A Devil Is Waiting (10 page)

“Do you also work at the Ministry of Defence, like that nice Major Roper who came to hear my sermon?” the rabbi inquired.

“Now and then, if I’m needed,” Holley said. “I’m also in the shipping business.”

“But somehow a colleague of my granddaughter who’s a captain in the Intelligence Corps. This I don’t understand.”

He accepted the cup of tea Sadie handed him, and Sara said, “The thing is, I won’t be wearing the uniform much anymore.”

“Except if you have to go to the Palace to get your Military Cross,” Holley said.

The news was received with astonishment, Sadie missing a cup entirely while pouring more tea.

“The Military Cross?” Nathan Gideon was amazed. “Sara, you never said a word.”

“I only just heard,” she said. “And it was totally unexpected. Frank, my sergeant, deserved it more.”

“I don’t think he’d agree,” Holley told her. “It was his account of your actions that night that led to you being put up for the award in the first place.” He stood up. “Look, sir, you’re a sensible man and I get the impression that Mrs. Cohen is pretty smart, too, so please listen. Major Roper, Sara, myself, and a few other people work for a top secret intelligence unit, responsible only to the Prime Minister.”

He turned to Sara inquiringly and she nodded in agreement. “What Daniel says is true, Granddad. But you know you can’t say anything about this, right? Neither of you. It’s under the Official Secrets Act.”

Her grandfather gaped at her in astonishment as Sadie said, “So no more wars, no more Afghanistan?”

Sara smiled and then said, “Sadie, I’d be perfectly happy if I never have to clap eyes on the place again.”

“So you will be living at home? That’s good. Now, you get that tea down you, and I’ll see to the trolley when you’re finished.”

She went out, and Nathan said, “I’d like to thank you for clearing the air about all this, Daniel. We all know where we stand now, and you can rely on me and Sadie to play our parts.” He smiled mischievously. “Such as they are.”

Holley said, “I’ll get out of your way, because I know you must have a lot to talk about, and I know you’re going out later.”

“That’s true. A big fund-raiser with a speech, unfortunately. But I suspect we’ll be seeing each other again.”

They shook hands, and Holley followed Sara out to the hall. “He’s a rather wonderful man, isn’t he?”

“You could say that. And very special to me after what happened to my parents.” His tie had loosened, and she reached up and adjusted it. “Thanks for what you told him. It needed doing, and I didn’t know how.”

The rush of tenderness he felt at that moment was a totally new experience. He said to her, “Doing things for you comes easy.”

She went back along the corridor to the study. The door of the cloakroom opened and Sadie came out with towels. “Still here?”

“Just leaving.”

She nodded and moved closer. “She’s a lovely girl. Do anything to hurt her—”

Holley cut her off. “I know, you’ll kill me,” he said cheerfully.

“Just remember that.”

Seeing Sara returning, she retreated into the cloakroom. Sara opened the front door, turned, and smiled at him. “Seven-thirty okay with you?”

“Do you mean it?”

“Not too dressy. Somewhere interesting. Don’t be late—I’m hungry.”

She pushed him outside, shut the door and leaned against it, smiling as Sadie emerged from the cloakroom. “So you’re going out on a date with him?”

“I know what you’re going to say. He isn’t Jewish.”

“Why would I say that, and what does it matter as long as it’s you having the kids?” Sadie told her. “As it happens, I like him, so there.” She turned and went back to her kitchen.

T
he moment he was out of the shower, and sober, Jack Kelly lost no time in contacting Owen Rashid, who was delighted with the turn of events.

“Legrande is obviously the right man for this, no question. Don’t tell him you’ve told me about his cancer. I don’t think he’d like that.”

“I’ll keep that from him, then,” Kelly said. “But it will make that bastard Abu sit up and take notice. It should keep him off our backs for a while.”

“Let’s make sure of that by getting things moving right away. I’ll expect you at my apartment in half an hour. I’d like to meet him.”

He was immediately impressed with the Frenchman, who was everything he could have wished for. Rashid had been putting on his tie when they arrived, told them to help themselves to a drink, and found them enjoying a whiskey at the table by the open terrace window.

“I’ve been looking at your record, Henri, and I think you’re the man for this job. Do you?”

“But certainly, Monsieur Rashid, or I wouldn’t be here.”

Owen reached for the red file and put it on the table. “Every scrap of information Al Qaeda has on Ferguson and his people is in there.”

“The facts in here are all guaranteed, then?” Legrande asked.

“Yes. Unfortunately, we don’t have an internal source in his organization, so we can’t
tell
you what his intentions are.”

“It would be a miracle if you could with an old fox like Ferguson,” Henri said.

“Money is no problem,” Owen said. “Anything you need, you get. My people want him finished once and for all.”

“It will be my pleasure.” Henri shook hands and led the way out.

Jean rang a couple of minutes later. “I don’t really feel like anything exotic tonight. Would you mind if we just go to that little Italian place at the end of Curzon Street?”

“Not at all,” he said. “We might as well walk. Not worth taking the car.”

Fifteen minutes later, he was pressing the bell at her front door. She was out in a moment, wearing a French beret and a short navy blue bridge coat. He kissed her on the cheek, and she took his arm.

“You look very Parisian tonight,” he told her. “Most becoming. How are you?”

“I had students to see, end-of-term papers to discuss with other staff. Dammit, Owen, I’m a painter, an artist, that’s what it’s all about.”

“I know that,” he said.

“This title I have, visiting professor in fine arts, sounds very prestigious, and I suppose it is for some people, but I couldn’t care less. The only difference between me and my colleagues is that I’m filthy rich. I feel guilty about that.”

