Читать книгу A Devil is Waiting - Jack Higgins, Justin Richards - Страница 11

The flight attendant was leaning over her anxiously.

‘Are you okay? You called out.’

‘Fine, just fine. A bad dream. I’ve been under a lot of stress lately. I think I’ll go to the restroom and freshen up.’

She moved along the aisle, limping slightly, a permanent fixture now, although it didn’t bother her unless she got overtired. She stood at the mirror, ran a comb through her hair, touched up what little make-up she wore, and smiled at herself.

‘No sad songs, Sara Gideon,’ she said. ‘We’ll go now and have a delicious martini, then think about tonight’s reception at the Pierre.’

At Kennedy, her diplomatic status passed her straight through, and she was at the Plaza just after five o’clock. The duty manager escorted her personally to her suite.

‘Would you have any news on General Ferguson’s time of arrival?’ she enquired.

‘Eight o’clock, but I believe that’s open, ma’am.’

‘And his two associates, Mr Dillon and Mr Holley?’

‘They booked into the hotel yesterday, but I think they’re out. I could check.’

‘No, leave it. I think I’ll rest. Would you be kind enough to see that no calls are put through, unless it’s the general?’

‘I’ll see to it, ma’am. Your suitcase was delivered this morning. You’ll find it in the bedroom. If you need any assistance, the housekeeper will be happy to oblige.’

He withdrew, and she didn’t bother to unpack. Instead of lying down, though, she put her laptop on the desk in the sitting room and sat there going over all the material sent to her by Major Giles Roper, whose burned and ravaged face had become as familiar to her as her own, this man who had once been one of the greatest bomb-disposal experts in the British Army, now reduced to life in a wheelchair.

It would be after eleven at night in London, but experience had taught her that if he was sleeping, it would be in his wheelchair anyway, in front of his computer bank, which was where she found him when she called him on Skype.

‘Giles, I’m at the Plaza and just in from Arizona. My report on Reaper drones will curl your hair.’

‘I look forward to reading it, Sara. You’re looking fit.’ They’d already become good friends. ‘Are you likely to enjoy tonight’s little soirée?’

‘There will be nothing little about it. No word from the general yet?’

‘I’ve spoken to him. He and Harry Miller have met with the President and should arrive at Kennedy around eight, if the weather holds. I was going to call you anyway. Your boss, Colonel Hector Grant – boss until midnight anyway – would appreciate you being there before eight.’

‘Happy to oblige him. I haven’t seen Dillon and Holley. They’re apparently out at the moment.’

‘Yes, they’re seeing to something for Ferguson.’

‘In New York? Is that legal?’

‘You wouldn’t want to know.’

She shook her head. ‘This whole business is the weirdest thing that’s ever happened to me. That General Charles Ferguson could take over my military career by Prime Minister’s warrant, which I never even knew existed, and make me a member of his private hit squad, which I’d always heard rumours about but never believed in.’

‘Well, it does.’

‘And I find myself in your hands, face-to-face on screen with a man who sits in a wheelchair, hair down to his shoulders, smokes cigarettes, constantly drinks whiskey, and seems to eat only bacon sandwiches at all hours, day and night.’

‘I can’t deny any of it.’

Tony Doyle, a black London Cockney and sergeant in the military police, appeared beside Roper with a mug of tea. He handed it to him and smiled at Sara. ‘Good to see you, ma’am.’

‘Tony, just go away.’ He laughed and went out.

‘It’s like a movie, Giles. I only see what you want me to. I have to take your word for everything.’

‘My dearest girl, all that I’ve told you about Holland Park is true, and you’ve got photos of everyone who works here, the details of their lives, their doings.’

‘So Dillon trying to blow up John Major and his Cabinet in London all those years ago, that’s true?’

‘And he got well paid for it.’

‘And Daniel Holley really was IRA and now he’s a millionaire and some sort of a diplomat for the Algerian foreign minister?’

