Copyright
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2016
Copyright © Harry Patterson 2016
Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers 2016
Harry Patterson asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008160272
Ebook Edition © December 2016 ISBN: 9780008160296
Version: 2017-09-27
Dedication
For Madeleine Cameron With love and grateful thanks
Epigraph
The bell tolls at midnight, but only when Death requires it.
Irish proverb
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Washington and London
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Also by Jack Higgins
About the Publisher
WASHINGTON AND LONDONAN EAST WIND with driving rain and sleet pushed across the airport as the Gulfstream landed. It was immediately approached by a security limousine from the White House, which Blake Johnson, alighting from the plane, was surprised to see was being driven by his longtime secretary, Alice Quarmby. He opened the passenger door, tossed his valise inside, and joined her.
What are you doing here?
Protecting your back, you idiot, she told him, as she drove away. You were supposed to bring Jake Cazalet back with you from London, and here you are, alone. Im a nervous old broad when it comes to my boss, so Id like to know why.
Sorry, Alice, its for the ears of the President only.
Well, it better be good. With his second term coming up, he needs to show whos in charge, and heres former President Jake Cazaleta fine president in his day, mind youdining with the Prime Minister and giving interviews to the media as if hes the official mouthpiece for American foreign policy. You know the White House isnt pleased about that.
I knowbut enough about that. Anything else come up?
Apparently, the President has made a new friend.
Really? Who?
A Colonel Samuel Hunter. I did some researchdont ask me where. He has a decent black-ops record in the army, nothing spectacular, and since then, hes spent five years with the CIA, where he runs a Special Projects Department. He gets around a lot.
So whats the special project hes come up with that appeals to the Oval Office?
The President has become interested in the private-army business since you were last here.
Mercenaries? Blake was amazed. What on earth for?
The new name for them is private military companies, so you might as well get used to it. It seems theyve been having some success in Mali, and South African companies have been busy recruiting.
With plenty of casualties, no doubt?
No doubt. And some units have apparently done very well supporting the Nigerian Army in its struggle with al-Qaeda.
Aided by the military supplies we pump in there?
Not in Nigeria, I think. My research suggests the CIA wouldnt touch this one with a barge pole if left to their own devices.
Like that, is it? Blake said.
Thats what they say, but who knows?
Exactly, he said. Youre an old cynic, Alice, but somehow you always get it right.
Blame it on the White House, Blake. Ive been there longer than anyone else. It breeds cynicism.
THEY WERE MOVING along Constitution Avenue toward the White House, where they found demonstrators in spite of the hour and the heavy rain.
Try the East Entrance, Blake suggested. Alice did, and a Secret Service man on duty saw to the Mercedes, then escorted them to the Presidents secretary, who delivered them to the Oval Office and withdrew.
The inclement weather outside had darkened the room, and yet the President kept it in shadow, glancing up from papers now and smiling hugely.
There you are at last. And you, Alice, it was way beyond the call of duty for you to pick this rascal up at such an hour.
I guess its gotten to be a habit, Mr. President, after all these years.
Youre the wonder of the world. Now, if you would, go and get yourself a coffee while Blake and I talk.
Alice withdrew, and the President called, Join us, Colonel Hunter. Id like you to meet Blake Johnson.
Hunter emerged from the chief of staffs office, a man much as Blake had expected, around sixty, with a mustache, tanned face, and an expensive suit of blue flannel.
He held out his hand briefly. Your fame precedes you, Mr. Johnson.
Colonel, Blake said formally.
Hunters smile was false and dismissive as he turned to a more important quarry. As I was saying earlier, Mr. President, we must present our opponents with the unexpected and seize the day. Its been one of the greatest precepts of warfare since Roman times.
The President turned to Blake. Would you agree?
My experience of warfare was being up to my armpits in some swamp in the Mekong Delta in Vietnam, so I guess I never had time to find out, Blake said.
Hunter was annoyed and let it show. We all have to move with the times, he said to Blake. Modern thinking, thats what we need. For instance, Im surprised that a man in your position has an elderly woman as his secretary. How computer savvy can she be?
