Jack Higgins - The White House Connection

'So, to other matters. This party of Chad Luther's day after tomorrow in Quogue.' He turned to Thornton. 'Any special problems, Henry?'

'None, Mr President.' He turned to Blake. 'Good old Chad is our biggest fund-raiser and he'll have all the world and his wife there.'

'Will you use Air Force One, sir?' Blake asked.

'No. I'll go down in one of the Gulfstreams.' The President nodded. 'Pursue your inquiries, but I want you to join up with the security arrangements, too, and come to Long Island. Take the helicopter.'

'Forgive me, Mr President, but I'll have Sean Dillon here by then.'

'Bring him with you, by all means. I'd appreciate seeing him again.' Cazalet smiled. 'But now, I really must get on. Good old Henry here will be breathing fire and smoke before I know where I am.'

Thornton laughed appreciatively, and Blake withdrew.

Back in his office, he spoke to Harry Parker and raised the question of security videos. Parker said, 'That's a good point. Thinking about things after you left, it occurred to me, too. I'll check.'

'That's that, then,' Blake said. 'I saw the President, told him everything about our talk with the girl. He said he appreciated your help, Harry.'

'Hey, don't fuck with me.'

'It's the truth, Harry. I'll keep you posted.'

Harry Parker sat there at his desk, frowning, thinking about what Blake had said. Then his phone rang again, and a woman's voice said, 'Captain Parker?'

'Who is this?'

'I have the President for you.'

Parker sat there in total astonishment, gripping the phone, and the President said, 'Harry Parker? Jake Cazalet.'

Parker managed to mumble, ' Mr President?'

'Just wanted to thank you for your efforts. Blake Johnson has filled me in. I know the fact of a presidential warrant must have given you a problem. It goes against the grain of all your service experience. But I'm personally immensely grateful for the help you've given without hesitation in a most serious and confidential matter.'

' Mr President, I am yours to command.'

'Blake handles a very special unit on my behalf, Captain, and frankly, there are more demands on its services all the time. I know it would be asking a lot to ask a long-serving NYPD captain to make a move at this time in his career, but I wonder if you'd be interested?'

Parker managed to stay calm. 'I said yours to command, Mr President, and I meant that.'

'Excellent. Not right away, but you'll be hearing from Blake in the future.'

The phone clicked off. Harry Parker sat staring at his own and then replaced it. He got up, went to the window, and looked out at New York in the rain. A whole new life beckoned, at a time when other guys were thinking about retirement.

He went back to his desk, opened the second drawer and took out a highly illegal Romeo y Julietta Cuban cigar, bit off the end, lit it and sat down.

'Well, now.' He was grinning all over his face. 'Well, now.'

It was evening in London when Blake spoke to Ferguson. He gave the Brigadier a total resume of what had happened, the interview with the Wiley girl, what the President had said.

Ferguson listened, then said, 'So, as regards hunting down our mystery woman, we're left with the slim chance that some Park Avenue security video might feature her?'

'I'm waiting to hear. The President feels it might be worth having Dillon here. He's the only one who's ever glimpsed this woman. Perhaps he could match it to a glimpse on video.'

'I doubt it, but I'll have him on his way on the next available flight.'

'I appreciate that, sir.'

'Good, stay in touch.'

Ferguson put the phone down, thought about it, then rang transportation at the Ministry of Defence. 'Brigadier Ferguson here. What's the quickest flight to Washington?'

'Concorde in the morning, sir.'

'Well, Her Majesty's government will just have to spring for it, I suppose. Book Dillon on it. If it's full, throw someone off'

Next he phoned Stable Mews. There was no reply. He tried Dillon's mobile and did better. The Irishman's voice was clear against a background of voices and music.

'And who is this disturbing my early evening?' Dillon demanded.

'Me, you silly bastard. Where are you?'

' Mulligan's.'

Ferguson hesitated, then gave in. 'Well, the oysters are appealing, even if you aren't, Dillon. I'll be there in twenty minutes.'

Dillon sat in the upstairs bar of Mulligan's Irish restaurant in Cork Street, not too far from the Ritz Hotel, and devoured a dozen oysters and a bottle of Cristal champagne to help things along. Ferguson came up the stain and pushed through the crowd.

'So there you are.' He picked up the Cristal bottle. 'What happened to the Krug?'

A young Irish girl appeared. 'Is there a problem?' she asked Dillon in Irish.

'A decent girl from Cork who understands me,' Dillon told him, and smiled at the girl as he replied in Irish. 'Don't be put off, my love. He looks like the kind of English lord who'd put his boot to you, but his sainted mother was from Cork. Give him a dozen oysters and a pint of Guinness.'

She gave him a smile and vanished to the kitchen. Ferguson said, 'I didn't understand a word, but you're going to feed me?'

'Of course. Now what's up?'

'You, at dawn, then it's Heathrow for the Concorde to Washington .'

Dillon still smiled, but the grey eyes didn't. 'Tell me.'

Forty minutes later, the Brigadier swallowed his last oyster, an expression of ecstasy on his face. 'Superb! Only an Irish bar could do oysters like this. So, Dillon, what do you think?'

'About Blake and where we are? God knows. I knew we were dealing with a woman, because I'd seen her. Now this girl's story confirms what any kind of sense always indicated, that it wasn't some organization after the Sons of Erin, but some individual seeking revenge. But for what?'

'Perhaps you'll come up with something over there,' Ferguson said.

'I always believe in travelling hopefully.' Dillon poured him a glass of Cristal. 'Mind you, one thing does intrigue me.'

'What would that be?'

'We know all these facts about the whole Sons of Erin business and yet the Secret Intelligence Service knows nothing. Just the usual stuff on Barry, but nothing more. A great big blank. It smells to me of one of those it-didn't-happen jobs as far as Simon Carter and company are concerned.'

'You could be right.'

'I always am,' Dillon said.

In his office in the Basement, Blake sat thinking. Finally, he pressed a buzzer for Alice. She came in and sat down.

'You look as if you've got a problem.'

'The leak. The White House leak. There has to be more we can do on it.'

'So you don't have much faith in the chief of staff's efforts?'

'It's not that. I just feel we're missing something. Look, Alice, say you're the Connection. The Sons of Erin are all gone. You're left with one person to talk to -Jack Barry.'

'So?'

'So remember when we tracked down that Pentagon spy a couple of years ago? Patterson?'

Comprehension dawned. 'You mean Synod?'

'Exactly. Why not set the Synod computer to tracking some calls. Insert the name Jack Barry. See what crops up.'

'We're tracking Northern Ireland?'

'No, I would suspect coded mobiles at that end, so that's no good. Stick with Barry and see what comes up. The White House first, then Washington.'

'Millions of calls, Blake. That's what Synod covers.'

'But it will tell us where any calls to someone called Barry originate from. Let's try it, Alice. What have we got to lose?'

In Washington, Thornton phoned Barry. 'I have more intelligence for you. Blake Johnson managed to track down a young woman in New York with quite a story.' 'Well, tell me.' Which Thornton did.

When he was finished, Barry said, 'The old bitch, just let me get my hands on her.'