‘Absolutely. He’s not just a pretty face in a Brioni suit, our Daniel.’

‘I didn’t say he was.’ She shrugged. ‘Obviously, he’s killed a few people.’

‘A lot of people, Sara, don’t kid yourself. And he’s too old for you. By the way, I went to hear your grandfather give a sermon.’

‘You what?’

‘I looked him up online. Rabbi Nathan Gideon, Emeritus Professor at London University, and famous for his sermons, so I went to hear one. I saw him at a synagogue in West Hampstead. Tony took me in the van. People were most kind, loaned me a yarmulke for my head and provided one for Tony, also. He thoroughly enjoyed the sermon. Human rights and what to do about its failures. I introduced myself and told him I worked for the Ministry of Defence and that we were going to be colleagues. He asked us back for tea. Whether this broke the Sabbath ruling, I’m not sure, but he did also provide some rather delicious biscuits.’

‘And this was at the Highfield Court house in Mayfair?’

‘That’s right. Tony was fascinated. Your grandfather gave him a book on Judaism, and he talks of nothing else.’

‘Are you completely mad?’

‘I sometimes think I am, but one thing is certain – Nathan Gideon is a wonderful man, and I’d be privileged to have his friendship.’

‘Is there anything else I should know?’

‘Yes, since you appear to be interested in Holley. His father was a hardline Protestant who didn’t like Catholics, but happened to fall in love with one who came from an equally hardline IRA family.’

‘So that explains his foot in both camps?’

‘Yes. And it led him as a young man to take refuge with the IRA, who sent him to a terrorist training camp in the Algerian desert, from which he emerged a thoroughly dangerous individual. So be warned. Anything else?’

‘Holland Park. What’s its purpose?’

‘To keep watch over terrorism. London is the dream destination for any jihadist. He can speak openly about intending to destroy our way of life and even involve himself in a plot or two.’

‘But the security services and the police are there to do something about that.’

‘Like arrest him and then discover that because of human rights laws, he can’t even be deported when he entered the country illegally?’

‘It’s hard to believe that.’

‘You’ll take worse things than that in your stride when you work for us. A couple of years ago, an Al Qaeda-based unit caused a terrible accident to happen to Harry Miller’s limousine on Park Lane. Unfortunately, Harry’s wife was using the car that morning. She and the chauffeur were killed.’

‘That’s terrible. What happened then?’

‘The bombmaker was traced. It was an IRA sleeper living in London. He was dying of cancer and fingered his Al Qaeda paymaster. After he died, Dillon called in a disposal team.’

‘Disposal team?’

‘A quick bullet solves most problems, but you need our personal undertaker, Mr Teague, and his associates to clean up and take the body away. A couple of hours later and it’s six pounds of grey ash.’

‘What happened to the paymaster?’ Sara asked.

‘Harry made that personal. Went round to the Al Qaeda guy’s house, shot him dead, and left Al Qaeda to clear up. I mean, they wouldn’t be likely to call in the police, would they?’

‘I wonder if I’m going to be able to cope with Holland Park.’

‘You’ll do fine. I’ve seen your file. There were at least twenty Taliban corpses around that Sultan.’

‘That was war.’

‘And so is this, sweetheart. By the way, I’m told you’ve been awarded a Military Cross for Abusan.’

She was reeling now. ‘But that can’t be true.’

‘The Intelligence Corps couldn’t resist putting their golden girl up for a medal for bravery. Of course, people like us don’t get medals, it’s too public, so Ferguson isn’t pleased. But don’t worry, you’ll get it. Just don’t expect a fuss.’

‘Giles, why don’t you go to hell and take Ferguson with you?’

‘I’ve been there, Sara, and it wasn’t good. Enjoy the Pierre, give my best to Sean, and watch it with Daniel.’

‘Just go, Giles.’ And he did.

