Day of Reckoning (15 page)

'Also the Superintendent,' Ferguson said. 'I want an official police presence.'
Dillon sighed. 'At it again, Hannah, trying to get your
head blown off. What is it, guilt?'
'Get stuffed, Dillon.'
'Hey, for a nice Jewish girl with a Cambridge degree, that really is elegant.'
She laughed in spite of herself. 'Now what?'
'Oh, let's look at the map again.'
Roper went over it. 'There's this old abbey which is the entrance and cover, but the interesting thing is this rural
farmhouse to the east. That's an emergency exit. Regan
says they only keep a couple of guys in the bunker as
caretakers. Murphy turns up occasionally. He's the local
hero.'
'Fine,' Blake said. 'We go in and blow it to hell.'
Ferguson nodded. 'Let's have Regan in for interrogation.
You, Sergeant Major Black, Dillon. The same variety hall
act, just in case there's something he forgot.'
When Sergeant Miller brought in Regan, Dillon was sit
ting by the fire. 'Ah, there you are, Sean. They tell me you've been very helpful.'
'I've done all I've been asked.'
Behind the mirror, Ferguson, Blake, Hannah and Roper
watched. Suddenly, Roper said, 'He's lying, the bastard's
lying.'
'How do you know?'
'Body language, instinct. I don't know, but there's some
thing he hasn't told us.'
'Right, Sergeant Major,' Ferguson told her. 'Put the boot
in.'
She burst through the door a moment later, boiling over
with rage. 'I'm sick of lies, Dillon. This little sod's lying
through his teeth. There are still things he hasn't told us.'
She took out her silenced Colt, and Miller, playing his
part, caught her wrist. 'No, ma'am, that's not the way.'
The Colt discharged into the ceiling and Regan cried out
in terror.
'All right, anything – anything you want.'
Dillon shoved him down into a chair.
'Okay, we've got Kilbeg, the bunker, the village, even the
old granite quarry pier below the cliff. But what did you
leave out?'
Regan hesitated, and Helen Black said, 'Oh, this is a waste of time. Let's send him back to Wandsworth.'
'No, for God's sake.'
'There's something. What is iff Dillon demanded.
'It's the money. Brendan has one of those safes in the
floor of the bunker office. He's supposed to have a million
pounds in there, proceeds of bank raids, exploitation, that
kind of thing.'
'So?' Helen Black demanded.
'He owes that to Fox for arms supplies.'
'Really,' Dillon said.
'Only he's lying. He keeps fobbing Fox off. He's got nearly three million in there.'
Dillon almost fell about laughing. 'Jesus, you mean you're
telling me that if we blow the place up, we'll not only be
stiffing Murphy, but also Fox? That's beautiful.' He turned
to the mirror. 'Isn't that a joy, Brigadier? Come on in.'
Ferguson came in, with Hannah and Blake. 'Very naughty, Regan. Still playing stupid games.'
'Yes, he's an untrustworthy sod,' Dillon said. 'In the circumstances, I think I'd like to take him along.'
'Really?'
'Just in case of problems. What if there's more he hasn't
told us?'
Ferguson nodded. 'Yes, I take your point. Would you
agree, Superintendent?'
'Well, she'll need to, as she'll have to take care of the
bastard.'
'What are you getting aff Hannah asked.
'There's no sense in wasting time. If you get the quarter
master to fill my order and have the boat ready, Blake and
I will fly up later this afternoon. There is an RAF base near
Oban. We'll get things shipshape. They'll fly back and pick
you up in the morning and do the return journey. We'll do
the trip tomorrow afternoon and hit Kilbeg tomorrow night.'
'You're not wasting time, are you?' Ferguson said.
'Can't see much point, Brigadier.'
'Fine by me.'
'There's just one thing,' Dillon said. 'Blake took a bullet
at Al Shariz.'
'Hell, it's a crease only. Anya fixed it.' Blake was indig
nant.
'Blake, if we do have to go in underwater, it isn't on.'
'So what you're saying is you want another diver?' Ferguson
said. 'It's a bit short notice, but if I phone Marine Head
quarters they could possibly find someone from the Special Boat Squadron.'
'No good. They cut their
_hair,
those boys, they'd never
pass for locals. Now, SAS at Hereford have plenty of lads
who haven't seen a barber in months. That's so they can
go undercover in Belfast at a moment's notice and look like they're off a building site.' Dillon smiled.
'That makes sense,' Blake said. 'When you put me in there
undercover the other year, I recall it was dicey as hell.'
'So,' Dillon said. 'I've got another diver in mind.' 'Who?' Ferguson demanded.
Dillon told him.
The Brigadier laughed helplessly. 'Oh, I like it. I really
do. Do you mind if I come with you and hear him turn you down?'
'No problem, Brigadier, it'll be the best pub grub in
London. Meanwhile, though, I want Blake's shoulder checked out by Daz at Rosedene.'
'Rosedene?' Blake asked.
A private clinic we use near Pine Grove. We have a very
nice man, a professor of surgery at London University, who, shall we say, helps us out.'
Ferguson said to Regan, 'Fancy a sea trip to Ireland,
do you?'
'I don't have much choice, do 1?' But already, his mind
was racing.
Ferguson turned to Helen Black and Miller. 'Take him
away. The Superintendent will pick him up tomorrow.'
'Fine, sir.' Miller took Regan by the arm and she followed them out.
Ferguson said, 'All right, Dillon, take Blake to Rosedene. The Superintendent will phone ahead and make sure Daz is there. We'll go back to the office. I'll meet you for lunch.' He laughed. 'I can't wait to get his reaction. Hope he's a patriot.'
'People like him usually are, Brigadier.'
