by Jack Higgins
'Mr Fox, what can I do for you?'
'I need a flight in a couple of hours to Hellsmouth. Can you manage that?'
'If you say so, Mr Fox. It might be a rough landing. It's pretty dark.'
'I don't care if you put us down on its belly, just so you get us there.'
As you say, sir.'
When Dillon arrived at Stable Mews, Fox, Russo, Falcone, Rossi and Cameci were waiting in a large black van.
Dillon got out with Blake and gave him the key to the house. 'There you go. I'll be back later. I'll go and see what Ferguson wants.'
He got back into the taxi and it moved away. Blake walked slowly towards the door, and the van drove up and braked. Rossi and Cameci were out and had him in seconds. Blake tried to struggle but had little strength. Fox leaned across Russo, who was at the wheel.
'It's my turn now, Johnson. Get him in the back. You know what to do, Falcone.'
They dragged Blake in and Falcone produced a hypodermic. 'Now this will really make you feel good,' he said and jabbed it into the right arm.
Blake continued to struggle, but then everything slipped away and he was still.
Bardsey operated a twenty-four-hour service that handled the ever-increasing volume of private planes and executive jets that Heathrow didn't welcome any more. For internal flights, there was no particular security. Swan was waiting for them.
Fox said, 'We'll take off right away. I don't want to hang around. I'm a little worried about my friend here. He's had too much to drink.'
'Will there be a return, Mr Fox?' Swan asked.
'Not tonight. You wait at the airstrip for further instructions.'
Swan, only too well aware of the kind of people he was dealing with, said, 'As you say, sir,' went and logged flight details.
Rossi and Cameci took Blake up the steps, Russo followed, and Fox turned to Falcone. 'Phone the caretaker, old Carter. Tell him I want the fireplaces lit, but I don't want him in the house. He can go home.'
As you say, Signore.'
Fox boarded the Eagle, and Falcone got on his mobile and made the call. When he finished, Falcone followed and Swan pulled up the steps and dosed the Airstair door. As he went up to the cockpit, Fox reached out to Falcone.
'Give me the phone.'
He took out a card, a digest of information Maud Jackson had given him, found Ferguson's number in Cavendish Square and dialled it.
'Charles Ferguson.'
'Jack Fox. Is Dillon there?'
'Why, Mr Fox. And how are you this evening?' 'Shove it, Ferguson. Give me Dillon.'
Ferguson handed the phone to Dillon, and he and Hannah stood up.
'Why, Jack, so sorry to hear your bad news.'
'Yeah, well, it's nothing compared to the news I have for you, Dillon. I've just grabbed Blake Johnson, and I'm taking him to hell, but not, alas, back. I saw you clear off in the cab, Dillon, and I got him before he opened the door. If you use your brains, you might come up with where I'm taking him, and that would please me no end.'
He switched off before Dillon could reply, and Dillon turned to Hannah and Ferguson. 'He's got Blake. He said he's taking him to hell but not back.' He frowned. 'Hellsmouth, his place in Cornwall, it's got to be. Let me use the phone.'
Hannah said, 'Dillon, no, it's a trap. He made it easy for you to guess, and now he'll kill you, too.'
'That may be, Hannah. But I can't leave Blake there alone.'
He dialled the Holland Park safe house and got Helen Black. 'Bad news. The bastards have kidnapped Blake Johnson. Put the Major on.'
Roper said, 'Here I am, Sean. What's the deal?' Dillon told him.
Roper said, 'Give me a couple of minutes at my computer.'
'Good man.'
Roper was back very quickly. 'Yes, besides the Gulfstream, the Solazzo family have a Golden Eagle. You know that plane?'
'I've flown one many times,' Dillon said. 'It's excellent for short runways.'
'Well, that's what they have at the Hellsmouth estate. There's an old RAF feeder station from the Second World War. The nearest decent airfield is RAF, St Just, twenty miles away. It's an air-sea rescue set-up, helicopters, long runway.'
'Thanks, old son.'
'You're going in hard, I take it.'
'You could say that.'
'I wish I could be with you. I'll stay on the computer, in case you need me. Just a minute.' There was a pause, and Roper spoke again. 'The Golden Eagle took off twenty minutes ago. The slot booked says Cornwall, Hellsmouth, six passengers.'
'And one of those is Blake. Thanks, Roper.'
