Youre late.
Well, if you can be bothered to wipe the scowl from your face, General dear, I have news for you, Dillon told him.
Ferguson s face became wary. And what would that be?
A couple of gentlemen of evil intent tried to hurry Blake into a better world.
Explain. Billy, I need another drink.
He sampled the Bushmills and listened and Blake watched, amused. What I want to know, said Ferguson, is whats with all this bloody game-playing? A third-rate colonel working for Russian military intelligence wants to shoot the Presidents key security man, and the best he can do is hire these incompetents? Somebodys head is going to roll.
All right, Billy said. So where does that get us?
Well, obviously, were going to have to look into whoever put Lhuzkov up to it, but that will have to wait until I return in four days. After Brussels, Putin visits Germany, and the Prime Minister and the President will be trying desperately to knock some sense into France.
Ill be glad to help with the France thing, Billy said.
Very funny. Ive got something else for you to do. Weve gotten a tip that some very bad actors may be flying in during the next twenty-four hours. Dont know who or from where, but it bears checking out. Sean, you know a lot of these people by sight-you and Billy, go to Heathrow and haunt passport control, see whos flying in from nasty places. Weve got other men there, too, but they havent got your experience.
Dillon nodded.
Meanwhile, Blake said, we have to be off. Coming, General? He got up onto the plane, and Ferguson turned on the steps. Ill send the Gulfstream back in case of emergencies. Use it at your discretion if something comes up. You might also want to check in at the Holland Park safe house. Major Ropers just gotten in a new batch of satellite computer equipment. Very powerful stuff-youll find it interesting. And Gretas there now-I thought it would be good experience for her.
He was referring to Major Greta Novikova, once employed by the Russian Army in Chechnya and Iraq. Circumstances had made it seem sensible for her to transfer allegiance to Ferguson.
The door closed, the plane started to move, and they turned back to the Aston and drove away. Dillon called Billys father, Harry Salter, at his pub, the Dark Man.
Are you on your own?
Roper and Gretare here, thats all. Managing a steak with all the trimmings, with Sergeants Henderson and Doyle eating fish and chips in a booth in their best blazers and flannels and trying not to look like military police. Cant say theyre succeeding. Are you coming round?
No, but you can do me a favor.
Anything.
Tell Roper that Lhuzkov was hanging around having drinks at the embassy.
Huh. Light a match close to that one and the vodka would explode. What a clown.
Yes, well, that clown arranged for a couple of nobodies to take out Blake, who was rather foolishly walking down South Audley Street in the rain. Stupid because he knows its open season on him.
Here, we cant have that. Whats the game?
Oh, Billy and I sorted it with a little ungentle persuasion that left one of them with only half an ear. But it was Lhuzkov who laid it on, and our old friend George Moon who did the hiring. Paid them two grand, apparently. He gave Harry the rest of the details.
George Moon? I didnt realize he was still breathing. Had a nice little wife, Ruby: she was straight, he wasnt. Right, its taken care of. Are you coming to the pub?
No, Ferguson s got a job for us.
Well, enjoy yourselves. Harry switched off the mobile and nodded across to his two minders, Joe Baxter and Sam Hall. Ill have a large scotch, Im thinking. Vodka, Greta?
She was most attractive, wearing a black silk Russian shirt and trousers and knee-length boots. Her hair was tied at the nape of her neck.
She was most attractive, wearing a black silk Russian shirt and trousers and knee-length boots. Her hair was tied at the nape of her neck.
Why not?
A large one?
Is there any other one for a Russian?
Probably not. What about the Major?
Roper sat in his state-of-the-art wheelchair, wearing a reefer coat, his collar turned up to his bomb-scarred face. He didnt get a chance to say no because Dora brought the drinks on a tray and distributed them.
Good girl, Dora, Harry said. What are we going to do without you? Shell be leaving in a week, Australia. Got a daughter and two girls. Wants to test the water. Might never come back. Heres to her.
Greta swallowed her vodka. Knock back that whiskey, she told Roper, because I know youre eager to get back to your machines. Thats all he ever does, she said. Eats sandwiches, drinks a bottle of scotch a night, smokes, hardly sleeps and plays around on those damn machines.
Yes, Roper said. Its a wonderful life.
Lets move it, gentlemen, Greta called to the military police. Take it easy, Harry.
The policemen took the chair out to the special van, loaded it and a few moments later drove off to Holland Park.
Another one, boss?
Harry shook his head. No, Ive got a mind to a bit of action. Remember George Moon?
And his boyfriend, Big Harold, Baxter said.
A couple of years ago, they tried to run Roper into traffic in his wheelchair.
