Edge of Danger by Jack Higgins Page B

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    air. Last time out, it was villains trying to hit you. This should make a change.’
    Joe Baxter and Sam Hall, Harry’s two minders, dressed in jeans and anoraks.
    ‘What a bunch of idiots.’ Billy nodded at the other members of the syndicate emerging from Jeeps and Range Rovers.
    ‘Why the funny gear? What are those ridiculous trousers?’
    ‘It’s how people like that dress to shoot, Billy,’ Dillon said. ‘It’s an old English custom.’
    The rest of the party was grouped around a large man with a florid face, and Dillon heard someone address him as Lord Portman. They all turned and looked at the Salter party with disfavour.
    ‘Good God, what have we here?’ Portman asked.
    Another large man, this one with a grizzled beard, approached. ‘Gentlemen, can I help? I’m the head keeper, Frobisher.’
    ‘I should hope so, old son. Salter’s the name -Harry Salter.’
    Frobisher was astonished, hesitated, then turned to the others. ‘This is Mr Harry Salter, president of the syndicate.’ There were looks of horror.
    Salter said, ‘Lord Portman, is it?’
    ‘That is correct,’ Portman said frostily.
    ‘Chairman of Riverside Construction, right? So we’ve got something in common.’
    ‘I can’t imagine what.’
    ‘You don’t have to imagine. I took you over last week. I’m Salter Enterprises, so, in a manner of speaking, you work for me.’
    The horror on Portman’s face was profound. He actually recoiled, and it was Dillon who said genially to Frobisher, ‘Can we get on?’
    Joe Baxter and Sam Hall were unloading.the gun bags. Frobisher said, ‘We’ll space the valley up to that wood. I’ll give you a number each.’
    ‘We know how it works, old son,’ Dillon told him. ‘I’ve explained to my friends.’
    Frobisher hesitated. ‘So you have shot before?’
    ‘Only people,’ Billy told him. ‘So let’s get on with it.’
    Three hours later, in the Shogun, Baxter was driving and Billy opened a bottle of champagne and poured it into plastic cups.
    ‘What a bunch of toffee-nosed idiots. The look on their faces when I scooped the pool.’
    ‘Yes, well, you have had a certain amount of practice,’ Dillon said.
    Harry Salter swallowed his champagne. ‘That Portman’s bleeding face was something to see.’
    ‘Are you going to throw him out, Harry?’ Billy asked.
    ‘No, I know his track record and he’s good. I’ll improve his package. He’ll come to heel. It’s what’s called business, Billy.’
    ‘And bloody boring.’ Billy turned to Dillon. ‘You got anything on the go I could help with?’
    ‘Back to Heidegger, is it, Billy? You feel the need for some action and passion?’
    ‘Here, you lay off,’ Salter told his nephew. ‘Last time, we almost didn’t get you back.’
    ‘So, I’m bored,’ Billy said. ‘And you won’t let me do the booze and cigarette runs from Amsterdam anymore.’
    “Cos I don’t want you nicked. Lesser mortals can take that chance. You just be a good boy.’
    He poured more champagne, and Dillon said, ‘I’ll keep you in mind, Billy.’
    Billy raised his glass. ‘Always willing and available, Dillon.’
    At the White House, Jake Cazalet sat at his desk in the Oval Office in shirtsleeves, working through a stack of paperwork. The door opened and Blake
    Johnson came in. Outside, rain drove against the window. The President sat back.
    ‘What have you got for me?’
    ‘Hazar, Mr President.’
    ‘The Sultan’s death?’
    ‘The Sultan’s assassination.’
    Jake Cazalet got up, went to the window, and looked out. Blake said, The CIA doesn’t know anything about it, they say. They claim to be totally baffled. The question is: Baffled? Or embarrassed? We know the Sultan’s people tried to kill Paul Rashid on behalf of our own oil interests and the Russians’, and the Sultan was the CIA’s man. I’d say they have a lot to answer for. And now, there’s all this agitation from Hizbullah, Army of God, Sword of Allah, all the rest of them.