Jack Higgins: The wolf at the door

"Where are you?"

"In the country. I'll be back in town soon. Look for me, girl. Keep the faith."

He sat there, thinking about it. A bloody mess it had turned out to be and still only three o'clock in the morning. Well, no point going back to bed now. He called Selim, who answered groggily.

"Whoever this is, go away."

"It's me, Selim. Stop fooling round. We need to talk. Meet me downstairs in five minutes."

He had actually been sitting in the lounge for fifteen minutes when Selim emerged, looking rumpled.

"So tell me what's so important."

Holley did, from the beginning to the shambles it had now become. Selim listened with a kind of awe. "My dear boy, can this be so? It's better than the midnight movie. What happens now?"

"Charles Ferguson will move quickly to get Kurbsky and those with him to somewhere safe-and that's the end of it."

"The Big Boss in the Kremlin will be disappointed, and I have a feeling Lermov will feel you've let him down."

"Well, that's too bad… And if he thinks I'll go back to the Lubyanka, he can think again."

"Fighting talk, that's what I like to hear. Let's see if there's anyone round to give us breakfast, Daniel, and then we'll get back to town and see what's happening."

Back in London at his hotel, Holley phoned Ivanov in the afternoon. "I presume you've heard the bad news?"

"Chekhov told me as soon as he knew. Not so clever now, Holley, are we? You've failed."

"I suppose you could put it that way," Holley told him. "Has Lermov called?"

"Of course he has and he isn't pleased. I'd say it's back to the Lubyanka for you."

"It's a thought, I suppose. When does he get in?"

"Round midnight, and he's told me to keep a close eye on you. No use in trying to do a runner." He was thoroughly worked up, his voice full of venom.

"Don't be stupid," Holley told him. "How can you keep a close eye on me when you don't even know where I am?"

"I know where the Daly woman is, though."

"That's true, but I warned you about approaching her and I meant what I said. She's had enough on her plate."

"Yes, more bloody failure, as I understand it. Major Chelek has heard what happened to Charles Ferguson last night. Absolutely bloody nothing. A dead chauffeur wasn't the point. I understand the Salters' pub, the Dark Man, is still standing in spite of a suspected arson attack."

"True," Holley said. "And Lady Monica Starling survived the crash with the truck driver who tried to knock her off the road."

"A complete failure, that's the truth of it," Ivanov said. "And what about Kurbsky? Chekhov told me that you had arranged for one of the cell members to break into Kurbsky's aunt's house to find out if he's been hiding there. What happened about that?"

Suddenly, in a moment of revelation, Daniel Holley knew that he'd had enough, and that he didn't really care anymore about Putin being disappointed and Josef Lermov's career prospects facing severe damage. When it came right down to it, even the threat of a return to the Lubyanka didn't worry him, because he was going to run, and keep on running, and they could all go to hell.

What he wasn't going to do was tell Ivanov that Alexander Kurbsky and Yuri Bounine were hiding in his aunt's house, almost certainly awaiting a pickup for pastures new, arranged by Charles Ferguson.

"According to Cochran, the house was empty, everyone gone. That's all I can say."

"Then where are they?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. Maybe Ferguson would know. You could ask him."

"Or that Starling bitch," Ivanov said. "She was more involved with Kurbsky than anyone."

"I don't think you'd get very far asking her, and, as she's Harry Miller's sister and Sean Dillon's lover, I wouldn't advise you to try. Anyway, I'm telling you again. Stay away from Caitlin Daly."

"Go to hell," Ivanov told him, and clicked off.

Holley didn't have to prepare for the possibility of a bad scenario, he knew it was coming. He stripped to the waist and pulled on his bulletproof vest, then dressed again. This time, he backed up the ankle holster and the knife in his left sock with the silenced Walther in the special left-hand breast pocket of his raincoat.

At the shop, Selim let him in, and said, "I see you have your suitcase with you."

"At this stage in the game, a fast exit might be in order. I'm returning your laptop."

"Bring me up-to-date," Selim said.

Holley filled him in. "So there you are, a disaster all round."

"The call from Ivanov doesn't sound good. Do you think he'll go after Daly?"

"I'm sure of it, which is why I'm going there now. Lermov's not due until midnight. Can I borrow the Mini Cooper?"

"Of course you can. I'll get the keys." Selim went out for a moment, then returned and handed them to Holley. "If you have to park it somewhere, leave the keys inside and lock the door. I have spares if it needs to be picked up. What have you planned?"

"I haven't the slightest idea. I'm at the stage where I'm not playing the game, the game's playing me."

"A most interesting position to be in. I await the outcome with bated breath."

"Then I'll be on my way. Obviously, I'll be in touch."

"Please do, dear friend." Selim embraced him and lightly kissed his cheeks. "Allah protect you."

Holley went out into Shepherd's Market, the door closed behind him. He was alone again.

He'd just started to drive when his Codex sounded, and he pulled over to the side of the road. It was Chekhov, and his first words were, as usual, "Where are you?"

"On the road. What do you want?"

"You spoke to Ivanov, didn't you?"

"Yes."

"You told him that Cochran found the place empty. You were very lucky."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that Ivanov has some special new electronic gadget from Major Chelek that knocks out security systems. He and Kerimov got inside Chamber Court a short time ago and found it deserted. Not a soul there."

Holley felt immediately cheered. "Ferguson certainly moves fast."

"So where do you think they are?"

"Probably America, Ferguson is owed a lot of favors there, but wherever it is, it will be very, very safe. Ivanov must be going out of his head at that thought."

"What about Caitlin Daly?" Chekhov asked. "She must be devastated at the way things have worked out."

"That's one way of describing it."

"And Lermov gets in at midnight, I hear," Chekhov said. "And won't be pleased."

"You can say that again," Holley told him.

"What are you going to do, get the hell out of there?"

"I'd like to, but there's the woman to consider."

Chekhov laughed incredulously. "Don't be ridiculous, you don't owe her anything."

"Come off it, Max. There she was, living on past glory and her own impossible dream, and she'd still be doing that if I hadn't turned up and made the dream real again."

"Hardly your fault. That was Lermov and Putin at the Kremlin. You didn't have a choice."

"Maybe not, but I can't just run out on her now. I've got to go. I'll speak to you later."

He started to drive but had to pull over to the side as his Codex alerted him again. It was Caitlin Daly in a panic. Sean Dillon had turned up at the church with Billy Salter. Dillon had gone into the confessional box with Monsignor Murphy. It was all there, and Dillon knew everything, and four dead men already-Henry Pool, John Docherty, Frank Barry, and Jack Flynn-all with the card in their wallets. Ferguson and his people were on to them.

Holley agreed with her. At this stage, for Dillon to be so close was incredible. The prayer cards hadn't helped. Out of the six male cell members, five had carried the card. He certainly hadn't known about that, and he wondered if Caitlin did.

"There's no proof, nothing concrete." He tried to reassure her. "Where are you?"