Dark Justice Page 20

  Dillon moved forward and turned to Billy. “We should do this more often.”

  Billy said, “Get the hell out of it,” pushed and dived after him.

  They descended, the moon above, into the fog at six hundred, then swung clear at two hundred and there was the sea, the beach, the harbor in swirling fog, a handful of boats and Kelly’s Kathleen tied to the end of the jetty in the channel.

  Dillon made a perfect landing, punched his quick release, didn’t even have to roll, glanced over and saw the other parachute billowing, just clear of the tidal surge. Dillon stamped on it, and Billy unclipped and stood up.

  “It’s coming in,” he said. “We’d better get moving.”

  Dillon said, “Toward the jetty.”

  “Why?” Billy demanded.

  “I want to check that boat of Kelly’s,” and he led the way, half running, the jump bag in his left hand.

  The fog swirled, half obscuring the village, a few lights gleaming through from the Royal George. The Kathleen was tied up at the end of the jetty. Dillon said to Billy, “Just keep an eye out. I’ll only be a minute.”

  “What are you up to?”

  “Never mind.”

  Dillon went over the rail, checked the wheelhouse, then went aft, carrying the jump bag with him. He got what he wanted from it, then took off the engine hatch and did what he had to do inside. He replaced the hatch.

  “Come on, Dillon,” Billy hissed. “What in hell are you doing?”

  “Just immobilizing the engine,” Dillon said. “Now let’s get moving.”

  They started up through the village.

  On the terrace, Kelly and Tod, Ashimov and Belov stood in the darkness, Greta behind them. Belov searched the bay through night glasses and caught the two pale mushrooms descending out of the fog.

  “Parachutes – two.”

  He passed the glasses to Ashimov, who looked for a few moments, then caught a clear glimpse of Dillon’s face when he and Billy moved to the end of the jetty.

  “Dillon.” He passed the glasses to Tod.

  “We’ll take the bastard now,” Kelly said.

  “No.” It was Belov who spoke. “An old rule, Mr. Kelly. Let the enemy come to you.”

  Which was fine except for the fact that Dillon had produced a pair of night glasses himself and caught them on the terrace.

  “They’re there, Billy – Tod, Kelly, Belov, Ashimov and the girl – and they’ve seen us.”

  “You think that’s the lot?”

  “No, at the least there would be McGuire and O’Neill, maybe more.”

  “Is that all?” Billy laughed. “Let’s get on with it.”

  They moved out from the jetty, turned into a narrow cobbled street and started up the slope toward the castle.

  In the hall, Tod Murphy took charge. “We’ll draw them in by leaving the French windows of the library at the east end of the grand terrace open, also the windows at the western end, that’s the drawing-room end, open. You take the library, Danny,” he said to McGuire. “There’s a trellised summerhouse there. You wait and try to get them from the back as they pass, making for the windows. You, Patrick,” he said to O’Neill, “do the same thing at the other end by the dining room.”

  “And what about us?” Ashimov demanded.

  “You wait in the library and you in the dining room, Dermot,” he said to Kelly. “Catch them in cross fire.”

  “And me and Major Novikova?” Belov asked.

  “I’ll stand back with you as guard at the rear of the Great Hall until it’s all over.”

  “Well, let’s get on with it,” Kelly said. “Sort the bastards out once and for all,” and they dispersed.

  Billy and Dillon crouched together, fog swirling, a slight drizzle falling. Dillon looked at the terrace through his night glasses. “Not very bright. They’ve left the windows open to draw us in. Have a look. There’s a movement in that trellised summerhouse, and look at the one to the right.”

  “Very naïve,” Billy said. “What do you want to do?”

  “I think there’s someone waiting inside the house as well. We’ll do it our way,” and he quickly explained.

  McGuire, waiting nervously in the little summerhouse, peering out, didn’t hear a thing, and was aware only of an AK nudging him in the back.

  Billy said, “Make a sound and I’ll blow your spine apart. Now, be good and tell me who’s in the library and who’s wherever else.”

  “The Russian, Ashimov,” McGuire said. “Kelly’s in the dining room and Tod’s in the Great Hall with Belov and the woman.”

  “Good man,” and Billy rammed the stock of his AK into the base of McGuire’s skull.

  A moment later, Dillon rejoined him. “I got O’Neill. It seems Kelly’s in the dining room. I’ll try and trace him.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “We’ll see.”

  They moved cautiously toward the other end of the terrace. Dillon crouched at the balustrade and called softly, “Are you there, Dermot? It’s me, Patrick. We’ve got a problem.”

  He intensified the distinctive Northern Irish accent even more, and it produced a result. “What is it, you stupid eejit?” Kelly whispered back and moved into the open windows, where Dillon immediately shot him, the silenced AK making only a muted cough. Billy moved in close.

  “Now what?”

  “Leave Ashimov and go in through the dining room. I know this place. They keep the cars at the front of the house in the courtyard. I’ll go round, make sure they can’t be used, then enter by the front door. I’ll kick up the kind of fuss that will flush Ashimov out, and you can get him from the rear.”

  “I’m your man.”

  Billy stepped over Kelly’s dead body and Dillon faded into the darkness.

