Midnight Runner (14 page)

He'd asked Kate Rashid why Abu hadn't gone for a head shot on him and she'd said he was too important and meant it. He'd allowed that to cloud his judgment and had gotten it wrong, totally and hopelessly wrong, and Bobby Hawk had paid for it with his life.

Achmed came and said, "Do you wish to look at Cornet Sahb?"

"Yes, thank you, I will."

He stood over the body bag, which was unzipped at the top so that Bobby's face showed, the eyes closed in death. The corruption in the heat of the day would be very quick, the thought of it too hard to bear. And then a thought struck him and he turned to Achmed.

"Close the bag, then tie Sahb to the hood as we did with Omar. We'll leave in ten minutes, and drive down to Hazar through the night."

"As the Colonel Sahb commands."

Villiers sat down again, got out his Codex, and tried Ferguson on the special line at the Ministry of Defence and found him in the office.

"It's me again, Charles. Something bad has happened."

Hannah Bernstein and Dillon happened to be in the office and Ferguson waved a hand and switched his red phone to audio. "Tell me, Tony."

Which Villiers did. "I got it wrong and the boy is dead."

"It's not your fault, Tony. It's Kate Rashid's fault."

"You'll have to speak to the commanding officer of the Lifeguards. Bobby has a widowed mother and two sisters at university. They'll have to be told."

"I think the Lifeguards will take care of that."

"You know how long a body lasts out here, Charles, so I'm calling in a favor."

"What is it?"

"If you sent Lacey and Parry here in the Gulfstream, got them out of Farley within the next hour or so, they could make the flight in, say, ten hours. I'll get the right kind of coffin in Hazar, force the documentation through, and they can take him back to London."

"You don't need to ask, Tony." He nodded to Hannah. "Take care of it at once, Superintendent." She hurried out. Ferguson said, "Anything else?"

"Yes. I want you to know you can count on me from now on. There's something out there and I'll do anything I can to find out what it is. Anything I can do to pull her down, I will."

"That's good to know. We'll call and let you know Lacey and Parry's departure time."

Villiers clicked off. The men were waiting. "Right, let's move out," he said, got in beside Achmed, and they drove away.

A
bu reached the Rashid Villa at five o'clock in the morning. The houseboy told him the Countess was up and taking a shower. He gave Abu coffee and went to announce his presence to his mistress. She appeared in a house robe at the head of the stairs and, as Abu stood up, Rupert, wearing slacks and khaki bush shirt, joined her.

She came down the stairs, Rupert following. "Your face looks awful. Is it bad?"

"The kiss of a bullet, no more."

"How did this happen?"

He told her, omitting nothing. "I have made bad trouble for you, Countess. The Colonel will not let this go."

"What's done is done." She frowned. "But Villiers will come straight to Hazar with the body. I want you out of here and now. Call at Dr. Yolpi's on the way out of town for treatment, then straight to the Empty Quarter and Shabwa. Wait there until you hear from me."

She held out her hand, he kissed it, then went out without a word. Rupert said, "So now what?"

"I'll get dressed, you pack, and we'll make the airport as fast as possible." She turned to the houseboy, who was hovering. "Have the limousine brought round to the front door."

As they went back upstairs, Rupert said, "Why the rush?"

"I've a nasty feeling where Tony Villiers is concerned. I'd rather not see him at the moment."

"What? Is the hard woman afraid?"

"Go to hell, darling."

Fifteen minutes later, they went downstairs again, Rupert carrying two suitcases. The houseboy opened the door, they walked out and found the five Land Rovers of the Hazar Scouts lined up across the street, all machine guns manned. Tony Villiers stood beside the lead Land Rover, his arms folded.

She hesitated, then came down the steps, Rupert behind her. "Why, Tony, what a surprise."

He didn't beat about the bush. He pointed to the body bag. "I'm sure Abu got here ahead of us. Bobby Hawk is in there. It's not Abu's work, really. It's yours, Kate."

"Is that so? And what do you intend to do about it?"

"I declare jihad on you, Kate Rashid, war to the knife. And I intend to cross the line into the Empty Quarter any time I want."

"I'll look for you there."

"Good. Now get out of here before I shoot you myself."

She hesitated, then got in the limousine with Rupert and drove away. Villiers watched her go, then walked to Achmed and got into the rear of the lead Land Rover.

"So, my friend, take me to the undertaker." Achmed gave the order and they drove away.

OXFORD LONDON

Chapter
9.

O
N THE GULFSTREAM, KATE RASHID SAT THINKING, AND Rupert drank black coffee

"It's very unfortunate," he said. "Abu's enthusiasm getting the better of him like that."

"Yes, it's very provoking. Now I may have to deal with Villiers in a way I hadn't intended."

"You mean, if he crosses the line into the Empty Quarter?"

"Yes. I'd have to declare open season on him and the Scouts."

"Why not simply put the word out that they should all leave him, fade away into the night? After all, they're Rashid and you're the boss."

"You still don't get it, Rupert. They've taken the oath. They belong to Tony, until death if necessary."

"Hell, I'll never understand the Arab mind."

"You've said that before. Now let's turn to other things. I've been thinking about this Liberty in Europe Day."

"Yes, Saturday. What about it?"

"I've been thinking that it might not be too good an idea for us to be seen to be too closely connected with it, not right now when we're under investigation. We have to maintain our non-violent front. When heads start getting cracked, I want us to be perceived as the voice of reason. So this is what I want you to do: I want you to go to Oxford and see Professor Percy. Make it clear that the Rashid Educational Trust is only interested in matters of welfare and education, that we're totally against violent protest of any kind, and that we expect him to tell the students that."

