A Devil Is Waiting

by Jack Higgins

  He switched off his mobile and turned as Fatima and Ibrahim entered. “We’ll have to wait for approximately twenty minutes or so.” He smiled at Fatima. “I’ve stirred things up. If I’m right, Owen’s running across Park Lane through heavy morning traffic to get to his Foreign Legion friend. In the meantime, I’d love another cup of that Yemeni mocha coffee.”

  Owen, behaving exactly as Ali Selim had predicted, had crossed Park Lane and was running so fast down Curzon Street that he missed Jean Talbot emerge on the other side of the road, bound for the park. Intrigued, she crossed the road and ran after Owen, noting him turn into Shepherd Market. A final burst of speed brought her there in time to see him hammering at the door of Mary’s Bower. She stepped into a doorway, waited, saw Henri Legrande open the door, Kelly at his shoulder. The alley was quiet at that time in the morning, and she heard what they said.

  Henri Legrande: “What the hell is it?”

  Owen: “I’ve just had a call from Abu. Only it appears he’s really Ali Selim.”

  Kelly: “Come off it, Owen.”

  Owen pushed past them, went inside, and the door closed. Mystery piled on mystery here. Jean conquered an insane impulse to go knock on the door herself, turned, and jogged away.

  In the sitting room, Kelly said, “It can’t be for real.”

  “Oh yes it is, and he wants to speak to us.” His mobile sounded. “I think this is him now,” and he put it on speaker. “So what do you want?” he demanded.

  “Listen to me carefully,” said Selim. “After the riot in Hyde Park, friends spirited me away, but Ferguson’s gang tried to assassinate me and nearly succeeded. So now they are going to pay, and you’re going to help me. Or else you’re all going to see the inside of a British prison.”

  Henri laughed out loud. “Why should we? You can’t get us into trouble. We haven’t done anything.”

  “Is that so?” Ali Selim said. “Within a three-day period, Daniel Holley’s Alfa was sabotaged and almost went into the Thames. And hired thugs waited outside the Gideon girl’s home, followed her down the street, attacked her, and would have raped her if not for Holley and her willingness to use a weapon without hesitation.”

  There was a stunned silence, and Owen said lamely, “Now, look here.”

  “You told me none of these things. And we have still one more pearl in the oyster: the attempted car bombing in the driveway of the Gideon girl’s house. And the reason you did not tell me about any of this was because they were all failures.”

  Henri said calmly, “Okay, fair enough. How did you find out?”

  “You and Kelly certainly talked about them enough.”

  Kelly’s head shot up, and he looked around the room.

  “We’ve been bugged,” he said. “In the shop.”

  “But of course, all three of you were. Four, as we had to include Jean Talbot, you being in the habit of visiting her so frequently, Owen.”

  “Damn you,” Owen said bitterly.

  “The technicians must have been good, whoever it was,” Henri said.

  “Oh, they are. A Muslim organization we call the Brotherhood. They cover all trades and professions. For example, if I wanted Mary’s Bower accidentally burned to the ground this week, it would be done. I could take my pick of brothers who would shoot you in the back on the street. As for your friend Jean Talbot, Owen, I would advise her not to try to walk home in the dark from now on, not even in Mayfair.”

  The three men exchanged looks, and it was Owen who said, “So what is it you want us to do this time?”

  “Kidnap Sara Gideon. That’s where the Seconal that one of my assets left in the glove compartment of your car comes in. One ampoule jabbed in the arm, and it’s good night, Vienna, for eight hours.”

  “But to what purpose?” Henri demanded. “What do we do with her?”

  “You wrap her up carefully, so you can push her in one of those collapsible wheelchairs, drive to Frensham Aero Club, put her in one of Rashid Oil’s jets, fly to Rubat, and deliver her to me at the Monsoon.”

  “No way.” Owen was shaking his head. “This has gone far enough.”

  Henri patted him on the shoulder, trying to calm him. “What will you do with the girl?” he asked Ali Selim.

  “What do you care? You tried to drown her, left her in the hands of possible rapists, then attempted to car-bomb her.”

  “I just want to know,” Henri said.

  “You’ve heard of the Gideon Bank? Well, she is the Gideon Bank. What would you suggest for ransom? Fifty million, one hundred million? And why stop there?”

  “So you wouldn’t kill her?”

  “Don’t be stupid. She’s far too valuable.”

  Owen nodded. “He’s right, she is.”

  “So that’s it, then,” Henri said. “We’ll do it.”

  “Nobody asked me. I don’t agree,” Kelly said. “I didn’t sign up for this.”

  “Don’t worry,” Henri said, “I’ll sort him. When do you want us to do this?”

  “As soon as you can. Their plane must have landed by now. If she goes home to Highfield Court, she’ll be on her own. Both the housekeeper and her grandfather are away.”

  “But she could also be staying at the Dorchester with Holley.”

  “That’s your problem. I’d advise grabbing her as soon as possible. No more failures. If so, it’ll be your last one. And no funny business. Osama may be gone, but Al Qaeda is everywhere, particularly in London. Put a foot wrong and I’ll know about it. There’s nowhere to run, gentlemen.”

