Jack Higgins - On dangerous ground

The truck which had shown them the way drove off and Lacey killed the engines. There was a small man in a cloth cap and old flying jacket standing in front of the hangar and as Dillon and Hannah went down the steps, he came forward.

"Chief Inspector Bernstein? Paolo Gagini." He held out his hand. "Mr. Dillon, it's a real pleasure. Come this way. We believe Morgan landed at Valdini two hours ago, by the way. His Citation put down here a little while ago. It's over there being refueled, but it isn't going anywhere tonight. I saw the pilots leave the airport."

Dillon turned as Lacey and the co-pilot came down the ladder. "You'd better come too."

They went into the hangar and Gagini led them to a large, glass-walled office. "Here you are, my friend. Everything I could think of." There was a parachute, a Celeste silenced machine pistol, a Beretta pistol in a shoulder holster, a Walther and a bulletproof vest in dark blue, and a pair of infrared night glasses.

"Everything but the kitchen sink," Lacey said. "Are you going to war, Mr. Dillon?"

"You could say that."

"There's a camouflaged suit for you over here," Gagini told him, "and some Army jump boots. I hope to God they're the right size."

"Fine, I'll go and get changed," Dillon said. "If you'll point me to the men's room." He turned to Hannah. "You fill in the Flight Lieutenant and his friend while I'm gone," and he followed Gagini out.

And at that same moment at Valdini Luca's Mercedes sedan turned in through the gates in the wall and went up the gravel drive to park at the bottom of the steps leading up to the front door. As the driver helped Luca out, the front door opened and Morgan appeared and hurried down the steps.

"Don Giovanni."

They embraced. The old man said, "So you got it, Carlo, against all the odds? I'm proud of you. I can't wait to see it."

"Come, let's go in, Uncle," Morgan said and turned to the driver. "You stay here. I'll have them bring you something from the kitchen."

He helped Luca up the steps and into the house. Asta came out of the living room and put her arms around Luca at once and he kissed both her cheeks.

"Carl did it, Don Giovanni, isn't he clever?"

"Don't listen to her," Morgan said. "She played more than her part this time, believe me."

"Good, you must tell me about it."

He led the way into the living room where Ferguson sat by the log fire, Marco standing behind him, Uzi in hand.

"So, this is the redoubtable Brigadier Ferguson," Luca said, leaning on his stick. "A great pleasure."

"For you perhaps, but not for me," Ferguson told him.

"Yes, that's understandable." Luca eased himself down into a large chair opposite Ferguson and held out his hand. "Where is it, Carlo?"

Morgan took the document from his inside pocket, unfolded it, and passed it over. "The Chungking Covenant, Uncle."

Luca read it slowly, then looked up and laughed. "Incredible, isn't it?" He looked at Ferguson. "Think of the mischief I'll be able to make with this, Brigadier."

"Actually, I'd rather not," Ferguson told him.

"Come, Brigadier." Luca folded the Covenant and put it in his inside pocket. "Don't be a spoilsport. You've lost and we've won. I know you face an uncertain future, but surely we can be civilized about it." He smiled up at Morgan. "A nice dinner and a bottle of wine, Carlo. I'm sure we can make the Brigadier a happier man."

Dillon returned in the camouflage uniform and jump boots, picked up the bulletproof vest, and pulled it on. He checked the Walther and slipped it under the waistband at the back under the tunic, then tried the Celeste. Gagini had some large blow-up photos on the table which he was showing to the two RAF pilots and Hannah.

"What's this?" Dillon asked.

"Pictures of the farmhouse at Valdini taken from the air. I got them from drug squad files."

"Would you anticipate any problems landing there?" Dillon asked Lacey.

"Not really. That strip across the meadow is one hell of a length and that half-moon will help."

"Good." Dillon turned to Gagini. "What about a plane?"

"Navajo Chieftain waiting outside ready to go."

"And a good pilot who knows what he's doing?"

"The best." Gagini spread his arms wide. "Me, Dillon, didn't I tell you I was in the Air Force before I transferred to Intelligence work?"

"Well that's convenient. How long to get there?"

"With the Navajo's speed no more than fifteen minutes."

Dillon nodded. "Right. I need half an hour on the ground."

"Understood," Gagini nodded. "I'll come straight back here and join the others in the Lear. By the time we're landing at Valdini it should be just about right. I'll go and get the engines fired up."

Dillon said to Lacey, "I'll leave you that Beretta in the shoulder holster, just in case." He picked up the parachute. "Now show me how to put this on."

Lacey looked shocked. "You mean you don't know?"

"Don't let's argue about it, Flight Lieutenant, just show me."

Lacey helped him buckle the straps, pulling them tight. "Are you really sure about this?"

"Just show me what to pull," Dillon said.

"The ring there and don't mess about, not at eight hundred feet. The Navajo has an Airstair door. Just go down it, fall off, and pull on that ring straight away."

"If you say so." Dillon picked up the Celeste machine pistol and slung it across his chest and hung the night glasses around his neck. He turned to Hannah. "Well, are you going to kiss me goodbye?"

"Get out of here, Dillon," she said.

"Yes, ma'am."

He gave her a mock salute, turned, and went out and across the tarmac to the Navajo where Gagini sat in the cockpit, propellers turning. Dillon went up the steps and turned. Hannah had a last glimpse of him pulling up the Airstair door and then the Navajo moved away.

Thenight sky was clear to the horizon and alive with stars and in the light of the half moon the countryside below was perfectly visible. They were flying at two thousand feet along a deep valley, mountains rising on either side, and when Dillon looked out of one of the windows he could see the white line of a road winding along the valley bottom.

It was all very quick. Gagini climbed to two and a half thousand to negotiate a kind of hump at the end of the valley and beyond was a great sloping plateau and he started down.

Five minutes later he leveled off at eight hundred, turned and called over his shoulder, "Drop the Airstair door. It's any minute now and I don't want to have to go round again, it could alert them. Go when I tell you, and good luck, my friend."

Dillon moved back to the door, awkwardly because of the parachute. He rotated the handle, the door fell out into space, the steps unfolded. There was a roar of air and he held onto the fuselage buffeted by the wind and looked down, and way over on his left was the farmhouse looking just like the photo.

"Now!" Gagini cried.

Dillon took two steps down holding the handrail and then allowed himself to fall, headfirst, turning over once in the plane's slipstream, pulling the ring of the rip cord at the same moment. He looked up, saw the plane climbing steeply over on his left, the noise of the engine already fading.

In the dining room of the farmhouse they had just finished the first course of the dinner and Marco, acting as butler again, was clearing them away when they heard the plane.

"What in the hell is that?" Morgan demanded and he got up and moved out on the terrace, Marco behind him.

The noise of the plane was fading over to the right. Asta came out at that moment. "Are you worried about something?"

"The plane. It seemed so low that for a wild moment I thought it might intend to land."

"Dillon?" She shook her head. "Even he wouldn't be crazy enough to try that."