Rosedene was an exclusive town house in its own grounds. The receptionist greeted Dillon like an old friend, spoke on
the phone, and a pleasant, middle-aged woman in matron's
blue came out of her office. She had the accent of Ulster,
like Dillon, and kissed him on the cheek.
'Have you been in the wars again, Sean?'
'No, Martha, but he has,' and he introduced Blake. 'Well, let's get on with it. Mr Daz is waiting.'
'Mister?' Blake was puzzled.
'In England, ordinary physicians are "doctor", but sur
geons are "mister".' Dillon smiled. 'And only the English
could explain that to you. In his case, he's also "professor".'
She took them along a corridor and opened the door into
a well-equipped operating theatre. Daz, in a white coat, was
sitting at a desk reading some papers, a tall, cadaverous Indian
with a ready smile.
He got up and took Dillon's hand. 'Sean, it's not you this
time. What a change.'
'No, it's my friend, Blake Johnson.'
'Mr Johnson, a pleasure. And what is the problem?'
A superficial gunshot wound. I mean, it's nothing.'
'It never is, my friend.' Daz turned to the matron. 'Under
the circumstances, Martha, I'd rather not have one of the
girls in. Would you be kind enough to assist?'
'Of course, Professor. I'll get ready.'
Daz said, 'Stay if you want, Sean.'
Blake, stripped to his waist, stood while Daz and Martha, suitably robed, got to work.
'My goodness, you
have
been to the wars.' Daz probed
under the left ribs. 'Bullet scars are always distinctive.' Another here,' Martha said. 'Under the left shoulder.' 'Vietnam,' Blake said. 'A long time ago.'
'But not this, I think,' Daz said, as Martha cut away the
pad on the right shoulder. He made a face. 'Nasty.'
'Hell, it's nothing,' Blake told him.
Daz ignored him. 'Yes, well,
nothing
requires some very
careful stitching. How many would you say, Martha? Fif
teen? Perhaps twenty. In the circumstances, I don't think
a local anaesthetic will do. We'll need a general. Get Doctor Hamed for me. I know he's here. He can assist.'
'Now, look here, I don't want to be on my back,' Blake
said. 'I've got things to do.'
'Not if you have a crippled shoulder for the rest of your
life.'
Martha said, 'Do as you're told, Mr Johnson. You're not
a stupid man.' She turned to Dillon. 'Leave him to it. Check
in this afternoon.'
'For God's sake, Sean,' Blake said.
'No problem. If you're not fit, you can come up to Oban tomorrow with Hannah and Regan.'
At that moment, Billy Salter drove up to St Richard's Dock in the Range Rover and parked. He got out and walked along the
embankment to where an old Ford van was parked, opened
the door, and got in beside Joe Baxter, who was looking
down at the shingle beach through a pair of old binoculars.
He lowered them.
'What is it?' Billy asked.
'Well, having nothing to do, we checked out that cafe
where Manchester Charlie Ford has breakfast. The thing is,
he wasn't only with the big beast.'
'Go on, surprise me.'
'Connie Briggs.'
'Well, that's good. He's about the best on any kind of
electronic security system in London.'
'I know, he's a genius.'
'Who else?'
'Val French.'
'Jesus. The big expert with the thermal lance. Cut up those security boxes on that Gatwick gold bullion job like sardine cans. We all know that.'
'So do Scotland Yard, but they couldn't prove it.'
'So why are we here?'
'They all came down in a Toyota van. We followed.
They got out carrying a couple of canvas bags, went along
the beach, the tide being out, and went along to the tun
nel entrance. Sam's down there now, tucked behind that
old wreck.'
Billy took the binoculars, focused them, and at that moment
Manchester Charlie Ford and the others came out of the
tunnel and went back to the steps up to the dock.
They all got in the Toyota and drove away. 'Give me the torch and let's take a look.'
'Let them go,' Billy said.
The tunnel was damp from the receding early morning
tide, the brickwork green, as Billy switched on the torch. The
rusting iron grille was there as before. The only difference
was that the huge old lock had gone and the gate responded
to a strong heave.
'Well, well,' Billy said. 'Let's take a look.'
They followed the tunnel, sloshing through two or three
inches of water. It seemed to go on forever and there were
side tunnels.
'All right,' Billy said. 'Enough is enough. We're under the dock and there's nothing important. Let's go back.'
They arrived back at the Dark Man at noon and found
Salter in his usual booth. He listened and nodded.
'Okay, it's on, and it's got to be the White Diamond
Company. I'll check with Ferguson.'
At that moment, Ferguson and Dillon walked in.
'I can't believe it,' Billy said. 'We were just talking about
you and here you are.'
'Magic, Billy,' Dillon said. 'It's with me being from County Down.'
'What are you after, Brigadier?' Salter asked.
'Cottage pie for lunch and an indifferent red wine would
do, for a start.'
'Yes, well we've got news for you,' Billy said, and told
him.
Ferguson took out his mobile and called Roper at Pine
Grove and relayed the information. 'I'm concerned with
timing here. It's just occurred to me. If you could access
the White Diamond Company, we might find something is going on.'
'Leave it with me, Brigadier.'
Ferguson put his phone down. 'So, we could be in business, gentlemen. It's an OBE for you, Harry, for services to the country.'
'Fuck off, Brigadier.'
Dora appeared. 'Cottage pie, love, and a bottle of that Krug champagne, as Dillon's here.'
She walked away and Dillon said, 'It's the great man you
are, Harry.'
'What are you trying to do, you little Irish git, butter
me up?'
'Actually, yes. I need a favour.'
'What favour?'
'I need a master diver, and the only one I know on short
notice is Billy.'
Salter was totally shocked. 'You've got to be kidding.'