Day of Reckoning

15

HELLSMOUTH

When Dillon, Harry Salter and Billy arrived at Farley Field, Lacey and Parry were waiting.

'Let's go into the operations room and make sure I've got it right,' Lacey said.

The quartermaster stood ready with Dillon's Brownings, two AK47sparachutes and jumpsuits ready.

Dillon said, 'Have a word with Mr Salter, Sergeant Major, it's his first jump.'

'Is that so, Mr Dillon?' the Sergeant Major replied, face impassive. 'Then a word might be indicated.'

'Just show me,' Billy told him.

Dillon went to the chart table and started to check it out with Lacey and Parry. 'It's not as bad as it could be,' Lacey said.

'There's almost a half moon. One pass is all I'd recommend. There's no time for more, then we'll rush to St Just.' 'Sounds good to me.'

'The other chap,' Lacey said. 'He knows what he's doing?' Absolutely!

Ferguson and Hannah Bernstein came in. When the Brigadier saw the Salters, he was astonished. 'For God's sake, what is this? You said two parachutists, and he isn't a parachutist.'

'Well, I am now,' Billy said. 'I think I've got the hang of it, Dillon. I pull this ring and that's it. The guns are pretty obvious. I managed Kilbeg, I can manage this.'

'This is madness,' Hannah Bernstein said.

'No, it's trying to save Blake Johnson's life,' Dillon said. 'I'm ready when you are, Brigadier, unless you have other ideas.'

'No,' Ferguson said. 'It makes the usual wild sense where you are concerned, so let's get on with it.'

'Harry's coming along for the ride,' Dillon said. 'I suggest you lot board, and Billy and I will change and follow.' As you wish.'

Ten minutes later, Dillon and Billy, in jumpsuits, flak jackets, parachutes, shoulder holsters, AKs suspended across the chest, went up the steps and took their seats. Parry dosed the door.

Salter said, 'Christ, Billy, you look like you're in a Vietnam war movie or something. What are you playing at’

Billy actually smiled. 'I'm playing at being me, Harry, and it feels great.'

Blake sat down again on the stone seat in the tunnel, waist deep in water, hugging himself and trying to keep warm. Would Dillon come? Fox seemed to expect it, dangling him as bait. It was an impossible situation, but then, Dillon had always been master of the impossible. Somewhere high above, through the thick walls of the old house, he seemed to hear a noise, far off, something like an aircraft engine, but he couldn't be sure. The rat appeared and circled, swimming.

'I told you,' he said. 'Behave yourself.'

The noise of the aircraft faded quickly. Falcone said, 'What was that?'

'It could be normal air traffic at the RAF place at St Just,' Fox said. 'And then again, it could be Dillon. We'd better get ready.'

He was standing by the fire in the great hall with Falcone and Russo. 'Get me a brandy first.'

Russo went to the sideboard, filled a glass and brought it back. Rossi and Cameci came in, holding Uzis.

Falcone said, 'Excuse me, Signore, but do you really think Dillon will come?'

'I gave him enough clues. He's smart. He'll come.'

It was Russo who said, 'But what if they send the police?' 'Dillon? No, it's too personal for that. He's not going to

trust the police to do this for him.'

'But Ferguson is secret intelligence,' Falcone pointed out. 'What if he decided to use special forces, the SAS?'

'Same thing. He's operated this whole thing very close to his chest. Publicity is the last thing he wants, he won't change now. Low key, that's the way they'll do it. Like in the bullring, mano a mano, hand-to-hand, face-to-face.'

'As you say, Signore.'

Fox turned to Rossi and Cameci. 'Get out in the garden and keep watch. Check the doors.'

They went out and he drank some of the brandy. He was right in all respects except one. Dillon was already there.

As the Gulfstream throttled back to almost stalling speed, Parry ran back, opened the door, and dropped the steps. There was a rush of wind.

Salter said, 'Christ Almighty.'

Dillon turned and grinned at Billy. 'I'm an older guy, you young bastard. I'll go first.'

'Thanks very much. Get going, Dillon.'

Billy, feeling totally insane, pushed him out and dived after him.

There was rain, light mist, and yet the moon, the house and estate were clear below. Dillon hit in no time at all, punched the quick release after a perfect landing, not even a roll, and looked around. He saw the other parachute billowing like some strange flower, ran over, and stamped on it. Billy sat up.

