Jack Higgins - The White House Connection

Hannah said, 'I suppose the only good thing is that Senator Cohan won't die on us here.'

'You really think so?' Ferguson shook his head. 'There has never been a suggestion that Barry killed the others. The only logical reason for his presence here, if Cohan was a target, would be because the Senator had become an inconvenience. No, we've deposed of one danger, at least temporarily. The other one – our mysterious second assassin – is still out there.' He picked up the phone. 'Get me Senator Michael Cohan at the Dorchester.'

He kept the audio button down. A moment later, Cohan said, "Michael Cohan. Who is this?'

'Charles Ferguson. I believe you know who I am.'

'Yes, I do, and I don't wish to speak to you.'

'Senator, believe me, I only have your best interests at heart.'

'I am a US Senator on a visit on behalf of the President,' Cohan lied. 'If you continue to harass me, I'll complain to the Prime Minister's office,' and he slammed down the phone.

'An angry man,' Dillon said. 'So what do we do now?'

'Why, we adjourn for lunch, of course.'

Giuliano, the manager of the Dorchester Piano Bar, greeted them with enthusiasm. Ferguson had been using the place for twenty years or more, Dillon comparatively recently, but he did appear on a regular basis. Hannah Bernstein, of course, was no problem. Like any Italian male, Giuliano appreciated beauty combined with brains, and Hannah certainly had that. The fact that she was also a Detective Chief Inspector of the Special Branch at Scotland Yard was a bonus. The additional fact that she had killed in the line of duty gave an extra frisson. Giuliano remembered the newspaper story. A couple of years previously, she had been passing a street on her way to Grosvenor Square when a woman had emerged screaming that an armed hold-up was taking place. As she was on American Embassy duty that day, Bernstein had been armed, and had seriously embarrassed the villains by shooting one man armed with a sawn-off shotgun, dead.

Giuliano kissed her on each cheek with style, then presented his suggestions for lunch. Homemade cannelloni with mozzarella cheese and ham stuffing. Then there was gnocchi di patate al pesto, potato dumplings in garlic and basil sauce. They made their choice, and Dillon ordered Krug non-vintage champagne.

'One thing,' Ferguson said to Giuliano. 'I understand that Senator Michael Cohan has a table reserved for one o'clock?'

'That's true,' Giuliano said, looking startled.

'Well, then, put him at the next table, there's a good chap,' Ferguson said.

Giuliano smiled. 'Here we go again, Brigadier. I should write a book. All these years. The Cold War, English public school men who were communists under the skin, and then the Irish.' He smiled at Dillon. 'Forgive me, my friend…'

'I know, I'm a terrible man,' Dillon told him.

Giuliano said, 'So the American gets the next table. I wish you joy.'

He went away, the Krug came, and Dillon insisted on pouring. He said, 'How did you know Cohan would be here?'

Ferguson grunted. 'The telephone, Dillon. It's a wonderful instrument. You should try it sometime.'

Hannah said, 'How do we handle it?'

'Head on, my dear, head on.' Ferguson raised his glass. 'To lrfe and love and happiness.'

'Well, if you add peace in Ulster, I'll drink to that,' Dillon said, and Cohan appeared at the head of the steps.

Giuliano greeted him, brought him down to the next table, took an order for a dry martini and went away.

Ferguson said, 'Senator Michael Cohan? Brigadier Charles Ferguson.'

Cohan was outraged. 'This is harassment of the worst kind. I warned you I would complain to the Prime Minister's office. I certainly will after this.'

Two things happened. He started to get up and a waiter arrived with the dry martini. It was Dillon who took over.

'I don't mind you being a politician, Senator. We have them in Ireland, too, although I remember one saying, "Don't tell my mother I'm a Senator in the Dail, she thinks I play piano in a whorehouse.'"

'How dare you!'

"Oh, shut your face,' Dillon said. 'Try not to be stupid, because that's what you're being. Now if you want to live, listen to the man.'

Ferguson said, 'Just hear me, Senator. Let's discuss the Sons of Erin and see if you can make any Connection' – he emphasized the word – 'with your own experience.'

When he was finished, Cohan sat there, very pale. 'This has nothing to do with me.'

'Listen, you shite,' Dillon told him. 'Jack Barry was here in London last night, and why? To pick the meat off your bones.'

Cohan was really worried now, but tried to bluster. 'I know nothing of this.'

'The Sons of Erin are all dead, Senator. Now, maybe somebody just doesn't like dining clubs,' Dillon said. 'But our theory is that Jack Barry came over on a hasty trip to tidy things up, which meant stiffing you.'

It was Hannah who put in, 'But that still leaves, somewhere out there, the individual who got rid of your friends.'

'Nonsense,' Cohan told her. 'It's all rubbish. Now I demand that you leave me alone!' He swallowed the dry martini.

Ferguson said, 'So you won't cooperate. All right, Senator, have it your way. The Prime Minister and the President will be so informed. However, my instructions are to keep you alive if possible while you're in London, so we'll be there tonight at the Forum for Irish Peace doing our best to achieve that aim, whether you cooperate or not.'

'Go to hell.' Cohan got up and walked out.

Their pasta arrived. Hannah said, 'What now, sir?'

'Why, we enjoy this delicious light luncheon, return this evening and try to keep the bastard in one piece.'

'You think there could be a problem?'

'I've never been more certain of anything in my life.' Ferguson picked up a fork and turned to Dillon. 'Black tie, dear boy, do try to look civilized.'

With nowhere else to go, Cohan phoned the Connection on the coded mobile phone number and poured out everything, all his doubts, all his fears.

When he was finished, Thornton said, 'Can't you see what they're doing to you? I had an arrangement with Barry. He flew over to protect you, so they found out he was there, and he got out by the skin of his teeth, from what you say.'

'You told me I'd be safe in London.'

'You will be. I was just making doubly sure by sending Barry. Everything will be fine.'

'You said Barry would be taking care of whoever was behind the killings.'

'There's a lot going on you don't know about. Just trust me.'

'It's my hide if something goes wrong.'

'Senator, Senator – nothing will go wrong. Okay? So just calm down, relax, enjoy the party. I'll be in touch.'

Thornton hung up and immediately phoned Barry.

'I've had Cohan on in a hell of a state. He's had Ferguson and Dillon on his back. Why didn't you tell me how badly things went?'

'Because it only happened last night and I was busy getting out of England in one piece.'

'Let me hear your version.'

So Barry did, staying reasonably close to the truth. When he was finished, he said, 'It was just one of those things. How Dillon found me, I don't know.'

'A considerable nuisance, that man.'

'The army said that for twenty years and the IRA have been saying it ever since. Anyway, what about Cohan?'

'I'll have to leave him to do his own thing, I'll think of something when he returns to the States. I'll be in touch,' and he put down his phone.

In the house in South Audley Street, Lady Helen Lang went through her wardrobe and finally selected a superb evening suit in black crepe. She held the jacket against her as she stood in front of the mirror. There was a knock on the door and Hedley entered with a cup of tea.

'What do you think?' she asked.

'Looks good to me.'

She hung the black suit inside the wardrobe. 'Fine.' She sipped some of her tea. 'I've a hair appointment at Daniel Galvin's in forty-five minutes.'