Jack Higgins – Wrath of the Lion 1964 The wrath of the lion is the wisdom of God. WILLIAM BLAKE

“I see,” Hamish Grant said. “I take it he’s up to no good?”

“Very much so. His present activities are a direct threat to the interests of his own government and the fact that he’s seen fit to operate from British territory presents a serious complication. On top of that, we don’t like what he’s doing anyway.”

Hamish Grant smiled faintly. “How strange. Two great nations side by side through the centuries. We have our quarrels, but somehow they’re always in the family. The moment the chips are down we move in to help each other so fast it’s almost frightening.”

“Can I ask what happened to Van Sondergard?” Anne asked.

“I paid him double what you would have done and shipped him out.”

“And the incident on the wharf? That was arranged, too?”

He nodded. “It got a little out of hand. That’s why I had to get so rough. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not,” she said simply.

He reached out and touched her face and something glowed deep.in her eyes. Her hand went up, holding his against her cheek, and she turned her head, touching her lips to his cold palm. For a brief moment it was as if they were alone. As if the others had ceased to exist. It was Hamish Grant who broke the spell.

“I should imagine dry clothes should be the first step and you’ll need the car.”

“I’ll get it out of the garage,” Fiona said quickly.

She was standing at the side of Guymon’s chair. She smiled down at him, then went out through the French windows. Guyon got to his feet and he and Mallory followed Anne out of the room, leaving a trail of sea-water across the carpet.

She found dry socks, some old service slacks and a couple of heavy sweaters from Hamish Grant’s wardrobe and left the two men in his room to change. When they went down-stairs ten minutes later Jagbir was pouring coffee into cups arranged on a table beside the fire. Hamish Grant still sat in his chair, but there was no sign of the girls.

The little Gurkha offered them coffee, no visible excite-ment on his face, and the old man said: “There was a men-tion of possible trouble when you go down to the harbour. The violent sort, I presume. Are you armed?”

Guyon answered: “I had a revolver in the pocket of my reefer coat. I lost it coming through the surf.”

“You’ll find another in the top right-hand drawer of the desk behind you,” the old man said. “Half a box of cartridges somewhere at the back. There should be a Liiger there as well, but that’s already loaded.”

Guyon opened the drawer and came back, the revolver in one hand, the Liiger in the other. “You can have the Liiger,” the old man went on. Til keep the Webley myself, if you don’t mind.”

Guyon slipped the Liiger into his pocket and started to load the Webley. Anne and Fiona came in. They were both wearing heavy sheepskin coats and Anne was binding a scarf about her head, peasant-fashion.

She smiled at Mallory. “Ready when you are.”

He shook his head gently. “Not on your life. You stay right here.”

A slight crease appeared between her eyes and Fiona started to protest. Hamish Grant cut in sharply, “They’ll have enough to worry about without you two.”

Fiona turned to Anne, but her sister-in-law sighed and

shook her head. “He’s right, Fiona. We’d only be in the way.” She smiled up at Mallory. “So we sit and wait? How long for?”

“With any luck the whole thing should be wrapped up into a neat parcel by breakfast. And, I warn you, I’ll have an appetite.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

He touched her hand briefly and led the way out into the hall. The shooting brake was parked at the bottom of the steps, its engine ticking over, and he climbed behind the wheel and waited for Guyon. The young Frenchman was standing at the top of the steps with Fiona, Anne in the doorway behind them. The young girl reached up, kissed him and hurried inside. He came down the steps and got into the passenger seat, his face grim.

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