“Yes, but the only access from the control room is by the forward watertight hatch and Baker told Travers it was corroded to hell, really solid.”
“Okay,” Carney said, “so we’ll have to blow it. C4 is the thing, the stuff Santiago was going on about when we were at Samson.”
“I’m ahead of you there,” Dillon told him. “I couldn’t get hold of any C4, but I thought Semtex would be an acceptable substitute. I’ve also got chemical detonating pencils.”
“Is there anything you forgot?” Carney asked ironically.
“I hope not.”
“So when do we go?” Ferguson demanded.
Dillon said, “I’d say that’s up to Carney here, he’s the expert.”
Carney nodded, slightly abstracted. “I’m thinking about it.” He nodded again. “The way I see it, we want to be in and out before Santiago even knows what’s going on.”
“That makes sense,” Ferguson agreed.
“They can’t track us any longer because we got rid of the bugs in both boats. We could capitalize on that by leaving around midnight, making the trip under cover of darkness. Dawn at five to five-thirty. We could go down at first light.”
“Sounds good to me,” Dillon said.
“Right, I left
“But not right now,” Ferguson told him. “Now we eat. All this excitement has given me quite an appetite.”
It started to rain a little and Algaro and Guerra sheltered under a tree. “Mother of God, is this going to take all night?” Guerra demanded.
“It takes as long as is needed,” Algaro told him.
Inside, they had dined well on Mary’s best chowder and grilled snapper, were at the coffee stage when Dillon’s cellular phone rang. He answered it, then handed it across to Ferguson. “It’s for you. Somebody from Special Branch in London.”
The Brigadier took the phone. “Ferguson here.” He listened and suddenly turned very pale and his shoulders sagged. “Just a moment,” he said wearily and got up. “Excuse me. I’ll be back,” and he went out.
“What in the hell is that all about?” Carney asked.
“Well, it’s not good, whatever it is,” Dillon said. Ferguson returned at that moment and sat down.
“Jack Lane, my assistant, is dead.”
“Oh, no,” Jenny said.
“Hit-and-run accident round about midnight. He’d been working late, you see. The police have found the car dumped in a side street off the Strand. Blood all over it. Stolen of course.”
“Another remarkable coincidence,” Dillon said. “You tell him to check up on Pamer and in no time he’s lying dead in a London side street.”
It was the first time he’d seen real anger in Ferguson’s face. Something flared in the Brigadier’s eyes. “That hadn’t escaped me, Dillon. The bill will be paid in full, believe me.”
He took a deep breath and stood up. “Right, let’s get going. Are you coming with us, my dear?”
“I don’t think so,” Jenny told him. “That kind of boat ride is the last thing I need after what I’ve been through, but I’ll come and see you off. I’ll follow you in my jeep. You carry on, I’ll catch you up, I just want a word with Mary.”
She went into the kitchen and Dillon beckoned Billy to the end of the bar. “Do you think you and Mary could spend the night at Jenny’s house?”
“You think there could be a problem?”
“We’ve had too many for comfort,” Ferguson told him.
Dillon took the Belgian semi-automatic from his pocket. “Take this.”
“That bad?” Billy inquired.
“That bad.”
“Then this is better.” Billy took a Colt.45 automatic from under the counter.
“Fine.” Dillon slipped the Belgian semi-automatic back in his pocket. “Take care. We’ll see you in the morning.”
In the kitchen Mary was working hard at the stove. “What you doing now, girl?”
“I’ve got to go up to Caneel, Mary, Bob Carney is taking the Brigadier and Mr. Dillon on a special dive. I want to see them off.”
“You should be in bed.”
“I know. I’ll go soon.”
She went out through the bar and hurried down the steps. Algaro said, “There she is. Let’s get after her.”
But Jenny started to run, catching Ferguson, Dillon and Carney at Mongoose Junction. Algaro and Guerra watched as their quarry got into her jeep, Carney at her side, and followed Dillon and Ferguson out of the car park.
“All right,” Algaro said. “Let’s get after them,” and they ran toward their own vehicle.
At the cottage, Dillon got the olive-green army holdall, took everything out, the Semtex and fuses, the AK, and the Walther and its silencer. Ferguson came in as he was finishing, wearing cord slacks, suede desert boots and a heavy sweater.
“Are we going to war again?” he asked.
Dillon stowed everything back in the holdall. “I hope not. Carney and I are going to have enough on our plate just making the dive, but you know where everything is if you need it.”
“You think you can pull it off?”
“We’ll see.” Dillon found his tracksuit top. “I’m sorry about Lane, Brigadier.”
“So am I.”
Ferguson looked bleak. “But our turn will come, Dillon, I promise you. Now let’s get on with it.”
As they made for the door, Dillon paused and opened the bar cupboard. He took out half a bottle of brandy and dropped it into the holdall. “Purely medicinal,” he said and held the door open. “It’s going to be bloody cold down there at that time of the morning.”
Carney had brought the
He turned to Jenny. “Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she said.
“Not long now,” Dillon told her. “As some poet put it, ‘all doubts resolved, all passion spent.’ ”
“And then what will you do?” she asked.
Dillon kissed her briefly on the cheek. “Jesus, girl, will you give a man a chance to draw breath?”
He took the Belgian semi-automatic out of his pocket. “Put that in your purse and don’t tell me you don’t know what to do with it. Just pull the slider, point and fire.”
She took it reluctantly. “You think this is necessary?”
“You never can tell. Santiago has been ahead of us too many times. When you get back to the bar you’ll find that Billy and Mary intend to spend the night with you.”
“You think of everything, don’t you?”
“I try to. It would take a good man to mess with Billy.”
He stepped on board and Carney looked down at them from the flying bridge. “Cast off for us, Jenny.”
He switched on the engines, she untied the stern line and handed it to Dillon, went and did the same with the other. The boat drifted out, then started to turn away.
