Bad Company

He got out his Codex Four and checked into Hannah, who answered at once. “I followed Ferguson home. He was jumped by Derry Gibson, Newton and Cook, and dumped in a fake British Telecom van. I’m following.”

“Where, for God’s sake?”

“ North London. I don’t know. Essex way. Get in touch with Roper. He can invoke the Omega thing. That should tell you where we’re going. Tell him to keep me informed.”

Derry Gibson called Marco Rossi. “We’ve bagged the bird.”

“I’m on my way. I’ll see you at Fotley.”

“Well, let’s hope you’re there before we are. Kidnapping draws at least ten years in this country.”

Roper cut into Dillon. “I’ve heard the story, I’m on the case. Omega is working fine. I’ll track and keep you informed. No reason to worry if you lose him. I’ll put you back on track.”

Dillon had a thought. “These three goons are working for Rossi, so where are they going?”

“Maybe it’s where are they flying? I’ll check.”

Emerging from London, the traffic thinned a little, not all that much, but enough to keep Dillon well back. Roper came on.

“The Baron just left Northolt, destination Munich. I’ve checked there. He’s got a helicopter booked for Neustadt.”

“Has he now?”

“Even more interesting: Rossi had a plane delivered to a place called Fotley in Essex this morning. It’s an old RAF airbase, now disused, with a long runway. I think that’s where you’re going. I hope you make it, Sean. Are you carrying?”

“I damn well am. But what if I fail? Where are they going?”

“Well, Omega will confirm, but I think we both know. Schloss Adler.”

“Right, then I suggest you get on to this Max Kubel. He can alert the Klein man at Neustadt. Tell Kubel to put in place whatever plan we’d need to mount a rescue operation. It’ll be a huge payday for him. I’ll press on and hope to catch them at Fotley.”

In the end, he failed, mainly because of a farm tractor on a narrow country road. He finally made the old airfield only to see the abandoned van and the Gulfstream already moving. As it lifted and roared past, Newton looked out.

“Jesus,” he said. “That’s Dillon’s Mini Cooper.”

“Is that a fact?” Derry Gibson laughed. Ferguson, unconscious, was strapped in one of the seats. Derry patted his cheek. “I’ll go and tell Rossi. He’ll be so pleased.”

At Arnheim, Max Kubel was working on the Storch prior to a foray into Poland. He’d always remembered the adage from the Second World War: Half the airmen who die aren’t shot down by the enemy. They die of engine failure. It was why he’d always taken care of his own maintenance. He closed the engine cowling and slapped the fuselage, which had a fresh coat of dull black paint.

“Good girl,” he said, and his mobile went.

He listened to Roper for a long five minutes and was immediately interested and full of energy. “I’ll talk to Klein.”

“This meadow outside the Schloss, can it accommodate Rossi’s plane, especially at night?”

“It’s huge, and the Schloss is floodlit. There’s plenty of light.”

“So what would we do? Could you fly in while Dillon attempts a recovery?”

“Come off it. The minute I attempted a landing, the whole thing would be blown.”

“Then how would we get to Neustadt? What could we do? Parachute in? Dillon’s done that before.”

“Not into Schloss Adler. Battlements, courtyards, roofs – it isn’t nice.”

“Then when you want to make a nefarious trip into Holstein Heath, how do you do it? I know how mysterious the damn place is. The locals must be suspicious of any kind of strangers.”

“Yes, but if I put a group together for an in-and-out job, they won’t look like strangers. The police in Holstein Heath look very like the Vopos of the old East German days. Believe it or not, they still use Russian Cossack motorcycles and field cars.”

“So what are you saying?”

“In the past, I’ve gone in with my people when I’ve needed them, using those vehicles and uniforms. Would Dillon buy that?”

“Well, his German is fluent.”

“He couldn’t do it on his own.”

“What about you?”

“No way. My task would be to do the extracting. Dillon and whoever, helped by Klein’s intelligence, pull Ferguson, and all hell breaks out, so the smart thing would be for me to fly in from Arnheim. It’s a short flight. I’d drop in at the Schloss in my Storch and pick them up.”

“And you’re confident you could do that?”

“To the great Kubel, anything is possible, and to avoid any problem with angry foresters, it would be the only way. These are the Baron’s people.”

“You mean it’s Indian territory?”

“Exactly. Another thing. In the Storch, I could manage Ferguson, but only two others. Two men only to take on the situation at the castle. I’ve got the idea that Dillon’s that crazy, but does he know someone else who is?”

“Oh, yes,” Roper said. “I think so. There’s a big payday for you on this, by the way.”

“Stuff the payday. I’ve been getting stale and I’ve looked you up, Roper. You’re what the Jews call a mensch. I’m a great admirer.”

“Flattery is always appreciated.”

“I’ll speak to Klein and get things moving.”

At his cottage behind the church at Neustadt, Klein took the call from Kubel and listened to what he had to say.

“So what do you want me to do?”

“Let me know the minute the Baron turns up in the helicopter. After that, Rossi in his plane. Can you get into the Schloss?”

“Of course I can. I’ve known it backwards since I was a child.”

“In spite of security?”

“The security is crap. I can go around all that.”

“Get this right, Hans. There’s a lot of money in it for you.”

“And where the Baron is concerned, it will be a pleasure. I’ll go and check things out up there.”

Kubel switched off and Klein got a hunting jacket on, put a sawn-off shotgun in one pocket, a double handful of cartridges in the other and went out, smiling.

On the final stretch back to London, Dillon listened to everything Roper had to say. “Fine,” he said. “Alert Hannah. Tell her to book Lacey and Parry. Alert the quartermaster. The destination will be Arnheim.”

“There’s one thing, Sean,” Roper said. “You can’t do this on your own. Don’t tell me you’re going to ride a Cossack through the Schwarze Platz and do a ‘Dirty Harry.’ You need a friend.”

“I’ll get a friend.”

“You’re sure?”

“Trust me. I’ll ask him, and for this, he’ll be there.”

Dillon turned down to Hangman’s Wharf and The Dark Man, parked and went inside. There were only a couple of customers, Dora at the bar, and Harry and Billy in their usual corner booth. Harry looked up and frowned.

“You look stressed.”

“You could say that.” Dillon sat down. “Just listen.”