THE MOMENT THE sound of the Daimler had faded into the distance, Sara said, “It won’t be a very big party, though. My grandfather left for Israel yesterday, and Kate Munro and her aunt are still down in Sussex. So I have just Hannah and Sadie.”
“And Giles, Daniel, and me,” Dillon said. “And to show you we all love you, Daniel and I will take care of dropping Hannah off at college and carry on to see Tad and Larry Magee.”
“I’ve kept telling you all,” Hannah said. “It’s half term. I don’t have any classes. However, I’d be happy to see the Magees again.”
“I thought they might like to come to the party.”
“So we’ll go and ask,” Hannah said. “And see you lot later. Come on, Sean.”
As they turned out into the main road in the Mini, Dillon said, “What do you think you are, a marriage broker or something?”
“So Sara and Daniel were once an item.” Hannah shrugged. “Nothing wrong with trying to help a friend.”
—
THEY TURNED OUT of Park Lane into Curzon Street and paused for the gates to swing open. Tad opened the door to them, smiling. “What a surprise. Larry’s going to be delighted.” He kissed Hannah on the cheeks. “Molly’s gone home to Ulster. The funeral of an old girlfriend.”
They went through to the conservatory, where Larry dropped his newspaper, forced himself up, and embraced Hannah.
“You’re still giving college your full attention, I hope?”
She grinned. “Well . . . most of the time.”
Dillon said, “She lends us the occasional hand.”
“But surely Hannah has got better things to do.”
“Than fire a pistol?” Dillon shrugged. “There was a stupid boy waiting to blow my head off the other day in the depths of Sussex. She went in the back door and shot his weapon right off the table.”
“When she should have been playing Bach,” Tad said.
Hannah grinned. “Or Cole Porter. Now, if you’ll point me toward the kitchen, I’ll make us all a pot of Irish tea while Sean tells you why we’re here.”
When she brought the tea back, the matter had already been discussed, and as she poured, Hannah said, “General Ferguson is the one who suggested the Salters’ place. I think it’s for a special reason, but I’m not going to speculate.”
“You’ve got me wondering now,” Dillon said.
Tad laughed. “All very intriguing, so we’ll be there if only to find out what it’s all about.”
“We’ll see,” Hannah said. “But would it be all right for me to inquire how things are at Drumore House? My visit there was pretty remarkable.”
“You’ll be interested to know that Eli’s proved an impregnable wall where Finbar is concerned. The big man has grown even bigger, in a way. Since I transferred ownership to him to keep it in the family but out of Finbar’s grasp, Eli has become more than able to control Finbar.”
“And the legend of the Maria Blanco?” Hannah asked.
“Hugh Tulley, the IRA chief of staff for County Down, is still alive, but the original story is still the same, and the whereabouts of the boat itself a mystery.”
“We have to accept that there’s no answer,” Dillon said.
“Or there’s something so simple that it is eluding all of us?” Hannah said.
“Well, I’m damned if I know what it might be,” Tad declared.
Dillon got up. “We’ll see you at the party, but now duty calls. If the Master tries it on with you again, let me know. We can compare notes.”
—
ROPER WAS ALONE when they returned to the computer room, Sara and Holley having gone off for a drive around the countryside.
“Are the Magees coming?” he asked.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Hannah said. “Have you spoken to the Salters?”
“Not yet, but I thought we’d call round this evening to the Dark Man. With any luck, Dora’s hot pot will be on,” Roper told her.
“That suits me,” Dillon said. “I’ll take you in the back of the van. What time?”
“Let’s say seven. I bet Sara and Daniel will join us,” Hannah said.
“That’s fine. Now I’ll give myself an hour in the steam room. I suggest you sit down at the dining-room piano for an hour, Hannah. Half term or not, you need to practice.”
—
GEORGE MOON HAD BEEN AWAKENED early by the drumming of heavy rain on the cabin roof of his motor launch, the Moonglow. The heating system had packed up, and when Moon rolled over, he realized his bedclothes were damp.
Cursing, he got out of bed, searching drawers for fresh clothes, his wardrobe for a decent suit, a small insignificant man scrabbling for his steel spectacles that had fallen to the floor in the night. As he straightened, Moon’s mobile buzzed again.
“Who the hell is this?” he demanded.
“You sound annoyed, Mr. Moon,” the Master told him.
