Day of Reckoning

'That's because they accomplished what they came here to do. Let's get out of here now!'

He scrambled down the ladder and they followed, running into Murphy and Kelly on the side deck.

'What the hell is going on?' Murphy demanded. 'Mossad. They've planted explosives. Move it!'

'Christ.'

They went down the steel stairway fast and crowded into the water taxi. Fox started the engine, Falcone and Russo threw the dead Arab into the water, and Fox took the boat away fast.

They were perhaps a hundred yards away when the explosion took place. The deck lifted, the bridge buckled, flames shot up into the night. Two or three men jumped from the stern, then the Fortuna seemed to break in half and went down very fast indeed. There was burning oil, faint screams.

'Shall we go back, Signore?' Falcone asked.

'What for? All I want to do is get back to the airport and get out of this fucking place. Take over.'

He lit a cigarette as they moved towards the pier. Murphy

said, 'It's all gone, not just the missiles but the gold.'

'I know. Isn't life hell?' Fox had an insane desire to laugh. 'But how did they know?'

'This is the Middle East, Brendan. The Israelis have had considerable experience at giving the Arabs a hard time. You think they can't find out what Saddam is up to? You think their friends everywhere from London to Washington can't find out?' He tossed his cigarette into the water. 'On top of that, the bastards can fight.'

'All that gold. I can't believe it.'

'Well, better get used to it.'

'Back to Heathrow now?'

'No point sticking around here. Do you and Kelly want a lift?'

'No, we're going to Paris, then Dublin.'

They crashed onto the pier. Fox had left a limousine with an Arab driver waiting. He said, 'I'm going back to the Golden House to pack and move on. Do you want a lift there, at least?'

'No, we'll get a taxi and go right to the airport.'

'No luggage — you lost it all on the boat. They'll think that's funny.'

'I know this place. There's a late-night bazaar. We'll pick up some stuff. No problem.'

'Good.'

They moved away from the others to the end of the pier. Murphy said, 'Christ, I needed that gold.'

'So did I,' Fox said.

'So what will you do?'

'I've something laid on in London that should take care of things.'

'Jesus, do you need a hand?'

'Not this time. What about you?'

'Back to Kilbeg to reflect. I'm not broke.'

'You still owe me on a lot of that equipment in the bunker. I know you've got at least a million on hold there.'

'I know, I know. A few bank raids will take care of the expenses, and the war will start again soon anyway.'

Fox held out his hand. 'Good luck. Stay in touch.'

'I will.'

They went back to the limousine, Fox, Falcone and Russo got in, and it drove away.

Murphy smelled the warm air, the aroma of spices. 'Disgusting, this place, Dermot. Let's go home to some civilization.'

Blake had a bullet crease on his right shoulder. Anya gave him first aid. On the Pamir, there was a certain jubilation.

Dillon and he changed, then went into the saloon. Moshe Levy was pouring wine into glasses, and Anya came in from a shower in a towelling robe, drying her hair.

'Where's Gideon?' Dillon asked.

'Making a phone call.'

Gideon was talking to his uncle at his apartment in Tel Aviv. General Cohen listened and slapped his thigh. 'Marvellous. What a coup.'

'Dillon and Blake Johnson are returning to London soon.' 'Well, tell them they go with my blessing. And Anya, she is well?'

'She should get a medal. She was wonderful.'

'Mossad doesn't give medals, you know that. But I will give you all a nice dinner.'

In Beirut, Fox, Falcone and Russo boarded their plane, discreetly observed by Lacey and Parry, who had been supplied with photos. The plane rose steadily to fifty thousand feet and turned into the Mediterranean. Russo sat at the back and a woman flight attendant offered drinks and a menu. Fox waved her away.

Falcone sat opposite him. 'Now what, Signore?'

'I don't know, Aldo. I've just lost a fortune. Murphy's lost a lot, and he owes me God knows how much for those arms in that bunker in County Louth. The Colosseum is closed down.' He took a deep breath. 'We've only got the Jagos left and that White Diamond Company job. Ten million. Four to them leaves me with six.'

The attendant handed Falcone a vodka martini. He savoured it and said, 'Why not the full ten, Signore? Why not all the proceeds? Russo and I could handle it. It'd go a long way to making up what you just lost.'

Fox tasted his glass of champagne. 'You really are a very bad man, Aldo. But I like it.'

Falcone smiled, recalling his conversation in the washroom at the airport with Don Marco on his mobile. He'd recounted the whole sorry affair.

Don Marco had said, 'It just gets worse. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was Dillon and Johnson again. But you say it was the Israelis?'

'No doubt about it. They identified themselves.'

'It's like he was snakebit. All right, Aldo, watch out for him, okay?'

Remembering, Falcone said, 'The Jagos. They're animali, Signore. As I say, let Russo and me take care of them.'

'It's certainly an interesting thought.' Fox smiled. 'We'll see.'

In London, Ferguson listened to Dillon on his Codex and nodded. 'What an absolutely marvellous result. Our friends at Mossad have performed magnificently, but you and Blake haven't done too badly, either.'

'Why, Brigadier, praise from you is praise indeed.' 'Don't let it go to your head, Dillon. We'll see you soon.' He sat there by the fire in his flat, thinking about it, then

called for his Daimler, got a coat on, and told his driver to take him to Pine Grove, where he knew Hannah Bernstein was working on Sean Regan. Helen Black greeted him and took him to Roper's suite, where the Major sat at one of his screens, Regan on one side, Hannah on the other.

'Well, children, you'll be delighted to know that Al Shariz has resounded to a most satisfactory explosion. The SS Fortuna, crewed by Army of God fanatics, is no more. Not only the Hammerheads, but the five million in gold, which was supposed to have been split between Murphy and Fox, has gone down, thanks to Czechoslovakia's gift to the world, Semtex, in one hundred fathoms of water.'

'Holy Mary,' Regan said.

A moment, Brigadier.' Roper punched at the keys and checked his screen. 'Two hundred fathoms, actually. There's a trench in that harbour. Be a little difficult to retrieve, anyway.'

'What next, sir?' Hannah asked. 'Kilbeg?'

'How far have we got?'

'Oh, Sean's being very cooperative. I'm assembling a ground plan,' Roper said. 'Would you like to see?'

'No, let's wait for Dillon and Blake.' He turned to Hannah. Any word from Salter?'

'No, sir.'

'I think I'll go and see him.'

'Do you want me to come, sir?'