The Judas gate

'I have no idea.'

'He was English, I believe, not an Arab.'

It was her father who said, 'That's enough. Go, Daniel, and don't come back.'

'Just one more thing. He was in reasonable health when you left him. You gave him the penicillin in the kit, and soon?' said Dillon.

'Oh yes, I did everything he told me – not that it will do him the slightest good. He's obviously going to die and I think he knows it.'

She went inside, leaving a stunned silence, and Hamza said, 'That's it, on your way.' He patted the machine gun. 'Unless you want to argue with this.'

'Whatever you say, old friend,' Holley told him. 'I think you can take it that we won't be back.'

'You weren't even here, as far as we're concerned,' Hamza said. 'I imagine that's the way the authorities in Algiers will look at it. After all, an Al Qaeda operation is the last thing they'd want to have anything to do with.' The heavy rain kept what little life there was in Dafur indoors. They dumped the inflatable in the creek, walked down to the runway where the Falcon stood, silent and waiting. Holley took the controls and, within five minutes, they were taking off. Dillon found himself a drink and Miller called Roper on his Codex.

'That was quick. Did you finally come face to face with Shamrock?'

'In a way, I suppose. The whole thing was a sting.'

'What do you mean?'

'Ali Hakim turned out to be Al Qaeda's man in Algiers.'

'God in heaven,' Roper said.

'You can imagine what a shock it was for Holley. The story about Shamrock having dealings with Hamza was just bait for us to go and get knocked off. They'd hoped Ferguson would be there, too.'

'So no Shamrock?'

'No, he turned up. Apparently, he wanted to enjoy dealing with us personally.'

'Just start at the beginning, so I can make some sense of it,' Roper said.

Which Miller did, and when he was finished, said, 'So there it is. Shamrock winging his way back to wherever he came from, with the pilot who flew him in and waited for him.'

'Badly wounded and dying, according to this Fatima girl.'

'She's a strange one, but that's what she said.' Miller was repeating himself now. 'Dillon shot him in the side and the bullet went straight through.'

'And he's making a flight to we don't know where, which could take hours. He's committing suicide.'

'Well, that's the story and it's obviously not finished yet.'

'It's incredible. You've certainly had an extraordinary outing this time. God knows what Ferguson will make of it.'

'He'll be over the moon about one thing. We now know who the Preacher is. Imagine, a Professor of International Law at the London School of Economics, and he's moonlighting for Al Qaeda in London.'

'If you wrote it up, nobody would believe it,' Roper said.

'I would: my father knew Kim Philby at Cambridge,' Miller told him. 'Anything been happening while we've been away?'

'There hasn't been time, Harry. You've hardly been away. Take it easy. I'll see you soon.'

L ONDO N

N ORTHERN I RELAND

13

By the time the Citation X was winging its way across Spain to the Bay of Biscay, Chuck Alan was beginning to worry. When Justin Talbot had returned to the plane at Fasa, he had seemed very hyper and full of nervous energy. He'd insisted on taking the controls on take-off and only handed over during the second hour when Chuck had suggested the autopilot.

'Excellent idea,' Justin said. 'I don't think I had a wink of sleep while I was away. I'll get my head down.'

Two hours later, when Alan checked him, he was still asleep, his forehead damp, so Alan returned to the cockpit, consider ably concerned.

At the same time, the Preacher, having heard nothing from Hakim and no response when he tried to call him, contacted Hamza.

'What's happened to Hakim? I don't seem to be able to contact him.'

'Well, you wouldn't,' Hamza said. 'He's dead. In fact, his people are all dead. Dillon and his friends don't take prisoners.'

'Merciful Allah! And Shamrock?'

'Where did you find that guy, the Arabian Nights? He was really something in his Tuareg robes. God knows what he was here for. He only managed to shoot one person, and that was Hakim by mistake. Dillon shot him in return.'

'Are you saying he's dead?'

'No, badly wounded, but fit enough to have flown back out of this cesspool. My daughter did her best for him with his medical kit.'

'So he's going to be all right?'

'Not according to her. She thinks he's a goner and she's usually right about things like that. Where did you get my mobile number from?'

'Hakim.'

'Well, don't call again. I'm not afraid of Al Qaeda, and neither is anyone else that I know around here. After this cock-up, your new motto should be: Stay out of the Khufra.'

He cut off and Shah sat there thinking about it, and then called Talbot, who came awake with a start, the phone ringing in his breast pocket.

'Hamza's told me everything. What a debacle, and not helped by you indulging in your usual theatricals. So you've managed to get yourself shot?'

'Yes, and I don't exactly feel at my best. When I hit Belfast, I should book in at the Seaton – when it comes to gunshot wounds, Belfast hospitals are the best in the world; the Troubles gave them forty years' practice – but I don't know. They'll report me. What's the point in that?'

And Shah, angry and immensely irritated, said, 'You bloody fool, you're dying. Hamza's daughter said so.'

'Did she? Well, there you are then. She was a nice girl. You know your trouble, Preacher? You don't listen. I told you Dillon and his friends were hell on wheels, but you wouldn't have it. Your stupidity has ruined everything.'

'My stupidity?' Shah said. 'Damn you to hell, Talbot. I'll destroy you.'

'If I'm dying, it won't make any difference, so why don't you go fuck yourself?' Justin told him and cut off.

In his study at Bell Street, sitting behind the desk, Hassan Shah quite suddenly felt utterly helpless for the first time in years. Everything was slipping away from him. The consequences of the fiasco in the Khufra would undoubtedly affect his position in Al Qaeda when word reached Osama bin Laden. Once, he'd had the power to ruin Justin Talbot by just reaching for a telephone and making an anonymous call to any major newspaper, but that was no threat to a dying man. He frowned suddenly as a thought struck him: As long as he did die, of course. Roper informed Ferguson of everything while the Falcon was still on its way, and Ferguson was astounded. 'This is one of the most sensational coups in the history of my department.'

'Do you envisage repercussions, General?'

'No. Algeria is not well-disposed towards Al Qaeda, and Hakim was notorious for his deeply secret covert operations where no questions were ever asked. I think this will simply be regarded as one that went badly wrong and in one of the worst places in the country. The whisper of an Al Qaeda connection will kill it stone dead. It never happened, Major.'

'Tell that to Shamrock, flying off into the blue with Dillon's bullet in him.'

'And dying, if that young woman is right,' Ferguson added thoughtfully.

'Which leaves us with Professor Hassan Shah,' Roper told him. 'What's to be done there? Do we arrest him?'

'Not at the moment. We know how badly things have gone wrong – and so will he by now. Al Qaeda's tentacles spread far. Call in Billy right now. Tell him he's to stick to Shah like glue.'

'Should I put out a red code travel restriction so he can't leave the country?'

'No. I'll rely on Billy, and also Shah's confidence in his social and governmental position.' Ferguson shook his head. 'You know what really gets to me? He's the kind of eminent lawyer you would have expected to get a life peerage.'

'I see your point, General. I suppose he'll have to make do with a thirty-year sentence for high treason instead.'

'Exactly,' Ferguson said. 'But give Billy his orders now.'