She checked on the screen again, thoroughly annoyed, and brought up Daniel Holley. Medium height, brown hair that was rather long, the slight smile of a man who didn’t take his world too seriously and who looked ten years younger than he was.

In spite of the tattoos on his arms, common to convicts who’d spent time in the Lubyanka Prison, there was no sign of the killer on that handsome and rather attractive face, and yet that was exactly what he was. It was all there, his record in the field, meticulously put together by Giles Roper.

She went and unpacked, just the essentials since she was accompanying Ferguson to London, but she’d made sure to bring her dress uniform for tonight’s reception. The Yanks would be there, but they were friends. The Russians were another matter, and she had heard that Colonel Josef Lermov of Russian Military Intelligence, the GRU, head of station at the London Embassy, would be present. His book on international terrorism had become essential reading in military circles.

She hung up her uniform tunic with the medal ribbons, the neat skirt, shirt and tie, high-polished shoes, the dress cap. Good old khaki splendour. Just like graduating at Sandhurst, except for the medals. Ten years of her life.

‘Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Sara,’ she murmured, then went into the splendid bathroom and started to fill the tub.

At seven-thirty that evening, Dillon was sitting at a corner seat in the bar at the Pierre, dressed in a black velvet corduroy suit and enjoying a Bushmills whiskey, when Holley entered, wearing a beautifully tailored single-breasted suit of midnight blue, a snow-white shirt, and a blue striped tie.

‘Daniel, you look like a whiskey advert. You’ve excelled yourself. What about our new associate?’

Holley waved to the waiter and called for a vodka on crushed ice. ‘I tried to get through to her room, but the duty manager said she was resting. Roper’s put everything online, though.’

‘Is there much there?’

‘The usual identity card photos that make anyone, male or female, look like a prison officer. She has red hair.’

‘I look forward to that,’ Dillon said. ‘I love red hair.’

‘There was one unusual thing. Some video footage of her undergoing therapy for her wounded leg at Hadleigh Court.’

‘The army rehab centre?’ Dillon said.

‘I found it a bit disturbing.’

‘What’s her birth date?’

‘Fourth of September.’

‘Virgo.’ Dillon shook his head. ‘The only zodiac sign represented by a female. Still waters run deep with one of those, and you being the wrong sort of Leo, with Mars in opposition to Venus, you’ve got nothing but trouble on your plate where the ladies are concerned.’

‘Thanks very much, Sean, most helpful, particularly as I’m not in the market for a relationship.’

‘What did Roper have to say about Sara Gideon?’

‘She’s a bit bothered about being dragooned into Holland Park. And apparently she’s up for a Military Cross for Abusan. He read me the details.’

‘Impressive?’

‘You could say that. I had a call from Harry. They’re about to land, and they’ll see us here.’

‘And Sara Gideon?’

‘I’ve just checked at the Plaza desk. She left in a military vehicle.’

‘Seems a bit excessive, since we’re only a few blocks away.’

‘It seems her boss, this Colonel Hector Grant, was in the car.’

‘Well, there you are,’ Dillon told him. ‘Privileges of rank. Probably fancies her. Let’s drink up, go upstairs, and see if we can ruin his evening.’

The UN reception was all that you might expect: politicians from many countries, plus their military, the great and the good, and many familiar television faces. Waiters passed to and fro, the champagne flowed, and a four-piece band played music, helped out by an attractive vocalist.

A few couples were already taking a turn on the floor, among them Sara Gideon with a grey-haired colonel in British uniform who, at a couple or three inches over six feet, towered above her – at a guess, Colonel Hector Grant.

Holley said, ‘That red hair is fantastic.’

‘A lovely creature she is, to be sure.’ Dillon nodded. ‘I’d seize the day if I were you, while I go and embarrass Ferguson and Harry. I can see them over there queuing up with Josef Lermov, waiting their turn to shake hands with the ambassador.’