Dillon said, 'Hellsmouth, they've gone down in a Golden Eagle from Bardsey. Six passengers.' He punched another number on the phone.
'Sean, what are you doing?' Hannah said.
'Well, I'm not phoning the Cornish police. They're a fine body of men, but not for a job like this. I'm calling Farley Field.'
'What for?' she demanded.
'Because he's going after them,' Ferguson said. 'I know my Sean.'
'He said to hell but not back,' Dillon said. 'Well, I'll follow him to hell.'
A voice on the receiver said, 'Farley Field.'
'Dillon. Get me Squadron Leader Lacey, if he's there.' 'Actually, I just saw him in the mess. Hang on.' Lacey was there quickly. 'Is that you, Dillon?'
'We're going into action, and I mean now.'
'What's the score?'
'Hellsmouth, near Lizard Point in Cornwall. It's a small airstrip, so I need a parachute landing.'
'I know that area. RAF St Just is not too far away.' 'Exactly, so you drop me, then land at St Just.'
'Jesus, Dillon, you're at it again, saving the world.'
'No, saving Blake Johnson's life. Speak to the quartermaster. Brownings, AK47s, parachutes for two. I'd say six hundred feet.'
'You're mad, Sean, but let me get on with it.'
Dillon put the phone down and Hannah Bernstein said, 'Gear for two parachutists. What the hell are you talking about?'
'Well, not the SAS. There isn't time. I've someone in mind, and I'll go and see him now. If you want to see me again, it will be at Farley Field.'
'You're just going to execute all those people, aren't you, Dillon?' she said angrily.
Dillon turned to Ferguson. 'She's a lovely woman, Brigadier, but I've had it up to here with her morality. I'm more interested in saving a good man's life,' and he turned and walked out.
Hannah turned and said, 'He's mad, sir.'
'No, Superintendent. He's Dillon.'
Harry Salter, Billy, Joe and Sam Hall were in the end booth at the Dark Man enjoying large Scotches when Dillon came in.
'Sean, my old son,' Harry Salter said. 'Did we do it or did we do it?'
'Fox has kidnapped Blake,' Dillon said. 'Flown off to this estate he has in Cornwall with four of his heavies.'
There was silence. Salter said, 'What are you going to do?'
'I can't leave it, they might chop him. I'm flying down in an hour from Farley Field. I'll drop over the estate by parachute. Try and catch them with their pants down. It's got to be a drop, the landing field there is too short for a Gulfstream. The nearest RAF base is twenty miles away.'
Billy said, 'Fox and four makes five, Dillon, and you're going in alone?'
'No, Billy, I'm going in with you.'
'You must be bleeding mad,' Harry Salter said.
Dillon ignored him. 'Billy, you've heard of Arnhem in the Second World War, all those paratroopers going in? There was one major, an army surgeon, who'd never done a jump in his life, but they needed a doctor. He survived just fine and so will you. Billy, trust me. You jump out, pull the cord at six hundred feet, you hit the ground in twenty-five seconds, and that's all there is to it.'
Salter said, 'You're crazy.'
But Billy was smiling all over his face. 'I've said it before, Dillon, you're just like me. You don't give a stuff. Just show me the way.'
'Well, if he goes, I'm bleeding going,' Salter said. 'Even if I'm only on the
sidelines.'
'Right,' Dillon said. 'Then let's do it.'
15
HELLSMOUTH
When Dillon, Harry Salter and Billy arrived at Farley Field, Lacey and Parry were waiting.
'Let's go into the operations room and make sure I've got it right,' Lacey said.
The quartermaster stood ready with Dillon's Brownings, two AK47sparachutes and jumpsuits ready.
Dillon said, 'Have a word with Mr Salter, Sergeant Major, it's his first jump.'
'Is that so, Mr Dillon?' the Sergeant Major replied, face impassive. 'Then a word might be indicated.'
'Just show me,' Billy told him.
Dillon went to the chart table and started to check it out with Lacey and Parry. 'It's not as bad as it could be,' Lacey said.
'There's almost a half moon. One pass is all I'd recommend. There's no time for more, then we'll rush to St Just.' 'Sounds good to me.'
'The other chap,' Lacey said. 'He knows what he's doing?' Absolutely!