“On a morning like this, the London waterfront is not exactly the Riviera. Most uncomfortable.” Moon hesitated, his door open to the deck, and told himself to stay calm. “What do you want?”
“To remind you that only a few days ago I deposited seventy-five thousand pounds in your bank account.”
Moon took a deep breath. “Yes, I remember, so again, what do you want?”
“Some civility, you nasty little man, or I promise you’ll regret it. So struggle up the steps from the pier, knock on the door of the pub, and talk to your disgusting cousin Harold, who I expect to put to work for me tomorrow night. And remember this: For the kind of money I’m paying, I suspect Harold would be happy to dispose of you in the Thames, too.”
Which was undoubtedly true. Moon took comfort in the fact that he had an original Walther PPK loaded for action in a hidden drawer of the old Victorian desk in his cabin. He quickly checked that it was still there, then went out into the heavy drizzle, put up his umbrella, and mounted the steps to the pub, where Harold opened the door.
“There you are. I thought I’d lost you.” Moon noticed he seemed a trifle strained. “Dirty morning. You get in and I’ll see to your usual.”
“The Master called,” Moon said. “He wants to speak to both of us.”
“Really?” Harold said, and his tone made it plain to Moon that something odd was going on, and it put him on high alert and even more grateful for the Walther in the desk drawer.
Moon’s mobile buzzed, and the Master said, “To business. Harry and Billy Salter are hosting a birthday party at their restaurant, Harry’s Place, the night after tomorrow.”
“I like it,” Harold said. “I’ve got a few scores to settle with the Salters. Do you want us to smash them up?”
The Master said, “No, something more subtle. Get a gang of young villains to frighten the hell out of them. Shake them up a bit. And one thing more. I understand that Harry Salter’s proud of the Linda Jones, an old Victorian Thames boat he’s spent thousands renovating. He keeps it on the end of the jetty outside the Dark Man. Sink it.”
“I could sail up there in the inflatable,” Harold said. “I’d love to see the bastard’s face when it goes down. The Thames is forty feet deep off that jetty. And since you mentioned the young villains before, I’ve already put together a posse of very bad lads indeed,” he added. “They’ll be led by a guy named Barry McGuire, who got ten for manslaughter and was released after five—which was a big mistake from society’s point of view.”
“And you?” the Master inquired.
“I’ll be visiting the Linda Jones in the inflatable.”
Moon asked, “Is Harold’s plan to your liking?”
“Certainly,” the Master said. “In fact, it would seem to cover everything except you, who don’t seem to be doing very much.”
“I drive the inflatable. It’s the same type used by the River Police and rather complicated for Harold, but not for me. You forgot to mention that, Harold.”
“All right, then,” the Master said. “Get to work. There will be a fifty-thousand-pound bonus for wrecking the party and sinking the boat. Nothing for failure,” and he switched off.
There was silence for a moment, and then Harold said, “We’re in the money here all right.”
“So it would appear,” Moon said. “In fact, it all looks too easy.”
“You worry too much,” Harold said. “Just leave it to me.”
—
IT WAS SEVEN-THIRTY when Dillon drove up to the Dark Man in the people carrier, Hannah, Sara, and Holley up in front, Roper in his wheelchair in the rear with the hydraulic lift that lowered him to the ground.
There were lights along the jetty to the Linda Jones tied up at the end. Looking across the Thames was always a pleasure, with Big Ben and Parliament in the distance and the sudden fast charge past of a riverboat ablaze with lights.
They went into the Dark Man and sat in their usual corner booth, joining Harry and Billy. Joe Baxter and Sam Hall, Harry’s minders, kept an eye on things from the bar. Roper, with hair hanging almost to his shoulders these days, sat in his wheelchair like some medieval king with his bomb-scarred face.
Harry called, “Dora, my love, those two bleeders at the bar can stick to their beer. Cristal for us. Will there be enough hot pot to go around?”
“If not, there’s lovely chops or a really nice salmon.”
“Dora, you’re a treasure,” Sara told her.
“Well, you’ve got to be to get any respect around here.”
“Bloody nonsense,” Harry said, “but never mind that. I couldn’t be more pleased to get the booking for your birthday, Sara, just surprised it came from Ferguson. I never considered him a sentimentalist.”
“Hannah thinks there’s something going on. It’s not just her birthday. She’ll be celebrating fifteen years in the army,” Roper told him.
