would,” Holley said.
Ferguson ignored him. “So we have common interests, but never mind that now. I’ll be in touch with you sooner than you think, Josef, but for the moment, we’ll say good-bye. We’re all heading back to London tonight.”
He shook hands with Lermov, walked to the door, and they all followed, Holley taking Sara’s hand. “Is it always like this?” she demanded.
“Only most of the time,” Dillon said, and turned to glance at them, smiling. “I see you two seem to have met somewhere.”
And they walked into the night.
FOUR
I t was an hour before midnight, New York time, when Ferguson’s Gulfstream rose up through heavy rain to forty thousand feet and headed out into the Atlantic. Lacey and Parry, his usual RAF pilots, were at the controls—Sara had met them in the departure lounge and they’d indicated their approval. She was lying back in a red seat, and Parry passed her and spoke to Ferguson.
“Definitely heavy winds in mid-Atlantic, General. Could take us seven hours at least. Will that be all right?”
“It will have to be, Flight Lieutenant,” Ferguson told him. “Carry on.”
Parry paused as he passed Sara and grinned. “He can be grumpy on occasion. Sorry we didn’t have a steward, but you’ll find anything you could want in the kitchen area. We’re very free and easy.”
He returned to the cockpit and she stretched out comfortably and listened to what was going on, for they had the screen on and were having a face-to-face with Roper.
“I can see you in the back there, Sara,” Roper called. “I warned you about Daniel.”
“Enough of this erotic byplay,” Ferguson growled, “and let’s get down to business. These different kinds of IRA dissidents, Giles, is it really possible for them to work together?”
“I don’t see why not, but Dillon and Holley are the ones to ask. They’ve been there and done that, Dillon since he was nineteen. What’s your opinion, Sara? After all, the peace process was supposed to solve things, giving Sinn Fein seats at Stormont.”
“But the ideal to strive for has always been a united Ireland,” Dillon said. “So as long as Ulster remains with the Crown, dissident factions will have a reason to continue the struggle.”
“A bleak prospect,” Ferguson said. “Which simply means they—whoever
they
are—have an excuse for continuing general mayhem.”
“I’m afraid so.” Dillon shrugged. “There are supposed to be sleepers all over London, just awaiting the call to action.”
“Which brings us to Jack Kelly,” Roper said. “A well-known Provo who’s served time in the Maze Prison he may be, but he was automatically pardoned as part of the peace process. So what’s to be done?”
“A bullet in the head as he walks home some wet night?” Holley suggested.
Sara said, “I wonder how many times he did that himself during his years with the IRA.”
“So what
do
we do?” Holley asked. “Lift him?”
“Impossible,” Roper said. “His lawyers would run rings around the prosecution.”
“You’re all right,” Ferguson told them. “Even you, Sara,though I would point out that assassination is the business we’re in. No, we’ll apparently do nothing, leaving you, Roper, genius that you are, to come up with some way of monitoring his comings and goings.”
“That’s asking a lot,” Miller said. “He’ll be using only encrypted mobiles.”
Roper shrugged. “We’ll see. Something might turn up.”
“I’d sleep on it if I were you,” Miller told him.
“You clown, Harry, it’s breakfast time here.”
The screen went dark and Ferguson promptly fell asleep. Sara was in the rear of the cabin and Holley took the next seat.
“Are you tired?”
“I certainly should be.”
“Because it’s all so exciting.” He said it as a statement.
“Disturbing, Daniel,
Ferguson ignored him. “So we have common interests, but never mind that now. I’ll be in touch with you sooner than you think, Josef, but for the moment, we’ll say good-bye. We’re all heading back to London tonight.”
He shook hands with Lermov, walked to the door, and they all followed, Holley taking Sara’s hand. “Is it always like this?” she demanded.
“Only most of the time,” Dillon said, and turned to glance at them, smiling. “I see you two seem to have met somewhere.”
And they walked into the night.
FOUR
I t was an hour before midnight, New York time, when Ferguson’s Gulfstream rose up through heavy rain to forty thousand feet and headed out into the Atlantic. Lacey and Parry, his usual RAF pilots, were at the controls—Sara had met them in the departure lounge and they’d indicated their approval. She was lying back in a red seat, and Parry passed her and spoke to Ferguson.
“Definitely heavy winds in mid-Atlantic, General. Could take us seven hours at least. Will that be all right?”
“It will have to be, Flight Lieutenant,” Ferguson told him. “Carry on.”
Parry paused as he passed Sara and grinned. “He can be grumpy on occasion. Sorry we didn’t have a steward, but you’ll find anything you could want in the kitchen area. We’re very free and easy.”
He returned to the cockpit and she stretched out comfortably and listened to what was going on, for they had the screen on and were having a face-to-face with Roper.
“I can see you in the back there, Sara,” Roper called. “I warned you about Daniel.”
“Enough of this erotic byplay,” Ferguson growled, “and let’s get down to business. These different kinds of IRA dissidents, Giles, is it really possible for them to work together?”
“I don’t see why not, but Dillon and Holley are the ones to ask. They’ve been there and done that, Dillon since he was nineteen. What’s your opinion, Sara? After all, the peace process was supposed to solve things, giving Sinn Fein seats at Stormont.”
“But the ideal to strive for has always been a united Ireland,” Dillon said. “So as long as Ulster remains with the Crown, dissident factions will have a reason to continue the struggle.”
“A bleak prospect,” Ferguson said. “Which simply means they—whoever
they
are—have an excuse for continuing general mayhem.”
“I’m afraid so.” Dillon shrugged. “There are supposed to be sleepers all over London, just awaiting the call to action.”
“Which brings us to Jack Kelly,” Roper said. “A well-known Provo who’s served time in the Maze Prison he may be, but he was automatically pardoned as part of the peace process. So what’s to be done?”
“A bullet in the head as he walks home some wet night?” Holley suggested.
Sara said, “I wonder how many times he did that himself during his years with the IRA.”
“So what
do
we do?” Holley asked. “Lift him?”
“Impossible,” Roper said. “His lawyers would run rings around the prosecution.”
“You’re all right,” Ferguson told them. “Even you, Sara,though I would point out that assassination is the business we’re in. No, we’ll apparently do nothing, leaving you, Roper, genius that you are, to come up with some way of monitoring his comings and goings.”
“That’s asking a lot,” Miller said. “He’ll be using only encrypted mobiles.”
Roper shrugged. “We’ll see. Something might turn up.”
“I’d sleep on it if I were you,” Miller told him.
“You clown, Harry, it’s breakfast time here.”
The screen went dark and Ferguson promptly fell asleep. Sara was in the rear of the cabin and Holley took the next seat.
“Are you tired?”
“I certainly should be.”
“Because it’s all so exciting.” He said it as a statement.
“Disturbing, Daniel,
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