Desperate times call for desperate remedies.
Cazalet turned to Hannah. From what Ive come to know about you, Superintendent, Id say such an attitude might give you a moral problem.
It does, sir. In a troubled world, it seems to me that if we dont have the law, a justice system, we have nothing.
Which is exactly what our enemies count on, Ferguson replied. Its a question of survival. We either fight back or go under. Anyway, that will be our plan of action from now on. The Prime Minister wanted you to know.
Cazalet turned to Blake. You agree with all this?
Im afraid so, sir. Everything we stand for, all our values, are on the line these days. As the General says, we fight back, or go under.
I thought youd say that. Cazalet sighed. Okay, General, anything we can do.
Were together on this, Mr. President?
We always have been.
And Belov? Blake put in. Hes pretty untouchable.
Nobody is untouchable. Cazalet wasnt smiling now. Take him down, gentlemen, whatever it takes.
Three hours later, rising up from Andrews Air Force Base in the Citation and leveling at fifty thousand feet, Ferguson unfastened his seat belt and smiled at the pretty young RAF sergeant standing over him.
Ill have a large Scotch, my dear. He turned to Hannah on the other side of the aisle. What about you, Superintendent?
I dont think so, sir. Im having difficulty enough keeping my head straight.
Right now, Superintendent, even as we speak, Dillon and young Billy Salter are out there in harms way dealing with some very nasty people.
I know that, sir.
Then youll have to decide which side youre on. Its up to you, Superintendent. And he drank his whiskey.
IRAQ
8
An hour out of Baghdad, the Citation down to thirty thousand feet, Billy was reading Ropers report for the fourth time. Dillon had found a half bottle of Irish whiskey in the bar box and poured a large one.
Billy closed the report. This guy Belov, his bleeding lifes been a saga, and Ashimov hed kill the Pope, wouldnt he?
Id agree with you. Id say he was the one who pushed Mrs. Morgan off that jetty.
And this Novikova woman?
A looker, Billy, but dont be fooled. You dont make major in the GRU by being soft. Thats why Ashimovs rushed her to Baghdad.
To take care of Selim.
Hes a walking dead man.
And wheres that leave us?
Theyll be expecting us, Billy. Lets put it that way.
The telephone rang at his side; he answered and found Roper. I thought youd like to know that Greta Novikova landed safely four hours ago, Roper said. She didnt go to the embassy. Shes at the Al Bustan.
Well, thats nice. What about Selim?
Dropped in at Kuwait twelve hours ago, collected his car and set off north. Its a long, hard drive to Baghdad these days, Sean. Sharif is meeting you at the hotel early evening.
Thanks.
Have fun.
Dillon replaced the phone. Billy said, What was that?
Dillon told him.
Billy was highly amused. What are we going to do about Novikova? Have a drink in the bar?
Who knows? Stranger things have happened.
Another thing, those two IRA geezers at this Drumore Castle. Did you know them in the old days?
You could say that.
Friends or enemies? I mean, if Ashimov asked them to try and blow your head off, would they do it?
Yes.
For a price?
That and the game, Billy. Dillon poured another whiskey. Especially if they couldnt think of anything better to do.
You could say that.
Friends or enemies? I mean, if Ashimov asked them to try and blow your head off, would they do it?
Yes.
For a price?
That and the game, Billy. Dillon poured another whiskey. Especially if they couldnt think of anything better to do.
Crazy, Billy said. All you Micks are crazy.
Parry appeared. Landing in fifteen minutes. Itll be a very fast descent, so strap up well. He smiled. Its the missiles, the ones some peasant fires from his shoulder. Wed just as soon avoid them if we could.
That really makes my day, Billy said. Thanks very much, and did as he was told.
But the landing went perfectly. Baghdad looked like most large airports except for the guards, the gun pits, the hardware heavily on display everywhere and lots of military aircraft. They taxied to the main RAF area, parked under instructions and Lacey switched off.
Parry left the cockpit and opened the door. Good flight, huge tailwind. Were over an hour early. An RAF Land Rover drove up to meet them and a sergeant got out in camouflage battle dress and saluted Lacey.
If you gentlemen will get in, Ill see to the luggage and take you to the mess. Parkers my name.
What about transport down to town? Dillon asked.
Taken care of, sir, what we call a safe taxi. Youll be fine. Its been quiet lately.
They were drinking very English tea in the RAF mess, eating biscuits with Lacey and Parry, when a flight lieutenant turned up.
Im Robson police. He shook hands with Lacey. Havent seen you since Kosovo. Heard about your Air Force Cross. Good show. He turned to Parry. Weve never met, but good show, too. Ive seen your priority rating higher even than the Prime Minister turning up. Ive been in the RAF long enough to know it doesnt pay to ask questions. You chaps are obviously moving in very exalted circumstances. Mr. Dillon?
Thats me.
