Day of Reckoning (19 page)

'My God, you've got a brain.'
'Down you go, Tomelty,' Murphy said. 'Get her gun.' He
turned to Kelly. 'You and Conolly take her out to the boat.
If the Bernstein bitch argues, tell her you'll shoot this one.'
He turned to Tomelty. 'You and I stay here for Dillon.'
The inflatable moved away. Tomelty said, 'What about Regan?'
Murphy said, 'Silly me. I was forgetting.' He turned to
Regan and took a Browning from his pocket. 'You sold us
out, you shire. You're lucky I don't have time to make it
longer.'
The silenced Browning coughed and Regan went off the
pier into the water.
On the
Highlander,
Hannah looked through the Nightstalker
as the inflatable coasted in. 'Are you all right?' she called.
Kelly said, 'We've got your Sergeant Major here and I've
got a gun to her head. If you're not sensible, I'll kill her
stone dead.'
Helen Black called, 'Don't listen, Hannah, do what you
have to do. You heard the explosion. We've achieved our
object. To hell with these people.'
Conolly hit her across the side of her head with his pistol. She cried out. Kelly said, 'I mean it.'
'All right.' Hannah stood back, her Walther in her left
hand.
A moment later, Kelly boarded, followed by Helen Black and Conolly, who took the Walther from Hannah's grasp. 'There's a good girl.'
Black was wearing paratroop boots with her jumpsuit.
Stuffed into the right one was the Colt .25 hollow point. At
that moment, she could have pulled it out in the darkness
of the deck and shot both men. But what would that mean
for Dillon and Billy? She decided to wait.
Dillon tried to get her on the transceiver and got no reply.
On the
Highlander,
Kelly started the engines and moved in
to the pier, and Conolly tied up. Dillon and Billy came down
the hill on the run, and in the slight light of a quarter moon,
the rain having stopped, saw the boat move in.
'They've come for us,' Billy said, gasping for breath.
'So it would appear.'
They hit the end of the pier, looked down at the deck
with the light on, and saw Kelly push Hannah and Helen
out, he and Conolly both holding guns to the women's
backs.
Murphy came out of the shadows with Tomelty. 'They
mean it, you bastard. You want them dead?'
'Certainly not,' Dillon said. 'Do as he says, Billy, guns on
the floor.'
Billy complied, and Murphy lit a cigarette. 'Damn you,
Dillon, I always admired you, but this time you've cost me money.'
'Not you, Brendan, Jack Fox.'
Murphy laughed incredulously. 'My God, is that what
this is about, a personal feud?'
'You shouldn't have joined, Brendan.'
'Neither should you, Dillon. Now you and your friend get on board so we can move to where the water's deeper, because that's where you're going.'
Dillon and Billy went down the steps to the deck and joined
Helen Black and Hannah; Murphy followed with Tomelty. Kelly was at the wheel, Conolly joined the others.
'You know what?' Murphy said. 'It's a waste of good
women, but I'm going to kill the lot of you.'
He was looking at Hannah when he said that. Helen Black, close to the wheelhouse, pulled the Colt out of her boot and shot Kelly in the back of the head. The boat swerved, and
everyone fell over. As Conolly tried to get up, she pushed
herself upright, shot him dead, then ducked and dived over
the rail as Murphy tried to shoot her.
At the same moment, Dillon grabbed Billy by the arm.
'Over!' he cried, and pushed him over the rail after Helen
Black. As he tried to follow, Tomelty, still on the deck,
grabbed his ankles, and Dillon went down.
'You bastard.' Murphy kicked him in the side. 'You're
finally dead meat, Dillon, and you, bitch. Those two in the
water aren't going anywhere. Fifteen minutes at this season
of the year and it's hypothermia time. You two will get it
quick, at least.'
Billy, close to Helen on the port side, said, 'I'm going to
try for that gun in the wheelhouse.'
