Day of Reckoning (13 page)

Dillon sighed. 'All right, it's your funeral.' He looked out
as orange flickered on the horizon, and in the distance the
security lights gleamed on the
Fortuna.
'Let's get on with
it. Time to save the free world again.'
Falcone, Russo and Fox went out to the
Fortuna
in a water
taxi and pulled up to a steel stairway at the side of the ship.
Fox told the boatman to wait and led the way up to where
Brendan Murphy, Dermot Kelly and Captain Sawar waited.
Fox and Brendan embraced.
'You're looking good,' Murphy said.
'And you, old buddy, and you'll have an even broader smile when you know what's on shore and on its way to
my plane.'
'Come and have a look.'
Murphy led the way down to the stern saloon, where the
two cargo boxes waited.
'Five million, Jack,' he said. 'It makes me feel God is on
my side.'
'That's because you're Irish, you daft bastard,' Fox said.
'Let's go and have a drink and then we'll offload this lot.
I've got a water taxi waiting.'
Beside the
Pamir,
an inflatable waited, Dillon and Blake
aboard in black dive suits with a single air bottle each,
weight belts around their waists. Each had a dive bag with
a Browning Hi-Power with a Carswell silencer inside. Dillon also carried two three-pound blocks of Semtex, with three-minute timer pencils.
Gideon Cohen said to his sister and Levy, 'I'll take them
out. You wait here and be ready for sea.'
Anya hesitated, then picked up an Uzi submachine gun
and stepped in beside Dillon and Blake.
'Not this time. You might need back-up and Moshe is better with the boat than I am.'
Cohen sighed. 'You're a great trial to me. Okay, take the Nightstalker and monitor what happens.'
They moved out into the harbour and floated to a halt a hundred yards from the
Fortuna.
Dillon said, 'Here we go,' and pulled down his diving mask and reached for his mouthpiece.
At only ten feet, there was enough illumination from the security lights to give the water a kind of glow. He paused
beside the steel stairway, released his jacket and air tank,
and took the Browning from his dive bag and cocked it.
His face half-covered by his diving hood, he surfaced, Blake
beside him, and an Arab seaman appeared at the top of
the stairway. Dillon shot him instantly, the Browning near noiseless, tumbling him into the water, and started up. Blake, somewhere behind him, had another problem.
The Arab who crewed the water taxi had been shocked to
see Dillon surface and kill the seaman. He tossed his cigarette into the water, stood up, and Blake, with no options, had to shoot him.
On deck, it was quiet only for a moment, then voices
called. On the bridge, Captain Sawar moved out onto the
flying bridge, a machine gun in his hands.
'Selim, are you there? What is it?'
Dillon called in Arabic, 'It's Mossad, you dog. We've come for you.'
Sawar fired his machine gun blindly down into the dark
ness of the deck, and Blake, scrambling up beside Dillon,
fired back, shattering a window up there. Fox and Falcone
and Russo, who were on the bridge, ducked down.
Fox said, 'What the hell gives?'
'Israelis. Someone down there said Mossad.'
'Cover me,' Dillon said to Blake, and ran crouching through the dark to the engine room hatch, pulled it back, took out the two blocks of Semtex from his dive bag, activated the timing pencils, then dropped them down and closed the hatch.
As Dillon ran back to rejoin Blake, who was firing up at
the bridge, Sawar made a bad mistake. He switched on more security lights. Dillon and Blake ducked behind a lifeboat, as Sawar fired his machine gun again, and there were cries from members of his crew as they surged onto the aft deck from below, all armed.
Sawar fired repeatedly, Falcone and Russo joining in, and Anya, crouched in the inflatable, sprayed the deck and bridge
with fire from her Uzi. Sawar took a bullet in the head and
went down. Fox and his two men crouched, Falcone with
blood on his face from a glass splinter.
'Now get out of it, Blake,' Dillon said. 'They're three-
minute timers, remember. Take the port side. There's another lifeboat there that will give us some protection.'
Anya looked through the Nightstalker. 'I can see them.
They're sliding to the port rail,' she said to Moshe Levy.
'Well, they would. Dillon will have planted the Semtex. There's maybe two minutes left.'
'Then get moving.'
He pushed the engine up to top speed, and went round the prow, Anya still firing up on the side deck and bridge, and Dillon and Blake jumped. Fox, peering out of a side window, saw them go, saw the inflatable surge on. Anya tossed a line, Dillon and Blake grabbed it, and the inflatable vanished into the darkness.
'They've jumped ship, Signore,' Falcone said. 'They didn't stay long.'
And Fox, his senses sharpened by years of hard living,
jumped to an immediate conclusion.
'That's because they accomplished what they came here
to do. Let's get out of here now!'
He scrambled down the ladder and they followed, running into Murphy and Kelly on the side deck.
'What the hell is going on?' Murphy demanded. 'Mossad. They've planted explosives. Move it!'
'Christ.'
They went down the steel stairway fast and crowded into
the water taxi. Fox started the engine, Falcone and Russo
threw the dead Arab into the water, and Fox took the boat
away fast.
They were perhaps a hundred yards away when the explo
sion took place. The deck lifted, the bridge buckled, flames
shot up into the night. Two or three men jumped from the
stern, then the
Fortuna
seemed to break in half and went
down very fast indeed. There was burning oil, faint screams.
'Shall we go back, Signore?' Falcone asked.
'What for? All I want to do is get back to the airport and
get out of this fucking place. Take over.'
He lit a cigarette as they moved towards the pier. Murphy
said, 'It's all gone, not just the missiles but the gold.'
'I know. Isn't life hell?' Fox had an insane desire to laugh. 'But how did they know?'
