Free On Dangerous Ground by Jack Higgins

previously.
    Usually he phoned from outside when he wanted to contact his superiors, but the other two houseboys, the cook, and the maid were working, so for the moment he was alone. In any case, what he had overheard seemed important so he decided to take a chance, lifted the receiver on the wall phone at the end of the corridor, and dialed a number in Palermo. It was answered at once.
    “Gagini, it’s me, Ponti. I’ve got something. Carl Morgan appeared tonight with his stepdaughter. I overheard them tell a most curious story to Luca. Have you ever heard of the Chungking Covenant?”
    Paolo Gagini, who was a Major in the Italian Secret Intelligence Service from Rome posing as a business man in Palermo, said, “That’s a new one. Let me put the tape recorder on. Thank God for that photographic memory of yours. Right, start talking. Tell me everything.”
    Which Alfredo did in some detail. When he had finished, Gagini said, “Good work, though I can’t see it helping us much. I’ll be in touch. Take care.”
    Alfredo replaced the receiver and went to bed.
     
     
    Gagini, in his apartment in Palermo, sat thinking. He could let them know in Rome, not that anyone would be very interested. Everyone knew what Carl Morgan was, but he was also very legitimate. In any case, anything he did in Scotland was the responsibility of the British authorities, which made him think of his oldest friend in British intelligence. Gagini smiled. He loved this one. He got out his code book and found the number of the Ministry of Defence in London.
    When the operator answered he said, “Give me Brigadier Charles Ferguson, Priority One, please.”
     
     
    It was perhaps two hours later when Morgan and Asta had retired that Alfredo was shaken awake to find Marco bending over him.
    “The Capo wants you.”
    “What is it?”
    Marco shrugged. “Search me. He’s on the terrace.”
    He went out and Alfredo dressed quickly and went after him. He was aware of no particular apprehension. Things had gone so well for three months now and he’d always been so careful, but as a precaution, he placed a small automatic in his waistband.
    He found Luca sitting in a cane chair, Marco leaning against a pillar. The old man said, “You made a phone call earlier.”
    Alfredo’s mouth went dry. “Yes, my cousin in Palermo.”
    “You’re lying,” Marco said. “We have an electronic tracking machine. It registered the no return bar code so the number can’t be traced.”
    “And that only applies to the security services,” Luca said.
    Alfredo turned and ran through the garden for the fence and Marco drew a silenced pistol.
    “Don’t kill him,” Luca cried.
    Marco shot him in the leg and the young man went down but turned on the ground, pulling the automatic from his waistband. Marco, with little choice in the matter, shot him between the eyes.
    Luca went forward, leaning on his cane. “Poor boy, so young. They will keep trying. Get rid of him, Marco.”
    He turned and walked away.
     
FOUR
     
    FERGUSON WAS AT HIS DESK WHEN HANNAH Bernstein came in and put a file on his desk. “Everything there is on Carl Morgan.”
    Ferguson sat back. “Tell me.”
    “His father is a retired Brigadier General, but his mother is the niece of Giovanni Luca which means that, in spite of Yale and all the war hero stuff in Vietnam and his hotels and construction business, he’s fronting for the Mafia.”
    “Some people would say he was the new, legitimate face of the Mafia.”
    “With the greatest respect, Brigadier, that’s a load of crap.”
    “Why, Chief Inspector, you said a rude word. How encouraging.”
    “A thug is a thug even if he does wear suits by Brioni and plays polo with Prince Charles.”
    “I couldn’t agree more. Have you checked on Loch Dhu Castle and the situation there?”
    “Yes, sir, it’s at present leased to Prince Ali ben Yusef from the Oman. He’ll be there for another month.”
    “Not much joy there. Arab royal families are