The President’s Daughter

Teddy handed them over and Dillon went out and closed the door. When it opened again, he shuffled in, limping heavily on the right leg, his head slightly down, a look of pain on his face, but it wasn’t just that, not only the glasses. His body language had changed. It was as if he had become another person.

“Good God,” the President said. “I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.”

“The Man of a Thousand Faces he was called in international intelligence circles,” Ferguson said. “On the run in Ireland twenty years with the IRA and we never touched his collar once.”

“Once I’m officially dead in Washington, I’ll change,” Dillon said, “dye my hair a different color, tinted glasses, perhaps cheek pouches, we’ll see. Another passport, of course, but no problem. I always carry two or three with me, and makeup according to the photo on whichever I choose.”

“If you need help, I have a friend who lives in my apartment block,” Teddy said. “Mildred Atkinson. She does makeup for a lot of the big stars. She was telling me she did DeNiro last week.”

“Is she safe?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, I’ll see.”

Hannah said, “As regards general security, we only have five days anyway before the Future Projects Committee meets.”

“So what happens?” the President said.

“The heart of the problem is quite simple,” Dillon told him. “Where is she being held? All I know definitely is that it’s within twelve hours by boat from Sicily.”

“Yes, but you can’t account for those twelve hours,” Ferguson said. “It could be less than that.”

“Yes, but if we accept twelve hours maximum, within the range could be Corsica if we went west, the Tunisian or Egyptian coasts, Italy, Greece, Turkey.”

“Have you missed anything?” Johnson said ironically.

“God knows. Marie told me that when David Braun kidnapped her in Corfu, he said she was going for a little plane ride.”

There was a pause. The President said, “Okay, you end up dead, you change your identity. Then what?”

“The Brigadier and the Chief Inspector go home in the Lear, grieving. I’ll go to Ireland and run down Riley. I’ll bring him to London and he can identify the lawyer for us from the Wandsworth Prison surveillance tapes.”

Johnson said, “You actually think you can find Riley?”

“I believe so. I think he’ll head straight for his cousin’s farm in Tullamore. He had the Irish passport the Brigadier got him, he had my operating money. There would be no sense in him not going back to Ireland. He’s safe there.”

The President nodded. “Yes, it makes sense.” He turned to Blake. “It seems to me what Mr. Dillon needs is instant transportation. He doesn’t want to have to hang around wasting time wherever it is he goes.”

“No problem, Mr. President. I have the new Gulfstream Five private jet on hand, flown in it several times lately. It’s a hell of a plane.”

The President turned to Dillon. “You could fly to Ireland in not much more than six hours in the Gulfstream.” He nodded to Blake Johnson. “I’d like you to go with him. Teddy can hold the fort here.”

“At your orders, Mr. President,” Blake said.

Cazalet nodded. “That’s it, then. All I can say is get to it. Is the helicopter ready, Teddy?”

“Standing by.”

“You go with them. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Dillon said, “Just one thing. I like your daughter and I don’t like Judas and I’ll do anything to get her back, even if it means playing public executioner again. Is that all right with you?”

“It sure as hell is,” Jake Cazalet said, his face white with passion.

In his car along the street from the Charlton Hotel, Mark Gold tapped away at his laptop. He gave a sigh of satisfaction as the screen disclosed what he wanted. He had accessed the traffic information section at Andrews Air Force Base and it was all there. The time the British-registered Lear had landed, names of passengers. The Air Force helicopter used by the President was logged out ten minutes later for Nantucket. Passenger details were always classified on that one, but no prizes for guessing who they were. The helicopter was due to land again at Andrews in half an hour. He got out and looked up the street. There was no sign of Harker and he got back into the car, fuming impatiently as a downpour started.

Pages: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 45 46 47 48 49 50 51 52 53 54 55 56 57 58 59 60 61 62 63 64 65 66 67 68 69 70 71 72 73 74 75 76 77 78 79 80 81 82 83 84 85 86 87 88 89 90 91 92 93 94 95 96 97 98 99 100 101 102 103 104 105 106

Leave a Reply 0

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *