I believe you have an envelope for me?
Yes, I do, Colonel, Elsie said, and passed it to him.
He hurried through the maze of corridors that was the White House, opening the letter and taking out the card and marveling at the gold edges with OFFICE OF THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES AND COLONEL SAMUEL HUNTER, AIDE TO THE PRESIDENT underneath in bold black print.
When he got to the car and climbed in the Mercedes, he could hardly breathe.
Dolan said, Are you okay, Colonel?
Never been better. Hunter passed the card. Read that.
Dolan did, then said, But what does it mean, sir?
Our ticket to prosperity.
ONCE HUNTER WAS out of the way, Alice was called into the Oval Office, where she found an angry President behind the desk.
There you are, Alice. Any word from Blake, any at all?
Im afraid not, Mr. President.
Damn his eyes. Im worried, Alice, for both of them. These ISIS bastards are capable of anything.
So it would seem, Mr. President.
All right, but if you hear anythinganything at allget right back to me immediately.
Yes, Mr. President. She returned to her desk, but she knew what she had to do. She had known Blake too long, and it was not, after all, being a traitor to her country, so she called him on his Codex, unaware that he was driving to Highfield Court with Cazalet and Ferguson.
Alice, he said. Whats cooking at the White House?
I had a call from the Oval Office earlier. We need to talk, Blake.
He switched to speaker, gesturing to Cazalet and Ferguson. Why, Alice, what happened?
The President sent for me, she said. And he was really concerned that he hadnt heard from you. But theres something else. He had a visitor. I was in the outer office and overheard some of his private conversation with Colonel Samuel Hunter, that CIA guy whos interested in private military companies and this Havoc outfit.
Charles Ferguson tapped Tony Doyle on the shoulder. Nice quiet spot, Sergeant, pull over.
Doyle did. Ferguson nodded to Cazalet and handed him the phone. Jake here, Alice, not trying to trick you or anything. General Ferguson and I just happened to be sharing a car with Blake. Do you trust me?
Of course I do, Mr. President.
Then tell us exactly what you heard and everything you know about this Colonel Hunter.
She did as she was told, and when she was finished, Cazalet said, Brilliant. Try not to feel too uncomfortable about telling us. Youve served your country, believe me.
Blake took the phone. Take care, love. You never did a more important thing.
Carry on, Sergeant. Ferguson sat back as they moved away. I disliked Hunter straightaway. Now I know why.
Well have to watch our backs with him, Cazalet said. And Id say that Havoc project of his is worth checking on.
Oh, it shall be, old boy, Ferguson said. Just leave it to me. I have the perfect man in mind, and he took out his Codex again.
DANIEL HOLLEY WAS POUNDING alongside the Seine, which was his habit when in Paris. He had a superb furnished barge, which he was running toward now, Notre Dame on the far side of it, hauntingly beautiful in the floodlight. His Codex sounded, and he paused to answer.
Good evening, Daniel. Its Charles Ferguson intruding into your life again.
Well, if that means doing something about ISIS and the bloody mess theyve made of this city, Im your man.
Not directly, but theres something that might be related. Can you come see me?
Ill be with you tomorrow.
IN LONDON, the four men who had attacked Highfield Court stood before Imam Yousef Shah in his office at the Pound Street mosque. No one had helped Hamid Abed, and the handkerchief he held to his ear was soaked with blood. The man who stood behind them was enormous, addressed by the imam as Omar. A leather pouch filled with lead shot swung in his right hand, and he monotonously slapped it into the palm of his left.
So, Hamid Abed, the imam said. You let your comrades down by betraying me.
Not so, Imam. It seemed obvious that the target knew who was behind the attack. This warfare must have been happening between Captain Gideon, her friends, and the mosque for some time.
Which is none of your business, as I will show these fools here, that they may demonstrate to others the punishment that awaits all traitors.
He nodded to Omar, who struck Hamid violently with the leather pouch, sending him crashing to the floor unconscious.
Omar kicked him several times as the others watched, terrified. He said, What do you want me to do with him, Imam?
Beat him thoroughly, Omar, then throw him in the river. The Thames is tidal, and few bodies that go in appear again. Itll be a warning from Allah that all wrongdoers must be punished if they transgress. Take these other wretches with you so they will learn, and speak to me when you are finished, for there is no more to be done.