He didn't wait for a reply, simply jackknifed and went
under the
Highlander
from port to starboard, scraping his
back under the keel, surfaced, and reached up for the rail. As he pulled himself on board and slithered for the wheelhouse, he heard the exchange between Dillon and Murphy, unaware that, looking beyond Murphy and Tomelty, Dillon had seen him arrive.
'Come on, Brendan, why all the dialogue? In Derry in the
old days, we didn't talk about it, we did it.'
On his knees in the wheelhouse, Billy dropped the flap and
got his hand to the Walther, which Dillon had left cocked.
He turned and shot Tomelty twice in the back, shattering
his spine.
Murphy started to turn, shocked as Tomelty went down;
Hannah kicked sideways at his left leg and he stumbled, which was Dillon's moment. He grabbed at the gun hand
and came breast-to-breast.
'Now then, you dog.'
He pushed hard, Murphy staggered back, and they went
over the stern rail.
And the sea was Dillon's, the master diver's element, not
Murphy's. They went down perhaps ten feet. Dillon got an
arm around Murphy's throat and then the anchor on its
chain scraped his back. He grabbed it with his right hand
and held on fast. Murphy kicked and struggled and Dillon
held his breath until he was bursting, and then Murphy
stopped struggling. Dillon let him go and surfaced.
He managed the ladder and hung there and Hannah looked over. 'All right, Dillon? What happened to Murphy?'
He hauled himself up. 'What do you think happened?
As the Sicilians have it, Brendan Murphy is asleep with
the fishes.'
He sat on the deck, his back to the wheelhouse. Billy was there, and Helen Black.
'You okay, Sergeant Major?'
'I'm fine, Mr Dillon.'
'And you, Billy?'
'What the fuck did you get me into, Dillon?'
'Billy, you saved the pass, to use an old-fashioned phrase.
You were fantastic. The SAS couldn't have done better. On
top of that, you've given Superintendent Bernstein a severe problem. Try not to get arrested, because she'll feel terribly guilty if
she
has to arrest you.'
Billy grinned and turned to Hannah. 'What do I have to
do? Take up good works?'
'Just don't give me a problem, Billy.'
'Trouble is, I've been giving people a problem all my
life.'
Dillon said, 'Let's get the bodies over the side. And do me a favour, Sergeant Major – take us out. I'll do a quick
change and I'll be up to relieve you.'
'Leave it to me.'
'Come on, you two,' he said to Hannah and Billy. 'Let's
get into dry clothes,' and he led the way below.
An hour later, Charles Ferguson was in his Cavendish Square flat, enjoying a nightcap, when his phone rang. Dillon was at the wheel alone, the others below. Pushing out into the Irish
Sea, he had switched to automatic pilot and lit a cigarette as
he spoke.
'Is it yourself, Brigadier?'
'Dillon! Where are you?'
'On our way back to Oban.' Dillon was using his Codex
Four mobile. 'We can talk.'
'What's happened?'
'Well, the Kilbeg bunker is no more, and the Sergeant
Major's proved a treasure. Killed two of Murphy's gang.
Billy saved our bacon by killing another at the right time.'
'Good God! Is everyone all right?'
'Oh, right as rain, Brigadier. We're a tough lot.' 'Well, thank God for that. And Murphy?'
'Oh, I saw to him myself.'
'Well, you would, wouldn't you? So what now?'
'I'd say, six hours to Oban. The weather's not too good. If
you could alert Lacey and Parry for a flight back to London around breakfast time?'
'Consider it done.'
'How's Blake?'
A post-operational infection. Daz and Martha have it
in hand.'
'That's good. Fox is really going to be mortified over
this lot.'
'I like that, Dillon, a good choice of words. I'll see you tomorrow.'
Dillon sat there at the wheel, and then the door opened,
there was a bacon smell, and Billy appeared, a plate of
sandwiches in one hand and a mug of tea.
'There you go, Sean.'
Billy turned to leave, and Dillon said, 'Billy, you were
great. Harry will be proud of you.'
