Jack Higgins - The White House Connection

'But the vigilante would need to know, sir.'

' Exacdy. But note one thing: a three-year delay. That argues to me that by whatever means, the real truth has only come out recendy.'

Hannah said, 'What are you suggesting, Brigadier?'

'Why, it's simple. The woman who killed Tim Pat Ryan, who killed Brady, Kelly, Cassidy and the less-than-illustrious Senator Cohan, is my old and dear friend, Lady Helen Lang.'

Long Island,

Norfolk

In Blake's office in the Basement, Dillon drank tea and ate a cheese sandwich Alice Quarmby had provided.

'You're looking good, my Irish friend,' Blake told him.

'Oh, the Concorde is no handicap. I like travelling like the rich.'

'Sean, you are rich, we all know that."

'You don't understand,' Dillon said. 'What I like about the Concorde is that someone else is paying for it. Anyway, what did you want me for?'

'Harry Parker is checking the security videos on the other side of the street from Cohan's house and the alley where the Wiley killings took place. We thought there was a chance the woman might be on them and, if so, you might be the one to recognize her.'

'I might recognize her from Wapping, but that doesn't mean I'd know who she is.'

'I know, but what else do we have to go on?'

Alice Quarmby looked in. 'I've got Harry Parker on the line. Can you speak?'

'Of course.'

Blake picked up the phone. 'Harry? How goes it?'

'All bad, Blake. I checked out the security videos. There were only three cameras that viewed the area. All of them have been recorded over. No help there at all.'

'Too bad,' Blake said. 'Well, thanks, Harry. If you can think of anything else, please let me know. I'll speak to you soon.'

Blake hung up. Dillon said, 'Another dead end?'

'I'm afraid so.'

'So I've had a free flight on the Concorde for no good reason.'

'Looks like it. Sorry, Sean. At least we can entertain you while you're here. A very important supporter of the President's, one Chad Luther, is giving the mother of all parties on Long Island this evening. You know Fitzgerald's novel, The Great Gatsby? Luther loves it. He has a mansion like Gatsby, lawns down to the sea. If you're anybody at all, you're on the guest list.'

'Let me guess,' Dillon said. 'And if you're nobody at all, you're on the guest list. If you have a ring through your nose and play the guitar indifferently, you're on the guest list.'

'You are, as usual, uncomfortably close to the truth, my friend, and it gives the Secret Service a serious headache.' Blake picked up a file of papers. 'I've had to go through the guest list myself

'Looking for what? Arabs in white sheets?'

'Don't laugh. The President is flying down in one of the Gulfstreams. There's a helicopter shuttle service for security people. That includes you and me.'

'I'm honoured.'

There was a knock at the door and Alice looked in. 'Fresh coffee? Tea?'

'No, we're fine. What about… what we talked about before?'

'We're still trawling.'

She went out. Dillon said, 'Trawling?'

Johnson hesitated for a moment, and then said, 'Oh, hell, I'm sure Hannah knows all about it. It's a special computer program, called Synod. Thousands of conversations pass through, millions of words. Insert a name, for example, and instead of going through it all, painstakingly, the computer tags it for you. Then you go back and listen to the relevant conversation.'

'Jesus,' Dillon said. 'And it works?'

'Remember Patterson? That's how we caught him.'

'So what's the name you're inserting?'

'Jack Barry.'

'You're after the Connection.'

'That's it.'

'Science and technology,' Dillon said. 'People like you and me are going to be obsolete.'

The phone rang and Blake picked it up. 'Brigadier, how are you?' He frowned. 'Of course, he's right here.' He held the phone out. ' Ferguson. For you.'

'Brigadier?' Dillon said.

'I've got some rather astonishing news for you. Listen well.'

A few minutes later, Dillon put the phone down slowly. Blake said, 'Bad news?'

'He's just told me who he thinks the mystery woman is.'

Blake sat up. 'Tell me, for Christ's sake,' which Dillon did. Afterwards, he shook his head. 'I've met that woman. A great lady. But the facts are plain. I mean, this horror story from Ulster did take place?'

'So it would appear.' Dillon slammed a clenched fist on the desk. 'Damn Jack Barry – damn him to hell.'

'Lady Helen Lang.' Blake frowned. 'Just a minute.' He picked up the guest list for Luther's party and leafed through it. 'I thought so. Here she is, a guest at Chad Luther's party tonight.'

'So?' Dillon said.

'Well, we were going anyway.' Blake frowned.

'And tell the President?'

Blake was strangely reluctant. 'What do I do? If the Brigadier's right, she's killed several people.'

'And I've just remembered something,' Dillon said. 'That function Cohan attended at the Dorchester that night he took the big fall, the Forum for Irish Peace?'

'What about it?'

'Helen Lang was there. I had a chat with her. A wonderful woman, Blake. I knew her son had died in Ulster, but not the manner of his going.'

'It would seem likely that she does.'

'It would explain a great deal.' Dillon got up, lit a cigarette and paced across the room. 'There was always something about her, from that first day at the funeral. Don't get me wrong, I liked her from the first, but I always felt uneasy.'

Blake nodded. 'I'd better have a word with the President.' He picked up the phone and rang upstairs to the Oval Office. 'Blake Johnson for the President.' He nodded. 'I see.' He put the phone down. 'He's already left for Long Island.' He thought for a moment. 'We've got time. I'll tell him then. I'd rather this be in person.'

The door opened and Alice appeared and she was excited. 'Synod's come up trumps, but my God, you aren't going to like it. It's thrown up conversations to Jack Barry as recently as the last few days. You'd better come down to the audio room.'

They sat in the small enclosed room, the huge spools of tape turning, and listened to the final conversation between the Connection and Barry. 'Lady Helen Lang. She's attending a big fat cat party tomorrow night on Long Island, so don't look for her at home.'

'I can wait,' Barry said. 'Don't worry. She's history.' The computer whirred and switched off. Alice said, 'Who would have believed it?'

Dillon said, 'You mean you know who it is?' 'Oh, yes,' Blake said. 'I'd know that voice anywhere.' He turned to Dillon. 'That's the President's chief of staff. That's Henry Thornton.'

Dillon took a moment to digest it, then said, 'It's going to knock the President for six when he knows what that bastard's been up to.'

'You can say that again.' Blake turned to Alice. 'Check his background, see if you can find a reason.' He glanced at his watch. 'I've got a few things to check myself, then book Dillon and me on the helicopter to Long Island in two hours.'

'I'll get right on it.'

She went out. Dillon said, 'A hard one, Blake, a hard one.'

'I'm an angry man, my Irish friend, I despise treachery.'

'And Ferguson?'

Blake thought about it, and nodded. 'I trust you, Sean, and I trust Ferguson. But this is for his ears only, not the Prime Minister's. It's up to the President to deal with that.'

At his office at the Ministry of Defence, Ferguson listened, his face grave.

'It's really in Blake's hands and the President's,' he said. I'm glad you're there. I'm horrified at the identity of the traitor, of course. I'd like to take the bastard outside and shoot him myself. On the other hand, I'll be frank, Sean. We've known each other for some time.' He paused. 'Lady Helen Lang is a dear friend.'