He walked away, and Holley stayed there, watching. Colonel Grant was smiling fondly, and she was smiling up at him with such charm that it touched the heart. They were dancing slowly, and the limp in her right leg was apparent, but only a little, and she laughed at something the colonel said.

At that moment, they turned and she was facing Holley. She stopped smiling, frowning a little as if she knew him and was surprised to see him there. The music finished. She reached up to speak to the colonel, then turned, glanced briefly at Holley, and moved towards the exit leading to the ladies’.

A voice said, ‘Heh, I bet that colonel’s more than just her boss. I love a girl in uniform, and that limp is kind of sexy. Maybe I could do myself some good here.’

There were two of them, middle-aged, well-dressed and arrogant, and already drunk. They made for the exit, drinking from their glasses as the music started up again, and Holley went after them.

At that moment, the corridor happened to be empty, just Sara Gideon approaching the restroom door, and the one who was doing all the talking put his glass down on a stand in front of a mirror, moved up fast behind her, and put a hand on her shoulder.

‘Hang on there, young lady. I know you soldier girls like a little action. We know just the place to take you.’

‘I don’t think so,’ she said as Holley approached behind them. ‘I think my friend wouldn’t like that.’

‘And which friend would that be?’ the second man asked.

Holley punched him very hard in the kidneys and, as he cried in pain and doubled over, kicked his feet from under him and stamped in the small of his back. The other man reached into his inside breast pocket and tried to withdraw what turned out to be a small pistol. Sara put her elbow in the man’s mouth, then twisted his wrist in entirely the wrong direction until he moaned with pain and dropped the weapon. Holley picked it up. ‘Two-shot derringer with hollow points. I didn’t know there were still any of these around. Very lethal.’ He smacked the man’s face. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Leo,’ the man gasped. ‘Don’t hurt me.’

‘The NYPD would just love to catch you with one of these. You’d be in a cell in Rikers tonight and, what’s worse, the showers in the morning. So I suggest you pick your friend up by the scruff of the neck and get out of here while I’m in a good mood.’

‘Anything you say, anything.’ Leo was terrified and reached down to his friend, hauling him up.

Holley said to Sara, ‘I get the impression you know who I am.’

‘Let’s say I’ve seen you on screen.’

‘Do you still need the loo?’

‘No, I think that can wait. I could do with a drink, but I’d prefer to go to the hotel bar for it and catch my breath.’

‘The bar it is, then.’ He offered her his arm, and, behind them, Leo managed to get his friend on his feet, and they lurched away.

They sat at a corner table and waited until a waiter brought a martini cocktail for her and a large vodka for him. She picked up her glass.

‘You don’t take prisoners, do you?’ she asked.

‘I could never see the point. The way you handled that guy with the derringer, though, suggests you could have managed quite well on your own.’

‘I have a black belt in aikido. Giles Roper warned me about you, you know.’

‘So you’re familiar with my wicked past?’

‘And Holland Park,’ she said. ‘And what goes on there. I’ve been given full access. I must say he’s very thorough.’

‘He’s that, all right.’

‘That horrible man.’ She sipped her martini. ‘He was afraid for his life. You frightened the hell out of him.’

‘I meant to, he deserved it.’ He took his vodka down in a quick swallow, Russian-style, and she watched him gravely, waiting for more. ‘Look, I was involved in a terrible incident years ago that makes it impossible for me to stand by and do nothing when I see a woman in trouble.’

‘Being familiar with your file, I understand why.’

‘Well, there you are, then,’ Holley said. ‘Anything else you’d like to know?’

‘I saw you watching me dancing with Colonel Grant, but you looked startled for some reason.’

He shrugged. ‘Just astonished at finding the best-looking woman I’d seen in a uniform for years.’

She smiled. ‘Why, Daniel, you certainly know how to please a lady.’

‘No, I don’t. I’ve never had much time for relationships, not in my line of work. Here today and possibly gone forever tomorrow, if you follow me. What about you?’