Sam Hall laughed. I remember, the Major shot Harold in the side of the knee and Moon through the thigh. The word to the police was theyd been attacked by muggers. The cops didnt have much sympathy. They would have been only too glad to do it themselves.
So whats the point?
On behalf of a Russian geezer who is no friend of Dillon and Billy, George Moon produced a couple of lowlifes who tried to take out Blake Johnson for two grand.
Anybody damaged? Baxter said grimly.
One of them left minus half his left ear, and the other one told Dillon the score.
So that leaves George Moon in deep trouble.
Id say so. Harry got up. So lets make it a visit to the Harvest Moon, home of the worst pint of beer in London. And make sure youre carrying.
TRENCHARD STREET WAS VICTORIAN, and the Harvest Moon even more so. They arrived over cobblestones to the pub, with its half-moon over the door.
Harry told Sam Hall, Wait by the car. Anything could happen in a dump like this.
Hall nodded, lit a cigarette and paused for a moment. The door swung open and a rough voice called, I told you to lock up.
Ruby Moon stepped into the rain trying to put a mackintosh on. Big Harold reached behind and pulled her hair, making her cry out. Cry? Ill make you cry, he said, and then slapped her twice across the face. You need discipline. Ill enjoy taking care of that.
Harry turned to Joe Baxter. Look at that. Neanderthal man come back to haunt us from the Stone Age, and it slaps girls around, too. He moved her to one side and she burst into angry tears.
Wont do, Harry said and removed his smart military trench coat, which he placed over her shoulders. Do you know who I am?
Shed stopped crying. Oh, God, I think so.
For maybe you know my nephew, young Billy?
If hes who I think he is, I do.
Thats good. Slip up to your bedroom. Find a few necessaries, put them in a suitcase and come back. Anything else you can get tomorrow. Im losing Dora at my pub, the Dark Man at Cable Wharf, and you can take over the bar. Now hurry.
But this animal? Whats he going to do? He wont let me go.
Dear me, I was forgetting.
Harry offered his hand to Baxter, who passed him a.25 Colt with a silencer, and as Big Harold tried to step back, Harry shot him through the fleshy part of the thigh and shoved him back on the stair.
Find him a towel in the gents, Harry said. And you get upstairs, girl.
She ran up wildly, and Harry and Baxter followed.
Inside, George Moon was peering through a half-open door, and Harry could see a room lined with books behind him. Moon was small, balding and generally unsavory and, just now, sweating profusely. He retreated to his desk and sank into a chair.
Harry, my old friend, is that you?
Old friend? You must be bleeding joking.
Salter put his gun on the table and walked to a sideboard. Whiskey-a large one, and feel free yourself, Joe.
Certainly, Baxter said.
Moon didnt have the bottle to reach for the Colt. Harry said, Im in a hurry, George, old friend. A couple of geezers tried to knock off an actual friend of mine tonight, but Dillon and my boy Billy managed to turn things around.
On my life, Harry, I swear-
Nothing. You pain me in my backside. Now confirm that a Russian named Lhuzkov approached you for two hard men.
All right. Its true. It was for two grand, and I gave him two men- good men. I was just brokering the deal.
For two grand? Thats rubbish money these days. Give me the truth. Harry slapped the gun on the sweaty face. Ill do for you, I swear it.
Please, Ill tell. They met me in a Daimler at Hyde Park, Lhuzkov was driving. The passenger was also a Russian, cigar-smoking, drinking vodka out of a flask, laughing all the time. He had a bad scar from his left eye down to the corner of the nose. He gave me a briefcase with ten grand in it.
So you pocketed eight and gave those two guys only two? Very naughty.
Harry, I wasnt sure what to do. He struggled for something good to say. I know who the other one was, though. I saw him in the Dorchester bar one evening and got his name out of a waiter. Someone named Max Chekov.
Yes, ten thousand quid would make more sense. Harry turned to Baxter. See if the safe works!
Moon moaned, Please, Harry, but the safe did work and there was even a key in the door. Baxter held up a briefcase. The contents spoke for themselves.
Excellent. Ruby can buy some nice things. Go down and get her in the car.
Yes, boss.
Baxter went out and Harry made for the door, and paused. Dear me, I was forgetting Ruby is leaving you. He shot Moon through the right thigh. Harry said, It would be wise to get some medical help for that. These days, terrible things happen, street robberies, guns-its just a shame. He shook his head. Get me?
He left, the room was quiet, then there was only the sound of the limousine driving away. Moon groaned and reached for the telephone.
IN THE BENTLEY, Harry passed the briefcase over. Youll need a savings account.
Ruby examined it. My God, this cant be happening.
It is happening. Youll do a great job running the pub, Im never wrong about people. Happy days, sweetheart.