Sean Dillon 07 - The White House Connection by Jack Higgins

Author:Jack Higgins
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3
Published: 2011-02-08T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nine

DILLON, IN THE office at ten o'clock, woke Blake in bed at five a.m. in Washington.

'For God's sake, Sean, look at the time!'

'I'm doing you a favour, Blake. My story is better than the midnight movie. You'll come dangerously alive, go down to the kitchen in your track suit, drink fresh orange juice and contemplate a five-mile run.'

'Like hell I will.'

'Just listen.'

When Dillon was finished, Blake said, 'God help us, it gets worse.'

'Don't tell me. I'll keep in touch,' and Dillon rang off".

Lady Helen Lang jogged through Hyde Park. It was ten-thirty the following morning. She sat on a bench by the pond and rested. She wasn't breathless, she felt fine. The prospect of the evening at the Dorchester was strangely like going into battle. She was determined on her course of action, no question of that. It was fitting that Cohan should go the same way as the rest of the club. She was realistic enough to realize that the prospect of ever facing Jack Barry or the Connection just wasn't likely. However, she would have exacted a considerable amount of justice, as she saw it. It would comfort her next time she placed flowers on her son's monument.

Her name was called and she looked up and saw Hedley walking towards her. 'Thought I'd see how you were getting on.'

'That was nice of you.' She stood up and suddenly was struggling for breath. She clutched her chest, then sat down again, fumbled for the plastic bottle of pills in her pocket and dropped it.

He picked it up, and sat beside her and opened it. 'Is it bad?'

She lied, of course. 'No, no, I was just a little dizzy for a moment.' He passed her two pills in his palm. She picked them up and swallowed them down. 'That's better.'

'This ain't good, Lady Helen.'

She patted his knee. 'A nice cup of tea and I can go on for ever, Hedley. Now take me across to the cafe.'

They stood up and she took his arm.

In his office at the Ministry of Defence, Ferguson was going over the previous night's events with Hannah Bernstein and Dillon.

'What a load of male macho nonsense,' Hannah said, outraged. 'And at your age, Brigadier.'

Ferguson, who was wearing an elastic bandage on his gun hand, said, 'I stand corrected, Chief Inspector.'

'God, but you look grand when you're angry, girl,' Dillon told her. 'The eyes sparkle and there's a flush to the cheeks.'

'Oh, go to hell,' she said. 'It should have been a major anti-terrorist squad operation. If the place had been flooded with armed officers, we'd have had him. One of the most wanted Irish terrorists.'

'We'd also have been on the front page of every tabloid newspaper and I didn't want that.' Ferguson told her. 'My decision.'

At that moment, the phone rang. His secretary said, 'Reception has a call from Ulster. A Jack Barry?'

Ferguson pressed his audio button so that Dillon and Hannah could hear the conversation. 'Jack Barry. Have them trace it.'

'They can't, Brigadier, it's a coded mobile,' his secretary said.

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