Read Online The White House Connection by Jack Higgins - Free Book Online Page B

Land Rover parked nearby, Hannah beside him, followed.
     
     
The woman didn't say a word, simply drove down to the docks, passing through an area of desolation and decaying warehouses. She pulled into a space beside an old Ford Transit van.
     
     
'There you are, sir, out you get.'
     
     
Blake did exactly as he was told. She drove away. Blake stood there in the rain, waiting, and the rear door of the Transit opened and two men jumped out. One was in a bomber jacket, the other, a bearded man, wore an Australian drover's coat down to his ankles. Both carried handguns.
     
     
'Mr McGuire?' the bearded one said. 'I'm Daley and this is Bell, Daley and Bell. Sounds like a cabaret act, only it isn't. One wrong move, as they say on television, and you're dead. Assume the position.'
     
     
Blake put his hands on the Transit and spread his legs. He was thoroughly checked. Satisfied, Daley said, 'In the back and let's go'
     
     
The bench seats were comfortable enough. Daley sat opposite him and Bell locked the door and got behind the wheel. He drove away.
     
     
Blake said anxiously, 'Look, what is this? I'm here in good faith and I expected to see Mr Barry.'
     
     
'And he can't wait to see you,' Daley told him, 'but it'll be a while yet, so have a cigarette and enjoy the trip.'
     
     
Dillon, having seen the taxi turn in before, had pulled into a side turning, got out and approached on foot. Now he ran back to the Land Rover and got behind the wheel.
     
     
'They've transferred him. White Ford Transit,' he told Hannah, and a few moments later was following it through the evening traffic.
     
     
The rain was relentless, and as night fell, it was obvious that they were moving out of town.
     
     
'So it's not Belfast,' Hannah observed.
     
     
'So it would appear.'
     
     
They came to a place where temporary lights had been set up because of roadworks. The traffic had turned from two lanes to one.
     
     
'Damn!' Hannah said.
     
     
'Just open the box, girl. We'll be all right.'
     
     
She had the briefcase on her knee, lifted the lid and went to work. The map was clear, even more so as it grew darker. The Transit had disappeared, but that didn't matter. Time passed and they were still going north.
     
     
Hannah said, 'Where in the hell are we going?'
     
     
'God knows,' Dillon told her. 'But I do have the glimmering of an idea.'
     
     
'Such as?'
     
     
'We're heading north and the Antrim coast is close. What about Spanish Head?'
     
     
'But that's crazy. You told us it was owned by the National Trust.'
     
     
'Yes, but these places don't open to the public till Easter.'
     
     
'You can't be serious.'
     
     
'Just keep your eye on that screen and we'll see.'
     
     
There were a couple of windows in the Transit. They were proceeding along a coast road and, for the moment, the rain had stopped and the sky was stormy with a half-moon. They finally turned into a side road and paused at the gate. A notice said 'Spanish Head National Trust'.
     
     
There was a cottage on the other side, a light at the window. Bell sounded the horn, and a door opened and an old man
     
     
appeared. He hesitated, and Bell called, 'Punch the bloody button, Harker, and let us in.'
     
     
The gate was obviously electronic. The old man opened a box by the door, fiddled inside, the gate swung back and Bell drove through. Blake saw a castle above steep cliffs, towers, battlements, all very spectacular. It was only as they got closer that Blake saw that it was only a large country house built in nineteenth-century Gothic style. The Transit came to a halt, Bell got out, came round and opened the door. Blake followed Daley out and found himself in a courtyard.
     
     
'This way, Mr McGuire,' Daley told him.
     
     
Bell opened a massive oak front door and led the way in. There was a huge entrance hall, a flagged floor, an open fireplace and flags draped from poles: the Irish Republican tricolour, the Union Flag and, surprisingly, an old flag