"You know what they're like. They'll go anyway."

"Well, of course they will! But we'll be on record as opposing it. And in case you have any problems with him, I happen to know that there's a discrepancy of some fifty thousand pounds in the accounts of the Act of Class Warfare at Oxford...so Percy has some explaining to do."

"Do you really think heads will be cracked?"

"My dear, I'm counting on it, especially with little Helen Quinn toddling along like the good little dilettante she is. With any luck, she'll get arrested. That really would look bad in the papers. The gossip columns would love it--the revolutionary who's a Senator's daughter."

"You bitch. You don't miss a trick, do you?"

"No, darling. Just make sure that you don't."

S
aturday morning found him in Oxford at The Lion. The pub was crammed with students and Percy was already there, a pint of beer in front of him.

Rupert paused beside him. "I'll just get a drink."

He pushed through the crowd and saw Helen Quinn and young Grant at the end of the bar. He smiled and went over and ordered a large Jack Daniel's from the barman.

"Hello, there," he said. "You're going to the rally, then?"

Grant stopped smiling and became aggressive. "What's it got to do with you?"

"Alan, shut up." She smiled at Dauncey. "Yes, we're going on the bus."

"I wish you wouldn't. It could get very nasty. The more I've read about it, the more likely it sounds that there'll be violence, and we simply couldn't condone anything like that."

Students nearby were listening and Percy, coming forward, had also heard. Grant said, "You don't approve?"

"Not of riots, and police trying to crack your skull with a baton."

"Afraid, are you? A ponce like you would be. Rupert Dauncey. What kind of a name is that?"

Students standing around laughed and Helen said, "Stop it, Alan."

He ignored her. "I know what it is, it's a ponce's name."

Rupert smiled gently. "If you say so," picked up his drink, and returned to Percy.

The professor said, "I'm sorry about that."

"That's okay. He's young. But I meant what I said. I think it's all too dangerous. I want you to get on that bus and tell them not to go."

"Get on the bus? But I told you. I've other plans. I--"

"You can forget them. Listen to me. The Countess and the Rashid Educational Trust acted in good faith in supporting Act of Class Warfare. We believed in its philosophy--but we do not believe in violent protest."

"But I can't control their behavior."

"I realize that. But you can tell them how you feel when they're on the bus."

"No, I--"

"Professor." Dauncey leaned close. "We've put a lot of trust in you. Also a lot of money. Wouldn't it be a shame if it should come out that there is a discrepancy of fifty thousand pounds in the ACW accounts?"

Percy seemed to shrivel up. "I don't know anything about that," he whispered.

"Oh, yes, you do. Imagine what it would be like at Wandsworth, someone like you, sharing the showers with murderers and sex offenders. Not a pretty picture, Professor."

Percy had turned white. "For God's sake, no."

"We wouldn't appreciate the scandal ourselves. It would damage our reputation. But it would damage you much more, wouldn't it?"

"All right," Percy moaned. "Whatever you say. But they'll go anyway, no matter what I say."

"Oh, I'll back you up. You can introduce me as representing Rashid. Nobody can say afterwards that we didn't do our best." He looked across the room and saw Grant making for the men's room and got up. "I'll be back."

When he went into the toilet, Grant was just finishing. He turned, pulling up his zipper. For the moment, they were alone.

"What do you want, ponce?"

Rupert kicked him on the right shin, doubled him over with a blow to the stomach, then grabbed the left wrist and twisted the arm straight. He raised a clenched fist.

"How'd you like me to break it for you?"

Grant moaned with pain. "No, please, stop."

Rupert exerted more pressure. Grant cried out and Rupert swung him around and slapped his face. "Now listen to me. I happen to know you're here at Oxford only because all your expenses are paid by an outside scholarship. Do you know who's behind that scholarship? Do you?"

Grant moaned again and shook his head.

"We are. The Rashid Educational Trust. And we can take it away so fast it'll make your head spin. So, step out of line with me again and you'll be out of Oxford and working at McDonald's. Understand?"

"Yes," Grant rubbed his arm, tears in his eyes.

Rupert lit a Marlboro. "So this is what I want you to do."

Alan Grant fumbled in his pocket for a tissue, and his fingers brushed against the pen his brother had sent him. Something, a bad feeling, made him switch it on now.

Rupert took a paper bag from his pocket.

"There are three pieces of candy in there, chocolates. Each has an Ecstasy tablet inside. I want you to offer the girl one during the demonstration."

"Why--why should I do that?"

"Because there's a fair chance you'll be busted by the police when the riot starts, which it will. A drug bust would be very embarrassing for her father, you understand?"

"What happens if the shit doesn't hit the fan? If she takes the pill and doesn't get arrested?"

"There'll be other times. Just get her back to that bus in one piece."

"We aren't coming back tonight."

"Why?"

"My brother's working in Germany. He's got a one-room flat in Wapping. He said I could spend the weekend there."

"And she agreed?"

"Yes."

Rupert shook his head. "She must be hard up. What's the address?"

"Ten Canal Street. It's just up from Canal Wharf on the Thames."

"Do you have a mobile phone?"

"No, just the house phone."

Rupert took out his diary and pencil. "Give me the number," which Grant did. "Right. Now look after her. I'll check you out this evening. Remember, give her the pill during the demonstration. And make sure she doesn't mix it with alcohol. I don't want her sick, Grant, just high. Are we clear?"

Grant mumbled yes.

"And if you say anything--anything--about this to anyone, you will be very, very sorry. Is that clear, too?"

Grant nodded.