  Jack Kelly had the bar cupboard open and poured whiskey with a shaking hand. “God damn him to hell,” he said. “He’ll be the death of us.”

  He slopped more whiskey into his glass, and Henri took it from him and tossed the contents into the living-room fire. He shook Kelly hard.

  “Pull yourself together. What’s done is done. There is only one way out of this mess, and that’s to do as he says. Go and have a shower. You look terrible.”

  Kelly went out, and Owen said, “A hell of a mess, but I don’t see any choice for us except to play along.”

  Henri said, “Would we really be able to just load her into a jet at Frensham?”

  “Yes, it’s a circus for the rich there. Talbot International uses it. It’s where Kelly landed when he flew over. Security really is slack. Their motto is: You mustn’t offend the rich. Even with a wheelchair, we’ll be waved through.”

  “As it happens, I’ve got a very nice one in the stockroom,” Henri said. “Antique, of course. Will weaponry be a problem at the airfield?”

  “Not for me. I’ve never been checked,” Owen said. “Give me what’s suitable in a bag, and I’ll see it gets on board. Now I’ll leave you to get on with it, and take a run down to Frensham to make sure the Learjet will be ready to go. At this hour of the morning, I can get there in forty minutes, so I’ll be back in no time. I suggest you come with me now, and I’ll give you this Seconal stuff while Jack’s at his ablutions. But wait for me before you attempt anything.”

  “Kelly will be all right,” Henri said. “A nervous touch, is all. I’ll look after him.”

  They went out. It was suddenly very quiet, and then Kelly came in, stripped to the waist, took the whiskey bottle from the cupboard, poured a huge one, and drank it down.

  “Mother Mary, what am I going to do?” he murmured, and went back upstairs, a very unhappy man indeed.

  At Rosedene, Ferguson, Holley, and Sara sat in the reception lounge with the matron, drinking coffee, waiting for news of Harry Miller, who had been in the operating room for an hour.

  “He’s been wounded before, I believe,” Sara said.

  “I think this must be the fourth time,” Ferguson said. “Harry was supposed to be a Whitehall Warrior for many years, a deskman in the Intelligence Corps. The truth is he was involved very much with one of the execution squads that brought the IRA to its knees and led directly to the peace process.”

  Professor Charles Bellamy appeared a
t that moment in green scrubs, a mask hanging down from his neck, revealing his face. He looked a little weary, sat down, and accepted coffee gratefully from Maggie Duncan.

  “Everything okay, Charles?” Ferguson asked.

  “Not really.”

  Sara said, “I treated him first. My impression was that there was an exit wound.”

  “True. But when I got there, I discovered bullet fragmentation. It wasn’t immediately obvious.”

  “It wasn’t hollow point, I hope?” Holley said.

  “No, not as bad as that, but similar. I’ve removed all the detritus, but I really must say in my report that Harry Miller has taken the pitcher to the well too often. It’s got to stop.”

  “And the Prime Minister will see that report?”

  “Of course.”

  Ferguson sighed. “That’s all I need. Can we see him?”

  “Certainly not. He’s dead to the world. Tomorrow, perhaps.” He turned to Sara and smiled. “You appear to have been through the mill again. You really must take care, Captain, accept what you are. There are limitations.”

  “I’m fine,” she said. “Any problems and you’ll be the first to know.”

  He and Maggie went off, talking in low voices. Ferguson’s Codex sounded. “Ah, Roper,” he said, and put it on speaker.

  “What about Harry?” Roper asked.

  “It was more complicated than they’d thought, but it’s been taken care of.”

  “Well, the Prime Minister will be relieved. Anyway, I’ve just had a call from Harry Salter. Dora’s back from Holland and confirms that the photo Claude Duval took is definitely the same man who asked her for Pernod the night Holley’s Alfa was interfered with. I’ve spoken to Claude, and now that it’s a criminal matter, he’s allowed to forward it to DGSE records in Paris. If there is a match, we should get it soon.”

  “Many thanks, Giles,” Holley called, and put an arm around Sara. “Home, or we could go to the Dorchester.”

  “Home, I think,” she said. “Check the mail, the answering machine, then I just want to go to bed.”

  Ferguson joined them. “You must be incredibly tired, Sara. We must take better care of you. This recent affair just exploded out of all proportion.”

  “Well, as we used to say in Afghanistan, General, hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Good night.”

  Jean Talbot, thinking things over, decided that the best way to solve the mystery of what she had seen at the shop in Shepherd Market was to act normally with Owen and see how he behaved. To that end, she left the house still and called him on her mobile as she walked along Curzon Street.

  He answered, and she said, “Hello, darling, are you up for a run in the park this morning?”

  “Sorry, love,” he said. “I had some overseas problems come up last night. I’ve had to come into the office at an unearthly hour.”

  “That’s a shame. I’d hoped we could finalize which day we’re leaving on the Rubat trip.”

  “Actually, I’m not too certain about that at the moment,” he said. “All of a sudden, a hell of a lot’s happening.”

  “Well, that’s a disappointment,” she said. “Any particular reason?” She was still walking across to the Dorchester.

