Read Online The Judas Gate by Jack Higgins - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jack Higgins
Ads: Link
Kilmartin would be able to contact such people if necessary.’
‘What for?’
‘Ferguson and his people are formidable foes. It pays to be just as formidable an opposition.’
‘What the hell are you talking about: open warfare in the London streets?’
‘No, I’m saying we must be prepared. The opposition knows your code name is Shamrock. They surmise you might be Irish. Your leadership of the ambush seems to indicate you are a soldier of experience, and because of the name Warrenpoint, it reinforces their opinion that you could be a military man. We must stay vigilant, that’s what I’m saying. If we receive the slightest hint, from Hakim or anyone else, that they’re getting close to your identity, then we’ll have to deal with them.’ Shah took a breath. ‘All right. That’s enough for now. What are your plans?’
‘My mother is at Talbot Place. I’m going to fly myself over to join her this afternoon. The old man is poorly again.’
‘I’m amazed he hasn’t managed to fall downstairs by now. Perhaps he needs a nudge?’
‘Don’t think I haven’t thought of it.’
He dressed quickly in clothes suitable for flying, jeans and an old jacket. He had plenty of clothes at Talbot Place, and so took only a flight bag with a few things in it. Before leaving, though, he phoned Sir Hedley Chase at his house in Kensington to tell him he intended to call. Chase’s job as Chairman of Talbot International might be a well-paid sinecure, but the old boy was sharp and took things seriously.
‘I’m just going out for lunch,’ the General said. ‘At the Garrick Club. Got a taxi waiting. Why don’t you join me?’
Justin Talbot hesitated, for he wanted to be on his way, but there was that military thing that bound soldiers together and had done so since time immemorial. A general was a general, and you didn’t say no. A couple of hours wouldn’t make any difference.
‘I’ll be with you as soon as I can, Sir Hedley,’ he said, and was driving out of the garage in his mother’s Mini Cooper five minutes later.
At the club, Sir Hedley Chase was greeted warmly by the porters on duty, and he told them who his guest was going to be. Then, helped by his stick, he negotiated the stairs, and went into the bar. It wasn’t particularly busy. Two men were sitting comfortably at a corner table drinking brandy and ginger ale, and Sir Hedley realized with pleasure that he knew one of them.
‘What a perfectly splendid idea, Charles, a Horse’s Neck. I’ll have one, too. How long has it been. A year? Two?’ he asked.
‘Three,’ Ferguson told him, and said to his guest, ‘General Sir Hedley Chase, Grenadier Guards. A Captain when I was a Subaltern. Very ‘ard on me, he was.’
‘Made a man of you,’ Sir Hedley told him.
‘And this,’ said Ferguson, ‘is Major Harry Miller, Intelligence Corps, Member of Parliament and Under-Secretary of State.’
‘For what?’ Sir Hedley enquired.
‘For the Prime Minister, sir.’ Miller shook hands.
‘Oh, one of those, are you? I’ll have to be careful. The Queen,gentlemen.’ He toasted them. ‘What are you up to, Charles? Still a security wallah?’
‘I’m at the PM’s bidding. What about you?’
‘Bit of a sinecure, really. I’m Chairman of Talbot International. We’re in the Middle East and Pakistan, supply the army there with trucks, helicopters, armoured cars, that sort of thing.’
‘The Gulf War and Afghanistan must have boosted business,’ Miller said.
‘Certainly has. We’ve made millions.’
‘And weaponry?’ Ferguson asked.
‘We decided as a matter of policy not to bother. There’s lots of old-fashioned communist rubbish available, masses of AK47s, RPGs, Stingers. On the North-West Frontier, weapons like that are flogged in the bazaars like sweeties. It’s dirty business. Lots of people do it, even some respectable firms, but we don’t. Talbot International is family-owned, the ex-Chairman an old comrade of mine. Colonel
‘What for?’
‘Ferguson and his people are formidable foes. It pays to be just as formidable an opposition.’
‘What the hell are you talking about: open warfare in the London streets?’
‘No, I’m saying we must be prepared. The opposition knows your code name is Shamrock. They surmise you might be Irish. Your leadership of the ambush seems to indicate you are a soldier of experience, and because of the name Warrenpoint, it reinforces their opinion that you could be a military man. We must stay vigilant, that’s what I’m saying. If we receive the slightest hint, from Hakim or anyone else, that they’re getting close to your identity, then we’ll have to deal with them.’ Shah took a breath. ‘All right. That’s enough for now. What are your plans?’
‘My mother is at Talbot Place. I’m going to fly myself over to join her this afternoon. The old man is poorly again.’
‘I’m amazed he hasn’t managed to fall downstairs by now. Perhaps he needs a nudge?’
‘Don’t think I haven’t thought of it.’
He dressed quickly in clothes suitable for flying, jeans and an old jacket. He had plenty of clothes at Talbot Place, and so took only a flight bag with a few things in it. Before leaving, though, he phoned Sir Hedley Chase at his house in Kensington to tell him he intended to call. Chase’s job as Chairman of Talbot International might be a well-paid sinecure, but the old boy was sharp and took things seriously.
‘I’m just going out for lunch,’ the General said. ‘At the Garrick Club. Got a taxi waiting. Why don’t you join me?’
Justin Talbot hesitated, for he wanted to be on his way, but there was that military thing that bound soldiers together and had done so since time immemorial. A general was a general, and you didn’t say no. A couple of hours wouldn’t make any difference.
‘I’ll be with you as soon as I can, Sir Hedley,’ he said, and was driving out of the garage in his mother’s Mini Cooper five minutes later.
At the club, Sir Hedley Chase was greeted warmly by the porters on duty, and he told them who his guest was going to be. Then, helped by his stick, he negotiated the stairs, and went into the bar. It wasn’t particularly busy. Two men were sitting comfortably at a corner table drinking brandy and ginger ale, and Sir Hedley realized with pleasure that he knew one of them.
‘What a perfectly splendid idea, Charles, a Horse’s Neck. I’ll have one, too. How long has it been. A year? Two?’ he asked.
‘Three,’ Ferguson told him, and said to his guest, ‘General Sir Hedley Chase, Grenadier Guards. A Captain when I was a Subaltern. Very ‘ard on me, he was.’
‘Made a man of you,’ Sir Hedley told him.
‘And this,’ said Ferguson, ‘is Major Harry Miller, Intelligence Corps, Member of Parliament and Under-Secretary of State.’
‘For what?’ Sir Hedley enquired.
‘For the Prime Minister, sir.’ Miller shook hands.
‘Oh, one of those, are you? I’ll have to be careful. The Queen,gentlemen.’ He toasted them. ‘What are you up to, Charles? Still a security wallah?’
‘I’m at the PM’s bidding. What about you?’
‘Bit of a sinecure, really. I’m Chairman of Talbot International. We’re in the Middle East and Pakistan, supply the army there with trucks, helicopters, armoured cars, that sort of thing.’
‘The Gulf War and Afghanistan must have boosted business,’ Miller said.
‘Certainly has. We’ve made millions.’
‘And weaponry?’ Ferguson asked.
‘We decided as a matter of policy not to bother. There’s lots of old-fashioned communist rubbish available, masses of AK47s, RPGs, Stingers. On the North-West Frontier, weapons like that are flogged in the bazaars like sweeties. It’s dirty business. Lots of people do it, even some respectable firms, but we don’t. Talbot International is family-owned, the ex-Chairman an old comrade of mine. Colonel
Similar Books