Robson handed him an envelope. A red Security One tag. It covers everything.
Everything?
Oh yes, immediate response if youre in trouble, and I presume you gentlemen could be? He handed a similar envelope to Billy. Mr. Salter.
I feel a whole lot better, Billy said.
Robson turned back to Dillon. Theres a safe taxi parked outside with Sergeant Parker at the wheel in civvies. Hell be on line. Mobile number in your envelopes. Twenty-four-hour watch. He turned to Lacey and Parry. Ive had special instructions. Informed General Ferguson at the MOD that youd landed and was told you two were to stay and wait here, the Citation refueled for instant takeoff when required.
So they cant go to downtown Baghdad and have a drink with us? Dillon asked.
Too dangerous, old boy, Robson said.
Of course, Billy told him. This just gets better all the time.
Your bags are in the taxi, gentlemen, no inspection at the gate. He smiled. But why would there be? Youre just a journalist and a photographer. He got up. All I can say is enjoy.
The run to Baghdad itself was calm enough, with plenty of traffic, a lot of it local cars, trucks and vans, plus lots of donkeys loaded with produce, peasants walking beside them. It was late afternoon, but they were headed for tomorrows markets in Baghdad. Rounding it all off were military vehicles of every kind everywhere.
Dillon said to Parker, So tell us the worst, Sergeant.
Well, Im an old hand. Served in both Gulf Wars, Bosnia and Kosovo in between. If you think things are better because the Yanks grabbed Saddam, youd be wrong. Plenty of Iraqis were pleased about that, but lots werent and they still hate each other. Sunni Muslims, Shiites, stir in a few Kurds, mix it with so-called Muslim freedom fighters from all over the world, and thats not even counting Al Qaeda.
You shouldnt have joined, Billy said.
Well, I did. Parker laughed. And you know what? I love every bloody awful minute of it. He hesitated. Im not supposed to ask, but, well, I spent fifteen years in the RAF police. Ive been around the houses.
Which means? Dillon said.
Well, you sound Northern Ireland. I should know, because I did four tours there. But BelfastTelegraph? I doubt it. As for Mr. Salter, with the greatest respect, hes been around the block as well.
Im surprised you havent made warrant officer, Dillon said.
I once had a falling-out with a warrant officer and punched him. Robson opened the glove compartment in the car and produced a Browning. Should I keep this handy?
Very sensible.
Thank God. Things have been getting boring lately.
Baghdad was Baghdad. The streets all seemed to be some kind of a market, the traders voices high as they shouted to passersby, music blaring out from scores of shops, and traffic everywhere, so much of it that they were reduced to a crawl.
Is the Al Bustan far? Dillon asked.
Which one? There are several. Its a very common name. Still, dont worry, I know the right one.
The evening dusk was setting in as they finally moved off a road not far from Al Rashid Street in the old quarter and turned up a narrow lane and halted at a gate that stood open but had a bar across it. An Iraqi peered out of a small hut and took his time coming.
Get it up, for Christs sake, Parker told him.
The man said something pretty basic in Arabic, and Dillon reached out through the open window, grabbed him by the throat and told him exactly what to do in reasonably fluent street Arabic himself. The startled man staggered back, got the bar up and Parker drove on.
The hotel was very old-fashioned, the grounds quite large, with a swimming pool and a number of cottage apartments dotted around surrounded by palm trees. They coasted up to the main entrance, braked to a halt, and a couple of porters came down the steps to meet them and take the luggage. Parker didnt get out.
He said to Dillon. BelfastTelegraph? I never heard Arabic like that on the Shankill.
We spoke it on the Falls Road all the time.
Im sure you did. Parker smiled. I look forward to hearing from you, and drove away.
The reception area was very old-fashioned as well, with three great fans hanging from the ceiling and swirling around. In the taxi, Billy had extracted two cameras from his bag and had slung them around his neck. He took a couple of pictures of the foyer and moved to an archway opening into a huge bar and café area. He took more pictures and turned to Dillon.
Brilliant. Just like Casablanca. All we need is Rick.
Youve made your point, Billy.
The man behind reception interrupted. Gentlemen, my name is Hamid. I am the manager. May I help you?
Dillon and Salter, Dillon told him.
Ah, Mr. Dillon. We werent expecting you yet.
Hell of a tailwind, Billy put in.
Dillon lit a cigarette. Is there a problem?
Not at all. Cottage Five.
I was hoping to meet Miss Novikova. Dillon said it in Arabic, and Hamid was startled. Shes arrived, I know that.
Yes, she arrived a few hours ago. Cottage Seven. He snapped his fingers to the two porters, who picked up the bags and led the way out, Billy and Dillon following, down a narrow path leading through the palm trees. They saw tables beside the pool, sheltered by umbrellas, people sitting around having drinks. As the porters forged ahead, Dillon pulled Billy close to him.