Free The White House Connection by Jack Higgins Page B

he stuffed the weapon in a pocket of his bomber jacket. 'Dillon's the name.'
     
     
'Oh, my God!'
     
     
'Tonight's bad news for you. I suspect you've got an American friend of mine somewhere nearby.'
     
     
He ground the Walther in again and Bell cried out in pain. 'He's in the Soak Hole. The entrance is just down the track.'
     
     
'And why would he be in there?'
     
     
'Barry knew he wasn't what he seemed. We were waiting for him.'
     
     
'Really? Well, lead the way.'
     
     
Bell picked up the lamp and walked down the track, stepping back as the Soak Hole thundered white spray high into the night.
     
     
'Watch him,' Sean told Hannah, and walked to the edge of the steps leading down. 'Are you still there, Blake? It's Dillon.'
     
     
Blake, on the platform and hanging on to a rusting iron bolt, colder than he had ever been in his life, shouted back, 'What kept you?'
     
     
'Come away up,' Dillon called.
     
     
A couple of minutes passed, and then Blake appeared, climbing slowly. 'Jesus, Dillon, that was bad. I feel terrible. Takes me back to a tidal swamp I once spent six hours in back in Vietnam.'
     
     
'What happened?'
     
     
'Barry knew everything. My name, the President, the Basement. He said he had excellent sources, but wanted any facts I had to disclose about you and Ferguson.'
     
     
'Let's go up to the castle and oblige him.'
     
     
'Only too happy,' Blake said. 'Just one thing.' He turned to
     
     
Bell, who was standing at the top of the steps. 'Here's for you, you bastard.' He punched Bell very hard, and he went backwards headfirst with a cry. A moment later, the Soak Hole fountained.
     
     
'Can we go now?' Dillon asked.
     
     
'My pleasure.'
     
     
Blake led the way up to the courtyard and paused at the massive front door. Dillon said to Harker, 'Down to the gate, Da, sit inside and hold your tongue. Do that and I won't shoot you. Is it a bargain?'
     
     
The old man scuttled away. Hannah said, 'Has anyone got a spare pistol here?'
     
     
Dillon produced the Webley. 'I think this should be in a museum, but it will probably do the job.'
     
     
'Then let's get on with it,' Blake said and opened the door.
     
     
In the library, Daley put another log on the fire, and Barry stood by the French windows staring out as the rain drove against them. 'A desperate night, Bobby. I wonder how Mr Johnson is getting on.'
     
     
'Better than you think,' Blake said, easing the door open and leading the way in.
     
     
They all stood in a kind of tableau and Barry threw back his head and laughed. 'Dear God, it's you, Sean.'
     
     
'As ever was, Jack, come to haunt you. Charles Ferguson wants words, even more so after what I've heard from my friend here. An inside source of information? It could only be at White House level. You really are a naughty boy.'
     
     
'Always was, Sean, always was. I presume Bell has gone the way of all flesh?'
     
     
'Absolutely.'
     
     
'Ah, well, comes to us all. Pour Mr Johnson a brandy, Bobby, a large one. I expect he needs it.' He raised his glass to Blake. 'One old Vietnam hand to another.'
     
     
'Not really. I killed, but not in the way you did.' Blake took the brandy from Daley and looked at the paintings on the wall. 'Would that be a Confederate uniform there?'
     
     
Barry looked at the portrait. 'Yes. The stout gentleman on the end there was Francis the First. Made his money in Barbados in the eighteenth century. Sugar and slaves. Came back and bought a title. They were all called Francis. That's where Frank comes from.' 'Until you?'
     
     
'Yes, Jack for John. The one who fought for the Confederacy was killed at Shiloh. In letters home he said he'd chosen that side because grey suited his eyes.'
     
     
'That would figure, if he's anything like you,' Blake said. 'But let's get down to business. You knew I was coming in place of McGuire.'
     
     
'What happened to him?'
     
     
'As you well know, he's in a safe house in London emptying his guts,' Hannah said.