The President's Daughter by Jack Higgins Read Free Book Online Page A

knock people off from other countries all the time, don’t tell me you don’t.”
    “It’s certainly a thought.” Ferguson nodded.
    “Look, send Dillon,” Riley said. “Send whoever you want and I’ll go with them, put myself on the line every step of the way.”
    “And make a run for it first chance you get, Dermot boy,” Dillon said.
    “Jesus, Sean, how many times do I have to tell you? I want out of this clean. I don’t want to be on the run for the rest of my life.” He turned to Ferguson. “Brigadier?”
    Ferguson made his decision. “Take him out for a meal or something, Dillon. I’ll phone you in two hours.” He turned to Hannah. “Right, Chief Inspector, we have work to do.”
    He went out, she raised her eyebrows at Dillon, and followed.
    Dillon went to a drawer in the sideboard, opened it and took out a silenced Walther, which he tucked into the waistband of his cords at the rear under his coat.
    “Like they say in those bad movies, Dermot, one false move and I’ll kill you.”
    “No, you won’t, Sean, because I’m not going to make one.”
    “Good, then it’s the King’s Head on the other side of the square. Great pub grub. They do a shepherd’s pie like your mother used to make, and after six months in Wandsworth I’d say you could do with.”
    Riley groaned. “Just show me the way.”
     
    They hadn’t been back at the cottage for more than five minutes when the phone rang. Dillon picked it up.
    “Ferguson,” the Brigadier said. “This is the way of it.”
    Dillon listened intently, then nodded. “Fine. We’ll expect you at nine o’clock in the morning.”
    He put the phone down and lit a cigarette. Riley said, “Is it on?”
    Dillon nodded. “Ferguson’s been in touch with the Marine Commando Special Boat Squadron at Akrotiri, theBritish sovereign base area in Cyprus. A Captain Carter and four men have been given the job. They’ll leave for Sicily by boat posing as fishermen. Weather permitting, they should make it to Salinas by early evening tomorrow.”
    “And you and me?”
    “Ferguson will pick us up at nine with Hannah Bernstein and take us out to Farley Field. That’s an RAF proving ground. You and I, plus Bernstein, fly in the department’s Lear jet to Sicily. We drive to Salinas. Carter will make himself known on arrival. The Lear will fly on to Malta.”
    “Why Malta?”
    “Because that’s where we go after Carter and his boys snatch Hakim. You and I go in with them, by the way.”
    “Just like old times.”
    “Short sea voyage. Do you good after Wandsworth.”
    Riley nodded. “Would you anticipate any problem with Hakim at Malta?”
    “None at all. They’re on our side. I mean, it isn’t Bosnia. A shot of something to subdue him, and the Lear, after all, bears RAF rondels. By the time Hakim has stopped being sick, he’ll be in London.”
     
    In the BT van, the man at the directional microphone nodded to his friend, then turned off the tape recorder.
    “I got everything. You close the manhole cover and clear up while I call in.”
    A moment later, he was speaking to the man called Brown. “Right, see you soon.”
    He switched off the phone and got out of the van and went round to the driver’s seat. A moment later, his friend joined him.
    “Perfect,” the one behind the wheel said. “Couldn’tbe better. Our people are already waiting in Salinas, and Riley and Dillon will be there tomorrow evening.”
    “What happened?”
    The driver eased out into the square and told him. When he was finished, his friend said, “Special Boat Squadron. They’re hot stuff.”
    “It will be taken care of. All in the plan, exactly as Judas envisaged. He’s a genius, that man—a genius.”
    He turned out of the square into the main stream of traffic and drove away.

THREE
    T he Lear jet they were using stood on the apron in front of one of the hangars. It was very official-looking, with RAF rondels, and the two pilots who stood waiting by the cabin door wore