a pattern all over the world, isn’t it, Islamic extremism? There is a Muslim saying: Beauty is like a flag in the city.’
The PM nodded. ‘The green flag of Islam flying over Downing Street?’
‘Flying over a damn sight more than that,’ Ferguson said. ‘I’d say we’ve got to do something about it.’
‘I agree.’ The PM nodded. ‘But individual young Muslim men buying a plane ticket to Pakistan is one thing, a system that facilitates this is quite another. Does such an organization exist? That’s what we need to find out. The man who calls himself Shamrock could be the key here. Find him and we may be able to discover the rest.’
‘Of course, Prime Minister.’ Ferguson got up, as did Miller. ‘We’ll get on with it.’
The door opened and they left, passing Henry Frankel, who stood to one side and winked at Miller. Both their limousines were waiting outside.
Miller said, ‘Where do we start then?’
Ferguson glanced at his watch. It was noon exactly. ‘I could use a drink. Tell Fox to deliver you to the Garrick Club.’
‘The Garrick?’ Miller was surprised. ‘I thought you were a member of the Cavalry Club.’
‘Of course, but everybody likes the Garrick; all those actors and writers and so on. It makes a difference from matters military. I’ll see you in the bar.’
* * *
Justin Talbot went straight to his mother’s house at Marley Court to unpack and get a change of clothes. He had just come out of the shower when his mobile sounded. He answered and found himself speaking to the Preacher.
‘Good to hear from you,’ Talbot said. ‘I had an excellent trip.’
‘You had a disastrous trip, you stupid fool,’ Hassan told him.
Talbot said, ‘What the hell? I don’t have to put up with you talking to me like that.’
‘Listen to the tape I received, Talbot. Then you’ll see why I’m angry.’
Talbot did, and with some horror. When it was finished, he called the Preacher back and Shah answered at once. ‘What have you got to say?’
‘It was in the heat of battle, so I shot my mouth off. Regrettable, and I apologize, but I don’t see how it hurts us.’
‘You think not? This General Charles Ferguson is a legend in the counter-terrorism field. He has been an absolute thorn in the flesh of Al Qaeda, and so are the people who work for him. Dillon, Holley, Miller; they’ll all start nosing around. If Holley hadn’t kept his business partner, Hamid Malik, informed of all his doings, and Malik hadn’t confided in Hakim, we’d never have known.’
‘So what’s the problem?’ Talbot asked. ‘If this Holley guy tells his business partner about everything, then we should be able to find out about what happens next, shouldn’t we?’
‘You just don’t get it, do you? All Charles Ferguson and this Major Roper had to go on was a muddled tape, and then in you came with that absurdly dramatic code name, Shamrock, announcing to the world: What a spectacular. Warrenpoint all over again and it worked big time. Osama will be delighted.’
Talbot had made a mistake there, and he knew it. ‘So I got a bit overenthusiastic.’
‘And what was your touching dedication supposed to mean? You can rest in peace now, Sean. Night bless?’
Talbot said, ‘That’s got nothing to do with you.’
‘Everything has something to do with me. Answer me.’
‘Sean Kelly was my friend, a stable boy at Talbot Place. He was only nineteen, but he was a Provo like all his family. Some of those wounded Highlanders managed to fight back, and Sean took a bullet.’
‘How heart-warming. When you joined the Army, the Troubles must have given you a problem, didn’t it, knowing which side you were on?’
‘I was never in Ulster with the Grenadier Guards.’
‘But you certainly were with Twenty-Two SAS. More than twenty covert operations, wasn’t it? One in County Tyrone where your unit ambushed and killed eight members of the PIRA. I wonder how your friends in Kilmartin would react if they knew?’
‘You bastard,’ Justin Talbot said.
‘Action and passion, that’s what you like, a bloody good scrap; and you don’t care who the opponent is. Of course, you’ve never been certain which side you were on, Fenian or Prod. If only your mother had told you that you were Catholic years ago, you might have turned out different.’
Justin Talbot struggled to control his rage. ‘That is nonsense. What the hell are you saying?’ ‘Your father was a Catholic.’
‘Of course he was. Everyone knew that. But I’m a Protestant. My grandfather is a