'Yes, but he won't know, will he? What I mean is, nobody knows unless they've done it, been there, bought the teeshirt,
isn't that what they say? Jesus, Dillon, this wasn't some
punch-up in an East End pub. I killed two men tonight.'
'They shouldn't have joined, Billy, if they didn't want the
risk. Remember that.'
'Okay, I suppose so. So – now it's the Jagos and Fox?'
'Yes. I suppose it is.' Dillon finished the last sandwich.
'Go on, Billy. Get some sleep. You've earned it.'
Billy left, and Dillon turned from automatic pilot to
manual and took the
Highlander
onwards over an increas
ingly turbulent sea.

LONDON

Jack Fox had gone down to the Grill Restaurant at the
Dorchester to enjoy an English breakfast. He was reading
The Times
and just finishing poached eggs, sausage, ham
and toast, when Falcone appeared.
'We've got a problem, Signore.'
'What now?' Fox asked.
'I've just seen Sky Television's news programme. I think
you should see for yourself.'
'That bad?' Fox asked.
'I'm afraid so, Signore.'
In the suite, Fox watched the next news update with hor
ror. The story of a large explosion at Kilbeg in County Louth led the hour. There were pictures of the Irish police on site,
and reports of some kind of IRA connection, although the
IRA and Sinn Fein had denied it. One thing was certain – four bodies had drifted on to the beach, three dead from gunshot
wounds. The fourth was Brendan Murphy, a well-known
dissident who had left the Provisional IRA and formed his
own group. The suggestion was that the PIRA had taken his men out. It was thought that the explosion had involved an underground arms bunker, and this was being investigated.
There was a ring at the door. Russo answered and returned
with a waiter carrying a tray with fresh coffee. He was
dismissed and Russo poured.
Falcone said, 'Murphy owed you money, Signore.'
'Well, we can kiss that goodbye,' Fox said.
Falcone said, 'Please forgive me if I overstep the bounds,
Signore, but I've been loyal to you for so many years that
I feel I can ask this question: How bad are things?'
Fox looked at him. 'Pretty bad, Aldo. But we still have one ace in the hole left. The White Diamond Company heist on Tuesday.'
'You said ten million sterling.'
'With four to the Jagos.' Fox smiled. 'And you disagreed.'
'I sure did, Signore. I say we take the lot.'
'I'm beginning to agree, Aldo, but afterwards. Let these bastards do the hard work.'
Falcone smiled broadly. 'Excellent, Signore.'
'Okay, get in touch with the Jagos. I want a meet at lunchtime. Pick a quiet pub.'
'I'll arrange it, Signore.'
Falcone left to make the arrangements, but first he phoned Don Marco who, because of the time difference, was still in
bed, but then, Falcone's instructions had been to call at any
time of the day or night. The Don listened patiently.
Finally he said, 'Fucked again, my nephew. Fucked at the Colosseum, then at Al Shariz, and now in Ireland. You know what they say, Aldo? Once is okay, twice is coincidence, and three times is enemy action.'
'So what do we do, Don Marco?'
'Nothing. This is Jack's problem. He succeeds or fails on
his own. But if he fails ... Understand me, Aldo. I'll never
let any physical harm come to him. He's my nephew. But
the family needs a leader in whom it can be confident. This
diamond heist is his last chance. If something happens to
that, too ... Jack's out.
Capisce?'
'Capisco,
Don Marco.'
In the back bar of the Horse Guards pub not far from St
Richard's Dock, Harold and Tony Jago waited. It was misty
on the river and a little rain drummed against the window.
Harold looked out. 'I like it like this, Tony, it's the way
the Thames should be. England for the English, eh? Who
needs Europe? A bunch of frogs and krauts.'
'You're right, Harold. Mind you, we're stuck with the
fucking Mafia right now.'
'They don't worry me. We can handle them.' At that
minute, Manchester Charlie Ford came in through the far
door, Amber Frazer with him.
'Jesus, here they come,' Harold said. 'What a pair. I mean,
if they want their own thing instead of a woman, that's all
right, but I don't like blacks. They're nothing but trouble.'
