The Killing Ground

“So Ferguson and Dillon visited the house in Gulf Road. Anyone else?”

“Yes, Professor Hal Stone.”

“The archaeologist from Hazar. I wonder what he wanted?”

“I think he was saying good-bye. One of my men, Jamal, followed him to King’s Cross, where he caught a train to Cambridge. He’s a professor at Corpus Christi College there. It’s now turned out he’s Ferguson ’s cousin.”

“Is he indeed? He’s been involved in this affair intimately. I’ll bet he possesses all the information we need.”

“You could be right.”

“I think I am. Ali Hassim-tell me about him.” Khan did and when he was finished, Hussein said, “Is he to be trusted?”

“Completely. Few people actually know how important he is.”

“Then I’ll have his address. He may expect me at any time.”

“What is your intention?”

“I’ll visit this Hal Stone at Cambridge University today. Bournemouth is close by to where I am. We’ll go by train.”

“To Cambridge? You’d have to change in London. Is this wise?”

“My dear professor, even I don’t recognize myself. I’ll be in touch.”

He turned and found Khazid watching him, face troubled. “I’ll explain it all later when we’re on the train,” he said. “But I must speak to the Broker.”

HE LIT A CIGARETTE after pressing the panic button and waited, calm and in charge of himself again, and the Broker called him instantly. Very quickly, Hussein explained the situation and his intentions.

“Do you approve?”

“I must say I do. I can’t access the departures from Farley like I used to be able to. It has a special security system. I can only wish you luck in Cambridge. Are you sure of your safety in traveling? Is Darcus that good?”

“Yes is the short answer to that. Good-bye.”

He brushed past Khazid and found Darcus in the kitchen. “We need to get to Bournemouth. I presume there’s a reasonable train service from there?”

“Yes, excellent. When would you be leaving?”

“As soon as you like.”

“Not me, love, I’ve got prostate problems you wouldn’t want to hear about. Our doctor only looks in twice a week, that’s up in Peel Strand village. It’s only half a mile so I usually walk.” He looked at the time. “Ten o’clock and he doesn’t arrive until after lunch.”

“So what’s the alternative?” Khazid asked.

“You can take my car, leave it in the car park at Bournemouth Station and leave the key in the glove compartment. I can’t say fairer than that. I think you’d have to change in London to get to Cambridge, though. Anyway, it’s been great meeting you. Makes life so much more interesting.”

“And lucrative for you?” Hussein said.

“Of course, love, we all need to earn a crust.”

THEY WERE FULLY CLOTHED, flight bags in hand and on their way within fifteen minutes. An old Mini car awaited in the rain by the garage.

“The key’s in, good luck,” Darcus shouted and closed the door.

Hussein got behind the wheel and Khazid slipped off his wristwatch, put it in his raincoat pocket and leaned down. “Sorry-I left my watch in the bathroom. I’ll just be a minute.”

Darcus had told them as part of his good-bye chatter that they’d have to change trains in London for Cambridge, but the only mention of Cambridge had been in Hussein’s supposedly private conversations when he and Khazid had been on the porch, which meant Darcus had been listening.

Khazid stepped onto the porch, opened his flight bag, took out a Walther and screwed on the Carswell. He also eased open the door to the hall, aware of the voice whittering on.

“My goodness, Charlie darling, if you knew what I’ve been up to.”

Khazid whistled softly, Darcus turned. “Oh, my God.” He put the phone down.

Khazid said, “Naughty, Darcus, very.” He shot him between the eyes and turned away.

He threw his flight bag in the back of the Mini and got in, putting on his watch.

“Okay?” Hussein asked.

“Never better,” and they drove away.

THE FLIGHT FROM FARLEY had been placed in the hands of Lacey and Parry by Ferguson ’s direct order for the obvious reasons, that they knew everybody. Levin and Chomsky needed introducing to the Rashids, and Greta took care of that. Sara responded well to Levin and Chomsky, but the one person who wasn’t happy at all was Molly Rashid.

Molly and Caspar were sitting together in the two rear seats and had a conversation, at first just a murmur but increasingly fraught.

“Where on earth is it getting us all?” Molly asked.

“It’s for our own good. Just a week until we see how things develop,” replied Caspar.

“I’ve my work to consider, some of the most important of my life.”

“But the colleagues who’ve stepped in for you are first-class people.”

“That isn’t the point. The Bedford child, for example. Absolutely groundbreaking stuff. I should be hovering over her every day of the week, and where am I? It won’t do, Caspar.”

“The Bedford child has got good people hovering over her, seeing to her every need like we’re doing with our child.”

Sara smiled solemnly at Levin and raised her eyes, then she turned, kneeling on her seat, and said, “Is there any way you could treat this like a holiday in the country, so that we can all get along together, because that’s what I intend to do.” She didn’t wait for an answer, just swiveled round and said, “Tell me some more about the Kremlin, Igor, I think it sounds fascinating.”

Her parents, embarrassed, were reduced to silence, and a moment later Lacey said, “Our short flight is coming to an end, folks. That’s the Sussex coastline over there, the North Sea. You’ll notice quite extensive salt marshes. There’s a village of Zion, but Zion House is three miles outside it and close to the marshes. We’re going down now.”

They descended and moved in at five hundred. The house looked like everything it should be, with gracious gardens, and stone walls surrounding it, some sort of wire ru

“Is that what they call a grass runway?” she asked Levin.

“No, it’s concrete. Have you done this before?”

“Oh, yes, in the Empty Quarter. We had to land in the sand at Fuad. There was an oil seal trouble in the port engine. Oil was spilling out and burning. You’ve never seen such black smoke. It was lucky Hussein was doing the flying. He’s a wonderful pilot. He let me do the navigating.” She leaned back as they touched down. “I’m really going to enjoy myself here.”

And to that, there was little that anyone could say.

THEY BUMPED DOWN on the concrete runway. There was no hangar, just a wooden hut. The man waiting for them wore a navy blue uniform and a clipped mustache, his cap under his left arm, all very regimental. There was a van beside him.

As they approached, he said, “Captain Rodger Bosey. I run things here. You’re all very welcome. What about you chaps?” he asked the pilots.

“We’re at General Ferguson’s command,” Lacey said, “and he wants a quick return. Things are a bit fraught, so we’ll take off straightaway. See you all soon,” and he and Parry got back in the Hawk.

There were introductions, then they all got in the van and watched the takeoff. “Here we go then, I’ll take you all up to the house and settle you in.”

They turned along a dike and through a fringe of pine trees, the great reeds of the marsh close, trembling in the wind. A little way off there was a group of people in anoraks, sitting on a bank, eating sandwiches.