“Well, that sounds like a bleeding sentence to me,” Harry said. “Here’s to you, Sara. Any special guests?”
“The Magee brothers,” Hannah announced.
“God help us,” Harry said to Billy. “We’ll have to put our good suits on, but seriously, I’ve got nothing but respect for those two.”
“And distaste for their father,” Hannah said. “Who can go to hell as soon as he likes. Implied I was a crippled tart so I pushed the barrel of my Colt into his mouth and splintered his teeth.”
“My God,” Harry said. “I must remember not to offend you.”
Hannah said to Billy, “How is Hasim these days?”
“He’s really come on, learning to crew the inflatable. It’s the same type the River Police use, so it’s quite technical, but he’s really taken to it. Hasim’s mother died and Dora never had a son, but she does now, a beautiful Muslim Cockney, and she adores him. Thinks I’m teaching him bad ways.”
“And you are?” Hannah asked.
“Dammit all, I’m in MI5, Hannah, got my warrant card just like you,” Billy told her.
“Enough said.” She burst into laughter, and then the door banged open and Hasim walked in, his naval storm coat streaming with rain, and he pulled back his hood, ignored the group in the corner booth, and went behind the bar and stood talking to Dora. He was obviously excited, and she glanced across, then pushed him into the back room.
Harry said, “See what’s going on, Billy.”
Billy did, following them into the back room, finally emerging with Hasim, whom he brought across. “Tell Harry what you told me.”
Hasim said, “Do you remember my friend Caspar Hassan, Mr. Salter?”
“Yes, I do. A third-rate petty thief who specialized in breaking into old folks’ houses. They gave him eighteen months and he deserved more.”
“He’s going straight now.”
“Don’t make me laugh. He’ll be a thief till the day he dies.”
To everyone’s shock, Billy took his uncle on. “Just shut up, Harry, and let the kid talk. It’s important.”
Harry scowled. “Well, it better be good.”
“Oh, it is,” Billy said. “And I’ve not even heard the half of it.”
“Well, come on then,” Harry said. “Just put us all out of our misery, for God’s sake. What’s the story?”
“I was at Wally’s looking for somebody to try a few rounds with in the ring. I go in now and then when I’ve got time.”
“I know, young punks pretending to be hard men. I’ve told you before, you’re better than that trash.”
“Okay, but it was different tonight. This old geezer called George Moon was there. A right creepy specimen, believe me, and he had his cousin with him, an oaf named Harold who really did believe he was the terror of the neighborhood. He got in the ring with me once; told me not to worry, he’d go easy on me because I was a Muslim.”
“The bastard,” Dora said.
“So what did you do?” Harry asked.
“Knocked him down, so he said he’d slipped and got out.”
“Bravo,” Harry said. “But where is this leading?”
“Moon and his cousin were recruiting a posse to make trouble at the party.”
“You’re sure about this?” Billy asked.
“I know what the plan is because Caspar told me. They intend to turn our customers over in the car park. There was a lot of drink taken and loose talk, and this stupid idiot Harold was boasting away. Said there was plenty of money in it because they were doing it for a man called the Master, who was very rich, and Moon told him to shut his mouth.”
There was silence for a moment, and Roper said, “How did you fit in to all this? Didn’t it occur to these people that you would warn Harry?”
“The only person who knew I worked for Harry was Caspar, and whatever you think, he’s going to stay quiet. He’s just another Muslim to these guys, like me, the Muslim Cockney with a brown face, always despised by those kind of people, but there’s stuff I haven’t told you yet. Make your mind up if you want to know, because I want to sit down and eat.”
“Go on then, tell us the worst,” Harry said. “Burn down the Dark Man?”
“No, all those fire engines would make too much fuss. They’ve got a big inflatable like we have, the same model as the River Police. The word is that Harold is useless with it, but Moon is a dab hand.”
“That pompous idiot,” Billy said. “I find that hard to believe. What’s his intention?”
“To sink the Linda Jones.”
Harry’s face seemed to change completely, dark with astonished anger. “He’s what?”
“Like I said, his target is the boat according to that stupid ponce Harold. He said you’d been king of the river long enough and it was time someone put you in your place.” Hasim shrugged. “I’m sorry, but according to Caspar, that’s what Harold was saying.”
“Put me in my place?” Harold said. “I’ll crush him like a maggot, him and his miserable cousin. I’ll destroy them.”
