The White House Connection by Jack Higgins Read Free Book Online Page A

table rang.
     
     
He opened it and passed it to her and she said, 'Helen Lang.' After a while, she nodded. 'My thanks. I'm so sorry.' She closed the phone and looked at Hedley. 'Tony Emsworth just died.'
     
     
'That's a shame. When is the funeral?'
     
     
'Wednesday.'
     
     
'Are we going?'
     
     
'Of course.' She was calm, but there was pain in her eyes. 'I've had enough, Hedley. I think I'll go back inside,' and she walked away.
     
     
It was a fine sunny morning for the funeral at Stukeley. As it was no more than an hour's drive from London, the church was full and Helen Lang, sitting on one side of the aisle, was almost amused to find Ferguson, Hannah Bernstein and Dillon on the other. On her way out, she paused to shake hands with Tony Emsworth's nephew and his wife, who had organized things.
     
     
'So nice of you to come, Lady Helen,' they chorused. 'We've arranged a reception at the Country Hoteljust outside the village. Do come.'
     
     
Which she did. The hotel lounge was crowded. She accepted
     
     
a glass of indifferent champagne and then Charles Ferguson saw her and barrelled through the crowd.
     
     
'My dear Helen.' He kissed her on both cheeks. 'My God, you still look fifty and that's on a bad day. How do you do it?'
     
     
'You were always a charmer, Charles, a glib charmer, but a charmer.' She turned to Hannah at his shoulder. 'Beware of this one, my dear. I remember when he had an affair with the Uruguayan Ambassador's wife, and her husband challenged him to a duel.'
     
     
'Now, Helen, that's very naughty. This gorgeous creature is my assistant, Detective Chief Inspector Hannah Bernstein, and this Irish rogue is one Sean Dillon, who knew Tony quite well. Lady Helen Lang.'
     
     
Dillon wore an easy-fitting Armani suit of navy blue. Helen Lang took to him at once as they shook hands. At that moment, someone called to Ferguson, who turned and moved away. Dillon and Hannah went with him.
     
     
Ferguson said hello to the man who'd called him and Dillon pulled him around. 'Lady Lang, who is she?'
     
     
'Oh, I soldiered with her husband in Korea. Her son, Major Peter Lang, was Scots Guards and SAS. One of our best undercover agents in you-know-where. Someone in the IRA got on to him the other year and blew him up. Car bomb.'
     
     
Hannah Bernstein was talking to someone and Ferguson was hailed again. Suddenly, it was all too much for Helen Lang and, slightly breathless, she went out on to the terrace in the February sunshine. Dillon saw her go. There was something about her, something he couldn't define, so he went after her.
     
     
She was at the terrace balustrade tossing a couple of pills back when Dillon arrived. 'Can I get you a glass of champagne?'
     
     
'Frankly, I'd rather have whiskey.'
     
     
'Well, I'm your man. Will Irish do?'
     
     
'Why not?'
     
     
He was back in a few moments with two glasses. She put hers down, got out her silver case and held it out. 'Do you indulge?'
     
     
'Jesus, but you're a wonderful woman.' His old Zippo flared and he gave her a light.
     
     
'Do you mind if I say something, Mr Dillon?' she said. 'You're wearing a Guards tie.'
     
     
'Ah, well, I like to keep old Ferguson happy.'
     
     
She took a chance. 'I should mention that I know about you, Mr Dillon. My old friend Tony Emsworth told me everything, and for very special reasons.'
     
     
'Your son, Lady Helen.' Dillon nodded. 'I'm surprised you'd speak to me.'
     
     
'I believe war should still have rules, and from what Tony told me, you were an honourable man, however ruthless and, may I say, misguided.'
     
     
'I stand corrected.'
     
     
He bowed his head in mock humility. She said, 'You rogue. You can get me that champagne now, only make sure they open a decent bottle.'
     
     
'At your command.'
     
     
He joined Ferguson at the bar. 'Lady Helen,' he said. 'Quite
     
     
a woman.
     
     
'And then some.'
     
     
The barman poured the champagne into two glasses. 'There's something