Edge of Danger sd-9

by Jack Higgins

  'Harry, it's what I'm doing. Billy's a free spirit, and Billy and I share a love of philosophy.'

  'What in the hell is that supposed to mean?'

  'Plato. Remember him, Billy?'

  And Billy Salter, London gangster, four times in prison, a killer in his time, smiled the coldest smile possible. 'Sure, I remember: "The life which is unexamined is not worth living". Which means to me: the life not put to the test. Time to put ourselves to the test, Sean.'

  'Good man yourself. I'll fly up with Carver in his Golden Eagle, just like Cornwall, Billy, except it's headfirst at one thousand feet in this case. Some say I'm mad, Billy, unhinged, you might say. I've done bad things in my life, but the Rashids have done worse and I'm going to stop them.'

  'No, you've got it wrong, Dillon,' Billy said. 'We are going to stop them.'

  'Billy, you're mad, too,' Harry told him.

  'What else do I do? Go home to Wapping? Chase birds, get so frustrated I finally do one job too many and pull five years?' Billy smiled. 'I'd rather go down for something worthwhile.'

  Harry Salter was astonished. 'What can I say?'

  'Nothing,' Dillon said. 'Just come along for the ride.'

  In London, Charles Ferguson was clearing his desk when the doorbell rang, and Kim showed Blake Johnson in.

  'Good to see you, Blake.'

  'The President wanted me here. This latest news has shocked him greatly.'

  'You realize, Blake, that Hazar is neutral. The border with the Empty Quarter is disputed territory. You could have a war there, butcher the Council of Elders, do what you like and be totally untouchable by any other country.'

  'Yes, we know that, Charles, but the ramifications would be far-reaching.'

  'Which is why the President has sent you?'

  'Yes.'

  'And has spoken to the Prime Minister.'

  'So I believe.'

  'Well, we're going to Downing Street to speak to him now. You've done well, Blake – the President and the Prime Minister on the same day.'

  At the door of the most famous address in the world, an aide greeted them.

  'General Ferguson, Mr Johnson. The Prime Minister is waiting.'

  He took them upstairs, past the pictures of previous Prime Ministers, knocked and opened the door of the Prime Minister's study. He was working at his desk in shirtsleeves, the youngest Prime Minister for more than a century. He glanced up, the face firm, and then smiled in a familiar way.

  'General Ferguson.' He got up, came round the desk and shook hands. 'And Mr Johnson? About time.' He clapped Blake on the shoulder. 'The President has brought me up to date. I'd like to hear it from you two.'

  Later, someone brought tea and coffee, and the Prime Minister sat there, his face very calm. 'It defies belief that the Rashids would behave in such a way. I know the Earl well.'

  'It's a fact, Prime Minister,' Ferguson said.

  'It's appalling. He tries to assassinate the President and now the Hazar Council of Elders.' The Prime Minister turned to Blake. 'Would you agree with me that this would be a disaster?'

  'In our opinion, sir, that's exactly what it would be.'

  The Prime Minister sat there, face calm, brooding. 'Well, you may act with my full authority.' He stood up. 'I have another appointment. Do what you have to do, General.'

  They were ushered out. It was over.

  Ferguson said, 'Hazar next stop, Blake.'

  In Hazar, Kate Rashid and Bell had landed at the airstrip near Shabwa. Four hours later, they were waiting for the Rashid Gulfstream at the military base at Haman. Early in the Southern Arabian dawn light, the plane glided down and several Land Rovers moved forward. Kate got out of the first one, wearing a khaki bush shirt and slacks and an Arab headcloth.

  Paul Rashid embraced her. 'Where's George?'

  'With his men on the road to the Holy Wells, with Bell and his people. Is Michael well?'

  'Holding the fort in London.'

  Rashid warriors had emerged from the Land Rovers and stood there with their rifles in total silence. Kate turned and snapped her fingers. A young boy ran forward, holding a robe, helped

  Paul Rashid into it, and then offered a headcloth. Rashid fastened it, then turned and raised his right arm, fist clenched.

  'My brothers,' he called in Arabic, and put his arm around Kate.

  They brandished their rifles and roared approval.

  'So, let's get on with it.' He helped her into the lead Land Rover and got in beside her.

  He lit a cigarette. 'So, Bell and his team are definitely on schedule?'

