Jack Higgins - Midnight Runner

Quinn said, ‘I remember that. But it all seemed kosher to me. Educational charities are common among the truly rich. It’s like handing out alms to the poor to assuage your guilt at having so much. I’ve been there myself.’

Blake said, ‘What if I told you the Children’s Trust in Beirut is a front for Hezbollah?’

Daniel Quinn was bewildered. ‘Are you suggesting she’s up to something subversive? Why would she want to do that?’

‘You remember how I said Dillon saved my life?’ said Cazalet. ‘Well, this is where that comes in.’

Blake continued. ‘As you know, Kate Rashid is Arab Bedu through her father and English through her mother – that’s where the title comes from, the Daunceys. She had three brothers, Paul, George, and Michael.’

‘Had?’

‘Yes. Last year, their mother was killed in a car accident by a drunken diplomat from the Russian Embassy. But a foreign diplomat can’t be brought to court, so the brothers arranged their own punishment, which was permanent. What further infuriated them was that they learned he had been brokering an oil deal in Hazar involving us and the Russians. Hazar was their territory. As far as they were concerned, here were these two great powers swaggering arrogantly over not only their economic rights but over Arabs in general: the West disrespecting the East. So they decided we needed to be taught a lesson.’

‘Paul Rashid tried to have me assassinated on Nantucket,’ Cazalet said. ‘Clancy took a bullet in the back meant for me. Blake personally shot one of the assassins.’

‘Mr President, this is – this is astonishing,’ Quinn said.

‘Unfortunately, it didn’t end there,’ Blake told him. ‘It’s all in the file. Suffice it to say that ultimately all three Rashid brothers paid the price for their fanaticism – leaving only their sister, Kate. The richest woman in the world probably, a woman who has everything and lost everything. Three beloved brothers. She wants revenge, I’m sure of it.’

‘You mean she couldn’t get the President last time, so she might try again?’

‘We believe she could be capable of anything. There’s one other wild card. The Daunceys had what the English aristocracy call a minor branch, some people who moved to America in the eighteenth century and settled in Boston.’

‘They’re lawyers and judges now,’ Cazalet said. ‘Very respectable. I know the family.’

Quinn said, ‘Is there something I should know here?’

Blake passed another file across. ‘Rupert Dauncey – West Point, Parris Island.’

‘Another Marine, eh?’

‘Yes, and a good soldier,’ Blake said. ‘He won a Silver Star in the Gulf, then served in Serbia and Bosnia. There was a suggestion he might have killed Serbs a tad harshly, but nothing came of it, and after a very nasty Muslim ambush, which he foiled, he received the Distinguished Service Medal. He was raised to a quick Captaincy –’

‘Which led to a transfer to the Marine Embassy Guard in London,’ the President said.

‘And I can guess what happened next,’ Quinn said. ‘Once in London, he introduced himself to the good Countess, is that it?’

‘They hit it off immediately, and have been very close ever since,’ Blake said. ‘He’s very good-looking, I gather, especially in his Marine dress uniform. All those medals. I believe, technically, that he’s Kate Rashid’s third cousin.’

‘Ah, well, that would make it legal.’

‘Well, no. To put it delicately, Rupert Dauncey is of a different persuasion,’ Blake told him.

‘You mean he’s gay?’

‘I’m not sure. He’s not into women, we know that. On the other hand, he doesn’t cruise bars, and there’s no indication of a boyfriend either. Anyway, if we can set that aside – we can’t help feeling that between the two of them, they’re hatching something. Lady Kate still bears a grudge not only against the President but against me and Sean Dillon and his crew, since we were all involved in the deaths of her brothers.’

Jake Cazalet said, ‘That’s why I want you to go to London. We’ll arrange for you to meet with General Ferguson, Dillon, Superintendent Bernstein. I’ll speak to the Prime Minister, who is well aware of the situation.’

‘And then?’

‘Nose around, use your contacts, see what you can find out. Maybe we’re wrong. Maybe she’s changed. Who knows?’

‘I do,’ Blake said. ‘She hasn’t, and she won’t.’

‘Fine. I bow to your superior judgment.’

‘I’ll go as soon as I come back from Kosovo,’ Quinn said. ‘Quinn Industries has a townhouse in London, I’ll stay there. If I remember right, in fact, it’s close to the Rashid place.’

‘Good.’ The President smiled. ‘Now, for the more immediate future, let’s discuss plans for dinner. I’m going out tonight, to the Lafayette. You should join us.’

‘I’d be delighted.’

‘Especially because – Blake always being a hundred and fifty percent right on intelligence matters – I understand that none other than the Countess of Loch Dhu and her cousin, Rupert Dauncey, are booked for dinner there as well.’

‘What?’

‘You know me, Daniel, I always did like to put the cat in amongst the pigeons. Time to stir things up.’ He turned to Clancy. ‘You’ve got things in hand, presumably?’

‘Absolutely, Mr President.’

‘Fine. We’ll meet at eight-thirty. Be kind enough to see that Senator Quinn is returned to the hotel.’

‘At your orders, Mr President,’ Clancy told him.

‘And Clancy, if Dauncey is around, don’t take any shit. He may be a Marine Major, but as I recall, you were one of the youngest sergeant majors in the Corps.’

‘What is this?’ Quinn demanded. ‘Parris Island? You expect him to kick ass?’

Jake Cazalet laughed. ‘Would you, Clancy?’

‘Hell, no, Mr President. I’d more likely put the Major on a seven-mile run with a seventy-five-pound pack on his back.’

‘I love it,’ Quinn said. ‘All right, I’ll see you there.’ He went out, Clancy following.

‘You’ll speak to Ferguson?’ Cazalet said to Johnson.

‘First thing in the morning.’

General Charles Ferguson’s office was on the third floor of the Ministry of Defence overlooking Horse Guards Avenue. He was at his desk the next day, the red security phone in one hand, a large, untidy man with grey hair, a fawn suit and Guards tie. He put the phone down and pressed his intercom. A woman answered.

‘General?’

‘Is Dillon there?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I’ll see both of you now.’

Detective Superintendent Hannah Bernstein entered, a woman in her early thirties, young for her rank, with close-cropped red hair and horn-rimmed spectacles. Her black trouser suit was elegant, and looked more expensive than most people could afford on police pay.

The small, fair-haired man with her wore an old black flying jacket. There was a force to him, obvious the moment he entered the room. He lit a cigarette with an old Zippo lighter.

‘Feel free, Dillon,’ General Ferguson said.

‘Oh, I will, General, knowing the decent stick that you are.’

‘Shut up, Sean,’ Hannah Bernstein told him. ‘You wanted us, sir?’

‘Yes. I’ve had interesting news from Blake Johnson concerning the Countess of Loch Dhu.’

Dillon said, ‘What’s Kate been up to now?’

‘It’s more a matter of what she might be up to. There are computer printouts on the way. Hannah, would you see if they’ve arrived?’

She went out. Dillon poured a Bushmills and turned. ‘She’s back, is that it, General?’

‘She promised to get the lot of us, didn’t she, Sean? As payment for her brothers?’

‘She can try and I love her dearly.’ Dillon drained his glass and poured another. He raised it in salute. ‘God bless you, Kate, but not after what you tried to do to Hannah Bernstein. Try anything like that again and I’ll shoot you myself.’