to Frensham. We’ve got four planes parked there. I think I’ll use the Beech Baron.’
‘I haven’t flown in that,’ she said.
‘A new acquisition. Twin engine, can carry six, and it takes off and lands on grass, so I’ll be able to land at Drumgoole Aero Club. No need to feel down, Mum. I’ll be with you later in the afternoon.’
‘All I can say is, thank God, darling.’
‘See you soon.’ He switched off, leaving her there on the track, suddenly unbelievably happy.
4
After dropping Dillon off at Holland Park, Miller had continued on to Dover Street and got some sleep. Since his wife’s murder the previous year, in a bomb attack aimed at Miller himself, he had lived alone, managing with just a daily housekeeper, a Jamaican widow named Lily Pond, who saw Miller as a tragic figure who needed mothering.
Miller was in his study, working on the stack of mail, when his Codex sounded and Ferguson said, ‘The Prime Minister’s decided he wants you with me.’
‘Can I ask why?’
‘I don’t know, Harry. I suppose he wants your opinion as well as mine. You are known in the House as the PrimeMinister’s Rottweiler. So, get your arse down here doublequick.’
‘Twenty minutes,’ Miller said, and called Arthur to get the car.
He found Ferguson sitting outside the PM’s study in conversation with Cabinet Secretary Henry Frankel, a good friend to Miller in bad times.
‘You’re looking fit, Harry.’ He shook hands. ‘So you’ve been visiting the great man himself in Washington?’
‘If you say so, Henry,’ Miller answered.
‘I know the General thinks I’m a terrible gossip, but it’s not true, love. Let’s face it, all the world’s secrets flow through here.’
‘Yes, well, save them for your memoirs,’ Ferguson told him. ‘Do we go in now?’
‘Of course, now that Harry’s arrived.’ Frankel crossed the corridor and opened the door.
‘I’ve examined all the material your Major Roper has put together,’ the PM said, ‘and I’m not surprised the President was so disturbed.’
‘We all are, Prime Minister,’ Ferguson told him. ‘I believe it to be one of the gravest matters I’ve put before you for some time.’
The Prime Minister was obviously concerned, and turned to Miller. ‘What do you think?’
‘I’d say it’s a small number of people we’re talking about, British Muslims in Afghanistan. But it’s a pattern all over the world, isn’t it, Islamic extremism? There is a Muslim saying: Beauty is like a flag in the city.’
The PM nodded. ‘The green flag of Islam flying over Downing Street?’
‘Flying over a damn sight more than that,’ Ferguson said. ‘I’d say we’ve got to do something about it.’
‘I agree.’ The PM nodded. ‘But individual young Muslim men buying a plane ticket to Pakistan is one thing, a system that facilitates this is quite another. Does such an organization exist? That’s what we need to find out. The man who calls himself Shamrock could be the key here. Find him and we may be able to discover the rest.’
‘Of course, Prime Minister.’ Ferguson got up, as did Miller. ‘We’ll get on with it.’
The door opened and they left, passing Henry Frankel, who stood to one side and winked at Miller. Both their limousines were waiting outside.
Miller said, ‘Where do we start then?’
Ferguson glanced at his watch. It was noon exactly. ‘I could use a drink. Tell Fox to deliver you to the Garrick Club.’
‘The Garrick?’ Miller was surprised. ‘I thought you were a member of the Cavalry Club.’
‘Of course, but everybody likes the Garrick; all those actors and writers and so on. It makes a difference from matters military. I’ll see you in the bar.’
* * *
Justin Talbot went straight to his mother’s house at Marley Court to unpack and get a change of clothes. He had just come out of the shower when his mobile sounded. He answered and found himself speaking to the Preacher.
‘Good to hear from
‘I haven’t flown in that,’ she said.
‘A new acquisition. Twin engine, can carry six, and it takes off and lands on grass, so I’ll be able to land at Drumgoole Aero Club. No need to feel down, Mum. I’ll be with you later in the afternoon.’
‘All I can say is, thank God, darling.’
‘See you soon.’ He switched off, leaving her there on the track, suddenly unbelievably happy.
4
After dropping Dillon off at Holland Park, Miller had continued on to Dover Street and got some sleep. Since his wife’s murder the previous year, in a bomb attack aimed at Miller himself, he had lived alone, managing with just a daily housekeeper, a Jamaican widow named Lily Pond, who saw Miller as a tragic figure who needed mothering.
Miller was in his study, working on the stack of mail, when his Codex sounded and Ferguson said, ‘The Prime Minister’s decided he wants you with me.’
‘Can I ask why?’
‘I don’t know, Harry. I suppose he wants your opinion as well as mine. You are known in the House as the PrimeMinister’s Rottweiler. So, get your arse down here doublequick.’
‘Twenty minutes,’ Miller said, and called Arthur to get the car.
He found Ferguson sitting outside the PM’s study in conversation with Cabinet Secretary Henry Frankel, a good friend to Miller in bad times.
‘You’re looking fit, Harry.’ He shook hands. ‘So you’ve been visiting the great man himself in Washington?’
‘If you say so, Henry,’ Miller answered.
‘I know the General thinks I’m a terrible gossip, but it’s not true, love. Let’s face it, all the world’s secrets flow through here.’
‘Yes, well, save them for your memoirs,’ Ferguson told him. ‘Do we go in now?’
‘Of course, now that Harry’s arrived.’ Frankel crossed the corridor and opened the door.
‘I’ve examined all the material your Major Roper has put together,’ the PM said, ‘and I’m not surprised the President was so disturbed.’
‘We all are, Prime Minister,’ Ferguson told him. ‘I believe it to be one of the gravest matters I’ve put before you for some time.’
The Prime Minister was obviously concerned, and turned to Miller. ‘What do you think?’
‘I’d say it’s a small number of people we’re talking about, British Muslims in Afghanistan. But it’s a pattern all over the world, isn’t it, Islamic extremism? There is a Muslim saying: Beauty is like a flag in the city.’
The PM nodded. ‘The green flag of Islam flying over Downing Street?’
‘Flying over a damn sight more than that,’ Ferguson said. ‘I’d say we’ve got to do something about it.’
‘I agree.’ The PM nodded. ‘But individual young Muslim men buying a plane ticket to Pakistan is one thing, a system that facilitates this is quite another. Does such an organization exist? That’s what we need to find out. The man who calls himself Shamrock could be the key here. Find him and we may be able to discover the rest.’
‘Of course, Prime Minister.’ Ferguson got up, as did Miller. ‘We’ll get on with it.’
The door opened and they left, passing Henry Frankel, who stood to one side and winked at Miller. Both their limousines were waiting outside.
Miller said, ‘Where do we start then?’
Ferguson glanced at his watch. It was noon exactly. ‘I could use a drink. Tell Fox to deliver you to the Garrick Club.’
‘The Garrick?’ Miller was surprised. ‘I thought you were a member of the Cavalry Club.’
‘Of course, but everybody likes the Garrick; all those actors and writers and so on. It makes a difference from matters military. I’ll see you in the bar.’
* * *
Justin Talbot went straight to his mother’s house at Marley Court to unpack and get a change of clothes. He had just come out of the shower when his mobile sounded. He answered and found himself speaking to the Preacher.
‘Good to hear from
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