She could write the book on the White House, Blake said. Shes better than any computer.
And apparently has been poking her nose into Langleys business illegally for her departments purposes, Hunter said.
That would be my personal security department, the President said. Its called the Basement. Blake Johnson runs it, and Alice Quarmby has served every president in office since the Basement was first conceived.
Hunter apologized hurriedly. Of course you are right, Mr. President. Still, this unauthorized accessing of CIA filesits disturbing.
You may be right, Colonel, but as I am the president, Im the one wholl make the decision about it. If youd show the colonel out, Blake.
Blake was at the door in a moment. Hunter followed, hesitated, and turned. And what we discussed, Mr. Presidentabout Havoc and the support system?
Well see, Colonel, the President said, and as Blake closed the door, he added, Come and sit down and bring me up-to-date. Did you bring President Cazalet back?
Unfortunately, no, Mr. President. He said hes agreed to deliver a lecture at the London School of Economics about terrorism and ISIS, and he cant leave just yet.
The President frowned. You did give him the envelope that contained the presidential warrant ordering him home again?
Of course. He said he was going to leave, but then Downing Street informed him that theyd all be attending the lectureso he felt he had to stay. The profits, by the way, are going to charitythe Children of Syria.
So how can I possibly complain about that? the President said, then laughed reluctantly. Damn you, Jake Cazalet, youve left me wrong-footed on this one.
Actually, Mr. President, if I could make a suggestion?
By all means.
Why dont you send a message to the Cabinet Office congratulating the Prime Minister and President Cazalet on their joint effortsand announcing that the U.S. will match the money raised for the Children of Syria. That way, its as if youd been a part of it the whole time.
The President was smiling now. What a great idea. Ill see to it at once. With one stipulation.
What would that be, Mr. President?
You climb in that Gulfstream, return to London tonight, and dont show your face back here without him. When hes finished his gig, I want him back, and no arguments, even if he is a billionaire. Lets have a drink on it. The President was smiling as he rose, went to a cupboard, and produced a bottle of scotch and two glasses, one of which he handed to Blake. Sit down for a moment.
The President settled onto a couch. I imagine you think Im crazy, being so concerned about Cazalet, but I cant help thinking about what happened last year. The President had sent General Charles Ferguson, the head of the Prime Ministers private army, and his people to Cazalets house on Nantucket, so that Cazalet could thank them on the Presidents behalf for the success of a recent operation. But al-Qaeda assassins had been waiting for them. Charles Ferguson, Sean Dillon, Captain Sara Gideon, and Cazalet himself, they could all have died.
Well, they didnt, Blake said. None of its your fault. Besides, Sean Dillon is the most dangerous man Ive ever met. They picked the wrong target.
But theyll try again. Especially after Dillon and company shot the al-Qaeda Master behind the attack.
I agree with you there. Ive a feeling in my gut that al-Qaeda wont let us forget that, Blake said. Which is why weve spent so much time keeping in touch across the Atlantic.
My Basement, the President said. And the Prime Ministers private army. He shook his head. United by a common purpose and yet so far away from each other.
Blake finished his drink and stood up. Not in the world we live in, not these days. Id better get going.
Of course. Take care.
Blake turned. Always do, Mr. President, he said, and left.
The President sat there, thinking of what Blake had said. Not in the world we live in, not these days. For a moment, he was touched by despair, but that would never do. There was work to be done, and he sat at the desk and started to go through his papers.
FRANK DOLAN, once a master sergeant in the Rangers, now Hunters personal assistant and chauffeur, was waiting for the colonel as he left the White House, an umbrella high against the pouring rain.
Everything go according to plan, sir?
Sergeant, some truly crazy people work in there, and that includes this president, his security guy, and the old bag working for them.
That must be her dozing in the Mercedes over there, Dolan said, as he started to drive away. I looked him up. Blake Johnson, right? Decorated three times in Vietnam.
Hell, they gave medals away like candy in those days, Hunter said.
He was FBI for a while, too. Took a bullet meant for Cazalet when Cazalet was a senator.
Well, bully for him, Hunter said, staring out. Washington in the rain. I loathe it.