Jack Higgins - The Killing Ground

HARRY WAS SITTING in the stern of the Linda Jones under an awning, light spilling out from the deck lamp into the gathering darkness, a glass of scotch in his hand, and Baxter and Hall held Khan in front of him. Billy leaned against the rail, watching.

Khan had recovered himself, but he did recognize Salter and was genuinely terrified, yet he tried bluster, “What’s going on here?”

“I’m Harry Salter, you are Dreq Khan. I’m going to ask you some questions and if you don’t answer me, I’ll kill you and we’ll throw you in the river.”

Khan felt the bottom fall out of his stomach. “What is it you want?”

“Hussein Rashid and his chum Khazid, we know they were on their way to England. I’d like your confirmation that they’ve arrived.”

“What nonsense is this?”

“Don’t mess me around. A good friend of mine in Cambridge, Professor Hal Stone, just back from Hazar after helping Dillon and my Billy here to bring Sara Rashid home, was shot twice today in his garden and left for dead. We figure it must have been Hussein and Khazid. What do you think?”

“I’ve no idea what you are talking about,” Khan said desperately.

“He’s wasting our time, Billy. Try the hoist.”

Baxter and Hall pulled off Khan’s overcoat and jacket, forced him down and Billy reached for the hemp line suspended from the hoist and looped it round the ankles. Baxter and Hall heaved on the rope and pulled Khan up, head down.

“Simple question,” Billy said in his ear. “Are they in England and have you heard from them?”

They swung him over and dropped him in the Thames. He went under, crying out. As his hands were untied, he managed to move his arms about. When he stopped struggling, Harry nodded and they pulled him up. He floundered on the deck, coughing and spluttering, and there was nothing left in him.

Harry said, “Let me make it quite clear. If we have to put you over again, we leave the river to take you away.”

“No, for pity’s sake.” Khan sat up, reaching for a rail. “They are here. I had nothing to do with it. It was handled by the Broker, Osama’s man, and don’t ask for his phone number. He contacts you when he wants. You never contact him because you can’t. Hussein and Khazid came in a boat by night from France to England. His phone call was a total surprise to me. Hussein said he was at a cottage called Folly Way at Peel Strand in Dorset. He didn’t mention the name of the person he was staying with, I swear it.”

“Go on.”

“I tell you the truth when I admit that the Army of God has a network of spies who are just small people. I had the Rashids’ house watched and one of my men reported they had left the house. He followed them to Farley Field where they flew away to an unknown destination.”

“Was Hussein angry when you told him that?”

“Yes. He said we had to find out where the Rashid family had been taken. I told him that was an impossibility for us.”

“And then what?”

Khan lied desperately. “He said there was one person he could visit because the Broker had mentioned that Professor Stone, who had been part of the whole affair in Hazar, was Ferguson’s cousin. Hussein said they would pay him a visit in Cambridge.” There was a pause while

Harry considered the matter.

Billy said, “Bleeding liar.”

Harry shook his head. “The fact that Hussein has no idea where the Rashids are must be true, otherwise why bother to go to Cambridge? His assumption that Hal Stone would know something makes sense.”

He got up, went into the salon and poured scotch. Billy followed and closed the door. “So you believe the bastard?”

Harry said, “Remember what Hal said? That they were here, both of them, the other one shot me, and I didn’t tell them about Zion.”

“That’s right,” Billy said. “Ferguson admitted he’d told Stone about Zion.”

“The reason they tracked Stone down was because they had no idea the Rashids had gone. They must have told him that was the purpose of the visit. His saying he hadn’t told them about Zion confirms they’ve still no idea where the Rashids are.”

“And Stone probably made a run for it and got the two bullets in the back,” Billy said. “So what about this asshole outside? Do we finish him?”

Harry opened the door and stepped out. Baxter and Hall had seated Khan in a chair. He looked as if he’d come to the end of his tether.

“What’s your idea on where Hussein would be now?”

“I don’t know,” Khan said wearily.“He’s a crazy man. With his photo all over the newspapers, it was his madness coming to England in the first place.”

“That’s the strangest part of the whole deal,” Billy said. “He should have been lifted within hours of arrival.”

And Khan suddenly remembered the phone conversation with Hussein and came out with the one special piece of information. “When he was talking to me from Peel Strand and mentioned going to Cambridge, I told him that he’d have to change trains in London and wasn’t that unwise because his face was in so many papers.”

“And what did he say?” Harry demanded.

“That it had been taken care of and that no one would recognize him. He said, ‘Trust me in this.’ Nothing more.”

Billy said, “Rubbish, he couldn’t have had time for plastic surgery.”

“Well, as he hasn’t been lifted, something must have happened to him.” Harry turned to Khan. “Mr. Baxter and Mr. Hall are going to take you home where you’ll get a change of clothes, money, credit cards, passport-whatever. They will then escort you to Heathrow and see you leave on the first available plane.”

Khan was stupefied. “You mean you’re not going to kill me?”

“Not now, but if you ever return to England, I’ll know, and you’ll be dead inside a week. Get him out of here, boys.”

Khan was for the moment stunned. They got his jacket and overcoat on and marched him along the wharf and it was then that he found he was experiencing the greatest feeling of relief in his life. There was also a certain satisfaction in the fact that by crediting the Broker for guiding Hussein to Hal Stone at Cambridge, he’d been able to let Ali Hassim off the hook.

Back on the boat, Billy said, “Have you turned into a big softy or something?”

“Roper asked me to go easy on him. Anyway, we’ve managed to establish without doubt that Hussein has no idea where the Rashids are, so let’s go and see Roper.”

ROPER LISTENED to what they had to say. Harry said, “You think I did the right thing? Will he stay away?”

“The question is, will the people in the larger world he’s been involved with allow him to? We’ve known for a long time about the al-Qaeda influence on the Army of God. What Osama will think of a man who’s done a runner is anyone’s guess. The Broker won’t be too happy, either. These important men in the world of terror obviously don’t like any indication that things are falling apart.”

“I don’t give a toss about Osama and his people,” Harry said. “We’ve got to stand up and be counted.”

“I agree, but al-Qaeda leaders in Iraq would dearly love to have another spectacular in Britain. Big Ben would be good, or Buckingham Palace? The possibilities are endless.”

“That would really be out of order,” Harry said.

Billy put in, “They’d be happy if the Queen was at home when they did it.”

“Bastards,” Harry said.

“I could show you intelligence reports indicating that at least a couple of hundred Britons have served in al-Qaeda’s foreign legion in Iraq. These are the things the public doesn’t know about. And it’s not just regular bombs they’d like to set off, but dirty bombs.”