Free Midnight Runner by Jack Higgins Page A

you and your little foray to Loch Dhu?"
    "Ah, well, just a little recreation. We stayed at Ardmurchan Lodge a few years ago, and thought we'd try it again. Very pleasant. Ferguson and I went shooting."
    "I just bet you did," Kate said.
    "Deer," Dillon told her, and smiled. "Just deer."
    "Brown had to have nine stitches in his face. I seriously disapprove of thugs pistol-whipping my employees. Try it again and you'll regret it, Dillon." Her face was a mask of restrained anger. "And what was the purpose of going all the way up there just to let me know you'd been there? You could have phoned me."
    "To get the official line on your Act of Class Warfare kiddies?" Ferguson asked. "All that bunkum about country pursuits for school parties? You're not teaching them to play patty fingers up there."
    "We have nothing to hide, General, and you know damn well you can't prove otherwise."
    "What about all those organizations of yours in the Mideast?" Ferguson asked.
    "I'm a very wealthy Arab. I feel privileged to be able to help my people. Some organizations there have political aims, but we're interested in social and educational programs. We pay for teachers and build schools and small hospitals all over Arabia, from Iraq to Hazar."
    "And Beirut?" Dillon put in.
    "Of course Beirut."
    "The Children's Trust, which is a front for Hezbollah," Ferguson told her.
    She sighed. "Prove it, General. Again, prove it. Everything my Trust does is aboveboard."
    "What about your trip to Hazar tomorrow? Is that aboveboard, too?"
    She shook her head. "Enough. General, as you well know, Rashid Investments derives most of its billions from oil in Southern Arabia, the Empty Quarter, and Hazar. I go there all the time. I'm weary of this, Rupert, and suddenly I seem to have lost my appetite. Let's go." She stood up. "Thanks for the hospitality, gentlemen. But I warn you, stay out of my affairs, or you'll regret it."
    "Come on," Billy said, his eyes burning. "Come on and try, any time you want."
    "Cool it, Billy," his uncle told him.
    "Goodnight." She nodded to Rupert and he followed her out.
    At that moment, Fernando and a posse of waiters arrived with the scrambled eggs and smoked salmon.
    "Well, it looks good to me," Harry said. "So let's eat. I've had enough of that bloody woman for the moment."
    O utside, the line had disappeared. Rupert and Kate Rashid drove off, but as they approached the end of the wharf, Rupert said, "Pull in."
    Kate said, "What are you up to?"
    "I think I'll hang on to watch the fun. I'll catch up with you later." He got out.
    "Take care, darling," he said as he closed the door and walked away.
    W hen they'd finished eating, Harry Salter ordered brandies all round and told Billy to cheer up. "You've got a face on you like death itself. Don't worry, Billy, we've got her number."
    "She's a nutter." Billy tapped his head. "Who knows what she'll do next? I bet even she doesn't bleeding well know."
    "I take your point," Dillon told him. "But she does have an agenda and we're part of it."
    "I said we'll sort her," his uncle told him. "Trust me."
    "I'd listen to him, Billy," Dillon said. "He said the same thing before the two of you sorted the Franconi twins the other year. Rumor has it they're in cement on the North Circular Road."
    "Yes, well, that was business," Salter said. "You know what happened there, don't you? They got some IRA explosives expert to stick a bomb under my Jaguar. Lucky for me and Billy, he got the timer wrong and the bleeding car blew up just before we got there." The brandies arrived and he shook his head. "Terrible times we live in, General. Anyway, here's to all of us 'cos we're still here." He swallowed his Hennessy in a single gulp. "Come on, Billy, let's walk them out."
    They stepped out the front door and Rupert Dauncey watched from the darkness as they reached Ferguson's car, his chauffeur at the wheel. Suddenly, there was a shrill cry, and five men erupted from between the cars, carrying baseball bats. They