don’t leave anything out.”
Which Tod did, and when he was finished, said, “And that’s the truth of it, so what do you think?”
“That it was just bad luck. It was pure chance that sent them to Cazalet’s house, and pure chance that Dillon made the connection to the two of you.”
“One hell of a coincidence,” Tod said.
“Chance, Mr. Flynn—life is, in many ways, ruled by it. Of course, sometimes it’s fate. It wasn’t by chance that your father was Sean Dillon’s uncle. There’s something almost karmic about it.”
Kelly intervened again. “We’ve no time for all this shite. What do we do when Ferguson and his crew turn up here?”
“Wrong question,” the Master told him. “It should be, What can they do? There’s no evidence the attack even took place, and Cazalet’s walking around as if nothing had happened. So what can they do to you? It’s rather amusing when you think of it, Ferguson couldn’t even get you arrested.” Somewhere in his background was an unmistakable sound.
At that, Hannah erupted from Fancy’s stall and took a few steps toward them, leaning heavily on her walking stick.
“There’s nothing amusing about it, because I’ve heard everything.”
Kelly tried to grab her, and she slashed the walking stick across his shoulders. Tod dropped the phone on the table and caught her as she tried to get past him to the door.
“It’s all right, Hannah love, I’ll handle it.”
“It’s not and you won’t.” She shook her head. “I don’t know who this Master of yours is, Uncle Tod, but I’ve heard enough to recognize an evil bastard when I hear one.” She raised her voice. “A bastard who lives in London! You should keep your window closed. Everybody knows the sound of Big Ben.”
She pulled away from him and returned to the other end of the stable, leaning heavily on her stick, and disappeared into Fancy’s stall. Kelly watched her go, then picked up the mobile and handed it over.
“Are you still there?” Tod asked.
The Master replied calmly, “Do we have a problem with your niece?”
“No, I promise you. Since the car bomb that took her parentsfour years ago, pain has been her constant companion. She’s stressed about it, and now this. I’ll take care of it.”
“Such sentimentality comes rather late in the day from a man who has been responsible for as many deaths as you have. But it’s understandable, considering there are those who think the bomb which killed her parents and crippled her was meant for you.”
Tod said gravely, “There was always that possibility.”
“Not in this case, Mr. Flynn. In fact, I know the names of the two men who set that bomb.”
Tod was very still. “And what must I do for those names?”
“Dillon told you he’d be coming within the next few days. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Gideon woman and possibly even Ferguson himself came with him. Those people have been a running sore in al-Qaeda’s side for long enough. I’m sure a man of your expertise, and Kelly’s, can find a way to dispose of them one way or another.”
Kelly shook his head. “The man’s crazed, Tod.”
“Not at all,” the Master said. “I happen to know that at the back of Drumgoole Place, at the foot of the mountain, is a bog—the Bog of Salam, isn’t that what they call it? According to legend, it could swallow a regiment.”
“And it could swallow you,” Kelly told him.
“Or Hannah Flynn. I trust we’re clear on that. Now, Ferguson and company, can I tempt you?”
Tod’s face was bone white, eyes dark. “Not in a million years. But I’ll tell you what I will do. Never leave Hannah’s side for a moment, as long as you walk this earth. And I’m keeping your money. So to hell with you, Master-whoever-you-are, and bring it on as soon as you like.”
He switched off, slipped the phone into his pocket, turned and found Hannah, standing outside Fancy’s stall, face tearstained. He walked toward her, passing Kelly, who
Which Tod did, and when he was finished, said, “And that’s the truth of it, so what do you think?”
“That it was just bad luck. It was pure chance that sent them to Cazalet’s house, and pure chance that Dillon made the connection to the two of you.”
“One hell of a coincidence,” Tod said.
“Chance, Mr. Flynn—life is, in many ways, ruled by it. Of course, sometimes it’s fate. It wasn’t by chance that your father was Sean Dillon’s uncle. There’s something almost karmic about it.”
Kelly intervened again. “We’ve no time for all this shite. What do we do when Ferguson and his crew turn up here?”
“Wrong question,” the Master told him. “It should be, What can they do? There’s no evidence the attack even took place, and Cazalet’s walking around as if nothing had happened. So what can they do to you? It’s rather amusing when you think of it, Ferguson couldn’t even get you arrested.” Somewhere in his background was an unmistakable sound.
At that, Hannah erupted from Fancy’s stall and took a few steps toward them, leaning heavily on her walking stick.
“There’s nothing amusing about it, because I’ve heard everything.”
Kelly tried to grab her, and she slashed the walking stick across his shoulders. Tod dropped the phone on the table and caught her as she tried to get past him to the door.
“It’s all right, Hannah love, I’ll handle it.”
“It’s not and you won’t.” She shook her head. “I don’t know who this Master of yours is, Uncle Tod, but I’ve heard enough to recognize an evil bastard when I hear one.” She raised her voice. “A bastard who lives in London! You should keep your window closed. Everybody knows the sound of Big Ben.”
She pulled away from him and returned to the other end of the stable, leaning heavily on her stick, and disappeared into Fancy’s stall. Kelly watched her go, then picked up the mobile and handed it over.
“Are you still there?” Tod asked.
The Master replied calmly, “Do we have a problem with your niece?”
“No, I promise you. Since the car bomb that took her parentsfour years ago, pain has been her constant companion. She’s stressed about it, and now this. I’ll take care of it.”
“Such sentimentality comes rather late in the day from a man who has been responsible for as many deaths as you have. But it’s understandable, considering there are those who think the bomb which killed her parents and crippled her was meant for you.”
Tod said gravely, “There was always that possibility.”
“Not in this case, Mr. Flynn. In fact, I know the names of the two men who set that bomb.”
Tod was very still. “And what must I do for those names?”
“Dillon told you he’d be coming within the next few days. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Gideon woman and possibly even Ferguson himself came with him. Those people have been a running sore in al-Qaeda’s side for long enough. I’m sure a man of your expertise, and Kelly’s, can find a way to dispose of them one way or another.”
Kelly shook his head. “The man’s crazed, Tod.”
“Not at all,” the Master said. “I happen to know that at the back of Drumgoole Place, at the foot of the mountain, is a bog—the Bog of Salam, isn’t that what they call it? According to legend, it could swallow a regiment.”
“And it could swallow you,” Kelly told him.
“Or Hannah Flynn. I trust we’re clear on that. Now, Ferguson and company, can I tempt you?”
Tod’s face was bone white, eyes dark. “Not in a million years. But I’ll tell you what I will do. Never leave Hannah’s side for a moment, as long as you walk this earth. And I’m keeping your money. So to hell with you, Master-whoever-you-are, and bring it on as soon as you like.”
He switched off, slipped the phone into his pocket, turned and found Hannah, standing outside Fancy’s stall, face tearstained. He walked toward her, passing Kelly, who
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