‘If you’ve immersed yourself in my career, you’ll know that the past ten years have been one bloody war after another. There was a chap I got close to in Bosnia who was killed by a Serb sniper. Then there was a major in Iraq who went the same way, courtesy of the Taliban.’

‘What about Afghanistan?’

‘With my Pashtu and Iranian, I travelled the country a lot.’ She smiled bleakly. ‘Death seemed to follow me around.’

‘Well, he must have thought he’d got you in his clutches at last on the road to Abusan.’ He smiled. ‘If somebody did decide to make a movie, they couldn’t do better than let you play yourself.’

‘You should be my agent, Daniel.’

‘That’s the second time you’ve called me by my first name. That’s got to mean something.’ He looked beyond her and saw Ferguson, Miller, and Dillon entering the bar, Colonel Josef Lermov with them. ‘Look who’s here.’

The Russian, instead of his uniform, was wearing an old tweed country suit, blue shirt, and brown woollen tie. He advanced on Holley and hugged him.

‘I must say you’re looking wonderful, Daniel.’ He looked down at Sara. ‘And this can only be the remarkable Captain Sara Gideon.’ He reached for her hand and kissed it. ‘A great honour and privilege, one soldier to another.’

‘Coming from the author of Total War, Colonel Lermov, I must say the privilege is all mine,’ she replied in perfect Russian.

He smiled. ‘So your reputation as an exceptional linguist speaks for itself. I’m impressed.’

Miller called for coffee and they all sat down, Ferguson beside Sara. ‘Been in the wars, my dear, so Security tells me? You were on camera.’

‘I’ve just seen it, Daniel,’ Dillon told Holley. ‘You were your normal totally brutal self, and served those bastards right.’

‘I agree,’ Lermov said. ‘Frankly, I’d like to sentence them to a year in Station Gorky in Siberia and see what they made of that. Unfortunately, this is not my parish.’

‘So what’s going to happen?’ Sara asked.

‘We’ve discussed it with management, and the gentlemen involved, having been suitably threatened and banned from ever visiting the hotel again, have departed with their tails between their legs.’

‘They can count themselves lucky,’ Holley said. ‘NYPD could have caused them real trouble over that derringer.’

‘Anyway, there it is,’ Ferguson said. ‘Welcome to the club, Sara, glad to have you on board. Congratulations to you, Dillon and Holley, for your handling of the Amity business. Though Murphy wasn’t shot to death in Brooklyn, as we thought. He must have been wearing some sort of body armour. He’s turned up close to his apartment, stabbed in the heart. Whoever he was dealing with obviously wanted his mouth shut.’

‘It must have been a hell of a good vest he was wearing when I shot him into the East River,’ Dillon said.

‘Yes, but the important thing was the Irish connection you turned up and our old friend Jack Kelly.’ Coffee was being passed around and he carried on, ‘You may be surprised that we’re talking about our highly illegal conduct in Brooklyn in front of Colonel Lermov here.’ He turned to Lermov. ‘Perhaps you’d like to make a point, Josef?’

‘Of course, Charles.’ He removed his spectacles and polished them with a handkerchief. ‘In the old Cold War days, we were sworn enemies, but in a world of international terrorism, we’d be fools not to help each other out. Putin agrees with me.’ He turned to Holley. ‘The Al Qaeda plot to assassinate Putin in Chechnya last year was foiled by information supplied by you, Daniel. He will never forget that.’

‘I wish he would,’ Holley said.

Ferguson ignored him. ‘So we have common interests, but never mind that now. I’ll be in touch with you sooner than you think, Josef, but for the moment, we’ll say good-bye. We’re all heading back to London tonight.’

He shook hands with Lermov, walked to the door, and they all followed, Holley taking Sara’s hand. ‘Is it always like this?’ she demanded.

‘Only most of the time,’ Dillon said, and turned to glance at them, smiling. ‘I see you two seem to have met somewhere.’

And they walked into the night.