Tags:
Fiction,
Suspense,
Thrillers,
Mystery & Detective,
Espionage,
Conspiracies,
Police Procedural,
Attempted assassination,
Vendetta,
Presidents,
Dillon; Sean (Fictitious character),
Oil Industries,
Arabs
said, you keep the hundred thousand, no matter what.’ She took a phonecard from her purse, and a pen. She wrote quickly. ‘My coded mobile number. You’ve got seven days. My brother and I will be at Trump Tower in New York next Thursday at our apartment. If you’re interested, present yourself, plus a coherent plan. If not, you’re one hundred thousand pounds richer and no hard feelings.’
Bell smiled. ‘I’ll be there, Lady Kate, Trump Tower, Thursday.’
She nodded, a certain satisfaction on her face. ‘It was never the money, was it? It’s the game to you, just like Dillon.’
‘Well, I still expect to be paid, and for a job like this, I’ll expect not two but three million sterling.’
He held out his hand and she took it. ‘Somehow, I thought you’d say something like that.’
‘We’ll meet again next week then, in Manhattan.’
‘I’ll be there.’
Casey opened the door for her and they went out to Dillon, who was at the bar drinking Bushmills.
‘A little early, even for you,’ she told him.
‘We have to walk back through the rain, girl. I like to keep the cold out. We’re all done here, I presume?’
‘Yes, back to Magee,’ she said.
Dillon turned to Bell. ‘A sincere sensation, Aidan. I’m sure you’ll do whatever the lady wants with your usual ruthless efficiency.’
‘Oh, you can count on it, Sean.’
Kate, Dillon and George went out, and Bell and Casey stood in the door and watched them go.
Casey said, ‘It’s madness, Aidan. Even you couldn’t get away with it.’
Bell smiled, looking incredibly dangerous. ‘Now that’s where you’re wrong, Liam. I can get away with anything. There’s something burning in my brain already, something I read recently. I’ll go and check it out. That’s a hell of a woman.’ He watched her go, Dillon and George on either side. ‘But Dillon. That’s a strange one, having him here.’
‘A “minder”, she said.’
‘Could be, but he still works for Ferguson, which means he can’t be in on this business. It wouldn’t make sense.’
They walked out into the rain and moved towards the harbour at the same moment that Kate Rashid and the two men reached the Aran and stepped
over the rail - and found Frank Kelly face-down on the deck. Quinn, the bearded man from the Royal George, came out of the wheelhouse with a savage grin, backed by his two cronies. They were all armed.
Without hesitation, Dillon flung himself over the rail into the harbour, dived deep and swam, surfacing at the stern.
Quinn was shouting, ‘Get the bastard, get him!’
Dillon reached to the ankle holster and drew the .22 pistol. The men above looked over the rail and he shot each one between the eyes. Quinn, shocked, turned to see what was going on and George Rashid pulled the .22 from his own ankle holster and shot him in the right arm. Quinn dropped his gun, scrambled over the rail, and stumbled away.
George took careful aim just as Dillon came back up over the rail. ‘Let him go and let’s get out of here. See to Kelly,’ he added to Kate, then moved to the wheelhouse and started the engines.
On the way down from the Royal George, Bell and Casey saw what was going on below on the boat.
Bell said, ‘That shite Quinn. He’s going to ruin
everything. Come on,’ and he ran down the hill to the harbour.
They saw the action, Dillon taking to the water and shooting Quinn’s two sidekicks, Quinn being shot by George Rashid and running for cover. Bell and Casey paused, watched George cast off and the Aran move out of the harbour, saw Quinn stumble between the boats on the beach.
‘I’ve had it, Liam,’ Bell said. ‘The Provisional IRA can go to hell. This is my patch and this bastard has come close to screwing up the biggest job of my life. This time he goes down.’
He ran, followed by Casey. In working his way round the beach, Quinn had to wade through water, and when he turned around the stern of a fishing boat, he found Bell and Casey