Hannah jumped straight in. “No, you won’t Harry. We’re all going to consider this carefully at a council of war. But in the meantime, Hasim isn’t the only one who’s hungry.”
Harry gave a great barking laugh, and said to Dora, “What a girl, putting me in my place when I needed it. I knew she was trouble the first time I met her on that horse farm of hers.”
—
THE MEAL WAS AS GOOD AS USUAL, Dora made to blush with the compliments, and then they got down to business over tea and coffee.
“We need a plan of campaign,” Hannah said, as Dora was pouring. “First of all, do we still have the party?”
“If we don’t,” Dillon said, “it means these sods have won and I’m not having that.” He turned to Holley. “What do you think?”
“All this aggro in the car park doesn’t worry me. Moon won’t hand out pistols to his young thugs—too dangerous—so I don’t see them as a problem, not with all of us ready for them.”
“Fine,” Hannah said. “This leaves us the Linda Jones.”
“I’ll take care of that,” Billy said. “Moon’s old motor launch is chained to the jetty. I’ll take some bolt cutters from our workshop and slice through the chains easy as butter. Sinking that launch would be a cinch. Hasim will help with the inflatable.”
“Now that I like,” Harry said. “What a clever sod you are, Billy.”
“So I guess the party is on,” Sara said. “Is it private, or do we keep the place open? It’s your restaurant, Harry.”
Dillon said, “I don’t think we should risk the safety of any bystanders just in case the Master has something else up his sleeve.”
“Pure evil,” Hannah said. “A few days ago at Holland Park, a suitcase was delivered for President Cazalet and it turned out to be a bomb. Major Roper sat in his wheelchair in the rain with Staff Sergeant Doyle holding an umbrella over him, and he defused it. And a girlfriend and I were stalked to her home by a killer hired by the Master to rape and murder us. While he was trying to throttle me, my friend managed to shoot him dead. The Master boasted on his mobile of having been responsible.”
There was a silence for a while, then Sara said, “Harry, I think we’ll make it a private party. Is that okay with you?”
“Absolutely.”
“And the aggravation the Moons are going to cause?”
“Bring it on!”
—
WHEN THE BIRTHDAY EVENING rolled around, Hannah wore the fabulous black silk Givenchy evening suit that Sara had bought her when they plundered Harrods one day. A black-ribbed shoulder bag complemented it, perfect to carry her Colt .25 and spare ammo.
When she appeared, Sara was in black, too. “My goodness, we look like sisters.”
“Well, I think of myself as your younger sister.”
“Which I never had, but now I do. So, as your big sister, let me check you over. Are you carrying?”
“Of course.”
“And your bulletproof vest?”
“Every girl should have one,” Hannah said.
“Then let’s get moving.”
—
THEY RENDEZVOUSED AT HOLLAND PARK and were surprised to find Roper resplendent in a black-velvet jacket, Victorian-style, his long hair tied with a bow, a silk scarf at his neck. Tony Doyle, in dress uniform, was pouring a glass of Cristal.
“My goodness, Giles, you look like Oscar Wilde come back to haunt us.”
He raised his glass. “And you two look absolutely smashing. Happy birthday, Sara.”
They went to give him a kiss, and Dillon and Holley entered, both wearing black tie. “What about us?” Dillon demanded.
“Wonderful,” Sara told them. “You look like gangsters in an old Cagney movie. Now have a drink and then, since everybody’s here now, we’ll be off.”
Dillon noted, “They say it’ll be raining later on. That should be uncomfortable for all those thugs Moon has taken on.”
“Well, bad cess to him, as we say in Ireland,” Hannah announced. “And let the battle begin.”
—
GEORGE MOON ALREADY had the light on in the cabin of the Moonglow at the jetty below the old pub. He had changed into a Harris Tweed suit against the penetrating dampness of the Thames evening, and the sound of rain tapping against the roof gave little hope of any improvement.
In his wardrobe, he pushed a couple of suits and some hanging shirts to one side and opened a cupboard, which revealed a small safe stuffed with packets of banknotes. He took one out, a thousand pounds in twenties, and slipped it into his breast pocket. As he moved to find a raincoat, his mobile buzzed.
The Master said, “Just checking in. It’s a foul old evening out there. I hope it doesn’t keep the customers away.”
