A Devil Is Waiting (15 page)

Sara offered her hand. “A drunken mugger, Daniel. It’s the times we live in.”

He pulled her up. “Are you okay?”

“Of course I am.” She held up the Colt. “I was ready to blow that bastard’s brains out.”

“I’ll take you home.”

“Oh no you won’t. There’s only one place you’re going to take me, and that’s the Dorchester.”Henri Legrande watched the Alfa drive away, having heard and seen everything that had taken place. Kelly said, “What a mess that turned out to be.”

“It could have been worse. He might have beaten the truth out of those two, but his only concern was the woman, which enabled them to get away.”

Henri said, “This lady is quite exceptional. We’ll have to take care with these two.”

They turned and went back to the Citroën.

R
ain drummed against the canopy, which Holley had sent out over the terrace at the touch of a button. He sat in the half-light, an open bottle of Dom Perignon on the table. There
was only one glass, Sara having taken a refill with her when she had decided to soak in a hot bath in marble splendor.

He poured another and drank it slowly, considering what had happened. The two men involved in the assault had been luckier than they knew, but he felt curiously calm. That she was safe and unharmed was all that mattered.

He called Roper on his Codex and told him what had happened. “What do you think?” he asked.

“That you’re losing your edge. The important question here is: Were these guys just drunken muggers, as Sara said, or were they a couple of thugs hired by somebody to do their worst? What you should have done was kick hell out of one of them until he talked.”

“All right, so I didn’t.”

“And we both know why. While you were making sure Sara was okay, they were able to leg it. She
is
all right, isn’t she?”

“So you care, do you?”

“Of course I do.”

“I’ll tell her that. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled.”

“She’s not still there, is she?”

“She felt like having a hot bath after what happened. I’ll be taking her home shortly.” Roper burst into laughter, and Holley said, “What’s so funny?”

“You are, Daniel, I’ll see you at noon tomorrow. Say good night to Sara for me.”

A moment later, she walked in wearing a terry-cloth robe. “The bath was lovely.”

Holley said, “You’re not dressed. Don’t you want to go home?”

“On a night like this? It’s pouring out there and I’d be
alone. Sadie’s gone to Manchester to see her niece, who’s just had a baby girl, and she’ll be staying for a few days. I thought you wouldn’t mind me sleeping over in the second bedroom, the smaller one you never told me about. I see the maid has only turned down the covers on yours. I’d better go and sort the other one out.”

Suddenly, she looked very tired indeed, the stress finally catching up with her, and although she would never admit it to him, her leg was really hurting.

“Just take the master bedroom,” Holley told her. “I’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, Daniel, I believe I will. I’ve got such a headache. You wouldn’t have something for that, would you?”

“As it happens, I do. I’ll get it for you.” He went to his study, got two pills from his field service kit, went into the bedroom with a glass of water, and found her already under the covers, her head raised on a pillow.

“These act incredibly quickly, and they’ll help you sleep.”

She got them down and put the glass on a side table. “Sometimes I hate men, Daniel. What absolute bastards those guys were. A woman on her own on a dark street, and a cripple into the bargain. That just about sums them up.”

He sat beside her on the bed and held her hand. “With a pistol in her hand and ready to use it. That creep doesn’t realize he’s lucky to be alive.”

She managed a smile and touched his face. “Poor Daniel. I’m a problem for you, aren’t I?”

“A nice problem. Just go to sleep.”

She closed her eyes, and he sat there until her hand slipped away. Only then did he quietly leave the room.

T
hey arrived at Holland Park in good time for the noon meeting, to find that it had been canceled. They found only Roper and Dillon enjoying a cup of tea together in the computer room.

“What’s going on?” Holley asked.

“Ferguson and Miller have been called for a Cabinet Office discussion about Ali Selim.”

“Is there anything to suggest he’s left the country?” Dillon asked.

“No, but I’d say it’s a strong possibility,” Roper told him. “Think of the times you’ve been involved with beating the air traffic control system, dropping in and out again from some decaying airfield deep in the countryside.”

“True enough,” Dillon said. “He could be over the English Channel in a small plane inside two hours, and once in France, transfer to a jet, and the world’s his oyster.”

“There was a chance that the President’s Secret Service people would persuade him to cancel and carry straight on to Paris, though that would have left the Prime Minister with egg on his face.”

“But he’s still coming?” Sara asked.

“Insisted on it, but the Prime Minister is as incandescent on the whole matter as Ferguson is with you two,” Roper carried on.

“You told him about last night?” Holley said.

“Come off it, Daniel,” Dillon put in. “Club rules, old son. Even if the threat is only a possibility, it’s the kind of thing that touches us all. An attempted mugging is one thing, assault as a
result of being targeted is something else again. Roper’s right—you should have squeezed the truth out of one of them.”

“Just shut up, the both of you.” Sara was angry. “It wasn’t Daniel’s fault. So those two guys were pretty foul, but I shouldn’t have been there in the first place. I was being childish and stupid. The truth is this is a whole different world I’ve been plunged into.”

Dillon put an arm about her shoulders. “You’ll be fine, girl dear, just give it time.”

“It’s all right saying that, Sean.” She smiled bitterly. “But perhaps I
was
being targeted. Who knows?”

“Well, it won’t happen again, because I’ll see it doesn’t.” Holley turned to Roper. “So what now?”

“I’ve had orders to go down to the House of Commons and check out the terrace, and I’m to take you three with me. Tony is going to take us in the van.”

“Well, that will certainly be a new experience,” Sara said.

“Not for Dillon,” Roper said. “He’s something of an expert where the terrace is concerned, but I’ll tell you about that when we get there. Let’s get moving.”

