Jack Higgins: The Judas gate

'We dispense with that on special occasions.'

'So what's the charge?'

'There will be many. Your exploits as Shamrock have been better than the midnight movie, you know. And by the way – it wasn't one of us you shot in the Khufra, it was Colonel Ali Hakim.'

Justin laughed out loud. 'You don't say. I think that's really very funny.'

Holley said, 'Hakim also told me the identity of the Preacher before he died. It's Professor Hassan Shah of the London School of Economics – if you're interested.'

'Oh, I am, but it's a pity I didn't know it earlier. I believe he met a bad end.'

'Cyanide poisoning,' Dillon told him.

Justin turned to his mother and said, 'Just like Heinrich Himmler.'

'For God's sake, Justin,' Jean said. 'This isn't funny. They're here to arrest you.'

'I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint them.'

'What do you mean?'

'I'm planning to go down to Drumgoole and fly away in my Beech Baron.'

She was incredibly distressed. 'Justin, this is madness.'

'But I am mad, just like Colonel Henry said. I've always known it.'

His hand went into the rucksack and Holley drew his Walther. Justin produced the half-bottle of brandy, waved it at him and drank deeply. Holley dropped his hand, holding the Walther against his leg. Justin replaced the brandy bottle in the rucksack, pulled out a Browning and shot Holley and Dillon in the chest.

Kelly cowered, raising his hands, and his mother screamed, 'No, Justin.'

He laughed wildly. 'Your lucky day, Jack, I'm out of here.' He pushed Kelly to one side, pulled open the door and lurched out, making for the stairs, reaching for the banister to support him on the way down.

Jean, almost demented, dropped on her knees beside Dillon, but found him taking one deep breath after another, and then already sitting up.

'Body armour,' he gasped. 'It's like being kicked by a mule, but a lot better than being dead.' He was panting, his voice hoarse, but Holley was already stirring in the same way. As Kelly helped him up, Jean turned and ran out.

Justin was making slow progress getting down the stairs, and she caught up with him as he reached the door.

'It's no use, love, there's nowhere to go.'

He knocked her hand away. 'Yes, there bloody well is.' He went down the steps and made by mistake for the Mercedes that Dillon and Holley had parked there.

As he got the driver's door open, it started to rain, and there was thunder in the distance. He got in and she pulled open the passenger door and scrambled in beside him. By chance, Holley had left the key in the ignition.

'Justin, please darling, think again,' Jean said.

'Oh, no, none of that, Mum. I told you where I was going and I meant it.' He switched on the engine and drove away.

Dillon, Holley and Kelly came down the stairs together. 'Are you okay?' Dillon asked Holley.

'I'm more angry than anything else. Imagine falling for a cheap trick like that.'

'So thank God once again for the nylon-and-titanium vest,' Dillon said, and asked Kelly, 'What about Drumgoole?'

'It's a small flying club just off the coast road. When he flies over from Frensham, he uses a twin-engine Beech Baron. Drumgoole is only twenty minutes from the house, so it's convenient.'

'Well, you know the way, so you take us there,' Dillon told him. 'Only put your foot down. God knows where he thinks he can hide now, but I'd prefer to put a hand on him while we still can.' There was very little wind, but it was raining hard now, and gloomy, as night touched the far horizon. The Mercedes turned into the small car park at Drumgoole, but the flying club was closed, not a soul about.

'Nobody's here,' Justin said.

'That's usual when there's no activity, no bookings,' she said.

There were two Archers, a Cessna 310 and the Beech Baron. 'There she is, the darling,' Justin said. 'Let's hope Regan's done his stuff and left the cabin key in the usual place.' He got out of the Mercedes, walked to the red-painted sand box hanging beside the door of the office and felt inside. He held the key up in triumph. 'There you go.'

He started to walk towards the Beech Baron, and Jean went after him, begging, 'Please, Justin, don't do this. Where will you go? Stay and give us a chance to work this out.'

'I don't think so.' He reached the plane, stepped up on the wing and unlocked the cockpit door. At that moment, Kelly's Morris appeared up on the road, paused and started down to the car park. 'Oh, dear, must go.' Justin scrambled in across to the left-hand seat.

Jean tried to follow him, stepping up on the wing as he switched on the engine. 'I'm coming with you.'

'I don't think so.' As the propellers started to turn, he shouted above the engine roar, 'Better this way, Mum,' shoved her down off the wing, slammed the door and started to move away.

The Morris braked to a halt, the three men got out and the Beech Baron was moving, Jean Talbot running alongside, pleading.

Dillon ran in, ducked and grabbed her, dragging her away, and Justin, gazing out of the cockpit window, raised his thumb. The plane swung round and rushed forward, lifting as he boosted the engines, very fast and very low, and then it started to climb and continued until, perhaps a quarter of a mile out, the engines stopped.

There was silence except for the rushing rain, and Jean Talbot screamed, as if knowing what was going to happen, and the Beech Baron dropped its nose and went straight down into the sea. There was a great fountain of foam, and she cried helplessly as she turned and buried her face against Dillon's chest and he held her.

She looked up at him, her face swollen with her weeping. 'Damn you, all of you, with your lies and deceit and endless killing. The world should be better than this.'

She started to cry helplessly, and Jack Kelly came and took her gently from Dillon and held her close. 'Let's go home, Jean, back to the Place.' He nodded to Dillon and said, 'There's a trench three hundred feet deep out there. He knew that. This is your Mercedes, I think. I'd go if I were you. Much the best thing.' They sat in the Mercedes waiting for the Morris to leave, and Dillon got out his Codex, called Roper and gave him a quick resume of events.

Roper seemed subdued. 'So that's it?'

'If you mean is Justin Talbot dead, you'd better believe it. I suppose recovering the plane is possible, if Jean Talbot wants it. What do you think Ferguson will make of it?'

'He rang me from the Cabinet Office, so I seized the opportunity to get it over with and I told him what you were up to. He just said: I might have known.'

'Well, God knows how he'll react to the result. I'll be seeing you.'

Holley said, 'God, but I'm sore.'

'You're alive,' Dillon said. 'That's all that counts.'

Holley nodded. 'Do you think Justin Talbot was mad?'

'Barking mad,' Dillon said.

'So really, it wasn't his fault, any of it?'

'It's a point of view,' Dillon told him.

Twenty minutes later, when they were close to the outskirts of Belfast, Roper called again and Dillon put it on speaker so Holley could hear.

'I've told him what happened.'

'And what was his reaction?'

'He said it was perfect. Justin Talbot dies in a tragic plane crash and that clears the whole thing up without a scandal. As someone else said very recently, you have a great gift for doing the wrong thing, but getting the right result. See you, Dillon,' and then he rang off.

'Right for whom?' Dillon said. 'Ferguson, the Prime Minister, the Cabinet Office?' He shook his head. 'Do you ever get tired, Daniel, really tired?'

'Sure I do,' Holley said. 'It's a mad world, Dillon, but it's all we've got.'

By the good offices of Blake Johnson, Dillon found himself soon after on assignment to the CIA at Langley on an anti-terrorism programme. The principle was 'set a thief to catch a thief', his years on the other side of the fence providing invaluable experience for students.