“There won’t be any,” Moon said. “The sign outside says it’s a private party, so it’ll be just them. Twelve or fourteen people at the most.”
For once, the Master exploded. “That wasn’t what I intended. I wanted much more damage than that!”
Moon was beginning to get weary. “Look, the bad weather isn’t my fault, or the small dinner party. Besides, Barry McGuire has been in touch. Only eight or ten men have turned up. He’s parked an old bus beside the river just beyond the restaurant and is awaiting orders, but they won’t hang around long. This isn’t what they signed up for.”
“And not what I’ve paid for,” the Master told him.
This surprised Moon because, in a way, it showed a weakness in the man that was almost childish, so he said patiently, “There’s nothing to be done about the weather, but we can still do some damage to the partygoers. More important, no one expects Harold and me in police waterproofs belting along the river and doing the dirty on the Linda Jones.”
The Master was more in control now. “Deeds, not words, Mr. Moon, that’s what I expect. I’ve invested a great deal of money in you, and it’ll be not just me but also al-Qaeda you will have disappointed if you don’t get the job done.”
“The Linda Jones goes down; you have my word on that,” Moon said.
“If it doesn’t, you’re dead.”
The mobile clicked off; Moon shivered, stomach hollow, and sat down to think about it, then called McGuire on his mobile. “How many have you got in the bus now?”
“Only seven; the rest have jumped ship. What do you want me to do?”
“I’m not letting this opportunity pass. Give it half an hour, then drive the bus into the courtyard of the restaurant and draw them out. There’s only a handful in there. Rough them up good.”
“This is becoming a bad joke,” McGuire said.
“Nobody’s laughing, McGuire. You’re getting paid, so get to work.”
The door opened and Harold entered wearing yellow oilskins.
“We set?”
“Oh, sure,” Moon said. “Let’s see. I’ve just had the Master on, full of threats. The whole thing is a cock-up because Salter made the birthday party private and closed the place to outsiders. It’s pissing down rain. Oh, and if the Linda Jones doesn’t sink, we’re dead. How’s that?”
“Oh, stop whining. Put your waterproofs on, you git. Run me up to the Dark Man, and I’ll sink the Linda Jones for you,” and Harold turned and went out.
—
AT THE DARK MAN, they were getting ready to leave for Harry’s Place. Dora looked very dapper, her blond hair fresh from the beauty salon, pearls at her neck, wearing a knee-length black dress and pumps.
“You look the business, girl,” Salter said, and kissed her cheek.
“Why, Harry, I didn’t know you cared,” she told him. “And I’ve never seen you look smarter.”
“Well, I would in a monkey suit, girl,” he said to her, and as Joe Baxter and Sam Hall also wore black tie, added, “We look like Al Capone and some of his boys on a bad night out.”
At that moment, Billy and Hasim emerged from the storeroom behind the bar wearing black wet suits and cowls.
Dora said, “I don’t like this at all. He’s only a young lad.”
“I’m as good as Billy driving that police inflatable,” Hasim said.
“And so he is,” Billy told her. “He’s not going in guns blazing, but he’s there to pick me up quickly if I end up in the river. I trust him completely.”
“The really great thing about this is that they haven’t got the slightest idea that we know about their intention to sink the Linda Jones. They’re coming upriver to find the pub in darkness and easy prey.” Harry smiled. “But it’s Moon and Harold who’ll be the prey.”
“And afterward, you get straight on up to Harry’s Place,” Dora said, putting an arm around Hasim and kissing him.
“For God’s sake, leave the lad alone, Dora,” Harry told her.
He gave his nephew a brief hug. “Take care, Billy, come back safe and try not to kill anybody this time.”
They drove away, and Billy and Hasim stood there holding flood lamps dipped to the ground, rain bouncing off their wet suits.
Hasim asked, “What now?”
“Follow me and I’ll show you,” Billy said, and led the way along the jetty to where the Linda Jones was tied up.
He stepped over the stern rail under the canopy, followed by Hasim; opened the saloon door; and reached for the switch. Light came on under the stern canopy, and it was strangely comforting with the rain drifting down.
“We’ll wait for them here,” Billy said. “Not with the lights on, of course.”
He switched off and gazed down the river, lights winking in the distance, and Hasim said, “Are you sure they will come?”
“Absolutely,” Billy told him. “Nothing has ever been more certain.”