Free Touch the Devil by Jack Higgins Page B

ground. Details of the rendezvous for Thursday night--they'd provided a deep-sea trawler for that from the Russian northern fishing fleet. And, of course, the young man's number in London. Even more interesting was the pistol with the silencer screwed on the end, a Czech Ceska 7.5mm. There were also several additional clips of ammunition and fifty thousand pounds in twenty-pound notes, neatly packeted.
    "Well, would you look at that, now?" . B arry said softly, hefting the Ceska in one hand.
    He slipped it into his raincoat pocket. He closed the briefcase, placing it on the passenger seat beside him with the typed list on top and drove away. Occasionally, he glanced at the list memorizing the details it contained, line by line. An hour later, he left the M6 at Levens Bridge and pulled into a roadside cafe. He went into the men's room, locked himself in a stall, lit a cigarette, and touched the lighter flame to the list. Only when it was reduced to dark ashes did he drop it into the toilet bowl to flush away. Then he went outside, got back into the car and took the road to Broughton-in-Furness and the Cumbrian coast, whistling softly through his teeth.
    Kim opened the door of Ferguson's sitting room and ushered Tony Villiers and Liam Devlin inside. Ferguson was at his desk, Harry Fox standing beside him. Ferguson glanced up, peering at the tw o m en over his half-moon spectacles, then he removed them slowly.
    Tony Villiers' dark reefer hung from his shoulders, loosely buttoned. Underneath, he was swathed in bandages, his left arm in a sling. His face was white and drawn, lines of pain deeply etched there in spite of the injection they'd given him at the military wing of Musgrave Park Hospital in Belfast.
    "Professor Devlin, sir, as ordered," he said.
    "Now then, you old bastard," Devlin said amiably. "You've got a good lad here and you not deserving it."
    Ferguson got to his feet. "You should be in the hospital, Captain, now, and that's an order. See to it, Harry. Get my car."
    Villiers swayed, and Devlin moved in fast and got an arm around him. "Easy boy, you've done enough and more."
    Villiers managed to smile. "Damn it, professor, but I like you. I really do, and that's a hell of a thing to say considering the situation."
    "You're not so bad yourself," Devlin told him. "It's only th e u niform I'm not too happy about, not the man wearing it." Harry Fox had Villiers by the elbow. "All right, let's go." As he opened the door Villiers said, "One thing, professor. Yo u c ould have killed me and you didn't. Why?"
    "The terrible waste that would have been," Devlin said, and suddenly the blue eyes were bleak. "And hasn't there been waste enough?" Villiers stared at him, frowning, and Devlin laughed. "Go on, boy, out of it, before I totally corrupt you."
    The door closed behind them, and Devlin turned to face Ferguson, unbuckling the belt of his dark trenchcoat. "So, here we are." "Here we are indeed."
    "Would there be any chance of a cup of tea, would you think? It's been a hell of a journey."
    Ferguson smiled and flicked the intercom. "Tea, Kim. My usual and another pot, extra strong, Irish variety." He turned back to Devlin. "Satisfactory?"
    "As long as I can stand up a spoon in it."
    He helped himself to a cigarette from a box on Ferguson's desk, lit it, and sprawled in one of the chairs by the fire. "They do you well, DI5, I must say."
    The door opened, and Kim, followed by Harry Fox, came in with the tea on a silver tray. "I've packed him straight off in the Bentley to the special wing at Meibury House, sir," Fox said. "I've rung through and notified Colonel Jackson that he's on his way."
    "Good," Ferguson said. "And let's make sure he gets only the best."
    Kim withdrew, and Devlin helped himself to the tea. "And whom have we here?"
    "Captain Fox is my personal aide," Ferguson said.
    Devlin's eyes took in the gloved hand. "And not much time for people like me, I should imagine."
    "Not really," Fox said.
    "That's fine, boy.