The White House Connection

'How dare you!'

"Oh, shut your face,' Dillon said. 'Try not to be stupid, because that's what you're being. Now if you want to live, listen to the man.'

Ferguson said, 'Just hear me, Senator. Let's discuss the Sons of Erin and see if you can make any Connection' – he emphasized the word – 'with your own experience.'

When he was finished, Cohan sat there, very pale. 'This has nothing to do with me.'

'Listen, you shite,' Dillon told him. 'Jack Barry was here in London last night, and why? To pick the meat off your bones.'

Cohan was really worried now, but tried to bluster. 'I know nothing of this.'

'The Sons of Erin are all dead, Senator. Now, maybe somebody just doesn't like dining clubs,' Dillon said. 'But our theory is that Jack Barry came over on a hasty trip to tidy things up, which meant stiffing you.'

It was Hannah who put in, 'But that still leaves, somewhere out there, the individual who got rid of your friends.'

'Nonsense,' Cohan told her. 'It's all rubbish. Now I demand that you leave me alone!' He swallowed the dry martini.

Ferguson said, 'So you won't cooperate. All right, Senator, have it your way. The Prime Minister and the President will be so informed. However, my instructions are to keep you alive if possible while you're in London, so we'll be there tonight at the Forum for Irish Peace doing our best to achieve that aim, whether you cooperate or not.'

'Go to hell.' Cohan got up and walked out.

Their pasta arrived. Hannah said, 'What now, sir?'

'Why, we enjoy this delicious light luncheon, return this evening and try to keep the bastard in one piece.'

'You think there could be a problem?'

'I've never been more certain of anything in my life.' Ferguson picked up a fork and turned to Dillon. 'Black tie, dear boy, do try to look civilized.'

With nowhere else to go, Cohan phoned the Connection on the coded mobile phone number and poured out everything, all his doubts, all his fears.

When he was finished, Thornton said, 'Can't you see what they're doing to you? I had an arrangement with Barry. He flew over to protect you, so they found out he was there, and he got out by the skin of his teeth, from what you say.'

'You told me I'd be safe in London.'

'You will be. I was just making doubly sure by sending Barry. Everything will be fine.'

'You said Barry would be taking care of whoever was behind the killings.'

'There's a lot going on you don't know about. Just trust me.'

'It's my hide if something goes wrong.'

'Senator, Senator – nothing will go wrong. Okay? So just calm down, relax, enjoy the party. I'll be in touch.'

Thornton hung up and immediately phoned Barry.

'I've had Cohan on in a hell of a state. He's had Ferguson and Dillon on his back. Why didn't you tell me how badly things went?'

'Because it only happened last night and I was busy getting out of England in one piece.'

'Let me hear your version.'

So Barry did, staying reasonably close to the truth. When he was finished, he said, 'It was just one of those things. How Dillon found me, I don't know.'

'A considerable nuisance, that man.'

'The army said that for twenty years and the IRA have been saying it ever since. Anyway, what about Cohan?'

'I'll have to leave him to do his own thing, I'll think of something when he returns to the States. I'll be in touch,' and he put down his phone.

In the house in South Audley Street, Lady Helen Lang went through her wardrobe and finally selected a superb evening suit in black crepe. She held the jacket against her as she stood in front of the mirror. There was a knock on the door and Hedley entered with a cup of tea.

'What do you think?' she asked.

'Looks good to me.'

She hung the black suit inside the wardrobe. 'Fine.' She sipped some of her tea. 'I've a hair appointment at Daniel Galvin's in forty-five minutes.'

'You look okay to me, Lady Helen.'

'All the world and his wife will be there tonight, Hedley.'

'Including Cohan?'

She smiled. 'I must look my best. Now go and get ready. I'll be with you in a quarter of an hour.'

The Forum for Irish Peace in the Dorchester ballroom was a splendid black tie affair. The Prime Minister had not yet arrived, but several members of the Cabinet had. The guest list certainly included the great and the good, and Dillon, surprised as always at the people pulled in for such a thing, reached for a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. He was wearing an evening suit with raw silk lapels.

Hannah, in a dull red silk suit by Versace, said, 'Take it easy, Dillon, it's a long night ahead.'

'You look grand, girl,' he told her. 'Fit for a three-page spread in Vogue magazine.'

'Flattery really will get you nowhere.'

'I know, and isn't that the terrible shame?'

Ferguson approached. 'Everything all right?'

'Jesus, Brigadier,' Dillon said. 'When I was a wee boy in Belfast , my grandmother would take me to the lounge in the old Grand Central for afternoon tea. The grandeur of it. She loved that. The head waiter wore a dinner suit just like yours.'

'Sticks and stones, Dillon,' Ferguson said. 'And my patience, as usual, is wearing dangerously thin.' He frowned. 'Good God, it's Lady Helen Lang,' and he turned from Dillon as she came through the crowd.

They embraced. 'So nice to see you, Charles.' She turned and saw Dillon. 'Why, it's Mr Dillon, isn't it?'

Dillon took her hand. 'A great pleasure to meet you again, Lady Helen.'

'I couldn't resist coming. I live in South Audley Street just round the corner. Terribly convenient. Every time I feel like a cocktail, I walk down to the Piano Bar.'

At that moment, there was a buzz over by the main door. Hannah appeared. 'The Prime Minister, Brigadier.'

Ferguson said, 'So sorry, Helen.' He nodded to Dillon. 'Get Lady Helen another glass of champagne, there's a good chap. With me, Chief Inspector.'

They walked away. Lady Helen said, 'You sometimes appear to be on the dangerous edge of things, Mr Dillon.'

'How very astute.' He grabbed two glasses from a passing tray and gave her one. 'There you are.' He glanced around. 'A grand bunch of people.'

'Who you despise totally.'

He raised his glass. 'To you, Lady Helen, and me, the only two people in a world gone mad.'

She smiled as she returned his toast, and for some reason, he was aware of a coldness, a terrible unease. Now why should that be?

'Forum for Irish peace.' He shook his head. 'Seven hundred years coming and too late for some.' He took a deep breath. 'God save us, but I'm sorry.'

'Ah, you're thinking of my son,' she smiled, very calm. 'If you work for Charles, you'll know my background, but as a great writer once said, the past is a foreign country, Mr Dillon. No, we should never dwell on the past. We must manage with what we've got.'

'A thought,' Dillon said. 'But not much of a comfort.'

At that moment, an ageing lady approached. 'My dear Helen, so nice to see you.'

They touched cheeks and Helen Lang said, 'You two won't know each other. The Duchess of Stevely, Sean Dillon.'

'A considerable pleasure.' Dillon kissed her hand.

'Oh, I do like the Irish,' the Duchess said. 'Such rogues. Are you a rogue, Mr Dillon?'

Helen said, 'Well, he works for Charles Ferguson.'

'There you are then,' the Duchess said.

'I'll love you and leave you.' Dillon withdrew.

He saw Ferguson talking to a Cabinet minister, Hannah waiting discreetly close at hand. She came across to him.

' Cohan just came in. He's talking to the American Ambassador in the corner over there. It's difficult to keep track in a crowd like this.'

'Girl, dear, whatever else, no one is going to do anything very dramatic to him at an affair like this.'

'You think he's going to be all right?' She shook her head. 'The Brigadier seems so certain.'