significant.”
“Always only three ways in, sir. Air, land, or sea. I plan to sail in harm’s way,” Hawke smiled. “I’m going to sail my yacht, Blackhawke, into the Persian Gulf and knock on the bugger’s front door.”
“How do you intend to do that without waking up the big bad Iranians?”
“A little idea Director Kelly and I cooked up at dinner last night. I wonder if the White House operators could help me place a call to King Abdullah in Saudi Arabia?”
“Why in hell do you want to call the king of Saudi Arabia?”
“Old friend of mine, Mr. President. We’ve had numerous business oil dealings together in the past. I intend to tell him that I’ve acquired an interest in ocean yacht racing due to the purchase of my first sailing ship. And that I’m particularly interested in a race against His Majesty’s own sailing yacht, Kingdom. My yacht, Blackhawke, will just happen to be in the Persian Gulf soon. She’s en route now. With your permission, I’d like to tell him that it would be very helpful to the White House if the king were to agree to a race on a date to be determined by Director Kelly and myself.”
The president laughed out loud.
“I’m beginning to like you, Commander Hawke. A yacht race in the Persian Gulf with the king of Saudi Arabia. It’s obvious that you’re a very creative individual in matters of clandestine ops.”
“Element of surprise, Mr. President,” Hawke said with a smile, “whatever it takes.”
“I’ll have my secretary, Betsey Hall, get the operators to work on tracking King Abdullah down. Probably in Dallas. He spends a lot of time there with his doctors.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Operation Ghostbusters,” McCloskey said with a smile. “That’s the code name for this damn thing. I’ll also put in a call to Abdullah first thing tomorrow, back up your request for a race. He owes me a couple of favors, shouldn’t be a problem. Go get these bastards. They’ve murdered enough innocent civilians. And thank you, Commander Hawke. I read your entire dossier last evening. Very impressive. I’m glad you’re on our side.”
“One should always strive to be on the side of the angels and the big battalions, Mr. President,” Hawke said.
The meeting was over.
Forty-seven
Gloucestershire
Hawke sipped his Gosling’s rum, neat. His gaze drifted down the grassy hillside to the lazy Thames and the idyllic scene below. The grounds of Brixden House were lovely in this light. He and Ambrose were perched on an old bench. It was very pleasant there, in the shade of a heart-stopping camellia in full blossom against a garden wall. Below, his son, Alexei, and Nell Spooner were driving a pony cart along the narrow path that ran along the banks of the river. It was late afternoon, and the sun cast flecks of gold on the water.
Sunlight, filtered through the trees, mottled the ground and gave a soft serenity to the world that Hawke had nearly forgotten. The world was still and always would be a beautiful place, despite the ugliness and death he dealt with on a near constant basis.
He looked at Congreve and said, “Lovely here, isn’t it, old boy?”
“Indeed. I was just thinking the same.”
“You’re very lucky, you know.”
“We both are, Alex.”
“Yes, I suppose we are.”
“How long are you going to be away this time? Or is the duration as hush-hush as the destination?”
“At least a fortnight, perhaps longer. The new Blackhawke is currently being provisioned, taking on ammunition, and armed. That could take another week and I have to be there.”
“For the life of me, Alex, I simply cannot understand your hesitation to leave Alexei here at Brixden House with Diana and me. The place is crawling with security, as you well know. There’s scarcely a safer place for him, really.”
“It does make sense, I agree.”
“Well, then?”
“I’m afraid, Ambrose. Not just for Alexei’s safety or, God knows, Nell’s. But also for yours and Diana’s as well. I can’t put you in danger.”
“Diana and me? Why? Is there something you’re not telling me?”
“Yes.”
“Because you can’t tell me.”
“Yes.”
“You don’t have to tell me what you’ve done. No secrets. But you can tell me what you’re afraid might happen, surely?”
Hawke considered for a moment and said, “On this last absence of mine, I didn’t mention where I was. But I will say I took dead aim at the criminal element responsible for the threats to Alexei’s life.”
“Were you successful?”
“Yes. Very.”
“Then the threats have been eliminated.”
“That certainly was my intention. A lot of monstrously evil people died because of my actions.”
“Splendid.”
“But, and this is the difficult part, I may have merely upped the ante.”
“Meaning?”
“Take a look at this,” Hawke said, handing Congreve a folded piece of tissue-thin blue paper. It was the printout of an encrypted e-mail Hawke had received that morning from Concasseur at the British Embassy in Moscow.
Congreve read it aloud.
“We have destroyed the hive but the bees are still buzzing. Monitoring Internet chatter, surviving members throughout Russia and Eastern Europe. A gauntlet has been thrown down. No idea who was responsible, but determined to find out. Threats of reprisal are serious, indeed. We may have overplayed our hand. Keep your head down and your eyes open. Yours, I.C.”
“I.C.?”
“Ian Concasseur. My man in Moscow.”
“Dear God.”
“These people will stop at nothing, Ambrose. I won’t put you and Diana at risk protecting my son. I can’t.”
“So what will you do?”
“I think the safest place in England is Buckingham Palace.”
“I don’t disagree. But is that even remotely possible?”
“Her Royal Majesty has indicated to me that it is.”
“Then by all means take her up on it, Alex. After all, you saved her life last year at-”
“Yes, yes.”
“If that’s your decision, so be it.”
“It is. Take a look at this.”
He handed Congreve another folded message, printed on the same tissue paper. I am become death, the Destroyer of Worlds. I’m waiting…
“Where on earth did this come from?” Congreve said.
“It appeared on my computer screen last night. Right after I’d shut the whole damn thing down. In other words, the computer was powered down when this appeared. I saved it and printed it.”
“It’s from the-machine, isn’t it? This bloody phantom, Alex.”
“I believe it is, Ambrose. The damn thing knows I’m coming after it.”
