Jack Higgins - The President’s Daughter

“In the last chapter only, Countess, and this isn’t the last chapter. On your way,” and Dillon crouched back as a storm of firing erupted in the corridor.

Marie de Brissac arrived safely on the terrace. This time, Blake left the rope hanging and did as Dillon had suggested, tying the end securely to one of the massive legs of the old bed. There was silence for a moment, and Blake said, “What now?”

“Give me your Uzi, then get the hell down the rope and start for the jetty with the girls.”

“And you?”

“I’ll lay down a suitable field of fire, then I’ll be down that rope myself doing my celebrated imitation of Tarzan of the Apes.” He shoved a fresh clip into his own Uzi and stood there, one in each hand. “Go on, Blake, get moving.”

Blake couldn’t think of a damn thing to say, turned, took the rope in both hands, and went down backwards, and Dillon crossed the room, leaned out, and watched him go, for the rain had stopped, the clouds clearing enough to expose a full moon. In its light, he could see Blake descending and the two women looking up.

Levy called, “Hey, Dillon, listen to me.”

“Why, it’s my old chum Judas or Colonel Dan Levy or whatever you call yourself. Ready to surrender, are you?”

Levy seemed to crack then, rage erupting as he called, “We’ll rush him now.”

Dillon took a deep breath and stepped into the corridor. Raphael had appeared at the far end, his M16 ready, David Braun behind him. Moshe had moved into the open at the other end. Dillon fired the Uzis in sustained bursts, left- and right-handed, pushing Raphael back against Braun and slamming Moshe against the wall, four or five bullets in him.

The Uzis emptied, Dillon dropped them to the floor, ran for that jagged hole, got a grip on the rope, and started down, knot by knot.

As Moshe fell backwards, kicking in death, Levy looked down at that bloodstained body and something happened to him. It was as if it confirmed the fact that he had lost, everything he had worked for down the sewer, and all because of Dillon.

He erupted then, crying, “Dillon, you bastard! Face me!”

He went up the corridor on the run, spraying the walls with his M16, and paused in the entrance of the room, confronted by the gaping hole, the rope. The shock seemed to make him speechless for the moment. Aaron, coming up behind, pushed him to one side and went to the hole and peered out.

Levy pulled himself together and crossed the room in two quick strides. “Can you see them?”

David Braun entered the room and stood just inside the door, the Armalite in his hands, as Aaron said, “Down there on the other side of the garden. The two women and the other man are making for the beach.”

“Stand back,” Levy said and raised his M16. “I can still get that bitch.”

“No, Colonel, enough is enough.” David Braun held the Armalite to his shoulder. “Just put your rifles down and let her go.”

“Why, David, this is a surprise.”

Levy put the M16 down on the table, at the same time putting both hands in his pockets, the right one finding the butt of the Beretta. As he turned, he fired twice. Braun was thrown back in the corridor, dropping the Armalite, and lay there groaning. Levy picked up the M16.

“Come on,” he said to Aaron. “We’re going after them,” and as he walked past Braun, he finished him with a headshot.

Running through the ornamental garden, Dillon pulled out one of the signal flares and pulled the string. The small rocket curved up into the air, exploding into a scarlet bloom, clear not only to the Cretan Lover but the entire fishing fleet.

Aleko switched on and the engines rumbled into life. “Everybody ready? We’re going in.”

As Blake and the two women reached the jetty, Dillon ran down the path behind them, the Cretan Lover roaring in out of the darkness.

As Dillon joined them, Hannah reached for his arm. “Thank God.”

“Yes, I must live right,” Dillon laughed excitedly and crushed her in his arms. “We did it, girl dear, we beat that son of a bitch.”

The Cretan Lover came to almost a dead stop, drifting against the jetty, engines throbbing. Yanni and Dimitri were over the side in an instant, helping the two women, Ferguson and Stavros reaching for them, and Aleko looked out of the wheelhouse.

“Hey, you two wonderful bastards, you won the war, eh?”

There was a burst of firing from somewhere and a bullet ricocheted from the stonework of the jetty.

“Not yet, we haven’t,” Dillon replied as he and Blake dropped to the deck. “Let’s get out of here,” and Aleko did just that.

Levy and Aaron arrived on the run as the Cretan Lover sped toward the fishing fleet, where most of the boats were already hauling in their nets.

“We’ve lost them, Colonel,” Aaron said.

“Not with the speedboat, you fool. It can do thirty knots. I doubt if they can match that. You take the wheel.”

He dropped down into the stern and Aaron slid behind the wheel and found the ignition key under the rubber mat, where he usually concealed it. He switched it on and the massive engines sprang into life.

Levy said, “Now run them down!”

Stavros said, “He’s coming.”

“Don’t worry,” Aleko said. “We’ll be into the fleet soon, but get the women below.”

Ferguson took them down to the cabin, then came back and joined Dillon and Blake, the third Uzi in his hands. Yanni and Dimitri and Stavros all had revolvers. Ferguson handed Dillon his Browning.

“The Chief Inspector thought you might need it.”

The speedboat roared out of the night, clear because of the moon, Levy crouched in the rear. Ferguson triggered the Uzi, the crew fired single shots, but Aaron weaved from side-to-side, first one way, then the other, and suddenly, Levy stood up and sprayed the Cretan Lover with an entire M16 magazine at close quarters.

The wheelhouse shattered, a round took Ferguson in his flak jacket, knocking him down, and another punched Dimitri in the shoulder.

Dillon loosed off a couple of shots, but the speedboat swerved, came in again, and they all ducked as Levy raked the deck.

“We’re sitting ducks,” Blake cried.

“Not quite,” Aleko told him, and back at the jetty, fire blossomed in the night as the motor cruiser exploded.

“Number one,” Aleko said.

The speedboat came in again and Levy stood up, black against the distant flames. He raised the M16. “I’ve got you now, Dillon,” he cried, his voice echoing across the water.

And then the speedboat blew up, disintegrating before their eyes into a fireball, pieces flying through the air, some rattling against the hull of the Cretan Lover . There was a hissing of steam, and what was left disappeared under the surface of the sea.

“And that was number two,” Aleko said. “Now we go home.”

Stavros was checking Dimitri’s shoulder and Ferguson was sitting down. He plucked the round from his flak jacket. “I feel as if I’ve been kicked by a mule.”

Hannah and Marie appeared cautiously from the cabin. “Is it over?” Marie de Brissac asked.

“I think we might say that,” Ferguson said, “but first I’d better speak to your father.”

Cazalet was hosting a reception at the White House for a Russian delegation. He’d done well, kept his end up remarkably, his mind understandably on other things. He was deep in conversation with the Russian Ambassador when Teddy approached.

“Sorry to intrude, Mr. President, but there’s a call of the utmost urgency.”

Cazalet excused himself and followed Teddy to a small anteroom. Teddy closed the door and handed him the special mobile.

“It’s Brigadier Ferguson, Mr. President.”