example, if I wanted Mary s Bower accidentally burned to the ground this week, it would be done. I could take my pick of brothers who would shoot you in the back on the street. As for your friend Jean Talbot, Owen, I would advise her not to try to walk home in the dark from now on, not even in Mayfair.
The three men exchanged looks, and it was Owen who said, So what is it you want us to do this time?
Kidnap Sara Gideon. That s where the Seconal that one of my assets left in the glove compartment of your car comes in. One ampoule jabbed in the arm, and it s good night, Vienna, for eight hours.
But to what purpose? Henri demanded. What do we do with her?
You wrap her up carefully, so you can push her in one of those collapsible wheelchairs, drive to Frensham Aero Club, put her in one of Rashid Oil s jets, fly to Rubat, and deliver her to me at the Monsoon.
No way. Owen was shaking his head. This has gone far enough.
Henri patted him on the shoulder, trying to calm him. What will you do with the girl? he asked Ali Selim.
What do you care? You tried to drown her, left her in the hands of possible rapists, then attempted to car- bomb her.
I just want to know, Henri said.
You ve heard of the Gideon Bank? Well, she is the Gideon Bank. What would you suggest for ransom? Fifty million, one hundred million? And why stop there?
So you wouldn t kill her?
Don t be stupid. She s far too valuable.
Owen nodded. He s right, she is.
So that s it, then, Henri said. We ll do it.
Nobody asked me. I don t agree, Kelly said. I didn t sign up for this.
Don t worry, Henri said, I ll sort him. When do you want us to do this?
As soon as you can. Their plane must have landed by now. If she goes home to Highfield Court, she ll be on her own. Both the housekeeper and her grandfather are away.
But she could also be staying at the Dorchester with Holley.
That s your problem. I d advise grabbing her as soon as possible. No more failures. If so, it ll be your last one. And no funny business. Osama may be gone, but Al Qaeda is everywhere, particularly in London. Put a foot wrong and I ll know about it. There s nowhere to run, gentlemen.
Jack Kelly had the bar cupboard open and poured whiskey with a shaking hand. God damn him to hell, he said. He ll be the death of us.
He slopped more whiskey into his glass, and Henri took it from him and tossed the contents into the living- room fire. He shook Kelly hard.
Pull yourself together. What s done is done. There is only one way out of this mess, and that s to do as he says. Go and have a shower. You look terrible.
Kelly went out, and Owen said, A hell of a mess, but I don t see any choice for us except to play along.
Henri said, Would we really be able to just load her into a jet at Frensham?
Yes, it s a circus for the rich there. Talbot International uses it. It s where Kelly landed when he flew over. Security really is slack. Their motto is: You mustn t offend the rich. Even with a wheelchair, we ll be waved through.
As it happens, I ve got a very nice one in the stockroom, Henri said. Antique, of course. Will weaponry be a problem at the airfield?
Not for me. I ve never been checked, Owen said. Give me what s suitable in a bag, and I ll see it gets on board. Now I ll leave you to get on with it, and take a run down to Frensham to make sure the Learjet will be ready to go. At this hour of the morning, I can get there in forty minutes, so I ll be back in no time. I suggest you come with me now, and I ll give you this Seconal stuff while Jack s at his ablutions. But wait for me before you attempt anything.
Kelly will be all right, Henri said. A nervous touch, is all. I ll look after him.
They went out. It was suddenly very quiet, and then Kelly came in, stripped to the waist, took the whiskey bottle from the cupboard, poured a huge one, and drank it down.
Mother Mary, what am I going to do? he murmured, and went back upstairs, a very unhappy man indeed.
At Rosedene, Ferguson, Holley, and Sara sat in the reception lounge with the matron, drinking coffee, waiting for news of Harry Miller, who had been in the operating room for an hour.
He s been wounded before, I believe, Sara said.
I think this must be the fourth time, Ferguson said. Harry was supposed to be a Whitehall Warrior for many years, a deskman in the Intelligence Corps. The truth is he was involved very much with one of the execution squads that brought the IRA to its knees and led directly to the peace process.
Professor Charles Bellamy appeared at that moment in green scrubs, a mask hanging down from his neck, revealing his face. He looked a little weary, sat down, and accepted coffee gratefully from Maggie Duncan.
Everything okay, Charles? Ferguson asked.
Not really.
Sara said, I treated him first. My impression was that there was an exit wound.
True. But when I got there, I discovered bullet fragmentation. It wasn t immediately obvious.
It wasn t hollow point, I hope? Holley said.
No, not as bad as that, but similar. I ve removed all the detritus, but I really must say in my report that Harry Miller has taken the pitcher to the well too often. It s got to stop.
And the Prime Minister will see that report?
Of course.
Ferguson sighed. That s all I need. Can we see him?
Certainly not. He s dead to the world. Tomorrow, perhaps. He turned to Sara and smiled. You appear to have been through the mill again. You really must take care, Captain, accept what you are. There are limitations.
I m fine, she said. Any problems and you ll be the first to know.
He and Maggie went off, talking in low voices. Ferguson s Codex sounded. Ah, Roper, he said, and put it on speaker.
What about Harry? Roper asked.
It was more complicated than they d thought, but it s been taken care of.
Well, the Prime Minister will be relieved. Anyway, I ve just had a call from Harry Salter. Dora s back from Holland and confirms that the photo Claude Duval took is definitely the same man who asked her for Pernod the night Holley s Alfa was interfered with. I ve spoken to Claude, and now that it s a criminal matter, he s allowed to forward it to DGSE records in Paris. If there is a match, we should get it soon.
Many thanks, Giles, Holley called, and put an arm around Sara. Home, or we could go to the Dorchester.
Home, I think, she said. Check the mail, the answering machine, then I just want to go to bed.
Ferguson joined them. You must be incredibly tired, Sara. We must take better care of you. This recent affair just exploded out of all proportion.
Well, as we used to say in Afghanistan, General, hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Good night.
Jean Talbot, thinking things over, decided that the best way to solve the mystery of what she had seen at the shop in Shepherd Market was to act normally with Owen and see how he behaved. To that end, she left the house still and called him on her mobile as she walked along Curzon Street.
He answered, and she said, Hello, darling, are you up for a run in the park this morning?
Sorry, love, he said. I had some overseas problems come up last night. I ve had to come into the office at an unearthly hour.
That s a shame. I d hoped we could finalize which day we re leaving on the Rubat trip.
Actually, I m not too certain about that at the moment, he said. All of a sudden, a hell of a lot s happening.
Well, that s a disappointment, she said.
Any particular reason? She was still walking across to the Dorchester.
Oh, oil prices again. The Arab Spring, trouble in so many oil-producing countries. Al Qaeda causing mayhem all over the place since the demise of Osama. Look, we ll get round to it, but just now I m really pushed. I ll be in
