Read Online The Killing Ground by Jack Higgins - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jack Higgins
Tags: Fiction, Suspense, Thrillers, Espionage, Intelligence Officers, Secret service, Dillon, Sean (Fictitious character), Dillon; Sean (Fictitious character)
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snatched from her parents in London in the first place.”
But she didn’t want to listen and charged into the bar, where Farouk stood behind the counter, a strange threatening stillness to him. Customers, four of them, were there, one with an AK on the table close to his hand, another with one slung from his shoulder. The other two had a hand each in a pocket.
A woman slipped through the door, her clothes held tightly around her. She looked terrified and glanced anxiously about her. Rawan said,
“Ah, someone bearing ill news. Gentlemen, this is Bibi, one of Sara Rashid’s ladies of the bedchamber. What’s wrong, Bibi? Have they gone without you?”
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J A C K H I G G I N S
The woman cried bitterly, flung herself to her knees and a flood of Arabic ensued. Rawan said, “Excellent. Someone seems to have spoiled the party and warned Abdul Rashid. Several hours ago, he dispatched Sara with Hussein Rashid, her intended, in a small convoy to Kuwait by road. Once there, friends will forward them by private plane to Hazar, where the rest of the Rashids thrive. It is all true, Bibi heard it being discussed. You are dead men walking. Hussein will see to it.”
There was a silence. Savage said, “But who told him?”
“Who do you think? I’m sick of you, Jack, have been for a long time.
You can rot in hell.”
In the near distance, there was a huge explosion, and everybody in-stinctively ducked. The sound of the aftershock drifted like a wave. The telephone on the bar sounded.
Farouk picked it up and listened, then held it out to Savage. “Omar, the boy you had watching the Rashid villa. He saw the convoy for Kuwait leave two hours ago.”
“So?”
“Old Rashid had just driven out in his Mercedes, accompanied by two guards. It exploded as it went through the gate.” His face said it all: Because of people like you, who come amongst us and destroy everything you touch.
There must have been something about his expression that gave warning, a twitch, a glint of determination, because Dillon, who had been sitting down, pulled on the ankle holster, yanked out the .25 Colt and shot Farouk between the eyes, the hollow-point cartridge wreaking havoc. In almost the same moment, he pulled out the silenced Walther from his waistband under the jacket and shot the one who was reaching for the AK on a table.
Billy produced his Walther as a third man was trying to get a Browning out of his right-hand pocket and snagged it. Billy shot him instantly and the man was hurled against his companion, who shot him inad-vertently in the back.
T H E K I L L I N G G R O U N D
61
“Don’t shoot, for God’s sake,” the companion called in as Irish a voice as you could wish for, but as Billy hesitated, the Irishman’s hand swung up to fire, and it was Dillon who finished him off.
“Don’t do that again, Billy. It never pays.”
“Christ, I thought he was Irish.” Billy went down, felt in an inside pocket and produced a passport, brown, with the Gold Harp of Ireland on it and a few papers.
“Bring them with you.” Dillon turned and Rawan said, “Damn you, damn you all and damn this stinking country, Jack.” She ran down the steps to the jetty, untied the line on the Eagle and cast off. Savage clat-tered down the steps after her and jumped for the Eagle as it drifted out.
“Rawan,” he called. “Just listen.”
“Not anymore,” she said and pressed the starter.
It rattled a couple of times and then there was a huge explosion and the boat simply came apart.
Billy was hurled backward over a cane chair. Dillon pulled him up.
“Let’s get out of it and fast. The military will be here in no time. We’ll take that Land Rover Savage used to bring us from the airport. Our stuff is still on board.”
They were out in seconds and into the Land Rover, Billy at the wheel, and moved into the main street as two Scimitars came the opposite way.
A sizable crowd was already assembling, but the confusion of it helped them to
But she didn’t want to listen and charged into the bar, where Farouk stood behind the counter, a strange threatening stillness to him. Customers, four of them, were there, one with an AK on the table close to his hand, another with one slung from his shoulder. The other two had a hand each in a pocket.
A woman slipped through the door, her clothes held tightly around her. She looked terrified and glanced anxiously about her. Rawan said,
“Ah, someone bearing ill news. Gentlemen, this is Bibi, one of Sara Rashid’s ladies of the bedchamber. What’s wrong, Bibi? Have they gone without you?”
60
J A C K H I G G I N S
The woman cried bitterly, flung herself to her knees and a flood of Arabic ensued. Rawan said, “Excellent. Someone seems to have spoiled the party and warned Abdul Rashid. Several hours ago, he dispatched Sara with Hussein Rashid, her intended, in a small convoy to Kuwait by road. Once there, friends will forward them by private plane to Hazar, where the rest of the Rashids thrive. It is all true, Bibi heard it being discussed. You are dead men walking. Hussein will see to it.”
There was a silence. Savage said, “But who told him?”
“Who do you think? I’m sick of you, Jack, have been for a long time.
You can rot in hell.”
In the near distance, there was a huge explosion, and everybody in-stinctively ducked. The sound of the aftershock drifted like a wave. The telephone on the bar sounded.
Farouk picked it up and listened, then held it out to Savage. “Omar, the boy you had watching the Rashid villa. He saw the convoy for Kuwait leave two hours ago.”
“So?”
“Old Rashid had just driven out in his Mercedes, accompanied by two guards. It exploded as it went through the gate.” His face said it all: Because of people like you, who come amongst us and destroy everything you touch.
There must have been something about his expression that gave warning, a twitch, a glint of determination, because Dillon, who had been sitting down, pulled on the ankle holster, yanked out the .25 Colt and shot Farouk between the eyes, the hollow-point cartridge wreaking havoc. In almost the same moment, he pulled out the silenced Walther from his waistband under the jacket and shot the one who was reaching for the AK on a table.
Billy produced his Walther as a third man was trying to get a Browning out of his right-hand pocket and snagged it. Billy shot him instantly and the man was hurled against his companion, who shot him inad-vertently in the back.
T H E K I L L I N G G R O U N D
61
“Don’t shoot, for God’s sake,” the companion called in as Irish a voice as you could wish for, but as Billy hesitated, the Irishman’s hand swung up to fire, and it was Dillon who finished him off.
“Don’t do that again, Billy. It never pays.”
“Christ, I thought he was Irish.” Billy went down, felt in an inside pocket and produced a passport, brown, with the Gold Harp of Ireland on it and a few papers.
“Bring them with you.” Dillon turned and Rawan said, “Damn you, damn you all and damn this stinking country, Jack.” She ran down the steps to the jetty, untied the line on the Eagle and cast off. Savage clat-tered down the steps after her and jumped for the Eagle as it drifted out.
“Rawan,” he called. “Just listen.”
“Not anymore,” she said and pressed the starter.
It rattled a couple of times and then there was a huge explosion and the boat simply came apart.
Billy was hurled backward over a cane chair. Dillon pulled him up.
“Let’s get out of it and fast. The military will be here in no time. We’ll take that Land Rover Savage used to bring us from the airport. Our stuff is still on board.”
They were out in seconds and into the Land Rover, Billy at the wheel, and moved into the main street as two Scimitars came the opposite way.
A sizable crowd was already assembling, but the confusion of it helped them to
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