Free The Delta Solution by Patrick Robinson Page A

a hell of a lot of time.”
    “As a matter of pure interest, in case I’m asked,” said Harry, “how does the money actually travel?”
    Britain’s ambassador to Washington answered: “Pentagon wires to this embassy’s bank account,” he said. “I’ll give you the address and IBAN. Then we’ll have our local bank here wire to Barclays International on Wall Street. They wire to Barclays downtown Nairobi. It’s a big branch right on Moi Avenue, at Kenyatta.”
    “Sir, how could you possibly know that?” asked Harry.
    “Family lived there, old boy, my father was High Commissioner during the Mau Mau rising—damned nearly ended up with an assegai stuck in his arse.”
    Harry said, “I’m really grateful to you, sir. And, just so you know, when the 5 million comes in, it will be under the name of the Seafarers International Union.”
    “Wouldn’t matter to us if it came from the account of the Mothers’ Union,” said Sir Archie. “Just get it in there, and we’ll make sure it’s bagged up, waiting for you in cash in Nairobi within two hours, tomorrow morning . . . Tell your chaps to pick up a couple of ours at the High Commission. They can go to the bank together. No mistakes that way.
    “By the way, can you tell me what you want it for? Just for interest. Not starting another bloody war, are you?”
    Harry Blythe entirely forgot everyone was sworn to secrecy and instantly decided to regard Sir Archie Compton as a member of the US team. “Sir, we just had an 18,000-ton aid ship boarded and captured by pirates in the Indian Ocean. They’re heavily armed, we got one man dead, and in this case we decided to let the Seafarers Union pay up for their men.”
    “That’s sometimes much better,” said Sir Archie. “Rescues often cost more than ransoms. And people do get killed too often. How’re you getting the money out?”

    “By air, sir. Military aircraft.”
    “Tell ’em to work with our military attaché in the Kenya High Commission. And use the smaller airfield, Wilson that is, out along the Mgathi Way. We used to own the place.”
    “Thank you, sir. And will you have someone e-mail the British Embassy’s bank account details to me here at the Pentagon, Office of the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.”
    “Chairman, eh?” said the ambassador. “You chaps must be a lot more concerned than you’re letting on. Anything else we can do to help, just call me on my private line. Give Zack Lancaster my best, will you?”
    Harry Blythe had just received a short lesson on why Sir Archie Compton was generally regarded as the best ambassador in the entire British Foreign Service—because he was witty, unassuming, clued-up, wellconnected, and vastly experienced. He’d plucked the truth out of Harry like a ripe plum on a tree. Effortless. Harry never even realized it had happened. Until he put the phone down.
    “Holy shit,” he breathed. “I shouldn’t have told him all that.”
    But the money complication was over, and he had solved it. Right down to the point of collection at Barclays Bank on Moi Avenue in Nairobi.
    Nonetheless, Harry was worried about how much he had revealed to the British ambassador. Though he need not have been. Because Sir Archie merely stored the information, understanding it was not necessary for his government to know. It had nothing to do with the Brits, or anyone else.
    Meanwhile Admiral Bradfield and Lieutenant Commander Souchak were moving fast on the line to the US Navy’s Fifth Fleet headquarters in Bahrain and operational command in Diego Garcia. It was plainly imperative to move at least two warships into the ops area around the Niagara Falls and have them stand by to blow the pirate ship out of the water if necessary. If the money drop went smoothly, they could then escort Captain Corcoran back to safe harbor in DG.
    Right now it was also necessary to have on standby an aircraft capable of flying nonstop into Kenya, a distance of 2,200 nautical miles from Diego Garcia,