  'Yes. As I told you, George and his warriors are supporting them. The only problem is that one of Bell's men went missing. A drunk and a womanizer. They tried to find him, but Bell thinks he's holed up in some whorehouse.'

  'I don't like that. When a pattern is disrupted, I wonder why.'

  'Well, he's that kind of guy, Paul.'

  'And Dillon?'

  'Still on the Sultan with Professor Stone and the two London gangsters.'

  'Totally out of their element.'

  'Whatever Hazar is, it's not Wapping. Over there they are something, here they are nothing.'

  'True.' Paul Rashid brooded. 'And Shabwa is ours?'

  'Absolutely. Dillon couldn't fly up there and land even if he wanted to.'

  'And why should he? He doesn't know what's going on.' Rashid nodded. 'So, I go with an escort, to the Holy Wells ambush site, join George and his men and Bell.' He turned and smiled. 'Would you come with me?'

  'It'd be a privilege, brother.'

  'Good.' He lit another cigarette. 'We'll set the world on fire, little sister.'

  She took his hand and held on tight.

  At the airport, just after dawn, Carver checked out the Golden Eagle. Hal Stone was there with Dillon and the Salters. Dillon had opened the weaponry bag from London, the best the Sergeant Major could supply. Titanium bulletproof waistcoats, AK-47S, a couple of Brownings with silencers, half a dozen fragmentation grenades, two Parker-Hale machine pistols.

  Dillon and Billy got kitted out. Carver said, 'What's going on here?'

  'Are you still on the RAF Reserve?' Dillon asked.

  'So what?'

  'Well, you've got a DFC. After this, you might get another one. We're the good guys, Ben. Your guys. Does that give you a problem?'

  Carver's smile was instant. 'No, it bloody well doesn't.'

  'So let's do it.' Dillon turned. 'Are you coming, Harry?'

  But it was Stone who said, 'Dillon, they won't believe this at high table at Corpus – but I'm coming, too. Billy was right. A life not put to the test is not worth living.'

  Up in the high country, Bell, O'Hara and Brosnan worked on the road through the defile, laying packs of Semtex, stretching wires to a detonator. It was early, the real heat of the day still to come. Bedu squatted and watched. George Rashid crouched close by.

  Bell said, 'Funny, isn't it? Back there in South Armagh, you were trying to stiff us.'

  'Of course I was. I held Her Majesty's commission as a Second Lieutenant in One Para. You were the enemy. I shot two of your people personally.'

  'Bastard,' Brosnan snarled.

  Bell said, 'Don't be silly. He was doing his job. Now get on with the wiring.'

  An hour and a half earlier in the dawn light, Carver had flown in at five thousand feet and descended. Dillon leaned over his shoulder.

  'Is that it?'

  'Rama, that's all I know.'

  'Go down and let's make sure they're not there.'

  The Golden Eagle descended to a thousand feet. Carver said, 'It looks clear to me.'

  'Good. Go round again and we'll jump.'

  'You're crazy, you know that?'

  'Yes, but it does make life interesting, Ben.'

  Dillon went back and nodded to Billy. 'Time to go. Get the door open.'

  It was Harry who moved first as he wrestled with the locking bar. The airstair door opened, the steps went down and there was a huge intake of ai
r. Stone and Harry hung on and Billy and Dillon moved forward, the AK-47S and Parker-Hales across their chests.

  'After you,' Dillon shouted above the roaring. 'You're a younger guy.'

  Billy laughed. 'You're an older guy, so I'll be on the ground first to protect you.'

  He stepped out onto the airstair door, went headfirst and Dillon went after him. The Golden Eagle started to turn away, and Stone and Harry wrestled with the door and finally got it closed. Harry ran to a window and, as they banked, saw the two 'chutes land way below.

  'They made it.'

  'Good,' Professor Stone said. 'So let's get out of here before the other people notice us and start asking questions.'

  At Northolt, Ferguson had found Lacey and Parry waiting with the Gulfstream, plus the Sergeant Major with two AKs and four Brownings.

  'You're going into battle again, General?' he said.

  'Well, it's not exactly good where we are going, so let's be ready.' He turned to Blake. 'You can handle an AK?'

  'Charles, that's like asking if your grandmother can cook. I was in Vietnam.'