Ferguson and Hannah Bernstein came in. When the Brigadier saw the Salters, he was astonished. 'For God's sake, what is this? You said two parachutists, and he isn't a parachutist.'
'Well, I am now,' Billy said. 'I think I've got the hang of it, Dillon. I pull this ring and that's it. The guns are pretty obvious. I managed Kilbeg, I can manage this.'
'This is madness,' Hannah Bernstein said.
'No, it's trying to save Blake Johnson's life,' Dillon said. 'I'm ready when you are, Brigadier, unless you have other ideas.'
'No,' Ferguson said. 'It makes the usual wild sense where you are concerned, so let's get on with it.'
'Harry's coming along for the ride,' Dillon said. 'I suggest you lot board, and Billy and I will change and follow.' As you wish.'
Ten minutes later, Dillon and Billy, in jumpsuits, flak jackets, parachutes, shoulder holsters, AKs suspended across the chest, went up the steps and took their seats. Parry dosed the door.
Salter said, 'Christ, Billy, you look like you're in a Vietnam war movie or something. What are you playing at’
Billy actually smiled. 'I'm playing at being me, Harry, and it feels great.'
Blake sat down again on the stone seat in the tunnel, waist deep in water, hugging himself and trying to keep warm. Would Dillon come? Fox seemed to expect it, dangling him as bait. It was an impossible situation, but then, Dillon had always been master of the impossible. Somewhere high above, through the thick walls of the old house, he seemed to hear a noise, far off, something like an aircraft engine, but he couldn't be sure. The rat appeared and circled, swimming.
'I told you,' he said. 'Behave yourself.'
The noise of the aircraft faded quickly. Falcone said, 'What was that?'
'It could be normal air traffic at the RAF place at St Just,' Fox said. 'And then again, it could be Dillon. We'd better get ready.'
He was standing by the fire in the great hall with Falcone and Russo. 'Get me a brandy first.'
Russo went to the sideboard, filled a glass and brought it back. Rossi and Cameci came in, holding Uzis.
Falcone said, 'Excuse me, Signore, but do you really think Dillon will come?'
'I gave him enough clues. He's smart. He'll come.'
It was Russo who said, 'But what if they send the police?' 'Dillon? No, it's too personal for that. He's not going to
trust the police to do this for him.'
'But Ferguson is secret intelligence,' Falcone pointed out. 'What if he decided to use special forces, the SAS?'
'Same thing. He's operated this whole thing very close to his chest. Publicity is the last thing he wants, he won't change now. Low key, that's the way they'll do it. Like in the bullring, mano a mano, hand-to-hand, face-to-face.'
'As you say, Signore.'
Fox turned to Rossi and Cameci. 'Get out in the garden and keep watch. Check the doors.'
They went out and he drank some of the brandy. He was right in all respects except one. Dillon was already there.
As the Gulfstream throttled back to almost stalling speed, Parry ran back, opened the door, and dropped the steps. There was a rush of wind.
Salter said, 'Christ Almighty.'
Dillon turned and grinned at Billy. 'I'm an older guy, you young bastard. I'll go first.'
'Thanks very much. Get going, Dillon.'
Billy, feeling totally insane, pushed him out and dived after him.
There was rain, light mist, and yet the moon, the house and estate were clear below. Dillon hit in no time at all, punched the quick release after a perfect landing, not even a roll, and looked around. He saw the other parachute billowing like some strange flower, ran over, and stamped on it. Billy sat up.
'Are you okay?' Dillon asked.
'I think so. Went backwards and hit my back.' He worked the muscles around. 'But it feels okay.'
Dillon punched Billy's quick release. 'Then come on, move it!
Billy was on his feet in a moment. 'Jesus, Dillon, I can't believe this is happening.'
'Well, it is. Kilbeg all over again, except this time there are five bad guys out there waiting to pounce, so be ready.'
Dillon trawled the gardens with the Nightstalker and saw Cameci over by the terrace. 'Take a look,' he whispered to Billy.
Billy nodded. 'Can't see anything else.'
'I'll go left, you right.'
'I'm with you, Dillon.'
Cameci was by the balustrade, looking out over the moonlit
garden, when the muzzle of an nudged his back. Billy said, 'Make a sound and I'll blow your spine apart.' Cameci said, 'Is that Dillon?'
'No, I'm his younger brother.' Billy called softly, 'Over here.'
Dillon moved out of the shadows, and Rossi, on the other side of the terrace, stood up. It was Billy who saw him. 'Dillon!' he rasped.
Dillon turned, his silenced AK coughed, and Rossi went backwards, dead.
Dillon took Cameci by the jaw. 'Tell me who's inside and tell me now, or I'll kill you.'
Cameci, terrified, said, 'Signores Fox, Falcone and Russo.' Dillon said, 'Excellent. Now what about the American?'
'He's in the tunnel in the cellars.'
'Good. Take us there.'
Cameci led the way through the kitchen, down the stairs and into the cellar system. They arrived at an old oak door. 'That's it,' Cameci said.
'Then open it.'
Cameci did as he was told. Blake, in the water, turned, the light falling across his face, and Dillon said, 'What are you doing, taking a dip? This is no time for fun. Get the hell out of there.'
Blake stumbled up the steps. 'What kept you?'
He was shivering and very wet. Dillon said to Cameci, 'Get your clothes off. The man's freezing.'
'But, Signore,' Cameci protested.
Dillon shoved the muzzle of the AK under his chin. 'Just do it.' He pulled the combat scarf from around his neck and gave it to Blake. 'Dry yourself a little.'
Blake did the best he would while Cameci stripped. Blake pulled on the clothes. Cameci was left in his underpants.
Meanwhile, Falcone, upstairs, had opened the French windows, gone out on the terrace, and found Rossi. He was back inside in an instant to Fox and Russo.
'Rossi's out there dead. No sign of Cameci.'
'Christ,' Fox said. 'He's here, the bastard's here. Spread out.'
At that moment, Dillon shoved Cameci into the room in his underpants, and startled by the sudden apparition, Falcone turned and fired. Cameci went down, writhing. 'Hey, you got the wrong guy,' Dillon called. 'It's me, Jack. Time to pay up.'
'Fuck you, Dillon,' Fox shouted.
They crouched in the hall, the great chandelier hanging from the ceiling spreading its illumination. Falcone whispered to Russo, 'Stick with me. Let's move towards the door to the kitchen quarters.' He saw Fox moving to the right.
'There's too much light,' Russo said.
Falcone fired his Uzi up at the chandelier and brought it crashing down.
'Not any more.'
; He ducked, pulling Russo with him.
The hall was a strange place now, only the light from the great log fire picking out the suits of armour, the ancient banners, the great staircase to the left. Dillon, Blake and Billy crept in and crouched behind the great central table.
'Now what?' Billy demanded.
'Just wait, Billy, always hasten slowly.' He took out his Browning and passed it to Blake. 'Just in case.'
'How the hell did you get here, anyway?' Blake asked. 'Lacey and Parry did a low pass, and Billy and I jumped.' 'Dear God, what does this boy know about parachuting?' 'A lot more than he did a couple of hours ago. Don't worry,
there are reinforcements coming.'
A special forces team?'
'No. Ferguson, Hannah and Harry Salter.'
'Christ Almighty.'
'We can make it, Blake. Cameci and Rossi are down. That just leaves Falcone, Russo and good old Jack Fox.' 'So how do we do it?' Billy asked.
'I've told you. We wait, Billy, and let them come to us.'
There was quiet. Falcone and Russo had reached the green baize door leading to the kitchen. Fox had reached another door to one side of the fireplace. He opened it and went up a spiral staircase to the landing, peered down at the hall, and saw a movement behind the table. Beneath his foot, a board creaked.
'The bastard's somewhere above us,' Dillon said. 'Slide off to the right, Billy.'
Billy moved away and Dillon called, 'Why, Jack, here we are again at the final end of things.' He pushed Blake away. 'Get over to the shadows on the other side.'
Up above, Jack Fox moved, crouching by the switches for the wall lights that normally illuminated the collection of paintings that hung on the wall. He paused and reached.
Below, Blake started to move, slipped, and cried out in pain as he fell on his arm. Dillon reached down to pick him up and Fox switched on the lights.
'I've got you now, you bastard.'
He raised the Walther in his right hand and shot Dillon twice in the back. To do it he had to stand, and so did Billy, over to the right. Raising his AK, he pumped ten rounds into Fox, driving him back across the landing. Fox bounced off the wall back to the balustrade and fell over. He lay there on the stone flagging, twitching for just a second. Then there was silence.