“God save the good work,” Dillon said and
waited.’ Ferguson ignored him and the Irishman laughed. “God Save you kindly is the correct answer to that, Brigadier.”
Ferguson sat back. “I am well aware that as a boy you went to the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, Dillon. I am well aware that you actually acted with the National Theatre.”
“Lyngstrand in The Lady from the Sea. Ibsen that was,” Dillon reminded him.
“Until you decided to take up the theater of the street for the IRA. As my mother, God rest her, was Irish, I do my best-to understand you, but your constant role of the stage Irishman proves wearisome.”
“God save us, Your Honor, but I’ll try to mend ‘my ways.”
“For God’s sake, be serious. You’re leaving me with egg on my face because of this ridiculous bet with Carter±You know how much the Intelligence Service hates our very existence. They’d like nothing better than to make me look a fool in front of the Prime Minister.”
“Don’t I know that?” Dillon said. “That’s why I thought I’d make Carter look the fool.”
Feiguson frowned. “Are you seriously telling me
you think you can?”
“Of course.”
The Brigadier frowned. “Where have you been?
It’s almost noon.”
“I had a hard night preparing the way, so to speak.”
“You wouldn’t want to know,” Dillon said. “But one thing I’ll promise you. The next time you’ll see me will be at ten-thirty tomorrow morning on the Terrace together with the President of the United States and the Prime Minister.”
Ferguson sat back staring at him. “My God, Sean, you actualll( think you can do it?”
“I know I can, Brigadier, and watch yourself. You just called me Sean.”
“Are you going to tell me how?”
“ASpects of it are so illegal that it’s better you shouldn’t know. I’ll discuss it with this good-looking woman here if I can take her to lunch.”
Ferguson laughed in spite of himself. “Oh, go on, you rogue. Get out of here, but if it costs me five hundred pounds it comes out of your salary.”
They returned to Hannah’s office. She said, “You really think you can PUll it off?.”
“Nothin is impossible t :the great Dillon. A magician, that s what British {ntelligence called me in
the great days in Ulster. They never laid hands on me once, Hannah, your lot. The master of disguise. Did I tell you about the time I dressed as a woman?”
“I don’t want to know this, Dillon, because if I do, I have to consider how many you killed.”
“Fighting a war, Hannah, that’% what I was doing, but that was then and this is now. Get your coat and we’ll away. I am right about Jewish people? No shellfish, but you can eat smoked salmon?”
“Of course. Why?” “Good. Knag champagne, scrambled eggs, and smoked salmon, the best in town.” “But where?'” He held her coat for her. “Jesus, girl, but will you stop asking all these questions?”
HE TOOK HER TO THE PIANO BAR AT THE Dorchester, the best in London with its magnificent mirrored ceiling, was greeted by the.manager as an old friend, and led to a booth. Dillon ordered his usual, Krug champagne non-vintage and scrambled eggs, smoked salmon, and a salad for both of them.
“God, but you live well, Dillon,” she said.
“That’s an Armani suit you’re wearing and you can afford these prices.” “I’m still trying to spend some of that six hundred thousand pounds I got out of Michael Aroun for failing to blow up the Prime Minister and the War Cabinet at NumlSiSr Ten during the Gulf War.” “You’ve no shame, have you? None at all?” “Why pretend? It” what I was and it’s what I am.
The same man, Hannah my love, and times you’ve been glad of it.” The ehampagne came, was opened, and poured. He toasted her. “To the best-looking policeman in London.” “That kind of flattery gets you nowhere. Now tell me what’s going on.”
WHEN HE WAS FINISHED, SHE GAZED AT HIM IN horror. “You used me, you used privileged police
intelligence to get a notorious gangster and his’ men off the hook?” “He’s not such a bad old stick.” Dillon sipped some champagne. “And I needed him.” ‘:How could you do such a thing?