medal for Ireland, among others. He stared at Roper, then walked forward.
Major Roper, isn t it? What a pleasure to see you, sir. My name s Halloran. I was the military police sergeant major in charge of the entrance to the Portland Hotel in Belfast when you spent nine hours defusing that bomb in the foyer.
I remember you well. Roper shook hands. You were on that door when I went in, and you were still there when I came out.
A privilege to be there, Major. I ll never forget it.
We re here on behalf of the Cabinet Office to have a look at the security situation on the terrace.
I was notified about it, Major. I just didn t realize it was going to be you. Allow me to lead the way.
He left them on the terrace beside the Thames, which was surprisingly busy MPs enjoying a drink, waiters passing to and fro from what was called the Terrace Bar. It was very pleasant there, slightly chilly but the sun shining enough to bring the awnings out, and the famous tall Victorian lamps ranged along the parapet added to the scene.
I ve never been here before, Sara said.
Why is the carpet green here and red up there?
That s the House of Lords end, Dillon said, and ordered champagne for all of them from a passing waiter.
A grand place, this, restaurants and bars all over the show.
With remarkable speed, the waiter was back with four glasses of champagne on a tray, and they each took one. So what makes you such an expert on the terrace? Sara demanded.
An old story, my love, no big deal. I ve no wish to bore you.
What a humbug you are. Roper touched glasses with Sara. Some years ago, President Clinton graced the terrace with a visit, and the security services will never forgive Dillon for turning up as a waiter and serving canap s to President Clinton and the Prime Minister.
Sara turned in appeal to Holley, who shrugged. Before my time.
Which left only Dillon. But how did you do that? she asked.
It was very simple. The Salters dropped me in the river from a passing boat in the middle of the night. I hauled myself up to the terrace, hid in a storage room, and stayed there until the action started, when I came out dressed as a waiter.
Before she could say a word, Henry Frankel appeared, a file under his arm, and he was smiling hugely.
Captain Gideon, what a pleasure. He shook Sara s hand warmly. You exceed my expectations, and that doesn t happen very often. He turned to Dillon.
So, what have you got to say, Sean? Is our security acceptable?
Well, there s still twenty-six restaurants and bars, entrances and exits galore, MPs, workmen, cleaning staff in other words, far too many people, and you notice I haven t even mentioned the river?
Well, we d rather you didn t, Henry Frankel told him. We don t want to be alarmist.
I m just being realistic, Henry. In Belfast in the bad days of the Troubles, Catholic women of all ages queued up to get jobs as cleaning ladies in schools and factories that housed British troops. There were sympathizers to the Cause in the Royal Ulster Constabulary itself, and the civil service.
What are you trying to say? Frankel asked.
We live in a cosmopolitan society, Henry, and London is a splendid example. We ve left a vehicle in the underground garage, where people in overalls, obviously from many cultures, work as mechanics and sweepers. It was the same coming through the House of Commons to get here lots of cleaning women in the corridors, for example. The champagne I ordered? The waiter was obviously Muslim. People were talking and didn t notice that I ordered in Arabic, which pleased him, by the way. Did you notice, Daniel?
Holley shook his head. No. I didn t notice.
The place is a sieve, Henry, but so is the whole country, just like Belfast was. People can t help hearing conversations, good people who don t want to be involved with terrorism, but when you ve got a family, you ll respond to pressure for obvious reasons.
Everything you say is true, Henry Frankel said.
We can only travel hopefully. You are team leader, Giles, he said to Roper. Everybody loves a hero, and the George Cross certainly makes you that. We are keeping quiet about your exploits at Abusan, Sara. There are good reasons why, so no offense.
None taken, she said.
Blake Johnson tells me the President asked for you, Dillon, to be included in the luncheon, and you, Daniel. I believe he knows both of you.
True enough, Dillon acknowledged.
So the four of you return tomorrow morning. Harry Miller and Charles Ferguson have been ordered to stay at the Prime Minister s beck and call all day. Frankel chuckled.
I ve never seen Ferguson so fussed. He said to tell you, Giles, to make sure there s no more nonsense with Daniel and Sara, whatever that means. I d love to know, but I haven t got time to listen. Ciao, everyone, I ll see you in the morning, and he was gone.
Roper smiled at Sara. Well, there you are. You ve been warned to avoid bad company at all times.
Thanks very much, Holley told him. Can we go to lunch now?
Roper laughed and led the way out.
EIGHT
With only failure to report, Henri Legrande and Kelly had kept quiet about the two attempts to cause mischief with Holley and Sara. It left Owen Rashid, seated at his laptop by the terrace in his apartment, with little to say when Abu came on the line.
I ve heard nothing from you. What s happening with Legrande and Kelly?
I understand they re familiarizing themselves with the background of Ferguson s people.
Then I trust they were at the riot in Hyde Park yesterday morning. They were all there.
What do you want from me? Owen asked him.
I thought I d made that clear. Ferguson and his people have not only caused constant trouble for Ali Selim, they have murdered some of our most important people over the last few years. Death for death, Owen, that s what they deserve and it s a result I intend to have.
And this includes the woman?
I m surprised you need to ask. Her service record speaks for itself, and not only in Afghanistan. Owen, these people call us terrorists and speak of being at war with us. Well, we are at war with them, and to the knife. So what about some action from the Frenchman? He was supposed to be serious business, but I ve seen little evidence of it. A bullet in the back when your target walks home in the rain is serious business; so is a bomb under someone s car. What I m getting here is nothing.
He s only been on the case for a couple of days, Owen protested.
I m not interested in excuses. If he lets me down, my retribution will be not only swift but final. I want results and I want them now. Fire from heaven, Owen. That would be appropriate while the President is in town, don t you think?
Owen sat there thinking about it, thoroughly angry at the position he was in, but there was no way out, so he phoned Kelly.
Where are you?
The shop.
And Legrande is with you?
Yes. Is there a problem?
Not for me, for you. I ve had Abu on my back, and he isn t pleased at the lack of action from you two. I ll be round in fifteen minutes.
Henri Legrande was in the workshop repairing an antique chair when Kelly hurried in to warn him of Owen