  Tod, in the shadowed archway at the end of the Great Hall, stood between Greta and Belov, a Browning in his hand with a twenty-round magazine protruding from the butt.

  “It’s too quiet,” Greta said.

  “It always is,” Belov told her.

  “I knew this was bad news from the start,” Tod said. “I think we should get out now, grab one of the cars and go for Ballykelly.”

  “A man after my own heart,” Belov said.

  Greta panicked and called out, “Yuri, where are you?”

  “Don’t be stupid,” Tod told her and opened the front door.

  Dillon, who was removing the ignition key from the last of the four cars, swung and put a short burst into the brickwork at the side of the door.

  “Is it yourself, Tod? No way out here.”

  “Damn you, Dillon,” Belov called, and Tod kicked the door closed.

  “Follow me,” he said. “We’ll get out through the kitchen tunnel.”

  “And then what?” Belov demanded.

  “The boat, the Kathleen down at the jetty. Come on, this way.”

  “But what about Yuri?” Greta demanded.

  “He’ll have to look after himself,” Belov said. “Now, get moving.”

  Ashimov, alerted by the noise at the front of the house, moved cautiously into the corridor from the library. At the same moment, Dillon kicked in the front door, went in low, straight through the archway to the Great Hall, and called out.

  “Billy?”

  Ashimov erupted, firing his pistol, plucking at Dillon’s sleeve, a second round catching the stock of his AK, sending it hurtling from his hands. At the same moment, Billy shot Ashimov in the left shoulder, spinning him around, and then shot him again in the heart.

  “Are you okay?” he called to Dillon.

  “Thanks to you.”

  “Have Tod and the others cleared off by car?”

  “No, I’ve got all the keys. I’ve an idea he’s banking on another form of transportation. Let’s see.”

  He led the way through the Great Hall to the library and the terrace beyond. There were only wisps of fog now and the moon was incredibly bright, the village below, the houses, the inn, like cardboard cutouts. Tod, Belov and Greta ha
d emerged from the walled garden and were hurrying down the lane.

  “What’s going on?” Billy demanded.

  “They’re making for the Kathleen. It’s always ready for sea, that’s been the way of it with Kelly for years.”

  “But they’re getting away,” Billy said, as he saw them scramble over the rail of the boat. Belov and Greta cast off and Tod went into the wheelhouse. The engine coughed into life, and the Kathleen started down the channel.

  “Not really. Haven’t you observed, Billy, that you never really get away from anything in this life?”

  The Kathleen passed the point, and produced a bow wave as Tod increased speed. Dillon took a Howler from his pocket, pointed and pressed the button. There seemed to be a moment of hesitation, and then the whole vessel split apart in a huge ball of fire. What was left went down like a stone.

  “Christ Almighty.” Billy turned to him. “Semtex?”

  “It was Roper’s idea.”

  “Pity about Greta Novikova.”

  “She shouldn’t have joined, Billy, if she wasn’t willing to take the risks. Maybe I shouldn’t have joined either, maybe you shouldn’t have. I expect our day will come.” Dillon smiled wearily. “For the moment, let’s get out of here. There are four vehicles in the courtyard and I have all the keys. Two hours to Belfast, and then to home.”

  Three or four minutes later, they were driving out of the main gate in a Land Rover, leaving Drumore Place, dark and somber, behind them.

  EPILOGUE

  As the Lear lifted off at Belfast after midnight, Dillon took out his Codex Four and called Roper. There was an instant reply. He said, “Don’t you sleep?” “Not all that much. Where are you?”

  “In the Lear. Just lifted off from Belfast.”

  “Is Billy all right?”

  “Saved my bacon. He’s just tipped his seat and gone to sleep. What about Ferguson and Hannah?”

  “He’s been feverish and is now drugged up to his eyeballs. I’m very comfortable in the corner of his room. As I said, sleep doesn’t come naturally to me anymore.”

  “And Hannah?”

  “Oh, Dawson did marvelous work, but the truth is she won’t be what she was.”

  “Will any of us?”

  “So what happened?”

  “We got a superb drop in the fog by the boys, then we checked out the Kathleen. You were right about that, so I did as you suggested and we went on to the castle.”

  “And?”

  “We left McGuire and O’Neill in a bad way. I got Kelly permanently. Ashimov almost finished me, but the boy wonder shot him and saved me.”

  “And the others?”

  “They cleared off to the harbor and the Kathleen. I let them make it beyond the point, then used the Howler.”

  “That must have been quite a sight.”

  “You could say that. I was sorry about Novikova. She saved my life in Iraq.”

  “Only because it suited her.”

  “I suppose you’re right. We took a Land Rover from the castle, then drove straight up through the border to Belfast. There’s nobody there these days. All the old barriers are still there, but no troops, no police, you drive straight through. What in the hell did it all mean?”

  “Come home, Sean,” Roper told him. “Just come home.”

  “Very comforting,” Dillon said. “Give Ferguson my love.”

  He sat there, thinking about it all, then opened the bar box, took out half a bottle of Bushmills and poured some into a plastic cup.

  Billy, eyes still closed, said, “You’re big on moral philosophy, Dillon. Do you believe everything’s for the best in the best of all possible worlds?”

  “Billy, old son,” Sean Dillon said, “believe that and you’ll believe anything.”

  ***

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