Edge of Danger. Jack Higgins

‘We’ll use the snug.’ He led the way to a door, opened it to usher her through, and turned to Dillon. ‘Sean?’

      ‘You still don’t understand,’ Kate told him. ‘Dillon is here only as a minder. My business is with you, and you alone, on behalf of Rashid Investments.’ She turned and nodded to her brother. ‘George, join us.’

      The door closed. Dillon turned and said to the barman, ‘I know it’s early in the day, but it’s cold out there and pouring with rain, and I’m County Down myself, so let’s celebrate and get the Bushmills out.’

      There was a fire in the open hearth of the snug, chairs on each side and a small coffee table in between. Kate Rashid sat down, her brother standing behind; Bell sat opposite and lit a cigarette, Liam Casey stood behind.

      ‘So, the word is that Rashid Investments are having problems with their plans in Northern Ireland, and need a little protection.’

      ‘Not really, Mr Bell. That’s a story even Dillon believes. No, I don’t need you to guard the door, as it were; you’re far too talented for that.’

      ‘Really? Then what do you need me for?’

      ‘Last year you killed General Petrovsky in Chechnya, and also blew up most of his staff. The world in general thought the Chechen freedom fighters had scored a great coup, but I know that you were paid one million pounds by Chechen sources in exile in Paris.’

      ‘Do you now?’

      ‘Oh, yes.’

      His face was calm. ‘You or your famous brother, the Earl, isn’t it? A man to reckon with, and all the money in the world, I hear.’

      ‘Not quite, but close. You’ve never met, of course.’

      ‘Almost. He was a lieutenant in the Grenadier Guards. Crossmaglen in South Armagh. I was with one of my best snipers. Your brother and a small patrol were moving in. My man had him in his sights, then a helicopter dropped in with another twenty Guardsmen and we had to run for it.’

      ‘If you’d shot him, you’d have missed a big payday.’ She pushed the briefcase across. ‘Have a look.’

      He flicked the catches and lifted the lid. Inside were rows of fifty-pound notes. ‘How much?’ he asked.

      ‘A hundred thousand pounds as evidence of good faith. You keep it, whatever happens. My brother’s gift to you.’

      ‘And what do I have to do?’

      ‘You may or may not know about this, but the Americans and Russians intend to prospect for oil in Hazar. The Sultan brokered a deal for them. It involved assassinating my brother.’

      ‘The Sultan’s dead. It was in the papers.’

      ‘Exactly. One of his assassins almost killed me. My brother shot him dead. He’s that kind of man.’

      ‘He would be. Irish time, Lady Kate. Me, Dillon, Casey here, your brother – we’re all cut from the same piece of cloth. But there’s more here. I know I’m a bastard, but I’m a clever bastard.’

      ‘All right. I’ll tell you. It involves my mother and a man called Igor Gatov.’

      Afterwards, Aidan Bell said, ‘Excuse the language, but they’re all fucks. The Americans, Russians, Brits. They use people, then throw them away like a paper cup.’

      ‘So for once, we teach them a lesson. And I do mean a big lesson. We go straight to the top. I hear Jake Cazalet is a good man, but so what? Someone pays for people like Gatov, and ultimately it must be the one in supreme power. For President Jake Cazalet, you get two million. Now are you in or out?’

      Liam Casey said, ‘Jesus.’

      Bell sat looking at her. ‘You’re mad, woman.’

      ‘No, perfectly serious. As I said, you keep the hundred thousand, no matter what.’ She took a phonecard from her purse, and a pen. She wrote quickly. ‘My coded mobile number. You’ve got seven days. My brother and I will be at Trump Tower in New York next Thursday at our apartment. If you’re interested, present yourself, plus a coherent plan. If not, you’re one hundred thousand pounds richer and no hard feelings.’

      Bell smiled. ‘I’ll be there, Lady Kate, Trump Tower, Thursday.’

      She nodded, a certain satisfaction on her face. ‘It was never the money, was it? It’s the game to you, just like Dillon.’

      ‘Well, I still expect to be paid, and for a job like this, I’ll expect not two but three million sterling.’

      He held out his hand and she took it. ‘Somehow, I thought you’d say something like that.’

      ‘We’ll meet again next week then, in Manhattan.’

      ‘I’ll be there.’

      Casey opened the door for her and they went out to Dillon, who was at the bar drinking Bushmills.

      ‘A little early, even for you,’ she told him.

      ‘We have to walk back through the rain, girl. I like to keep the cold out. We’re all done here, I presume?’

      ‘Yes, back to Magee,’ she said.

      Dillon turned to Bell. ‘A sincere sensation, Aidan. I’m sure you’ll do whatever the lady wants with your usual ruthless efficiency.’

      ‘Oh, you can count on it, Sean.’

      Kate, Dillon and George went out, and Bell and Casey stood in the door and watched them go.

      Casey said, ‘It’s madness, Aidan. Even you couldn’t get away with it.’

      Bell smiled, looking incredibly dangerous. ‘Now that’s where you’re wrong, Liam. I can get away with anything. There’s something burning in my brain already, something I read recently. I’ll go and check it out. That’s a hell of a woman.’ He watched her go, Dillon and George on either side. ‘But Dillon. That’s a strange one, having him here.’

      ‘A “minder”, she said.’

      ‘Could be, but he still works for Ferguson, which means he can’t be in on this business. It wouldn’t make sense.’

      They walked out into the rain and moved towards the harbour at the same moment that Kate Rashid and the two men reached the Aran and stepped over the rail – and found Frank Kelly face-down on the deck. Quinn, the bearded man from the Royal George, came out of the wheelhouse with a savage grin, backed by his two cronies. They were all armed.

      Without hesitation, Dillon flung himself over the rail into the harbour, dived deep and swam, surfacing at the stern.

      Quinn was shouting, ‘Get the bastard, get him!’

      Dillon reached to the ankle holster and drew the .22 pistol. The men above looked over the rail and he shot each one between the eyes. Quinn, shocked, turned to see what was going on and George Rashid pulled the .22 from his own ankle holster and shot him in the right arm. Quinn dropped his gun, scrambled over the rail, and stumbled away.

      George took careful aim just as Dillon came back up over the rail. ‘Let him go and let’s get out of here. See to Kelly,’ he added to Kate, then moved to the wheelhouse and started the engines.

      On the way down from the Royal George, Bell and Casey saw what was going on below on the boat.

      Bell said, ‘That shite Quinn. He’s going to ruin everything. Come on,’ and he ran down the hill to the harbour.

      They saw the action, Dillon taking to the water and shooting Quinn’s two sidekicks, Quinn being shot by George Rashid and running for cover. Bell and Casey paused, watched George cast off and the Aran move out of the harbour, saw Quinn stumble between the boats on the beach.

      ‘I’ve had it, Liam,’ Bell said. ‘The Provisional IRA can go to hell. This is my patch and this bastard has come close to screwing