  Ferguson shook hands with the Sergeant Major and turned to Lacey.

  'Four Brownings, Squadron Leader. That's one each for you and the Flight Lieutenant. Hazar may prove a serious problem as regards your health. I thought you should be ready.'

  'Very considerate of you, General,' Lacey said. 'We've got a young lady on board to handle catering. Flight Sergeant Avon.'

  Ferguson turned to the Sergeant Major. 'Find another Browning.'

  'Of course, sir.'

  Later, sitting in the plane, the door closed, ready to go, the young Flight Sergeant appeared, not wearing an RAF uniform but an international-looking navy blue job.

  As the plane moved away, she said, 'Anything you gentlemen would like?'

  'Later, Sergeant.' Ferguson smiled. 'You know who I am?'

  'Of course, General.'

  He picked up the extra Browning the Sergeant Major had given him. 'I presume you've had basic weapon training?'

  'Of course, sir.'

  'Good. Take this. We're going into harm's way. I'd like to think you can defend yourself if needs be.'

  She was so cool, he could feel the ice. 'That's very good of you, General. I've got prawn salad, Lancashire hotpot, smoked salmon and game soup.'

  'Sounds fine,' Blake said.

  Ferguson smiled. 'Mr Johnson works for the President of the United States, but do be prepared to use the Browning. The people on the other side aren't nice.'

  'No problem, sir. I've a bottle of Tattinger in my fridge if you'd care for a glass of champagne.'

  She left. Blake said, 'I wonder how it's going for Dillon?'

  'The question should be, how is it going for the other lot,' Ferguson said.

  On the ground, Dillon divested himself of his 'chute, covered it with soft sand and went looking for Billy. He clambered up the nearest sand dune and found him below on his knees, burying his parachute. Dillon ploughed down to join him.

  'You're okay?'

  'Fine,' Billy told him. 'We should do this more often.'

  Dillon took out his mobile and called Villiers. The Colonel replied almost instantly. Dillon said, 'Billy and I are on the ground in one piece.'

  'Any sign of the opposition?'

  'Not when we flew over. We'll make for Rama, see what the situation is on the road. Where are you?'

  'Twenty miles.'

  'And Bronsby?'

  'About thirty miles, maybe forty, to the east.'

  'Good. Billy and I will push hard and cut the road. The minute I get a smell of them, I'll call you.'

  He stuffed his phone into a pocket of his bush shirt, turned to Billy, took out a compass and checked it.

  'Right, let's move it. Once we find the road, we'll climb one of the dunes and see what we can see.' He took a headcloth from his backpack and pulled it on. 'Do the same, Billy, it's going to get hot.'

  They cut the road an hour later and moved along it at a half run. There was a fine covering of sand, but no sign of tyre tracks, no sign of anything. Finally, Dillon stopped. The defile was before them.

  'This has got to be it. Let's go up there.' He pointed to a sand dune that was at least five hundred feet high. 'We'll see anything that's coming.'

  It was hard going, the heat increasing as they toiled up the steep side of the dune, and then they were on top and sat down. Billy produced a bottle of water, drank some and passed it to Dillon, who drank deeply, then took out his Zeiss glasses and scanned the horizon.

  'That's it.' He pointed and passed the glasses to Billy. 'They're to the east, the farthest part of the road.'

  Billy looked, adjusted the glasses and the lead Land Rover sprang into view, the column behind.

  'Jesus,' Billy said. 'The Rashids are coming up fast.'

  'I'd say you're right, Billy.'

  'And two of us.'

  'Let them get closer, then I'll call in and let Villiers know where we are.'

  Down in the defile at Rama, Bell, O'Hara and Brosnan worked on their bomb. George Rashid sat waiting with some of his men. Up above on the edge of the defile, a handful watched. Suddenly, one of them fired a shot into the air, stood up and waved. A moment later, two more Land Rovers appeared and braked to a halt. Paul and Kate Rashid got out.

  Rashid went forward and spoke to Bell. 'So, it goes forward?'

  'It will if we can get on with it instead of having a lot of idiots in bed sheets interfering.'

  Beside him stood a plastic bottle of water. Suddenly, there was a single shot and the bottle jumped into the air. Two of Paul Rashid's guards ran forward and pulled him and Kate to one side, turned them, and ran them to the Land Rover column. There was another shot and one of them, a bullet in his back, fell on his face.

