Rain on the Dead. Jack Higgins
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be stoned.’
‘Come, come, Ali, we mustn’t exaggerate. The Army of God is a legally organized charity. Their dispensary serves all denominations, and the imam of the mosque, Hamid Bey, is highly respected.’
‘Smoke and mirrors, General. As you say, I have had personal experience with AQ. The City Corporation, the police, tread carefully for political reasons. In my time when I was on the wrong side, the Master spoke to me on a regular basis, and I’m not naive enough to think I was the only one. As for Hamid Bey, he is a dog and not to be trusted.’
‘All right, I’ll take your word for it,’ Ferguson said. ‘We’ll have to take extra care from now on.’
Ali opened his jacket to show a Walther in a shoulder holster. ‘I’m also wearing a nylon-and-titanium vest. I hope the rest of you are.’ He smiled, leaned down, and kissed Sara’s hand gallantly. ‘You always astonish one, Captain Gideon. God is good to you.’ He nodded to the others. ‘If you’ll excuse me, General, I’m on night duty at Tenby Street.’ He turned and walked out.
‘My goodness,’ Ferguson said. ‘He’s really come on. It was a wise choice to take a chance on him. I’m sure you’ll all take heed of his advice. His experience with this cult of the Master thing is obviously unique. Anyway, I think we could also do with some supper. Let’s see what the kitchen’s got for us. As for Hamid Bey, I always thought the bastard was too good to be true.’
There was a loud bang, the front door crashed open, and Doyle shouted, ‘Help, man down!’
Dillon and Sara ran out into the hall, to find Doyle dragging a hospital trolley out of the hallway and outside.
The Judas gate had swung open and Ali Saif was lying half outside it. As they raced toward him, Doyle said, ‘He told me he was going to walk back to Tenby Street, so I accompanied him, opened the Judas gate, and somebody shot him. He bounced off the gate, half turning. There was a second shot, he staggered into me and went down. Silenced weapon, just a couple of coughs. God knows I’ve heard enough of those in my time.’
Sara appeared with two wound packs and ripped one open as she examined Ali, who was obviously in shock, eyes staring.
‘The vest seems to have stopped one round, but the other has ploughed into his right thigh, no protection there.’ She staunched the blood flow as best she could. ‘Help me, Sean, there are morphine ampoules in the pack, get one into him.’
Ferguson was talking briskly into his phone, and Ali reached and clutched Sara. ‘You must take care, Sara. I told you the Grand Council wants revenge and I’m the first to be punished. The traitor …’
He fainted, and Ferguson said, ‘Rosedene’s alerting Professor Bellamy. Let’s get Saif into the Land Rover and get him up there.’
A couple of hours later, the matron at Rosedene, Margaret Duncan, approached the group, still in theatre scrubs and looking tired. ‘My goodness, General, another one. When will somebody say enough is enough?’
‘Not in the world as it is today, I’m afraid. How is he?’
Professor Charles Bellamy walked in and answered for her. ‘Alive, and that is one good thing. The vest did exactly what it was supposed to and stopped a heart shot.’
‘Which, if successful, would have killed instantly, but Ali started thrashing around, so the shooter put a random round into him and cleared off,’ Dillon said. ‘What’s the verdict?’
‘A serious wound in the left thigh, damage to bone and sinew,’ Bellamy told him.
‘Just how bad?’ Ferguson asked.
‘He’ll be here for several weeks, and recovery and therapy will take some time.’ He smiled at Sara. ‘As you know only too well, Captain, better than anyone else here, including myself.’
‘God help him,’ Sara said. ‘While I’m here, can I ask how Declan is?’
‘He’s asleep. You can see him tomorrow.’
‘We’ll leave them both in your good hands.’ Ferguson turned to the others. ‘Back to Holland Park, I think, and may I point out that we still haven’t had any supper.’
It was much later that they rejoined Roper in the computer room and discussed the attack.
‘Takes me back to Afghanistan,’ Sara said. ‘All the trappings of high security mean nothing once you step outside base where some fifteen-year-old with an AK can take a pop at you at any moment.’
‘And get away with it,’ Dillon said. ‘Though I’d say in this case whoever was responsible tonight was aware of Ali’s habit of walking to Tenby Street after visiting us. It’s not much more than a mile. Lots of trees on the other side of the road.’
‘I agree,’ Roper said. ‘Looks like the work of a silenced AK with a folding stock, probably carried in an ordinary supermarket shopping bag.’
‘A reinforcement of Ali’s warning earlier about Al Qaeda’s Grand Council seeking revenge, and that means full alert, people,’ Ferguson said.
There were a few moments of silence as they all thought about it, and it was Sara who spoke first. ‘There is the business of Flynn and Kelly, sir. What are we going to do about that?’
‘Yes, you left it hanging,’ Roper pointed out.
‘Perhaps somebody should go and see them,’ Sara said.
‘Maybe we all should.’ Ferguson laughed out loud. ‘That could be fun.’
‘You mean just turn up at Drumgoole out of the blue?’ she asked.
‘It’s a thought.’ Ferguson was considering it, a slightly wicked smile on his face. He looked at his watch. ‘Just after eleven. A man like Flynn’s bound to be up. Find the number, Major. I’ll leave it to you what to say, Dillon.’
In the parlour at Drumgoole Place, they were sitting by a log fire, Tod Flynn and Kelly, Aunt Meg and Hannah, a film just finishing on television. Hannah was nearest to the house phone when it rang, and she answered.
‘Drumgoole Place.’
‘Put me on to Tod,’ Dillon said.
She bridled. ‘And who the hell are you, mister?’
Dillon laughed. ‘From the sound of you, you’d be Hannah.’
‘Aren’t you the cheeky one.’ Meg had turned off the television and they were staring at Hannah. ‘I’ll only ask you once more, then I’m putting the phone down. Who are you?’ She put it on speaker so they could all hear.
‘Your second cousin, girl dear, Sean Dillon. Now, put him on.’
The look of incredulity on her face was quite something as she held out the phone to her uncle. ‘He says he’s Sean Dillon.’
There was silence for a moment, Kelly in immediate shock, but Tod took a deep breath and the phone. ‘Is this a joke?’
‘No, it is me, you old sod. How did you enjoy Nantucket?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Stop being stupid, it doesn’t suit you. Tell Kelly if he’d not been noticed playing “The Lark in the Clear Air” on his clarinet, I’d never have known you were there. I work for Charles Ferguson these days, but I’m sure you know that.’
‘Sold out to the Brits, Sean, didn’t you?’ Tod said.
‘Oh, we all sold out to somebody, in your case the Master and Al Qaeda. We’ll be over to see you in a few days, and don’t try to run away. There’s nowhere to go.’
He cut off the call, leaving Tod sitting by the fire, numb with shock, the others staring at him. It was Meg who shook her head and spoke first. ‘The Lord help us, Tod, what have you done now?’
But