  “Oh, oil prices again. The Arab Spring, trouble in so many oil-producing countries. Al Qaeda causing mayhem all over the place since the demise of Osama. Look, we’ll get round to it, but just now I’m really pushed. I’ll be in touch, but I’ve got to go.”

  All of this was making her feel rather sorry for him. Then she turned into Park Lane just in time to see his Mercedes emerging from the underground garage of his apartment block. She dodged back out of sight as he joined the traffic and moved on.

  She was surprised at how much it hurt her, the dishonesty. A kind of betrayal, really. She deserved better, and when she turned to walk back home, she had to fight to control hot, angry tears.

  Henri Legrande and Kelly had arrived at Highfield Court to find the drive empty. They parked at the end of the street behind several vehicles that were already there.

  “What do you think?” Kelly asked. “Maybe she has gone to the Dorchester.”

  Before Henri could answer him, the Alfa turned into the drive. Holley and Sara got out. She looked surprisingly fresh after such a long trip, had changed on the plane, wore a khaki shirt and slacks and a well-cut bush jacket. The cropped red hair looked magnificent.

  Kelly said, “The whole thing is ridiculous.”

  Henri didn’t bother replying, but leaned forward so he could catch what Sara was saying as she took the key from her shoulder bag. “I’ve never felt so tired. I think I’ll sleep for a week.”

  “Then I suggest you do just that,” Holley said, and followed with her bag as she entered the house.

  “Do you think he’ll stay?” Kelly asked.

  “Who knows, Jack. We must wait and see.”

  In the hall, Holley said, “Can I carry your bag up to your bedroom for you?”

  “Just leave it there, love.” She moved in close, slipped her arms around his neck and smiled up at him. “You’re a really special man, Daniel Holley. I don’t give a damn about you having twenty years on me, because I love you to bits and I don’t care what anyone else thinks.” She kissed him deeply for a few long and satisfying moments, then pushed him away. “So say it—say you love me.”

  “I can’t,” he said. “It wouldn’t be true. Would ‘I absolutely adore you’ do instead?”

  She reached up and rumpled his hair, a contented and tired smile on her face. “Well, I suppose it will have to. I’ll see you later.”

  She had the door open, reached up to kiss him again, giving Henri and Kelly a perfect view, then closed the door as Holley went down the steps, got into the Alfa, and drove away.

  “What do we do?” Kelly demanded.

  “Wait, of course. Holley might come back, and Owen made it clear we don’t try anything until he gets here. You go to that convenience store round the corner and get us some coffee, sandwiches, and newspapers. We may be in for a long wait.”

  Which Kelly did, also purchasing a half bottle of whiskey and having a good pull at it on the way back, while upstairs in her bedroom Sara Gideon kicked off her suede desert boots, fell on the bed, still in her clothes, and was instantly asleep.

  Greg Slay had arrived back in good time, thanks to a lift in an RAF Hercules from Peshawar that was due to refuel at Hazar. He walked across the runway, whistling cheerfully, to the flat-roofed office and the two hangars that housed Slay Flying. There was a new Scorpion helicopter, a Beech Baron, and an old Cessna 310, and Feisal, the mechanic, was working on the port engine. He was a handsome thirtysomething Bedu of the Rashid tribe with one wife, whom he told Slay he truly loved, and a five-year-old son. When he’d arrived from the Empty Quarter to try town life, it had become immediately apparent that he had a genius for anything mechanical. From cars and trucks, he had moved up to aircraft.

  There was significant history between him and Slay. Earlier that year, Slay had taken Feisal with him on a contract job to fly an old Dakota from Bahrain to Hazar. Five miles out, the starboard engine had caught fire, and the undercarriage had collapsed during the emergency landing on the edge of the airfield.

  Feisal, his seat buckled, his safety belt so twisted that he couldn’t break free, had thought that his time had come, as the fire started and Slay left him. And then Slay had returned with the fire ax, hacked him free, and they’d escaped together—and just in time. It was a debt of honor to be paid when the opportunity arose, the Bedu way.

  “Happy to see you, sahib. We’ve missed you, with the oil well coming in nicely at Gila. Hakim’s been flying back and forth, sometimes at night, only stopping to refuel, and the other Scorpion’s been standing there doing nothing.”

  “Is Hakim up at Gila now?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Well, here I am, back in the saddle and raring to get started. Where’s the schedule list? What have you got
for me?”

  Feisal consulted the notice board. “Machine tool parts, grade-

  A priority and needed at Gila urgently.”

  “I’ll take care of that.”

  “But they aren’t here. They were off-loaded in Rubat yesterday.”

  “So I drop in at Rubat. It’s only another half hour on the journey. Give me the consignment bill and I’m on my way.”

  The Scorpion was an excellent helicopter, good to fly, a fine performer, and it would be even better when it was fully paid for. He told himself this as he drifted across the outer fringes of the Empty Quarter, the greatest desert in the world, then swung toward the sea and the white buildings that were Rubat. The old military airfield was on the edge of town, and he swung in toward the cargo hangars and settled gently.