The Midnight Bell. Jack Higgins
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to Sara, who said, “What was that all about?”
“He wanted to know where I learned to shoot.”
“And you told him the IRA?”
“Which shocked the hell out of him. He called me memsahib; I thought that was Indian?”
“So it is, and I’m surprised,” Sara told her, as they entered the house. “Their attitude toward women is different from ours, so when they meet someone like you and me, they don’t know how to handle us.”
“They’ll have to learn,” Hannah said, and followed Sara in, pausing at the umbrella stand, helping herself to one of the several walking sticks.
“Leg bad tonight?” Sara asked.
“You could say that.” Hannah grinned. “One cripple to another. You, too?”
“Yes, it’s an absolute bastard. The fruits of war.”
“Ah, for that I can only offer you this.” Hannah handed her a walking stick. “On the other hand, for the hero of Abusan, a Military Cross goes with it.”
Sara gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Bless you, Hannah, for being you. I’m beginning to wonder how I ever got by without you. Let’s go and see what Sean’s up to.”
The door of the rabbi’s study stood open; Sadie had lit a fire in the magnificent Georgian grate. Dillon sat at one side, speaking to Roper, and he paused.
“Sadie went off to the kitchen to make tea and coffee. I think she’s upset,” he said.
Hannah had turned and was already on her way. Sara said, “We’ll handle it,” and hurried after her.
Sadie was sitting in a high kitchen chair sobbing, Hannah’s arm around her. “It’s okay,” Hannah told her. “I’m here now, and so is Sara.”
“I’m so sorry,” Sadie said. “I got the shotgun to chase them away, even fired a round into the sky, but it didn’t stop them. I was terrified, thinking they might be ISIS and knowing what terrible things they’ve done.”
“Well, Sara and I soon put them in their place,” Hannah said. “And as we know exactly who was responsible for the attack, we’ll be able to do something about it.”
Sadie brightened at that. “True enough.” She took a deep breath. “Go and see Sean in the study, and I’ll follow you with a trolley.”
Dillon was putting logs on the fire when they joined him. “How is she?” he asked.
“Nerves shot,” Sara told him. “Thank God we were able to get to her in time.”
“Too true, but I won’t allow it to happen again. I’ve just made that clear to Roper.”
“And what did he say?”
“Ferguson is still at Downing Street but sends his best. He’ll be with us soon, so let’s have a drink or sit down and have a cup of tea Irish-style and relax.”
At that moment, Sadie wheeled in the trolley, obviously trying to be brave. “Tea up. I’ve managed salad sandwiches and scones. Oh, I forgot to say ‘God bless all here.’ Is that right, Sean?”
“Sadie, you’re the wonder of the world.”
THE DAIMLER WAS ON THE ROAD, Sergeant Doyle at the wheel and Ferguson, Cazalet, and Blake Johnson in deep discussion, when Ferguson’s Codex rang. He answered, his smile changing to a frown.
“Roper,” he said. “Let me put it on speaker. He has rather dramatic news for us.”
Roper then gave them a detailed account of the events at Highfield Court.
“The bastards,” Blake said. “Those Brotherhood guys.”
“I agree,” Cazalet told him. “But no match for a woman who is one of the few to be awarded a Military Cross in the British Army.”
Charles Ferguson chuckled. “Or an even younger one raised all her life in a household that was a hotbed of the Provisional IRA.”
“What do you want to do?” Roper demanded.
“We’ll call round to see them,” Ferguson said. “First—get me Imam Yousef Shah on the line.”
There was a pause, and then, “Shah here.”
“Charles Ferguson. I shouldn’t think any of the theology departments at Oxford would be too proud of you tonight, you and your Brotherhood.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. The Muslim Brotherhood has no connection with this mosque. You must look elsewhere for whatever disturbs you.”
“A nice turn of phrase, Imam, but I was actually considering what might be the best way of disturbing you.”
“I appreciate the warning,” the imam told him. “But take care—my appointment in Samarra could be yours. May Allah go with you.”
He went off, and Roper said, “Shakespeare would have loved him.”
“Good point. But we’ll be off to Highfield Court. Oh, and do a favor for me. Tell Sadie we’re coming and make it clear we aren’t expecting dinner or anything. She takes her hospitality very seriously, you know.”
“What a hypocrite you are, Charles,” Roper said.
“A fault I readily admit,” Ferguson told him. “But so useful in this game we play, Giles.”
IT WAS TWO O’CLOCK in the afternoon in Washington when Alice Quarmby, summoned by the President, arrived at the Oval Office.
“Do you have the slightest idea what it’s about?” she asked the secretary.
“Afraid not. It might be a minute, though. Colonel Hunter’s been in there for forty minutes.”
“Then it’s me for the powder room, Elsie. Be right back.”
IN THE OVAL OFFICE, the President was sitting behind his desk, Hunter standing as he talked.
“The use of private military companies in the recent ISIS attacks in Mali certainly proves their worth.”
“As glorified security men, protecting business or preventing the theft of Muslim treasures, yes, I’ll grant you that. Meanwhile, the French flew a hit force of marines in a fleet of aircraft all the way from Paris by night and caught ISIS with its pants down. Rather more impressive, I’d say.”
There was little Hunter could say to that, but as he turned to leave, the President said, “Actually, there’s something you could do for me, Colonel. You’re heading for London now, right?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now do me a favor and help Blake watch out for Cazalet over there. Don’t let them know, just be my extra eyes and ears. He’s putting himself in harm’s way. Too public, Colonel. I want him back here where we can protect him. The damn fool seems to court death every time he speaks in public.”
“Yes, I can see what you mean, Mr. President. I’ll take care of it.”
“Excellent. You may need some extra authority, so I’ve made you a presidential aide with a pass to prove it. Don’t forget to call on the ambassador. He’ll be expecting you but won’t know why. Elsie has an envelope for you on the way out, and I’ll phone you from time to time. Remember: This must stay secret, even from the ambassador. Philip Hardy is a good man but has a mind of his own.”
“Of course, Mr. President, I understand perfectly now.”
Alice, standing in for Elsie for a few moments in the outer office, had heard everything as Hunter stood with the door ajar. She ducked into the filing cupboard a second before Hunter emerged from the Oval Office and Elsie entered.
“I believe you have