Jack Higgins - Day of Reckoning

'Back to Kilbeg to reflect. I'm not broke.'

'You still owe me on a lot of that equipment in the bunker. I know you've got at least a million on hold there.'

'I know, I know. A few bank raids will take care of the expenses, and the war will start again soon anyway.'

Fox held out his hand. 'Good luck. Stay in touch.'

'I will.'

They went back to the limousine, Fox, Falcone and Russo got in, and it drove away.

Murphy smelled the warm air, the aroma of spices. 'Disgusting, this place, Dermot. Let's go home to some civilization.'

Blake had a bullet crease on his right shoulder. Anya gave him first aid. On the Pamir, there was a certain jubilation.

Dillon and he changed, then went into the saloon. Moshe Levy was pouring wine into glasses, and Anya came in from a shower in a towelling robe, drying her hair.

'Where's Gideon?' Dillon asked.

'Making a phone call.'

Gideon was talking to his uncle at his apartment in Tel Aviv. General Cohen listened and slapped his thigh. 'Marvellous. What a coup.'

'Dillon and Blake Johnson are returning to London soon.' 'Well, tell them they go with my blessing. And Anya, she is well?'

'She should get a medal. She was wonderful.'

'Mossad doesn't give medals, you know that. But I will give you all a nice dinner.'

In Beirut, Fox, Falcone and Russo boarded their plane, discreetly observed by Lacey and Parry, who had been supplied with photos. The plane rose steadily to fifty thousand feet and turned into the Mediterranean. Russo sat at the back and a woman flight attendant offered drinks and a menu. Fox waved her away.

Falcone sat opposite him. 'Now what, Signore?'

'I don't know, Aldo. I've just lost a fortune. Murphy's lost a lot, and he owes me God knows how much for those arms in that bunker in County Louth. The Colosseum is closed down.' He took a deep breath. 'We've only got the Jagos left and that White Diamond Company job. Ten million. Four to them leaves me with six.'

The attendant handed Falcone a vodka martini. He savoured it and said, 'Why not the full ten, Signore? Why not all the proceeds? Russo and I could handle it. It'd go a long way to making up what you just lost.'

Fox tasted his glass of champagne. 'You really are a very bad man, Aldo. But I like it.'

Falcone smiled, recalling his conversation in the washroom at the airport with Don Marco on his mobile. He'd recounted the whole sorry affair.

Don Marco had said, 'It just gets worse. If I didn't know better, I'd say it was Dillon and Johnson again. But you say it was the Israelis?'

'No doubt about it. They identified themselves.'

'It's like he was snakebit. All right, Aldo, watch out for him, okay?'

Remembering, Falcone said, 'The Jagos. They're animali, Signore. As I say, let Russo and me take care of them.'

'It's certainly an interesting thought.' Fox smiled. 'We'll see.'

In London, Ferguson listened to Dillon on his Codex and nodded. 'What an absolutely marvellous result. Our friends at Mossad have performed magnificently, but you and Blake haven't done too badly, either.'

'Why, Brigadier, praise from you is praise indeed.' 'Don't let it go to your head, Dillon. We'll see you soon.' He sat there by the fire in his flat, thinking about it, then

called for his Daimler, got a coat on, and told his driver to take him to Pine Grove, where he knew Hannah Bernstein was working on Sean Regan. Helen Black greeted him and took him to Roper's suite, where the Major sat at one of his screens, Regan on one side, Hannah on the other.

'Well, children, you'll be delighted to know that Al Shariz has resounded to a most satisfactory explosion. The SS Fortuna, crewed by Army of God fanatics, is no more. Not only the Hammerheads, but the five million in gold, which was supposed to have been split between Murphy and Fox, has gone down, thanks to Czechoslovakia's gift to the world, Semtex, in one hundred fathoms of water.'

'Holy Mary,' Regan said.

A moment, Brigadier.' Roper punched at the keys and checked his screen. 'Two hundred fathoms, actually. There's a trench in that harbour. Be a little difficult to retrieve, anyway.'

'What next, sir?' Hannah asked. 'Kilbeg?'

'How far have we got?'

'Oh, Sean's being very cooperative. I'm assembling a ground plan,' Roper said. 'Would you like to see?'

'No, let's wait for Dillon and Blake.' He turned to Hannah. Any word from Salter?'

'No, sir.'

'I think I'll go and see him.'

'Do you want me to come, sir?'

Ferguson shook his head. 'No, you continue here with Regan and the Major.' He turned to Helen Black. 'How would you fancy an excursion into the London underworld, Sergeant Major?'

'Why, I can't think of anything I'd like more, Brigadier.' 'Good, let's be on our way, then,' and Ferguson led the way out.

LONDON

Salter and Billy were in the Blind Beggar, one of London's most famous pubs, in its heyday the haunt of gangsters such as the Kray brothers, the Richardsons and others. It was crowded and busy at that time in the evening, although a lot of the crowd were tourists, for organized trips were very much a part of the scene.

Salter waved to a small man, an albino in a black tee shirt and suit. 'One of the best lock and safe men in the business, Billy. Manchester Charlie Ford. The big black guy with him is Amber Frazer. Very good with his hands, though, mind you, he's got a brain. They're an item.'

'What do you mean, an item?' Billy asked.

'You know, gay. Homosexual.'

Billy shook his head. 'Well, all I can say is they're missing out on a damn good thing.'

'Takes all sorts, Billy. We'll have him over.'

He beckoned, and Ford approached, with Frazer by his side. 'Charlie, my old son, and Amber.' Salter shook hands. 'My nephew, Billy. Watch yourselves. He's a right villain.'

Aren't we all?' Ford said.

'Join us for a drink. I might be able to put a bit of business your way.'

He'd already heard that Ford and his friends were booked up, but was testing the water.

'What are you suggesting, Harry?' Ford asked.

'Well, I'm organizing something big. I won't say what, but I'd need a top man with your skills, and let's face it, Charlie, you are the top man.'

'When are we talking about?'

'Next couple of weeks.'

'No way, Harry, I mean, next month could be all right, but I'm booked right now.'

'Well, good for you. It's a nice one, I hope.'

'Very nice, Harry, very special.'

'Say no more. What I don't know, I can't talk about.' He kept the faqade going. 'What about Phil Shapiro?'

'Got turned over last week. They're holding him at West End Central. You could try Hughie Belov. Mind you, he claims to be retired, but he taught me a lot. Depends on what you're offering.'

'Thanks for the idea,' Salter told him.

At that moment, the Jago brothers walked in and stood at the end of the bar. Ford said, 'Got to go, old son. See you around.'

'Take care,' Salter told him.

Ford and Frazer joined the Jagos. Billy said, 'That settles it, I'd say.'

'Yeah. But we still need to know exactly what they're up to.'

'How do we do that?'

'The old-fashioned way. Follow them to see where it leads. Come on.'

Baxter and Hall waited in the Range Rover parked up the street. Salter said, 'Don't bother with me, I'll get a taxi. You wait with Billy. The Jagos are inside, with Manchester Charlie Ford. When they come out, follow them. You've got those night glasses in the glove compartment, Joe, the Russian things.'

'Sure have, Harry.'

'Get on with it, then,' and Salter walked away.

It was half an hour later that the Jagos emerged, with Ford and Frazer. They went up the street to a Ford station wagon, got inside, and drove away. To Billy's surprise, they were aiming for home territory, Wapping. There was plenty of late evening traffic and Baxter stayed well back. The station wagon finally turned into a narrow road between old warehouses, mostly refurbished.