“I know – hell. Have you told Ferguson?”
“No. He wouldn’t be pleased. Anyway, he was doing the Omega thing today. Can you access that?”
“I can access anything, Dillon. I’ve already extracted his index code.”
“But he only had it this morning.”
“The microchip is precoded into the system, so he’s on the system from the moment he’s implanted. Watch.” His fingers danced over the keys. A map of England appeared. “There he is, the yellow luminous dot. Now we go in closer – London, and there’s the dot again. Closer, and there we are. Pall Mall and moving. Knowing Ferguson, I’d say lunch at the Reform Club.”
“Thanks for the information, but I’ll keep out of his way,” and Dillon left.
Rossi landed at Fotley, the old RAF airbase he had chosen, and found Gibson waiting for him. Rossi taxied to the end of the runway and turned, then switched off and got out and Gibson drove up to him.
“You found it, then?” Rossi said.
“I must have; I’m here, aren’t I? Queer sort of place. Everything looks as if it’s falling down.”
“It is. The war was a long time ago, but the runway’s still sound and that’s all that matters.”
“Twenty miles I made it.”
“That’s what I figured. Back to town.”
“To what?” Derry asked, as he turned onto a country road.
“You’ll see.”
To his astonishment, what he returned to was not what he had expected. The Rolls was parked outside the Rashid house, the chauffeur loading luggage into the trunk. The Baron appeared out of the door in his trilby and black leather coat and leaning on his cane.
Rossi said to Gibson, “Pull over and leave this to me.” He approached von Berger. “Father, what is this?”
“I’ve decided to go away, Marco. To Schloss Adler.”
“But why?”
“I need time to think. I heard you and Dillon last night, my son. You lied to me. You shouldn’t have done it. It wasn’t honorable.”
“But, Father…”
The Baron said nothing more. He got in the Rolls, the chauffeur slipped behind the wheel, and they drove away. Gibson said, “What in the hell was that all about?”
“Dillon,” Rossi said. “Damn him. He’s been a stone in my shoe too long. I’ll have him.” At that moment, his mobile sounded, and when he answered, Newton said, “We’re around the corner from the Reform Club in Pall Mall. Ferguson ’s gone in.”
“Probably for lunch,” Rossi said. “Okay, don’t stay. Go to Cavendish Place and set up there. I’ll send Gibson to join you. We’re going to do it today.”
“Now look, I’m not sure about this…” Newton said.
“I am. Look, Newton, I can finish you. Or I can give you a nice fat fee. Which is it? In or out?”
Greed, and fear, of course, won the day. “In.”
Dillon turned up at the Ministry of Defence and found Hannah in the main office at her computer. She stopped and leaned back to look at him.
“What’s up?”
“Why should anything be up?”
“I know my Sean.”
“Oh, I suppose I was a bit stupid last night.”
“Tell me.”
Which he did, lighting a cigarette and looking out the window. When he finished, she said, “You fool.”
“I know. It’s Rossi and what he did. I can’t get Sara Hesser out of my mind.”
“Sean, I’ve a psychology degree, so here’s a free reading. Oh, Rossi did the murder, but you feel as guilty as hell because you gave that woman a promise. What was it? ‘No harm will come to you on this earth, I swear it’?”
Dillon, never so emotional in his life, said, “And remember what happened? She touched my face and said, ‘I believe you. You’re a good man in spite of yourself.’” She had never seen him so haggard and drawn.
“Me, the great Sean Dillon and you know what happened and who was responsible, and I’ll see Rossi in hell for it.”
He turned and found the door to Ferguson ’s office open, and the general standing in the doorway. “Then you’ll go straight down the same road to hell yourself, Dillon. What on earth did you think you were doing? Confrontation, direct threats? It’s not the way to handle things at the moment. You were totally out of order.”
“I usually am.”
“Right, you’re suspended. Leave the office now. I’ll speak to you again at what I consider to be an appropriate time. You will surrender all your weapons.”
Dillon managed a gentle smile. “Ah, well, Charles, I always thought the day would come, but you’ve been a decent ould stick, and in spite of Serbia in the old days, when you sold me out, you’ve treated me well.” He turned to Hannah.
“Oh, Sean,” she said.
“I know. I always take the hard approach and I know that doesn’t hold with your fine Jewish morality, but revenge is a concept not unknown in the Old Testament. I’ll be on my way, and God bless all here.”
He disappeared and Ferguson said, “Damn him. Why did he do it? It unscrambles things in the wrong way.”
“It’s simple, sir. He can be more emotional than you think. He’s put himself on the line for me in the past, for you. All he could think of was an old lady who trusted him and ended up in the river. In spite of everything Dillon’s done, if you want a psychopath here, it’s not him, it’s Marco Rossi.”
“To hell with it. I’m going home. Order the Daimler.”
“It’s not available, General. Out for maintenance today, remember?”
“Then get me a bloody taxi,” and he stormed back into his office.
Dillon sat in his Mini Cooper, thinking about things. Well, everything had to come to an end, that was life. Still and all, there’d been a lot of water under the bridge. He reached for a cigarette, lit it, looked out and saw Ferguson walk to a waiting black taxi and get in. It moved off, and Dillon switched on the Mini Cooper and went after him. There was no logical reason that he should, except perhaps for some instinct, an Irish thing, but he did, eased out into the traffic and followed the cab.
In Cavendish Place, Newton and Cook had taken up a manhole to explain their presence. Derry Gibson, also wearing a yellow Telecom jacket, sat inside the van reading a newspaper. Newton moved to the passenger window.
“Come on, it’s been nearly four hours. Are we getting anywhere?”
At that moment, a black cab drew up. Derry said, “I think we might be,” and then Ferguson got out and paid the driver, who drove away.
“Now,” Gibson said and opened the small leather case on the seat beside him and took out a small plastic ampoule. “Get him.”
He got out, and as Ferguson turned away, they grabbed him by each arm and Gibson moved in. “A real pleasure, General,” and he jabbed Ferguson in the neck. The effect was almost instantaneous. Ferguson sagged, they walked him to the back of the van, Gibson opened the door and they put him inside, Gibson following. “Get going,” he said.
Dillon, turning in at the entrance to Cavendish Place, saw everything and put his foot down. A delivery van drove in front of him. Dillon braked and swerved. Beyond him, the Telecom van swung out into the traffic. He joined in, well behind. The usual London traffic made things difficult, but he always managed to stay focused on the Telecom van.
