Ferguson said, “My God, you’re the most incredible man I’ve ever known.”
“I agree with you.” Devlin laughed. “Tell Sean to watch his back,” and he put the phone down.
Hannah drove out of the Ministry of Defense garage in her red Mini car, the one she found best in London traffic. She parked on the forecourt of her ground floor flat in Ebury Place, unlocked the door, and went in.
The man who called himself George Brown straightened behind the wheel of the black Ford Escort parked along the street and reached for his mobile.
“She’s here. Get over as quickly as you can. If she leaves before you get here, I’ll follow and contact you.”
Hannah at that moment was having a quick shower. She stepped out, toweled dry, then put on fresh underwear and a blouse. She found a fawn trouser suit, dressed, and went downstairs.
She phoned her father’s office in Harley Street, only to discover from his secretary that he was doing a heart and lung transplant at the Princess Grace Hospital that would probably take eight hours.
Not that it mattered, for she knew who she really wanted to see. She grabbed her handbag, went out, and drove away in the Mini car just as an ambulance turned the corner. Brown cursed and went after her, but five minutes later and proceeding along the Embankment beside the Thames, was comforted to find the ambulance on his tail.
The driver was Aaron Eitan, Moshe in the seat beside him. “Keep close,” Moshe said. “This traffic is terrible.”
Aaron laughed. “It’s years since I last drove in London. What fun.”
Rabbi Thomas Bernstein was seated at his study desk, a small but distinguished-looking man with a snow-white beard and hair topped by a plain yarmulke in black velvet. There was a knock, the door opened, and his granddaughter came in.
He put down his pen and held out his arms. “So there you are, light of my life.”
She embraced him warmly. “Your sermon for Shab-bes?”
“Queen of the week. It’s like show business. I have to catch their attention. How are you?”
“Busy.”
He laughed. “I’ve learned enough about you and your work to know that means you’re on a big case.”
“The biggest.”
He stopped smiling. “Can you tell me about it?”
“No, highly secret and all that.”
“You’re troubled. Why?”
“All I can say is there’s a Jewish element and it disturbs me.”
“In what way?”
“Let me ask you a question. The man who shot Prime Minister Rabin-”
He interrupted her. “Murdered is a more accurate word.”
“The man who did that, and those who support him, claimed some sort of biblical authority for what he did.”
His voice was stern. “No such authority exists in either the Bible or the Torah. That despicable act of violence was a great sin in the eyes of God.”
“So, if I had to hunt down such people, it would not disturb you?”
“Because they are Jews? Why should it? We are the same as other people. Good, bad, average, sometimes evil.”
“Tell me,” she said, “why does God allow these things to happen, the evil that men do?”
“Because he gave us free will, the possibility of choice. In that lies the only true meaning of salvation.” He held her hands. “Trust in what you believe is right, child, do what you have to do. You have my blessing as always.”
She kissed his forehead. “I must go. I’ll see you soon.”
She went out. He sat staring at the door, then started to pray for her.
TEN
The ambulance was parked in the street, Brown’s black Escort behind it, and he stood beside it. As she came out of the gate of the small garden in front of her grandfather’s house, she had to pass the Escort and the ambulance to get to her Mini car. Brown knocked on the rear doors of the ambulance and spoke to her at the same time.
“Detective Inspector Bernstein?”
She paused instinctively, turning toward him. “Yes, who are you?”
The doors of the ambulance opened and Moshe jumped down, grabbed her arm, and pulled her between the doors. Aaron reached down and lifted her inside. Moshe followed and produced a pistol with a silencer.
“Now be good, Chief Inspector. If he had to shoot you, no one would hear a thing.” Aaron took her handbag, opened it, and removed her Walther. “I’ll look after this.”
“Who are you?”
“Jews like you, Chief Inspector, and proud of it.”
“Maccabees?”
“You are well informed. Wrists, please.” He cuffed them in front of her with plastic handcuffs. “Now behave yourself.”
He got out and closed the doors. Brown said, “I’ll be right behind. I’ll join you in Dorking.”
“Let’s get moving, then,” Aaron told him, and he got behind the wheel and drove away.
Moshe said, “You want a cigarette?”
“I don’t smoke,” she said in Hebrew.
He smiled delightedly and replied in kind. “But of course, I should have known.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“You’ll never get away with it.”
“I’m ashamed of you, Chief Inspector, that’s just a line from a bad movie. We are Maccabees, as Dillon must have told you. We can do anything. We kidnapped the President’s daughter. We kidnapped Dillon and where is he now? On a slab in a Washington morgue.”
“So you animals did that, too? I wasn’t sure, now I know. How do you justify that?”
“He served his purpose, but Dillon was the kind of man who could have become a serious liability.”
“You had him murdered?”
“Sometimes the end does justify the means and our cause is just. More important than the life of a man like Dillon.”
“That sounds familiar.” Hannah nodded. “Ah, yes, Hermann Göring, nineteen thirty-eight. Don’t let’s get upset over the deaths of a few Jews, that’s what he said.”
Moshe was pale and the pistol trembled in his hand. “Shut your mouth!”
“Gladly. Actually, I’d rather not talk to you at all,” Hannah Bernstein told him.
In his office, Ferguson checked his watch. It was just after five and no sign of Hannah yet. At that moment, his phone rang and he switched on the Codex. “Ferguson.”
“It’s me,” Dillon said. “Just hit Farley Field. Thanks for the RAF Range Rover.”
“Straight down to the Ministry,” Ferguson told him. “So much traffic in and out of our garage, you’ll be swallowed up.”
“No one would recognize me, anyway.”
“One good thing. No directional microphones in here. I’ve had a fresh detection outfit brought in so we’re secure.”
“All except for our computer system,” Dillon said. “See you soon.”
Aaron reached Dorking within half an hour and pulled into the parking lot of a huge supermarket crammed with vehicles. Brown parked his car and came round and Aaron leaned out.
“Okay, you get in the back. Afterwards, drive back here in the ambulance, dump it, and clear off in your own car.”
“Fine.”
Brown went round, opened the rear door and climbed in, closing it behind him. Hannah looked him over as the ambulance drove away, and a kind of realization dawned. “Well, now, you wouldn’t be George Brown by any chance?”
Brown was put out. “What do you mean?”
“Oh, an informed guess. Put it down to twelve years as a copper. One develops a nose for these things.”
“Damn you!” he said.
“No, damn you!” Hannah Bernstein told him.
Onwards from Dorking, Aaron made for Horsham. On the other side, he moved further into Sussex toward the River Arun, finally turning into a maze of country lanes following signs to Flaxby. He reached it, the kind of village which was a single pub and a scattering of houses. A mile on, he turned into a narrow lane that emerged into a huge overgrown airfield, a tower and several hangars decaying with age. He braked to a halt outside the hangars.