'Are you okay?' Dillon asked.

'I think so. Went backwards and hit my back.' He worked the muscles around. 'But it feels okay.'

Dillon punched Billy's quick release. 'Then come on, move it!

Billy was on his feet in a moment. 'Jesus, Dillon, I can't believe this is happening.'

'Well, it is. Kilbeg all over again, except this time there are five bad guys out there waiting to pounce, so be ready.'

Dillon trawled the gardens with the Nightstalker and saw Cameci over by the terrace. 'Take a look,' he whispered to Billy.

Billy nodded. 'Can't see anything else.'

'I'll go left, you right.'

'I'm with you, Dillon.'

Cameci was by the balustrade, looking out over the moonlit

garden, when the muzzle of an nudged his back. Billy said, 'Make a sound and I'll blow your spine apart.' Cameci said, 'Is that Dillon?'

'No, I'm his younger brother.' Billy called softly, 'Over here.'

Dillon moved out of the shadows, and Rossi, on the other side of the terrace, stood up. It was Billy who saw him. 'Dillon!' he rasped.

Dillon turned, his silenced AK coughed, and Rossi went backwards, dead.

Dillon took Cameci by the jaw. 'Tell me who's inside and tell me now, or I'll kill you.'

Cameci, terrified, said, 'Signores Fox, Falcone and Russo.' Dillon said, 'Excellent. Now what about the American?'

'He's in the tunnel in the cellars.'

'Good. Take us there.'

Cameci led the way through the kitchen, down the stairs and into the cellar system. They arrived at an old oak door. 'That's it,' Cameci said.

'Then open it.'

Cameci did as he was told. Blake, in the water, turned, the light falling across his face, and Dillon said, 'What are you doing, taking a dip? This is no time for fun. Get the hell out of there.'

Blake stumbled up the steps. 'What kept you?'

He was shivering and very wet. Dillon said to Cameci, 'Get your clothes off. The man's freezing.'

'But, Signore,' Cameci protested.

Dillon shoved the muzzle of the AK under his chin. 'Just do it.' He pulled the combat scarf from around his neck and gave it to Blake. 'Dry yourself a little.'

Blake did the best he would while Cameci stripped. Blake pulled on the clothes. Cameci was left in his underpants.

Meanwhile, Falcone, upstairs, had opened the French windows, gone out on the terrace, and found Rossi. He was back inside in an instant to Fox and Russo.

'Rossi's out there dead. No sign of Cameci.'

'Christ,' Fox said. 'He's here, the bastard's here. Spread out.'

At that moment, Dillon shoved Cameci into the room in his underpants, and startled by the sudden apparition, Falcone turned and fired. Cameci went down, writhing. 'Hey, you got the wrong guy,' Dillon called. 'It's me, Jack. Time to pay up.'

'Fuck you, Dillon,' Fox shouted.

They crouched in the hall, the great chandelier hanging from the ceiling spreading its illumination. Falcone whispered to Russo, 'Stick with me. Let's move towards the door to the kitchen quarters.' He saw Fox moving to the right.

'There's too much light,' Russo said.

Falcone fired his Uzi up at the chandelier and brought it crashing down.

'Not any more.'

He ducked, pulling Russo with him.

The hall was a strange place now, only the light from the great log fire picking out the suits of armour, the ancient banners, the great staircase to the left. Dillon, Blake and Billy crept in and crouched behind the great central table.

'Now what?' Billy demanded.

'Just wait, Billy, always hasten slowly.' He took out his Browning and passed it to Blake. 'Just in case.'

'How the hell did you get here, anyway?' Blake asked. 'Lacey and Parry did a low pass, and Billy and I jumped.' 'Dear God, what does this boy know about parachuting?' 'A lot more than he did a couple of hours ago. Don't worry,

there are reinforcements coming.'

A special forces team?'

'No. Ferguson, Hannah and Harry Salter.'

'Christ Almighty.'

'We can make it, Blake. Cameci and Rossi are down. That just leaves Falcone, Russo and good old Jack Fox.' 'So how do we do it?' Billy asked.

'I've told you. We wait, Billy, and let them come to us.'

There was quiet. Falcone and Russo had reached the green baize door leading to the kitchen. Fox had reached another door to one side of the fireplace. He opened it and went up a spiral staircase to the landing, peered down at the hall, and saw a movement behind the table. Beneath his foot, a board creaked.