“Don’t be silly. I’m in the same position when it comes to money. I haven’t the slightest intention of feeling guilty about it. What else is new?”

“Just that Kelly’s in town,” she said.

“You didn’t mention he was coming.”

“I didn’t know. It’s happening in a hurry. He’s needed to see my finance director at the firm about the estate accounts for some time, then he discovered that a man he was involved with in his wild youth, and thought was dead, is running an antiques shop in Shepherd Market.”

“By his wild youth do we mean his IRA days?” Owen asked. “You did tell me all about that, remember.”

“Yes, the friend is French, as I understand it. Anyway, I’ve told Jack that under the circumstances he might as well make a bit of a holiday out of it. He’s staying at this chap’s place for a few days.”

“Well, there you are, then,” Owen said, and a moment later, they reached the restaurant.

T
hey sat in a corner booth, had a bottle of cheap red wine, and shared some lasagna and crunchy bread that was warm from the oven.

Over cognac he said, “Kelly’s IRA activity must have been a problem for you, with your son being an officer in the British Army. But when you had me over, it was heartwarming to discover the great affection the people in Kilmartin have for you.”

“You mean with their being IRA to the core and me a Protestant?” All at once, she felt like unburdening herself. “I knew my son served in the SAS and I kept quiet about it. Kelly found out and lied for me, so that the villagers have never known of my guilt. They never knew that my wild son’s madness resulted in his Al Qaeda connection, nor that he took his own life.” She put a hand on his. “So there you are—lies, deceit, and enough wickedness to choke on.”

None of this was new to him, but hearing it from her own mouth moved him deeply. He had been so sure that he had served merely as a substitute for the son she had lost so tragically, but realized now that the truth was rather different.

He paid the bill, and they walked up Curzon Street in silence, arm in arm. When they reached the house, she rummaged in her purse to find her key and he took it from her.

“Let me,” he said, and opened the door.

She turned to face him, trying to smile but in obvious distress. “So sorry, Owen, to unload all that garbage and guilt on you like that. I get so damn lonely.” She was close to tears. “Just look at me, chairman of Talbot International, the woman who’s got everything and nothing.”

“What nonsense. You’ve got me, haven’t you?” He kissed her lightly on the mouth. “That’s better, isn’t it?”

As if not quite believing what he had done, she glanced up at
him in astonishment and then smiled. “Yes, it is, actually. Would you by any chance fancy a coffee before you go?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said, then stepped inside and closed the door.

O
n leaving Owen Rashid’s apartment, Henri Legrande and Jack Kelly had returned to the antiques shop, where the Frenchman started to work his way through the file Rashid had given him. Leafing through it, he was immediately aware of the most recent addition, and he read it quickly.

“Look what we have here,” he said to Kelly. “Captain Sara Gideon just joined Ferguson’s staff from the Intelligence Corps.”

“A nice-looking woman,” Kelly said, examining Sara’s photograph.

“There’s a damn sight more to her than good looks,” Henri told him. “Her military record is remarkable, and I know her grandfather by reputation, Rabbi Nathan Gideon. Very popular with the interfaith movement. Preaches all over the place, even in Christian churches. He’s good—I’ve heard him.”

“So where would he fit in?”

“When she’s not serving abroad, she lives with him. Since she was a passenger on that Gulfstream of Ferguson’s that just got in from New York, I think we can assume she’s with him now.”

“Do you want to take a look?”

“Why not? I’ll need to check where all Ferguson’s people live, but she’ll do for a start. We’ll take my car.”

T
wenty minutes later, he was behind the wheel of his small and battered Citroën van, Kelly beside him, observing Highfield Court, when the Alfa Romeo Spider turned into the drive.

“Now, there’s a nice car,” Kelly said, and then Holley got out and approached the front door. “It’s Daniel Holley. I know the bastard well. Sean Dillon’s friend. Top Provos in their day, but damn traitors now.”

The door opened and Sara Gideon appeared, Sadie behind her. She looked very striking, the red hair contrasting vividly with a bomber jacket, shirt, and loose leggings in black raw silk.

Sadie said, “Don’t let it go to your head, but you look fantastic.”

“Well, he’s not looking too bad himself, is he?” Sara nodded to Daniel, standing by the Alfa in a leather flying jacket and jeans.

“For an older guy,” Sadie told her.

“Don’t be boring.” Sara kissed her on the cheek. “Go and check us out on your tarot cards or something.” She went down the steps and said to Holley, “You’re looking very sharp. Love the jacket.”

“I told you I was a pilot.” He handed her into the Alfa and slid behind the wheel. “For someone who said not too dressy, you look amazing.”

“Thank you, Daniel, but the other thing I stipulated was somewhere interesting, so what’s it to be?”

“You’ve got to meet Harry and Billy Salter sometime, so I thought we’d combine business with pleasure and visit the Dark Man down on Cable Wharf at Wapping. That’s Harry’s pub.”

“Well, that sounds fun,” she said as they drove away.

The Citroën went after them, and Kelly said, “What are we going to do?”

“Who knows?” Henri told him. “We’ll just hang in there and see where they go.”

I
t was dark below by the Thames as the Alfa moved down the hill and pulled up in front of the pub, which was ablaze with lights.

“Well, here we are, the Dark Man, the first piece of property Harry Salter ever owned, the beginnings of his empire.”

Sara smiled. “Oh, he has one of those, does he?”

“Ever since he discovered there was more money to be made from business than crime. He was known in the London underworld as a right villain. He only did prison time once in his youth, and that was enough. These days he’s behind some of the biggest developments on the river.”

“And his connection with Ferguson? What’s all that about?”