Free Rain on the Dead by Jack Higgins Page B

“I’d like your opinion on a rather important matter.”
    “And what would that be, General?”
    “What would you say if I told you I’ve had Imam Hamid Bey on the phone asking permission to visit Ali Saif?”
    “You mean here?” The look on Shelby’s face was one of amazement.
    “Yes, and he’d also like to bring someone from the dispensary with him, a Mrs. Lily Shah, who is apparently a Christian.”
    “I don’t see what that’s got to do with anything,” Shelby said. “I know her. She married an Algerian charge nurse who worshipped Osama bin Laden, went to Gaza a year ago when AQ ordered him, and was killed in an Israeli air strike. But she stayed a Christian. Mind you, she’s popular at the mosque in spite of that.”
    “So, taking that into account,” Ferguson said, “what would you do?”
    “Shoot Hamid Bey, but that not being viable, I suppose it might be useful to allow them in. Know thy enemy, my old colonel used to say.”
    “Very sensible,” Ferguson said. “I think we’ll give it a whirl.”
    Shelby shrugged. “You’re in charge, General, but if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back to Tenby Street. A bit of a situation there at the moment with what’s happened to Ali Saif. We’re shorthanded, yet I’m expected to turn up at the Ministry of Defence umpteen times a day to talk to idiots. Sometimes I despair.”
    “Off you go, then, watch your back. Difficult days ahead, I think, Major.”
    “I suppose that’s what we joined for, General.” Max Shelby smiled and was gone.
    Ferguson sighed and murmured, “Yes, but we were younger then.”
    Finding Declan and Sara missing, he pursued the sound of voices along the corridor and found them standing at the reception window to Ali’s room, peering in. He was unconscious, festooned with electronic equipment, his body connected to tubes injecting him with fluids of one kind or another.
    “He looks more dead than alive,” Declan murmured.
    “You mustn’t say that,” Sara told him. “It’s bad luck. Never forget, he saved our lives at the Park Lane shoot-out when that creep Rasoul tried to ambush us.”
    Ferguson moved forward. “He certainly did, and it won’t be forgotten, but I’ve told Roper to call in the troops. We’re due to get together in the computer room in an hour, so I need to get moving.” He turned to Sara. “My Daimler is waiting, can I offer you a lift?”
    “No need, sir, I came in Dillon’s Mini.”
    “I’ll see you there.” He turned to Declan. “As for you, Colonel, an early night is indicated. You must take it slowly. After all, you’ve had a good inning.”
    He hurried away, and she turned and smiled. “I’d better get going.”
    “My dear Sara, I know you’re Wonder Woman and will be armed to the teeth as usual, but I suspect things are really stirring again, and two of us in the Mini would look better than one if someone is taking the wrong kind of interest in you.”
    “And what’s Ferguson going to say to that?” she inquired.
    “Who cares? Just let me get suitably dressed.”
    He hurried along the corridor to his room, found a bomber jacket, pulled it on, took a Colt .25 from its inside pocket, checked that the weapon was loaded, and returned to her.
    “You really are a lovely man.” She smiled and patted his chest, feeling the gun. “I thought so. What am I going to do with you, Colonel?”
    “Oh, we’ll have to leave that until later. Let’s get moving.”
    She laughed, allowing him to take her arm, and they moved out of the front entrance into the car park, pausing beside the Mini while she found the keys. All this, Khalid Abed, sitting in the Mini Cooper beside Ali Herim at the wheel, saw clearly through Nightstalker binoculars.
    He shoved them into Ali’s hands. “The couple getting in the old Mini. Declan Rashid and Gideon.”
    “I do believe you’re right,” Ali said.
    “So what do we do, shoot them?” Khalid produced a silenced Walther PPK.
    Ali pushed his