Free The White House Connection by Jack Higgins Page A

said cheerfully, 'Maybe your memory will improve if I stick this behind your right kneecap and pull the trigger.'
     
     
Harker gave in instantly. 'His lordship's at home, I'll grant you that, and what can I do about it, an old man like me?'
     
     
'His lordship, is it?' Dillon laughed. 'How often is he here?'
     
     
'On and off during the winter months and there are others who know, estate workers from the village.'
     
     
'Who will keep their mouths firmly shut, I shouldn't wonder,' Hannah said.
     
     
'What else can we all do?' the old man said. 'These are desperate times and his lordship is not a man to cross.'
     
     
'A bullet in the head, is it?' Dillon asked.
     
     
'No need for that, not with the Soak Hole to teach a man a lesson. Tim Leary died in it last year.'
     
     
'And what would the Soak Hole be?'
     
     
'It's a kind of funnel in the cliffs. The sea explodes up through it. His lordship puts people down there to teach them a lesson.'
     
     
'Good God!' Hannah said.
     
     
'I shouldn't imagine he's got anything to do with it,' Dillon told her, and turned to Harker. 'To business. A white Ford Transit van. It arrived a little earlier, right?'
     
     
Harker nodded. 'It went down to Belfast this afternoon. Came back about forty minutes ago.'
     
     
'Who was in it?'
     
     
'Bobby Daley and Sean Bell, two of his lordship's men when it went, just Bell at the wheel when it came back.'
     
     
'And you were curious and went up the drive to see what was what.'
     
     
Harker was startled. 'How did you know?'
     
     
i know everything. What happened?'
     
     
'I was some distance away, but I saw Bell open the van's rear door and Bobby Daley got out with another man, and the three of them went inside.'
     
     
'And you, being curious, went closer, stood under a tree or whatever, and waited.'
     
     
Again, Harker was astonished. 'And how would you be knowing that?'
     
     
'Because I'm Irish, you daft bugger, I'm from County Down, I have the second sight. There's also the fact that you're wet
     
     
through because you were standing in the rain. Now who does Barry have up at the castle?'
     
     
'Only Daley and Bell.'
     
     
'Good man. Now we'll walk up there nice and quiet and you lead the way. Some suitable back path would do nicely.'
     
     
'Anything you say, sir.'
     
     
Lamps set in various parts of the grounds gave a certain amount of light as they walked along a narrow path through shrubbery and lush woodland, the castle battlements looming beyond. Suddenly, Harker paused.
     
     
'I think someone's coming,' he whispered.
     
     
They moved into the trees, and a moment later, Daley moved out of another path and started towards the castle. 'That's him,' Harker whispered. 'That's Bobby.'
     
     
Daley carried on towards the castle and Dillon said, 'Where's he been, that's the thing?'
     
     
'There's only the cliffs and the Soak Hole down there.'
     
     
Dillon turned to Hannah. 'Why would Barry not make the meet in Belfast? Why go to all the trouble of hauling Blake up here? It doesn't make sense.'
     
     
'Only if it stinks,' she said.
     
     
'I agree.' Dillon turned to Harker. 'The Soak Hole it is, and be discreet.'
     
     
Sean Bell sheltered under a tree at the side of the track, the lamp on the ground at his feet. He was distinctly unhappy, already wet from driving rain, and couldn't even smoke, since the cigarettes disintegrated in seconds. There came a hollow booming sound like some dinosaur in pain, as the Soak Hole erupted high into the air. He wondered how the American was doing. He wouldn't last long on a night like this.
     
     
There was a click as the silencer on the end of Dillon's Walther
     
     
nudged Bell's right ear, and Dillon said, 'The hard way, Mr Bell, is to blow your brains out, so be good.'
     
     
'Who the fug are ye?' Bell gasped, as Dillon ran his hands over him and recovered a.38 revolver.
     
     
'Webley.38. Long past its sell-by date. You must be hard up, you lot,' and