UNCONSCIOUS IN THE POURING RAIN on an old wharf in Battersea, Hamid barely felt the pain of the blows while the others watched in horror as Omar gave him a last kick.
So, a final lesson for all of you, and he heaved Hamid up and tossed him into the Thames. There he goes, food for the fishes.
THE RIVER CHURNED, the sky echoing the thunderclap above that brought Hamid Abed back from the dead, a vivid flash of lightning illuminating the river. Ships were anchored on each side, old warehouses rearing into the night as he raced by, for there was a five-knot tidal current taking him out to sea fast.
It was the Thames that was saving him now, its icy grip freezing the pain from the terrible beating, leaving him completely numb, but he was conscious when the current took him toward one side of the river and deposited him on a set of ancient steps.
In great pain, he hauled himself up to a dim light that was bracketed to the decaying walls of an old warehouse above a sign that read ST MARYS STAIRS. For a moment, he was dumbfounded, but then he laughed helplessly. Saved by the Mother of Christ, but that was all right because she was in the Koran, too.
What it all meant, he did not know, except that, leaning against the wall under the sign, he realized two things. He was seriously injured, and if he fell into the hands of the Brotherhood again, he was a dead man. On the other hand, he was assumed to be dead already, but there was no way he would get help from his own people. Too afraid of ISIS or the Brotherhood.
He stood there, coughing blood in the rain and looked up at the sign. St. Mary had saved him once before in spite of his being a Muslim. Maybe she could do it again? His foot kicked a wooden pole on the floor, perhaps from a brush. A staff to walk with up the alley toward the main road, and so he started, a hand braced against the wall to help him.
THE MOMENT THE DAIMLER drew up in the drive of Highfield Court, Hannah had the front door open, and Ferguson and the others rushed inside out of the rain, where a profound smell from the kitchen indicated that Sadie had been busy.
She came down the corridor to greet them wearing a kitchen smock, wiping her hands on a towel.
There you are, she said. I thought wed lost you.
Ferguson kissed her on the cheeks. Would we do that to you, Sadie? I cant believe youve been cooking after what youve been through.
Ferguson kissed her on the cheeks. Would we do that to you, Sadie? I cant believe youve been cooking after what youve been through.
Yes, you can, you old rogue, but its nothing special, considering the number at the feast. Youll just have to put up with what a Jewish lady manages to come up with when she tries spaghetti Bolognese.
Ecstasy, Im sure, he said.
Well, a glass of champagne first would be nice.
She vanished toward the kitchen, and Sara said, Well go in the study and be comfortable. Ill light the fire.
Wheres Hannah? Blake said.
Slaving in the kitchen, helping Sadie like a decent Irish girl should. Ah, heres the footman, come to serve the champagne, and Dillon entered pushing the drinks trolley.
THE MEAL WAS as excellent as everyone had expected, and afterward, over coffee and tea, the situation was discussed.
The problem is the nighttime, Cazalet said. I think Blake and I should come up from the Dorchester and move in for the night. Would that suit?
That would be fantastic, Sara said.
Then can we say thats a given? Cazalet asked Ferguson.
Very generous of you, Mr. President. Im sure Sadie will be delighted.
With what? she said, walking in with a fresh pot of coffee.
Youre going to have lodgers, my dear, Ferguson told her, and the front doorbell started to ring.
Now who in the hell can that be? Dillon said, and he was out of the study in a moment, a Colt .25 ready as he approached the door, followed by Hannah, pulling out her own gun and running to cover him.
She was like a different person, calm and assured, her weapon ready in both hands as he reached for the key to open the door.
She said, Take care now, Sean, and dont be dying on me. Ive lost enough from my family.
Yes, well, Im cleverer than that, girl. He pulled the flap of the letterbox open.
Whos there?
The voice was broken, strange, and very slow when it said, My name is Hamid Abed, and I seek the memsahib that she may show me mercy.
Holy Mother, Hannah said. Thats the man I shot! But what would he be doing here?
Well soon see. Dillon, gun in hand, opened the door, and Sadie screamed.
The light from the hall showed the terrible beating Abed had taken, blood all over him, and Hannah pushed Dillon to one side and kneeled.