'The bastard's somewhere above us,' Dillon said. 'Slide off to the right, Billy.'

Billy moved away and Dillon called, 'Why, Jack, here we are again at the final end of things.' He pushed Blake away. 'Get over to the shadows on the other side.'

Up above, Jack Fox moved, crouching by the switches for the wall lights that normally illuminated the collection of paintings that hung on the wall. He paused and reached.

Below, Blake started to move, slipped, and cried out in pain as he fell on his arm. Dillon reached down to pick him up and Fox switched on the lights.

'I've got you now, you bastard.'

He raised the Walther in his right hand and shot Dillon twice in the back. To do it he had to stand, and so did Billy, over to the right. Raising his AK, he pumped ten rounds into Fox, driving him back across the landing. Fox bounced off the wall back to the balustrade and fell over. He lay there on the stone flagging, twitching for just a second. Then there was silence.

Falcone eased open the green baize door and said, 'We're out of here.'

'Where to?' Russo asked.

'The airstrip. We've got to get to London. Don Marco's due in, and we've got to give him the news.'

Russo said, 'Sometimes they kill the messenger.' 'Not now. This is too important.'

They slid back through the door, went down the steps and made the courtyard. A few moments later, they were driving away to the airstrip.

In the hall, Dillon had been thrown onto his face by the force of the bullets he'd taken in his back. Groaning, he forced himself up. Billy ran over, crouching.

'Dillon, are you all right?'

'Yes, thank God for flak jackets. I'll be a little sore, that's

all.' He looked around. 'Anyone there?' he called. There was silence. Blake said, 'Are you okay, Sean?' 'Yes, I'm fine. I think they've run for it. I heard a car leaving.' He got up and walked to Jack Fox's body, and Blake fol-

lowed. They stood, looking down.

'Well, there you go, Blake. He's paid the price. You've got your revenge now.'

Blake said, 'Not really. Fox gave the order, but Falcone boasted to me that it was he and Russo who killed my wife.' 'And where are they?' Billy asked.

'Come with me and I'll show you,' Dillon said.

He went and opened the front door and stood at the top of the steps, and Billy and Blake followed. A moment later, there was the sound of an aircraft engine as a plane passed over.

'There they are, Billy: Falcone and Russo getting out while they still can.'

As they turned to the door, an RAF Land Rover drove into the courtyard, Hannah Bernstein at the wheel and Ferguson and Harry Salter in the rear.

Standing by the fire in the hall, Harry Salter said, 'Are you okay, Billy?'

'He's better than okay,' Dillon said. 'Fox shot me in the back twice. Only my flak jacket saved me, and Billy blew the bastard away.' He turned. 'That's three, Billy, you're an ace.'

'So what happens now, sir?' Hannah Bernstein asked. 'Shall I notify the Cornwall constabulary?'

'I think not,' Ferguson said. 'Leave this for the caretaker to discover. Fox and these other two rogues are on Scotland Yard's intelligence information computer. This whole thing is obviously a Mafia feud, therefore it's nothing to do with us.'

'But, sir,' Hannah said.

'Superintendent, be sensible. That would be the best way of handling it, so don't let's argue. Now let's get out of here and back to St Just.'

On the Golden Eagle, Falcone called Don Marco on his mobile. The Don was about to board his Gulfstream in New York.

Aldo, what news do you have for me?'

'Terrible, Don Marco. How can I tell you?'

Don Marco said, 'By getting on with it.'

Afterwards he said, 'Poor Jack, so stupid, so headstrong.' 'What shall I do, Signore?'

'Nothing at the moment. There is obviously a matter of family honour here, but we'll discuss that later when I'm in London.'

'As you say, Don Marco.'

On board the Gulfstream bearing Dillon and the others to Farley Field, Ferguson's mobile sounded. He hesitated, then passed it to Dillon.

'I think you need to deal with this.'

Roper said, 'I had a call from Hannah, so I know what's gone down. I'm glad you're still with us.'

'So am V

'I've trawled the Solazzo family affairs. The Golden Eagle just landed at Bardsey, with two passengers, Falcone and Russo.'

'Anything else?'

'Well, you'll love this. Don Marco Solazzo is en route from New York in one of the family Gulfstreams. Booked in at the Dorchester.'

Dillon laughed. 'Well, that really is going to make it old home week,' and he switched off.