“And why would you do that?”
“To prove my power. Let me explain. It would be understandable, once you’ve spoken to Ferguson, if he decided to check through British Secret Intelligence Service computer files for any reference to a terrorist group known as the Maccabees. If he does, I’ll know quicker than you can imagine, and I’ll phone to tell you. If Cazalet does the same through CIA records, I’ll know, and again I’ll phone you. This is just to demonstrate the power of the Maccabee organization. They’re everywhere, my invisible people. By the way, both inquiries will be a waste of time. There is no information about me or my organization anywhere.”
“So what’s the point of the exercise?”
“It demonstrates my total power in this matter, but let me get down to brass tacks. You’re going back in one piece. We’ll drop you in at Salinas. You’ll return to Ferguson and tell him that if Jake Cazalet does not sign Nemesis at the coming meeting of the Future Projects Committee, I shall execute his daughter.”
“You’re mad,” Marie de Brissac said.
“Tell Ferguson I don’t think it would be helpful for the Prime Minister to know this. You and he will proceed to the White House in Washington, where Ferguson should have no difficulty in obtaining an audience with the President.”
“I see,” Dillon said. “And we convey the message to the President?”
“Exactly, with this in addition. If any approach is made to involve the CIA or FBI or any military special forces, I will know, and—again—the countess will be executed at once. I’ve people everywhere, Dillon, as your inquiries and my phone calls to you will demonstrate.”
Dillon took a deep breath. “So what it comes down to is simple. Either Cazalet signs to put Nemesis into operation or she dies.”
“Exactly, old buddy, couldn’t have put it better myself.”
“But he won’t do it.”
“That’s too bad—too bad for the countess here.”
“You bastard!” Marie de Brissac told him.
Judas nodded to David Braun. “Get her out of here and back to her room.”
“Good-bye, Mr. Dillon, and God bless you. We won’t be seeing each other again. My father will never sign such a document,” Marie de Brissac said.
“Keep the faith, girl dear,” Dillon told her, and David Braun eased her out.
Dillon walked to the desk, helped himself to a cigarette, picked up Judas’s ornate lighter and flicked it on. He blew out smoke. “You might as well kill her now. Cazalet won’t sign. It’s too big.”
“Then you’d better persuade him.” Judas turned to Aaron. “Get Mr. Dillon on his way. Salinas next stop.”
Aaron spoke quickly in Hebrew. “He’s trouble, this one. You’ve seen his record.”
“Not for long. I’ll have him shot after he’s seen the President in Washington. It’s all arranged. A nice professional job. A street crime. You know Washington? People get mugged and shot all the time. I know the hotel where Ferguson always stays. The Charlton. Very unsafe, underground parking lots these days.”
“And Ferguson?”
“No, not him. Too important, and he could be useful.”
“And what’s that all about?” Dillon asked, having fully understood. “Have you changed your mind? Do I go over the side of the boat with twenty pounds of chain around my ankles?”
“I just love your imagination, old buddy. Now on your way.”
He put a cigar in his mouth and Aaron took the special mobile phone from the desk and ushered Dillon out.
On returning to his room, he found his jacket on the bed. “Cleaned and pressed,” Aaron told him. “You’ll find your wallet, cards, and passport and your own mobile phone so you can call Ferguson the moment you hit Salinas.” He held up the special mobile. “Your present from Judas. Don’t lose it.”
Dillon pulled on the jacket and put the mobile phone in a pocket. “Fuck Judas,” he said.
“A great man, Mr. Dillon. You will see just how great.” Aaron took a black hood from his pocket and said, “Now pull this over your head.” Dillon did as he was told and Aaron opened the door and took his arm. “We’ll go to the boat now,” and he led him out.