‘And how would you handle it, my friend?’ Hernu asked.
‘We know he worked in London for the IRA in nineteen eighty-one. As I told Mary, he must have used underworld contacts to supply his needs. He always does and it will be the same this time. That’s why I must see my old friend Harry Flood.’
‘Ah, yes, the redoubtable Mr Flood. Captain Tanner was telling me about him, but what if he can’t help?’
‘There’s another way. I have a friend in Ireland just outside Dublin at Kilrea, Liam Devlin. There’s nothing he doesn’t know about IRA history in the last few years and who did what. It’s a thought.’ He lit a cigarette and leaned back. ‘But I’ll get the bastard, one way or another. I’ll get him.’
The driver took them to the end of the Charles de Gaulle terminal where the private planes parked. The Lear was waiting on the tarmac. There was no formality. Everything had been arranged. The driver took their cases across to where the second pilot waited.
Hernu said, ‘Captain, if I may presume.’ He kissed Mary lightly on both cheeks. ‘And you, my friend.’ He held out his hand. ‘Always remember that when you set out on a journey with revenge at the end of it, it is necessary to first dig two graves.’
‘Philosophy now?’ Brosnan said. ‘And at your time of life? Goodbye, Colonel.’
They strapped themselves into their seats, the second pilot pulled up the stairs, locked the door and went and joined his companion in the cockpit.
‘Hernu is right, you know,’ Mary said.
‘I know he is,’ Brosnan answered. ‘But there’s nothing I can do about that.’
‘I understand, believe me, I do,’ she said as the plane rolled forward.
When Ferguson was shown into the study at Number Ten the Prime Minister was standing at the window drinking a cup of tea. He turned and smiled. ‘The cup that refreshes, Brigadier.’
‘They always say it was tea that got us through the war, Prime Minister.’
‘Well as long as it gets me through my present schedule. We’ve a meeting of the War Cabinet at ten every morning as you know, and all the other pressing matters to do with the Gulf.’
‘And the day-to-day running of the country,’ Ferguson said.
‘Yes, well we do our best. No one ever said politics was easy, Brigadier.’ He put down the cup. ‘I’ve read your latest report. You think it likely the man Dillon is here somewhere in London?’
‘From what he said to Brosnan, I think we must assume that, Prime Minister.’
‘You’ve alerted all branches of the security services?’
‘Of course, but we can’t put a face to him, you see. Oh, there’s the description. Small, fair-haired and so on, but as Brosnan says, he’ll look entirely different by now.’
‘It’s been suggested to me that perhaps some press coverage might be useful.’
Ferguson said, ‘Well, it’s a thought, but I doubt it would achieve anything. What could they say? In furtherance of an enquiry the police would like to contact a man named Sean Dillon who isn’t called that any more? As regards a description, we don’t know what he looks like and if we did, he wouldn’t look like that anyway.’
‘My goodness, you carried that off beautifully, Brigadier.’ The Prime Minister roared with laughter.
‘Of course there could be more lurid headlines. IRA jackal stalks the Prime Minister.’
‘No, I’m not having any of that nonsense,’ the Prime Minister said firmly. ‘By the way, as regards the suggestion that Saddam Hussein might be behind this affair, I must tell you your other colleagues in the intelligence services disagree. They are firmly of the opinion this is an IRA matter and I must tell you that is how they are pursuing it.’
‘Well, if Special Branch think they’ll find him by visiting Irish pubs in Kilburn, that’s their privilege.’
There was a knock at the door, an aide came in. ‘We’re due at the Savoy in fifteen minutes, Prime Minister.’
John Major smiled with great charm. ‘Another of those interminable luncheons, Brigadier. Prawn cocktail to start …’
‘And chicken salad to follow,’ Ferguson said.
‘Find him, Brigadier,’ the Prime Minister told him. ‘Find him for me,’ and the aide showed Ferguson out.
Tania, with good news for Dillon, knew there was no point in calling at the hotel before two so she went to her flat. As she was looking for her key in her handbag Gordon Brown crossed the road.
‘I was hoping I might catch you,’ he said.
‘For God’s sake, Gordon, you must be crazy.’
‘And what happens when something important comes up and you need to know? Can’t wait for you to get in touch. It might be too late, so I’d better come in, hadn’t I?’
‘You can’t. I’m due back at the Embassy in thirty minutes. I’ll have a drink with you, that’s all.’
She turned and walked down to the pub on the corner before he could argue. They sat in a corner of the snug which was empty, aware of the noise from the main bar. Brown had a beer and Tania a vodka and lime.
‘What have you got for me?’ she asked.
‘Shouldn’t the question be the other way about?’ She got up at once and he put a hand on her arm. ‘I’m sorry. Don’t go.’
‘Then behave yourself.’ She sat down again. ‘Now get on with it.’
‘Ferguson had a meeting with the Prime Minister just before twelve. He was back in the office at twelve-thirty before I finished the first half of my shift. He dictated a report to Alice Johnson, she’s one of the confidential typists who works with me. The report was for the file.’
‘Did you get a copy?’
‘No, but I did the same as last time. Took it along to his office for her and read it on the way. Captain Tanner stayed in Paris with Brosnan for the funeral of a French woman.’
‘Anne-Marie Audin?’ she prompted him.
‘They’re flying in today. Brosnan has promised full co-operation. Oh, all the other branches of the intelligence services have been notified about Dillon. No newspaper coverage on the PM’s instructions. The impression I got was he’s told Ferguson to get on with it.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘Very good, but you must stay on the case, Gordon. I have to go.’
She started to get up and he caught her wrist. ‘I saw you last night, about eleven it was, coming back to your flat with a man.’
‘You were watching my flat?’
‘I often do on my way home.’
Her anger was very real, but she restrained it. ‘Then if you were there you’ll know that the gentleman in question, a colleague from the Embassy, didn’t come in. He simply escorted me home. Now let me go, Gordon.’
She pulled free and walked out and Brown, thoroughly depressed, went to the bar and ordered another beer.
When she knocked on the door of Dillon’s room just after two he opened it at once. She brushed past him and went inside.
‘You look pleased with yourself,’ he said.
‘I should do.’
Dillon lit a cigarette. ‘Go on, tell me.’
‘First, I’ve had words with my mole at Group Four. Ferguson’s