A
t the House of Commons, Tony stayed with the van while Roper and his friends joined the queue to get in. It was mainly constituents hoping to see their MP or people on official business. Tourists were being turned away by the security staff, obviously because of the pending arrival of the President. Some were complaining bitterly as they were firmly moved on.

A uniformed police inspector, obviously in charge, standing back surveying the scene, wore the campaign medal for Ireland, among others. He stared at Roper, then walked forward.

“Major Roper, isn’t it? What a pleasure to see you, sir. My name’s Halloran. I was the military police sergeant major in charge of the entrance to the Portland Hotel in Belfast when you spent nine hours defusing that bomb in the foyer.”

“I remember you well.” Roper shook hands. “You were on that door when I went in, and you were still there when I came out.”

“A privilege to be there, Major. I’ll never forget it.”

“We’re here on behalf of the Cabinet Office to have a look at the security situation on the terrace.”

“I was notified about it, Major. I just didn’t realize it was going to be you. Allow me to lead the way.”

H
e left them on the terrace beside the Thames, which was surprisingly busy—MPs enjoying a drink, waiters passing to and fro from what was called the Terrace Bar. It was very pleasant there, slightly chilly but the sun shining enough to bring the awnings out, and the famous tall Victorian lamps ranged along the parapet added to the scene.

“I’ve never been here before,” Sara said. “Why is the carpet green here and red up there?”

“That’s the House of Lords end,” Dillon said, and ordered champagne for all of them from a passing waiter. “A grand place, this, restaurants and bars all over the show.”

With remarkable speed, the waiter was back with four glasses
of champagne on a tray, and they each took one. “So what makes you such an expert on the terrace?” Sara demanded.

“An old story, my love, no big deal. I’ve no wish to bore you.”

“What a humbug you are.” Roper touched glasses with Sara. “Some years ago, President Clinton graced the terrace with a visit, and the security services will never forgive Dillon for turning up as a waiter and serving canapés to President Clinton and the Prime Minister.”

Sara turned in appeal to Holley, who shrugged. “Before my time.”

Which left only Dillon. “But how did you do that?” she asked.

“It was very simple. The Salters dropped me in the river from a passing boat in the middle of the night. I hauled myself up to the terrace, hid in a storage room, and stayed there until the action started, when I came out dressed as a waiter.”

Before she could say a word, Henry Frankel appeared, a file under his arm, and he was smiling hugely.

“Captain Gideon, what a pleasure.” He shook Sara’s hand warmly. “You exceed my expectations, and that doesn’t happen very often.” He turned to Dillon. “So, what have you got to say, Sean? Is our security acceptable?”

“Well, there’s still twenty-six restaurants and bars, entrances and exits galore, MPs, workmen, cleaning staff—in other words, far too many people, and you notice I haven’t even mentioned the river?”

“Well, we’d rather you didn’t,” Henry Frankel told him. “We don’t want to be alarmist.”

“I’m just being realistic, Henry. In Belfast in the bad days of the Troubles, Catholic women of all ages queued up to get
jobs as cleaning ladies in schools and factories that housed British troops. There were sympathizers to the Cause in the Royal Ulster Constabulary itself, and the civil service.”

“What are you trying to say?” Frankel asked.

“We live in a cosmopolitan society, Henry, and London is a splendid example. We’ve left a vehicle in the underground garage, where people in overalls, obviously from many cultures, work as mechanics and sweepers. It was the same coming through the House of Commons to get here—lots of cleaning women in the corridors, for example. The champagne I ordered? The waiter was obviously Muslim. People were talking and didn’t notice that I ordered in Arabic, which pleased him, by the way. Did you notice, Daniel?”

Holley shook his head. “No. I didn’t notice.”

“The place is a sieve, Henry, but so is the whole country, just like Belfast was. People can’t help hearing conversations, good people who don’t want to be involved with terrorism, but when you’ve got a family, you’ll respond to pressure for obvious reasons.”

“Everything you say is true,” Henry Frankel said. “We can only travel hopefully. You are team leader, Giles,” he said to Roper. “Everybody loves a hero, and the George Cross certainly makes you that. We are keeping quiet about your exploits at Abusan, Sara. There are good reasons why, so no offense.”

“None taken,” she said.

“Blake Johnson tells me the President asked for you, Dillon, to be included in the luncheon, and you, Daniel. I believe he knows both of you.”

“True enough,” Dillon acknowledged.

“So the four of you return tomorrow morning. Harry Miller and Charles Ferguson have been ordered to stay at the Prime Minister’s beck and call all day.” Frankel chuckled. “I’ve never seen Ferguson so fussed. He said to tell you, Giles, to make sure there’s no more nonsense with Daniel and Sara, whatever that means. I’d love to know, but I haven’t got time to listen. Ciao, everyone, I’ll see you in the morning,” and he was gone.

Roper smiled at Sara. “Well, there you are. You’ve been warned to avoid bad company at all times.”

“Thanks very much,” Holley told him. “Can we go to lunch now?”

Roper laughed and led the way out.

W
ith only failure to report, Henri Legrande and Kelly had kept quiet about the two attempts to cause mischief with Holley and Sara. It left Owen Rashid, seated at his laptop by the terrace in his apartment, with little to say when Abu came on the line.

“I’ve heard nothing from you. What’s happening with Legrande and Kelly?”

“I understand they’re familiarizing themselves with the background of Ferguson’s people.”

“Then I trust they were at the riot in Hyde Park yesterday morning. They were all there.”

“What do you want from me?” Owen asked him.