Ford had the file under his arm and passed it across. 'Everything's taken care of, Harold.'
'Good. Let's wait for Fox. What do you want to drink?'
At Rosedene, Blake was feeling a lot better and greeted Dillon
and Helen Black with enthusiasm when they turned up.
'Miller filled me in. We watched Sky Television. You
really took them apart.'
'Which just leaves the White Diamond Company.'
'Hey, don't leave me out this time, Sean. I want to be part
of that.'
'You can't be, because I won't be part of it, and neither
will Bernstein or Ferguson. We've given it to Harry Salter. We're not involved, Blake.'
'Okay, but I can't just sit around here. I need to be
with you.'
'Fine. If Daz will release you, that's okay by me.'
Daz agreed he could go, as long as Blake did not take part
in any physical activity, so just before noon they repaired to
Ferguson's office at the Ministry of Defence, Blake wearing
a sling for his right arm. Hannah stood beside Ferguson at
his desk.
The Brigadier said, 'I hardly need to say well done. How
ever, we're left with the final nail in Jack Fox's coffin,
the White Diamond Company job. What happens now, Superintendent?'
'Frankly, sir, the Salters won't talk to me. It's up to
Dillon.'
'Well, according to Roper, tomorrow's the day because
that's when the big diamond consignment comes in.'
'What we do know is that they've cut open the old grille
gate in the tunnel,' Hannah said. 'The thing we still don't
know is, once they've smashed into the basement, how do
they bypass the security to get into the vault?'
'That's what I'm going to see Harry Salter about,' Dillon
said. 'I'll take Blake. You stay out of it, Hannah. I know you don't like our using a villain like Salter, and I don't want to offend your fine police morality.'
At the Horse Guards, Harold sat reading the file, then passed
it to Tony. 'It's not only good, it's bloody good.' At that
moment, Fox, Falcone and Russo came in. Harold got up.
'Good to see you. We're just finishing things.' They sat, but Falcone and Russo as usual stood at the wall.
'So, where are we?' Fox demanded.
'Hey, your file was sweetness and light,' Harold said,
'but Charlie here has put in some extras that will truly
delight you.'
'Tell me.'
Afterwards, Fox nodded. 'Excellent. There's only one
change. I've just had more recent information that the
take will be more like twelve million than ten. More for
everyone, Jago. So keep our eye on the ball, people.'
'We sure will, Jack,' Harold said.
Fox got up. 'I'm in your hands. You're the experts, we'll
keep out of it. Stay in touch.'
He went out, followed by Falcone and Russo. Tony Jago
said, 'So we do all the fucking work.'
'Never mind,' Harold told him. 'For a payday like that,
I'm glad to do the work.'
Ferguson went into the Dark Man with Dillon and Blake.
Salter and Billy were in the end booth and Dora was giving them shepherd's pie.
'Smells good,' Ferguson said. 'Takes me back to Eton.
We'll have the same. Blake needs building up.'
'Blake looks bloody awful,' Salter observed.
'Have you seen Sky Television, Billy?' Dillon asked. 'A
terrible business in Ireland. An underground bunker blown
up, bodies drifting in on the beach, one of them a hard man named Brendan Murphy. Everyone believes the Provos in Dublin were behind it. He wouldn't do as he was told.'
'Yes, I did see that,' Billy said. 'Terrible what goes on
over there.'
Dora brought their food, and Dillon laughed. 'He did well, your boy, Harry. Saved my life by killing one bastard in the bunker and saved all of us, killing another on the boat.'
Salter was shocked. He turned to Billy. 'You never told
me.'
'Yeah, well, you never believe anything I say.'
'My God, you are a chip off the old block, after all.'
'I'd say he's a chip off his own block,' Ferguson said and started to eat. 'Roper definitely thinks tomorrow. The big consignment arrives at the White Diamond Company from
South Africa. And I'm told the stakes are higher. Twelve
Million, not ten.'