  On the top of the sand dune, Dillon looked through the glasses. 'It's Paul Rashid down there and Lady Kate. Who wrote this script?'

  'I don't know, Dillon. What I do know is there's forty down there and two up here.'

  'So live dangerously, Billy. I'll take the one on the left doing the wiring. You do the one on the right.'

  He took careful aim and shot O'Hara, who had stood up, in the back. Brosnan was running, weaving, toward the column, and Billy got him in the lower spine, driving him forwards onto his face.

  Paul Rashid looked up to the top of the sand dune, calm, controlled, adjusting his glasses, and caught a glimpse of the two men.

  'Dear God, it's Dillon.'

  He turned and called to his men as Bell arrived. 'Surround the dune,' he said in Arabic. 'And I want them alive.'

  Dillon got his mobile out, called Villiers and brought him up to date.

  Villiers said, 'Won't be long now, but can you hold?'

  'There's two of us, Colonel, that's all.'

  'Just hang on there, Dillon, I'll push like hell.'

  'And Bronsby?'

  'Trying just as hard from the other direction.'

  'Well, I hope you all make it. They're coming up to get us right now.' He put the phone back in his breast pocket. 'Here we go, Billy.' He took careful aim and started to shoot at the Arabs climbing the dune.

  Billy joined him. 'Listen, Dillon, if the Council of Elders lot turn up, all this shooting's going to put them right off.'

  'Exactly, Billy. Let's pray Colonel Villiers gets here soon.'

  But Villiers had done better than that. He cut the road ahead of the Council of Elders convoy, stopped them and spoke to their escort commander. The convoy turned and went back. Villiers carried on to Rama with his men.

  Dillon and Billy burrowed in, confident of only one thing: they had the high ground. They shot several of the Rashid Bedu as they came up the sand dune, but they were still only two… and then in the far distance on the road, Villiers appeared.

  One of Paul Rashid's men ran to his side and pointed. Rashid turned, focused his glasses and saw Tony Villiers in the lead Land Rover.

  'Damn,' he said to Kate. 'It's the Hazar Scouts.'
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br />   'So, all we have down there is a totally useless bomb,' Kate said.

  'Let's get out of here,' Paul Rashid said. 'And live to fight another day.'

  His men retreated to the column, some firing up at the top of the sand dune. Billy and Dillon fired back, and then the column moved away and turned out into the desert.

  Dillon lit a cigarette and checked the approach of Villiers and his men. 'Just in time, isn't that the phrase?'

  They went down and found Villiers, as the Land Rovers rolled to a halt. Dillon said, 'We've got a bomb here. If you've got a pair of wire cutters, I'll take care of it for you.'

  'So kind.' Villiers spoke to one of his men in Arabic. After a while, Dillon was supplied with what he needed.

  Later, they sat beside the lead Land Rover, drank bitter black tea and smoked cigarettes.

  'So, the Elders are safe,' Villiers said.

  Dillon produced a pack of Marlboros and lit another one, Tony Villiers reached over and helped himself. 'I'll tell you, I may have commanded that man in the Gulf, but I'd still like to know what goes on inside his head.'

  'Rashid?' Dillon said. 'Tell me, Colonel. You did Irish time. Remember Frank Barry?'

  'Who could forget?'

  'He also had a title. An Irish Peer, the Lord of Spanish Head up there on the Down coast, pots of money. But all that was important was what went on in his head. The game.'

  'And you think that's true of Paul Rashid?'

  'He's done everything else. He's got everything else. Yes, I'd say the one thing he's seriously left with is the game.'

  'So, Bosworth Field is Rama today.'

  It was Billy, the London gangster, who said, 'Dauncey, that was the family name?'

  'That's right,' Dillon said.

  'Well, they lost with Richard III and they lost with us.'

  Dillon sat there thinking about it, then smiled. 'True, Billy, very true. Are you trying to make a profound point?' He turned to Villiers. 'Billy and I share a love of moral philosophy. So does Paul Rashid.'

  'What I find really interesting is Sean Dillon, pride of the IRA, loving moral philosophy.'

  'You didn't approve of my cause, Colonel, but I was just as much a soldier as you, and you know damn well that soldiers go beyond position, beyond money, beyond normal success. They stand up and take the sword.'