“How many people?” Dillon asked.
“The two fellas that picked me up were obviously his minders, then there was an Arab couple in a small cottage next door. The woman cooked and her husband was a general handyman. It seemed as if they looked after the place when he was away.” He drank some of his tea. “Oh, and there was a younger Arab woman who lived with them. I think she was there to make Hakim happy on occasions. That’s how it seemed, anyway.”
“Anything else of interest?” Ferguson asked.
“Well, he wasn’t your ordinary Muslim. Drank a great deal of Scotch whiskey.”
“So he opened up?” Dillon said.
“Only to the extent that his tongue loosened. Kept going on about the jobs he’d pulled and how he’d made fools of the intelligence services of a dozen countries. Oh, and he told me he’d had the villa for six years. Said it was the safest base he’d ever had, because all the local Sicilians were crooks of one sort or another and everybody minded their own business.”
“And he’s still there?” Hannah asked.
Riley managed to sound reluctant. “I don’t see why not, but I couldn’t swear to it.”
There was silence. Ferguson said, “God, I’d love to get my hands on him.”
“Well, if he is there, and I think there’s a fair chance he is,” Riley said, “you could get what you want. I mean, it’s another country, but you knock people off from other countries all the time, don’t tell me you don’t.”
“It’s certainly a thought.” Ferguson nodded.
“Look, send Dillon,” Riley said. “Send whoever you want and I’ll go with them, put myself on the line every step of the way.”
“And make a run for it first chance you get, Dermot boy,” Dillon said.
“Jesus, Sean, how many times do I have to tell you? I want out of this clean. I don’t want to be on the run for the rest of my life.” He turned to Ferguson. “Brigadier?”
Ferguson made his decision. “Take him out for a meal or something, Dillon. I’ll phone you in two hours.” He turned to Hannah. “Right, Chief Inspector, we have work to do.”
He went out, she raised her eyebrows at Dillon, and followed.
Dillon went to a drawer in the sideboard, opened it and took out a silenced Walther, which he tucked into the waistband of his cords at the rear under his coat.
“Like they say in those bad movies, Dermot, one false move and I’ll kill you.”
“No, you won’t, Sean, because I’m not going to make one.”
“Good, then it’s the King’s Head on the other side of the square. Great pub grub. They do a shepherd’s pie like your mother used to make, and after six months in Wandsworth I’d say you could do with.”
Riley groaned. “Just show me the way.”
They hadn’t been back at the cottage for more than five minutes when the phone rang. Dillon picked it up.
“Ferguson,” the Brigadier said. “This is the way of it.”
Dillon listened intently, then nodded. “Fine. We’ll expect you at nine o’clock in the morning.”
He put the phone down and lit a cigarette. Riley said, “Is it on?”
Dillon nodded. “Ferguson’s been in touch with the Marine Commando Special Boat Squadron at Akrotiri, the British sovereign base area in Cyprus. A Captain Carter and four men have been given the job. They’ll leave for Sicily by boat posing as fishermen. Weather permitting, they should make it to Salinas by early evening tomorrow.”
“And you and me?”
“Ferguson will pick us up at nine with Hannah Bernstein and take us out to Farley Field. That’s an RAF proving ground. You and I, plus Bernstein, fly in the department’s Lear jet to Sicily. We drive to Salinas. Carter will make himself known on arrival. The Lear will fly on to Malta.”
“Why Malta?”
“Because that’s where we go after Carter and his boys snatch Hakim. You and I go in with them, by the way.”
“Just like old times.”
“Short sea voyage. Do you good after Wandsworth.”
Riley nodded. “Would you anticipate any problem with Hakim at Malta?”
“None at all. They’re on our side. I mean, it isn’t Bosnia. A shot of something to subdue him, and the Lear, after all, bears RAF rondels. By the time Hakim has stopped being sick, he’ll be in London.”