'Really?' Salter said. 'Then I'm sorry for them.' 'Why?'
'It's too big, Brigadier. I'm not an educated man, I go
by experience, and nobody knows more about the London
underworld and thieving than I do. What screwed up the Great Train Robbery was the size. Biggest criminal haul
ever. There was no way society and the law could tolerate
that, so they turned on the big guns.'
'That makes considerable sense,' Ferguson agreed.
Blake said, 'Yes, but Jack Fox is desperate. He has to be.
He needs a big one.'
'Oh, sure, and Manchester Charlie Ford and his team
are greedy and stupid and will all be back on landing D at Wandsworth before they know it,' Salter said.
Dillon finished his food and accepted the glass of bar champagne that Dora put at his elbow. 'Let's go over this again, Harry. They've got Manchester Charlie Ford, one of the best
lock and safe men in the business; Amber Frazer, a heavy;
and Connie Briggs, a hotshot on security and electronics.'
Salter told him, 'Did you know he went to London Uni
versity? From a well-known family of villains. His mother was real proud, him doing that. Got this degree. What they
call first-class honours.'
'My, that is good,' Ferguson said.
'They threw a big party. I was there. He gets a research job
for British Telecom, but it's not worth enough money, so
what does he do? Starts putting himself about.'
Billy said, 'He really is a genius where the electronics
caper is concerned, Dillon.'
'I'm beginning to believe you. And Val French?'
'Well, he's a top man with a thermal lance, cutting, all
that. I'd say he'd have sorted out the gate and organized
smashing through the tunnel wall into the basement.'
They'd all finished their food and Dora cleared the table.
Blake was sweating, his forehead damp; he didn't look
good.
Salter said, 'Bring him a brandy, Dora. You don't look
well, my old son.'
'I've been worse,' Blake said. 'But thanks anyway.' He
hesitated. 'I suppose someone should bring this up, for
form's sake, and it might as well be me. Shouldn't someone
be notifying the White Diamond Company that they might
be in trouble, Brigadier?'
'I take your point, Blake. But we're not into ethics here.' 'We're into finishing off Jack Fox.' Dillon's voice was hard. 'As long as we ruin things for him, that's okay.'
'All right, all right,' Blake said. 'Just thought I'd ask. And
while we're at it, how
do
we think they're going to get into
that vault?'
'Well, it isn't the thermal lance man,' Dillon said. 'He'd
be there all night trying to get into the kind of strong room they'll have in here. I'd say it's the electronics whiz kid.'
'I agree,' Harry said. 'But that doesn't get us any fur
ther.'
There was a pause, and it was Billy who said, 'What we
need is more information, and the only way to get that is
to pick up one of the team and squeeze him dry.'
Harry laughed out loud. 'My God, you really are learning. Who would you suggest? The one who's least important, the one whose absence wouldn't be a burden.'
'The heavy, Amber Frazer,' Dillon said.
'I'd say so.'
'Brilliant.' Harry Salter turned to Ferguson. 'We lift this
guy tonight. Leave it to us. We'll deliver him to your safe
house at Holland Park, then we'll review the situation.'
'This is illegal, of course,' Ferguson said. 'He hasn't done anything.'
'Not yet,' Dillon said. 'But I'm sure you could think of something. After all, isn't this why we didn't bring the Superintendent?'
'You're right, of course. It's in your hands, Harry. I may
call you Harry?'
'You can call me any bleeding thing you like.'
'Excellent, then if your Dora can come up with an indif
ferent glass of red wine, I'll drink your health and leave you
to it,' Ferguson told him.
It was ten o'clock that night when Amber Frazer and Manchester
Charlie Ford emerged from a small Italian restaurant in
Notting Hill. Harry and Billy had been waiting for some
time, sitting in their car. Ford hailed a cab, patted Amber's
face, and got in.
'Brilliant,' Billy said as Amber turned and walked away.
They trailed him and Billy pulled in at the pavement a
little further along. Harry Salter got out. Amber, my old