'This is the Middle East, Brendan. The Israelis have had considerable experience at giving the Arabs a hard time. You
think they can't find out what Saddam is up to? You think
their friends everywhere from London to Washington can't
find out?' He tossed his cigarette into the water. 'On top of
that, the bastards can fight.'
'All that gold. I can't believe it.'
'Well, better get used to it.'
'Back to Heathrow now?'
'No point sticking around here. Do you and Kelly want a
lift?'
'No, we're going to Paris, then Dublin.'
They crashed onto the pier. Fox had left a limousine with
an Arab driver waiting. He said, 'I'm going back to the Golden House to pack and move on. Do you want a lift
there, at least?'
'No, we'll get a taxi and go right to the airport.'
'No luggage – you lost it all on the boat. They'll think
that's funny.'
'I know this place. There's a late-night bazaar. We'll pick
up some stuff. No problem.'
'Good.'
They moved away from the others to the end of the pier. Murphy said, 'Christ, I needed that gold.'
'So did I,' Fox said.
'So what will you do?'
'I've something laid on in London that should take care
of things.'
'Jesus, do you need a hand?'
'Not this time. What about you?'
'Back to Kilbeg to reflect. I'm not broke.'
'You still owe me on a lot of that equipment in the bunker.
I know you've got at least a million on hold there.'
'I know, I know. A few bank raids will take care of the expenses, and the war will start again soon anyway.'
Fox held out his hand. 'Good luck. Stay in touch.'
'I will.'
They went back to the limousine, Fox, Falcone and Russo got in, and it drove away.
Murphy smelled the warm air, the aroma of spices. 'Disgust
ing, this place, Dermot. Let's go home to some civilization.'
Blake had a bullet crease on his right shoulder. Anya
gave him first aid. On the
Pamir,
there was a certain
jubilation.
Dillon and he changed, then went into the saloon. Moshe
Levy was pouring wine into glasses, and Anya came in from
a shower in a towelling robe, drying her hair.
'Where's Gideon?' Dillon asked.
'Making a phone call.'
Gideon was talking to his uncle at his apartment in
Tel Aviv. General Cohen listened and slapped his thigh. 'Marvellous. What a coup.'
'Dillon and Blake Johnson are returning to London soon.'
'Well, tell them they go with my blessing. And Anya, she
is well?'
'She should get a medal. She was wonderful.'
'Mossad doesn't give medals, you know that. But I will
give you all a nice dinner.'
In Beirut, Fox, Falcone and Russo boarded their plane, discreetly observed by Lacey and Parry, who had been supplied
with photos. The plane rose steadily to fifty thousand feet
and turned into the Mediterranean. Russo sat at the back
and a woman flight attendant offered drinks and a menu.
Fox waved her away.
Falcone sat opposite him. 'Now what, Signore?'
'I don't know, Aldo. I've just lost a fortune. Murphy's lost a lot, and he owes me God knows how much for those arms
in that bunker in County Louth. The Colosseum is closed
down.' He took a deep breath. 'We've only got the Jagos left
and that White Diamond Company job. Ten million. Four
to them leaves me with six.'
The attendant handed Falcone a vodka martini. He savoured
it and said, 'Why not the full ten, Signore? Why not all the proceeds? Russo and I could handle it. It'd go a long way to making up what you just lost.'
Fox tasted his glass of champagne. 'You really are a very
bad man, Aldo. But I like it.'
Falcone smiled, recalling his conversation in the washroom at the airport with Don Marco on his mobile. He'd recounted the whole sorry affair.
Don Marco had said, 'It just gets worse. If I didn't know
better, I'd say it was Dillon and Johnson again. But you say
it was the Israelis ?'
'No doubt about it. They identified themselves.'
'It's like he was snakebit. All right, Aldo, watch out for
him, okay?'
Remembering, Falcone said, 'The Jagos. They're animali, Signore. As I say, let Russo and me take care of them.'
'It's certainly an interesting thought.' Fox smiled. 'We'll
see.'
In London, Ferguson listened to Dillon on his Codex and
nodded. 'What an absolutely marvellous result. Our friends
at Mossad have performed magnificently, but you and Blake haven't done too badly, either.'
'Why, Brigadier, praise from you is praise indeed.'
'Don't let it go to your head, Dillon. We'll see you soon.'
He sat there by the fire in his flat, thinking about it, then
called for his Daimler, got a coat on, and told his driver to
take him to Pine Grove, where he knew Hannah Bernstein
was working on Sean Regan. Helen Black greeted him and
took him to Roper's suite, where the Major sat at one of his screens, Regan on one side, Hannah on the other.
'Well, children, you'll be delighted to know that Al Shariz
has resounded to a most satisfactory explosion. The SS
Fortuna,
crewed by Army of God fanatics, is no more. Not
only the Hammerheads, but the five million in gold, which
was supposed to have been split between Murphy and Fox,
has gone down, thanks to Czechoslovakia's gift to the world, Semtex, in one hundred fathoms of water.'
'Holy Mary,' Regan said.
A moment, Brigadier.' Roper punched at the keys and
checked his screen. 'Two hundred fathoms, actually. There's
a trench in that harbour. Be a little difficult to retrieve,
anyway.'
'What next, sir?' Hannah asked. 'Kilbeg?'
'How far have we got?'
'Oh, Sean's being very cooperative. I'm assembling a
ground plan,' Roper said. 'Would you like to see?'
'No, let's wait for Dillon and Blake.' He turned to Hannah. Any word from Salter?'
'No, sir.'
'I think I'll go and see him.'
'Do you want me to come, sir?'
Ferguson shook his head. 'No, you continue here with