Who did this to you?
The imam at Pound Street. He had me whipped and broken, thrown in the Thames by Omar Bey, the man they call the Beast.
Forget him now, you are safe with me, but why call me memsahib?
I was in the Pakistan Army, like my father before me, but my grandfather and his father were in the Indian Army under the Raj, memsahib. He laughed. I was thrown into the Thames to die, and a miracle took me to St. Marys Stairs. Mary, the Mother of Jesus, is in the Koran. There was nowhere else to go, so I came here. It was a long walk in the rain.
I understand, and theres no need to worry. She glanced at Ferguson. General?
Ive already called Maggie Duncan at Rosedene, my dear. An ambulance is on the way.
MAGGIE DUNCAN HAD BEEN MATRON for many years at Rosedene, a very special medical establishment that offered only the best of treatment to those damaged in their service to Charles Fergusons organization. Her boss was Professor Charles Bellamy, considered by many to be the finest general surgeon in London.
Hannah had accompanied Hamid in the ambulance, and after a discussion of what had happened with the others, Dillon and Sara followed in the Mini.
It doesnt look good, Sean, Sara said.
About as bad as it could, dear girl. His voice was angry and the harsh Ulster accent plain. Omar the Beast is it, the imams hit man. Id like to meet that one.
He swerved slightly, and she said, Easy, Sean, your time will come, God willing, or mine.
He glanced at her, frowning, then turned the Mini into the entrance to Rosedene and parked.
MAGGIE DUNCAN MET THEM as she came out of her office in reception. She was dressed for the operating theater.
That bad is it, Maggie? Sara asked.
That mans condition is appalling, multiple fractures, damage to many organs, a ruptured kidney. Frankly, I dont even know how he made it to you.
He had a pole of sorts, which I suppose he found somewhere on St. Marys Stairs, and he used it to help him walk. All very biblical, Maggie.
Over the years, Sean, Ive often put this question to youwhen is it all going to end?
Youre a good and honest Christian, Maggie. Book of Revelation. Behold a Pale Horse, his rider was called Death, and Hell followed close behind.
The Apocalypse? she said. You surely cant be meaning that?
And why not, when people are meeting a bad end in every bloody country on earth?
Hannah appeared suddenly, crashing through the swinging doors that led to the medical units. He needs you, Matron, as quickly as possible.
Maggie pushed straight through the door, and Hannah turned to Dillon and Sara, and slumped down beside them. He hasnt got a hope in hell.
Sara said, Miracles can happen, love. Bellamy is an extraordinary surgeon.
I know he is, but I also know the smell of death well from my childhood in an IRA household, the boys turning up bleeding all over the place with the SAS on their tails and only the village doctor to do the best he could for anyone wounded.
The door opened, and Maggie, splashed with blood, said wearily, Hes going, Hannah. Im so sorry.
Hannah was on her feet and darting past her. Dillon and Sara hesitated, and Maggie led the way to an operating theater at the far end of the corridor, where they were able to observe through a window. Hannah stood beside the bed, and Bellamy was there, his theater scrubs stained with blood. Maggie said, It was one thing after another. The professor really fought for him, but just a minute. Whats happening?
Very slowly, Hamid raised his right arm, which was swathed in bandages, and Hannah held his fingers, and his lips moved, and then his head lolled to one side as he died, the alarm calling in more staff, and Dillon and Sara turned and went back to reception.
A bad one, Sean, she said, as they sat. I saw plenty killed in Afghanistan, but some things you never get over.
You could say that. If this Omar the Beast was standing in front of Hannah, shed empty her gun in him.
Before Sara could reply, the entrance door swung open and Ferguson entered, face grim, followed by Tony Doyle.
Has he gone? he asked.
Im afraid so, Sara told him.
I thought he might. He offered a folder to Dillon. Roper looked up this Omar Bey for you. MI5 have him on file.
Dillon opened it, and Sara leaned over to look at the enormous animal that Omar Bey appeared to be. My God, she said. A monster.
Hes certainly murdered a number of fellow Muslims, but Scotland Yard got nowhere with those. Theres a total unwillingness amongst the Muslim community to get involved, said Dillon.
I can believe that, Ferguson said. But well keep the file, Dillon. It may prove useful.