very considerate of you to bring your friend here.'

'What do you want to do, pay me off for Rama? Do what you did to Bronsby?' Billy shook his head. 'Just try, that's all I ask.'

Kate said, 'Paul, let's go.'

Betty came up, frowning. 'Is there a problem?'

'Not at all. These gentlemen are friends of mine.' Rashid smiled. 'Buffet and champagne afterwards.' Betty turned away. 'And then I'll expect you at Dauncey Place, if that's your pleasure.'

'Well, it's certainly my bleeding pleasure,' Billy told him.

'Excellent. I look forward to it. Come on, Kate.' And they turned away.

People started to filter into the church from eleven o'clock. Still, only a few limousines were outside this time, unlike the old Earl's funeral and Lady Kate's. As Rashid had arranged it, the great and the good were virtually excluded although, as before, one of the most important Imams in London had agreed to appear with the Rector, a measure of the liberality of the Muslim religion not often appreciated by outsiders.

Dillon moved in, with Billy. People were seating themselves, others walking around examining the marble edifices of the long dead. Billy was walking ahead, joining in. He suddenly paused, then motioned to Dillon.

'Look at this geezer, Sir Paul Dauncey. Says he died in fifteen-ten.'

'He's the original Paul,' Dillon said. 'The one who fought for Richard III at Bosworth, a bad day for his side. He escaped to France and the new King, Henry Tudor, pardoned him.'

'How do you know all this?'

'I looked it up, Billy. It's all in Debrett's – that's the bible of the English aristocracy.'

Billy looked down at Sir Paul Dauncey. 'He even looks like Rashid.'

'That kind of thing happens in families, Billy.'

'I tell you what, he looks a hard bastard.'

'He looks like a warrior, Billy, which is what he was.' He shrugged. 'It's what Rashid is. To be honest, it's what you are. Remember something I once told you? There are men of a rough persuasion who look after those things ordinary people can't handle in life. Usually, they're soldiers of one kind or another.'

'Just like you and me.'

'In a manner of speaking.' Dillon smiled. 'Now let's move to the back of the church.'

The congregation settled, the organ started to play and Major Paul Rashid, Earl of Loch Dhu, and Lady Kate Rashid came through the main entrance, followed by the undertakers carrying the two coffins, one behind the other. Each was draped in the Union flag. George's had his paratrooper's red beret on top, Michael's the cap he'd worn when passing out of Sandhurst, and in both cases, the ceremonial jambiya of a Rashid chieftain. The Rector had moved in from the vestry, followed by the Imam.

There was silence. The Rector said, 'We are here to celebrate the lives of two young men. George and Michael are Rashids but also Daunceys, a bloodline linked to our village that has borne that name since the fifteenth century.' The service began.

Later, it rained as the coffins were taken to the family mausoleum. The congregation followed, one undertaker carrying a huge black umbrella over Rashid and Kate. Baxter had parked the Jaguar by the churchyard gate. Billy ran down to him and came back with a brolly.

'Jesus, I've never seen so many umbrellas.' 'It's life imitating art. I could do with a cigarette and a large Bushmills, in that order.'

'So we're going to this buffet at the pub?'

'Why not? In for a penny, in for a pound.'

He turned and walked away, and Billy followed.

At the Jaguar, Joe Baxter got out, and Dillon said, 'We'll walk. You wait by the green, Joe.'

Baxter glanced at Billy, who said, 'What he says goes, just do it.'

'As you say, Billy.'

He got in and drove away as Dillon lit a cigarette. Billy said, 'We're not tooled up yet.'

'There's time for that, Billy, plenty of time. Let's take a walk.' And they moved down towards the green, Billy holding the umbrella over them.

In London, Harry Salter called Sam Hall but had difficulty in contacting him. A young woman secretary informed him that Sam was taking care of a consignment down the river. In truth, Sam was well and truly keeping his head down.

Harry, totally frustrated, told Dora to arrange his car and a driver and got dressed. She had to help him because his shoulder wound needed its sling. As she finished, the matron looked in.

'Are you discharging yourself, Mr Salter?'

'No, I'm just going home. I'll come back any time you want for my check-up.'

'Well, Professor Bernstein's here at the moment, having a look at General Ferguson, but I don't think for long.'

'You mean Ferguson's here?'

'Certainly.'

'You show me where.'

A little while later, he sat in a reception area, turning. A door opened and Ferguson emerged, followed by Arnold Bernstein, briefcase in hand.

'Why, Harry,' Ferguson said.

'Don't Harry me, you old sod.'

Bernstein said, 'I can't remember telling you you could get out of bed, Mr Salter.' "Well, I'm out and I'm going. I'll sign anything you want, only I need a word with his Highness here.' "Oh dear, trouble?' Bernstein sighed. 'I'm going to see my daughter. I'll be back shortly, and I urge you to seek my advice. You need the correct medication at least.'

He walked away and Harry turned on Ferguson. 'What a bastard you are, having Dillon banged up.'

Ferguson said, 'What in the hell are you talking about?'

'Billy told me last night. You had Special Branch lift him, using the old IRA record you were supposed to wipe clean, and banged him up at West End Central to stop him going to the Dauncey funerals and confronting Rashid.'

Ferguson said, 'I ordered Dillon not to go. He wouldn't listen. You say Billy told you this?'

'Yes.'

'Where is he? Phone him now.'

'Well, he's unavailable. A job in Southampton.' A look of horror appeared on his face. 'Oh, God, he lied to me. Dillon's gone down there.'

'And I think you'll find Billy has gone, too, to watch his back. It's the only likely explanation for his absence.'

'I knew he wanted to go and I said I'd go, too.'

'Well, that explains a lot. You've been damaged enough. He wanted to keep you out of it. You see, a face-to-face confrontation with Rashid will probably be like a spaghetti Western.'

'And you're letting this happen? You're worse than me.'

Ferguson said, 'Because of our connection over the last few years, I've really had you checked out. In your days of Empire as one of the most important Guvnors – I believe that's the phrase – you fought off the Corelli brothers, three of them, who totally disappeared. Then there was Jack Hedley, the one called Mad Jack. Found in an alley off Brewer Street. I could remind you of a few more.' "All right,' Harry said. 'That was business. It was only ever that with me. I never did whores, never did drugs.'

I know, Harry, you just killed people who got in your way. I do the same thing or have it done. There's always a good reason. It's my job, Harry, it's business.' "So what are you getting at?'

I've had enough of Rashid. I don't need to go into it. You know what he's been responsible for. His two brothers have gone down, thanks to Dillon. Bell and his cronies are out of it. That only leaves Rashid, and he's got to go, too.' "But you didn't want Dillon to go down to that funeral and face Rashid's challenge.'

'So I'm a liar, Harry. I pushed Dillon a little, but I knew he'd go, and if he finishes Rashid in the right way, it suits me. You see, Dillon is a remarkable man not just because of his many gifts and his good brain and the fact that he can kill without it giving him a problem.'