had enough of Afghanistan to last me a long time. But I have excellent staff, and I’d be happy to put them at your disposal. Just let me know.’
‘I will indeed. Come on, Harry, we’d better move.’ Ferguson got up. ‘Take care of yourself, Hedley, old son. Let’s not leave it so long. Nice to meet you, Major.’ He shook Talbot’s hand. ‘My regards to your grandfather. I had some dealings with him when I was in Belfast at the height of the Troubles. Frankly, he was a bit of a bastard.’
Talbot held on to his hand for a moment. ‘You’re wrong, General. He was the bastard.’
Ferguson and Miller went downstairs and called in their limousines. ‘What did you think?’ asked Ferguson.
‘Of Talbot? I can’t say I warmed to him.’
‘Perfectly understandable, Harry. He’s too good-looking, he’s heir to a family fortune of eight-hundred million pounds, he’s a war hero. Shall I carry on?’
‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ Miller said. ‘What now?’
‘Time for a council of war. I’ll see you at Holland Park.’ Ferguson got in his Daimler and was driven away.
An hour later, they met in the computer room, Ferguson presiding, with Miller, Holley, Roper, and their occasional colleagues Harry and Billy Salter.
Ferguson said, ‘I’m pleased to say that Daniel Holley has agreed to join us and offer his special services to the matter in hand.’
Harry Salter glared at Holley, then said, ‘This is completely out of order. This geezer arranged for someone to try and burn down my pub.’
‘Which is still standing,’ Ferguson told him. ‘We’re all in one piece, including Lady Monica Starling, whose life he saved. It’s like war, Harry — yesterday’s enemies are today’s allies. All sins are forgiven. Daniel has even passed on to our old friend Colonel Josef Lermov information about a possible Al Qaeda assassination attempt on Vladimir Putin.’
‘Christ,’ Harry Salter said, ‘whose side are you on, Holley? You certainly spread yourself around.’ He turned to Ferguson. ‘Okay then, what’s it all about?’
Roper said, ‘I’ve got quite a show for you. Listen and learn.’
* * *
When it was over, Harry Salter said, ‘What a bastard, that Shamrock guy. Calls himself British. He should have his balls chopped off.’
‘Rather drastic, but you have a point,’ Ferguson said. ‘Anyone else?’
Billy Salter said, ‘The business about these young Muslims turning up in battle with the Taliban. Yes, it’s diabolical, but I’ve got a feeling there probably is no organization as such behind this. They’ve all got relatives in Pakistan, they were born here, they’ve got a passport, they can travel there any time they want. So maybe some Mullah at the local mosque who’s a Jihadist has given them an address. That’s probably the extent of it.’
‘I agree with him,’ Dillon put in. ‘I think the important thing here is for us to find out who Shamrock is.’
‘You’re right, Sean,’ Miller told him. ‘But we can’t exactly go hunting for him in the depths of Helmand province. He isn’t out there leading a life of daily hardship. He’s staging a “spectacular”, as he calls it, and then getting out of there. Who knows where he is?’
‘I still say Ireland’s the place to go,’ Dillon said. ‘Visit the scene of the original crime.’
Ferguson opened his briefcase, took out a book and put it on the table next to Roper, who picked it up and examined it. ‘From Waterstone’s. A history of the IRA, with a detailed account of the Warrenpoint ambush of Nineteen seventy-nine. Anybody can read about it, Sean — it doesn’t have to be somebody who was there.’
‘And as I’ve already mentioned,’ Miller said, ‘I’ve used the Warrenpoint disaster in my lectures at Sandhurst for ten years. Hundreds and hundreds of officer cadets have heard that lecture.’
‘Let’s move on,’ Ferguson said. ‘By chance, Major Miller and I bumped into an old comrade of mine today, General Sir Hedley Chase, Chairman of Talbot International. He was with his Managing Director, Major Justin Talbot, who was just back from Pakistan. I presume you know the firm,
Daniel?’
‘Of course I do. It’s one of the biggest in the business. Family-owned — the Chairman for years, Colonel Henry Talbot, was involved in Ulster politics.’
‘And that’s a polite way of putting it,’ Dillon said. ‘The kind of old-fashioned Protestant politician who’d have welcomed another potato famine just to reduce the Catholic population to manageable proportions.’
‘You appear to feel strongly on the matter, Sean,’ Ferguson said.
‘And why wouldn’t I, living only a few miles up the road at Collyban for some years in