Jack Higgins: The Judas gate

Billy called, 'Have a nice day,' then produced his mobile, called Roper, and Shah went back in the house.

Roper said to Billy, 'Did you hear anything to make you think he was going to try to leave the country?'

'No, I checked him out, chatting up people in the local newsagent and cafe. He never uses his car since he had a bump a year ago. He's a taxi man. I just thought it would be a good idea to make the car useless to him, just in case.'

'And he saw you?'

'Too damned right he did.'

Ferguson's voice boomed. 'You've forced my hand, of course. We'll have to lift him now. Stay there, make sure he doesn't try to sneak out of the back.' Shah sat at his desk as despair overwhelmed him. For the first time, he realized the price he was going to have to pay, his eminence as a lawyer, his professional standing. He had come to this: someone to be despised. And for what? It was all Talbot's fault, the fiasco of the Khufra affair. Damn him! A complete loose cannon. He thought back to what the girl, Fatima, had said. If she was right and Talbot's life hung in the balance, it would be nice if somebody gave him a nudge. Shah thought he had the very man. Jack Kelly was in the estate office at Talbot Place, angrily clearing his desk, for what had passed between him and Justin had been hard to take. 'Jack Kelly,' he barked.

'Why, you sound angry, Mr Kelly. You should be, after Justin's role in the Algeria debacle. He's not well, I understand. I gather Sean Dillon put a bullet in him.'

'Who the hell is this?' Kelly was aghast.

'Talbot knows me as the Preacher.'

Shah's front doorbell rang. He got a pillbox out of a small drawer in his desk, took what looked like a lozenge out of it and slipped it into his pocket. He walked to the bow window, taking the desk phone, looking through the glass at Ferguson, who was standing there with Billy and Harry Miller.

Kelly was shouting, 'Answer me, damn you, what's going on?'

'Well, I've just looked out to see Major General Charles Ferguson at my door with two henchmen. I fear my end is near.'

'Does he know that Justin is Shamrock?'

'Not that I'm aware of, but I haven't time for a prolonged discussion. I just wanted you to know, as an old PIRA hand, that Major Justin Talbot lied to you and your friends at Kilmartin, lied to his own mother. Many years ago, he moved from the Grenadier Guards to the Twenty-second SAS at Hereford. He took part in more than twenty covert operations over a number of years.'

'You're lying,' Kelly shouted.

'Come now, Mr Kelly, why would I lie? June the third, Nineteen eighty-nine, an ambush at Kilrea. Eight members of the PIRA were killed. It was known as the Kilrae Massacre. I believe Justin killed four of them himself.'

'Damn you,' Jack Kelly said.

'Already taken care of.'

Shah dropped the desk phone on a coffee table, took the lozenge from his pocket and kept it in his cheek. The doorbell rang again and he opened the door as Ferguson led the way in, followed by Billy with a Walther in his hand, and Harry Miller.

'Ah, there you are,' Ferguson said. 'I presume you know who I am?'

'I do indeed, General.' Shah turned to walk to the sofa.

Billy said, 'Where do you think you're going?'

'To sit down,' Shah told him. 'I might as well die comfortably.' He bit hard.

'No,' Ferguson cried and reached out, and Shah fell back, face contorted, gave a terrible moan, jerked to one side, his legs shaking, and rolled on to the floor. There was a strange and pungent smell and Miller dropped to one knee.

'See the froth on his lips? The only good thing about it is it was quick.'

'What a stink,' Billy said. 'What was it?'

'Cyanide capsule,' Ferguson told him. 'A favourite of highranking Nazis when they lost the war.'

Miller had gone to check the desk and found Shah's open mobile which he'd left there. He read aloud the text: 'The winds of heaven are blowing and you must fly with them as does the Eagle. May Allah go with you.' He handed it to Ferguson. 'Maybe some kind of warning?'

'We'll never know, but I'll give it to Roper to ponder over.'

'What do we do now, send for the disposal unit?' Billy asked.

'I think not,' Ferguson said. 'Leave him to be found as what people believed him to be. An eminent Professor of a great university.'

'Christ, you are being kind,' Billy said.

'No, Billy, just charitable. He can't harm us now, so let's go, shall we?' And he led the way out. Jack Kelly, totally distraught, sat with his head in his hands at his desk, trying to come to terms with what he had been told. That the Preacher, faced with the prospect of being lifted by Charles Ferguson, was choosing death, made perfect sense to Kelly. On the other hand, in such circumstances, why would the Preacher lie about anything? So Justin had served with the SAS, hunted down and killed members of the PIRA. The real problem was it didn't really surprise Kelly. It fitted with everything else about Justin. He'd had a kind of madness since boyhood, and Kelly saw that now.

He took a Browning he'd used in his wild days out of a bottom drawer, always kept loaded from force of habit, put it in his right-hand pocket and went out. He went up the stairs in the Great Hall slowly, aware of the weight of the Browning in his pocket, feeling like an executioner again, for he had been here before in similar situations, a bullet being the only way to deal with traitors and informants.

When he went in, Justin was sitting up, his head slightly to one side, eyes closed. Murphy was reading a book. Kelly said, 'Go and have your tea break. I want a word with him.'

'Not for long, he gets tired,' Murphy said and went out.

Kelly stood at the end of the bed. Justin opened his eyes. 'There you are again. I was out of order before. I apologize.'

'I've got news for you from the Preacher.'

Justin frowned. 'You've got what?'

'He called me on my office number. He said he only had a few minutes because Charles Ferguson and two of his men were at the front door demanding entrance.'

'What was he going to do, make a fight of it?'

'No, kill himself, but he told me that he thought I ought to know a few things. Like that you lied to all your friends in Kilmartin about your army service during the Troubles. That you served on more than a score of covert operations with the Twenty-second SAS, including the Kilrea Massacre in June eighty-nine.'

Justin tried to brazen it out. 'Are you telling me you'd take the word of a man like the Preacher against mine?'

'The word of a dying man,' Kelly said. 'He seemed very well informed to me. That girl in Algeria said you were dying and it would be the best thing for you. When this gets out, you're finished in Kilmartin. I wouldn't be surprised if someone wasn't able to resist the temptation to shoot you.' He produced his Browning. 'You've no idea how much I'd like to use this.'

Justin leaned down, picked up his rucksack, put it on the bed and produced a Walther. 'You could always try.'

'You bastard,' Kelly said. 'According to the Preacher, you even lied to your own mother.'

'What did you expect me to do? Worry her to death every time the SAS handed me another death warrant? Anyway, it would have made life for her and the old man impossible.' He smiled. 'I've always thought the world of my mother. I do have my good side.'

'I doubt that,' Kelly said.

'Ask her, if you like. She's been trying to make some sense of my clothes in the dressing room. You launched your attack too soon, didn't give me an opportunity to tell you she was there.'

The half-open door next to the bathroom opened, and Jean entered. She wore jeans and a white shirt, her hair tied back, and her face was incredibly calm.

'Sorry about the guns, Mum, I'll put mine away if he'll pocket his. He's caught me out again: more of those secrets you keep bumping into where I'm concerned. You'll have heard what Jack's had to say, and I'm afraid it's all true. I deceived you for years, and it was so easy to do. Covert operations with the SAS are as secret as anything could be. I was thinking of what was best for you.'