The Killing Ground

“Bird-watchers,” Bosey told them. “We get a few of those.”

“Any problem?” Levin said.

“Not really. Sometimes if some rare bird turns up, the numbers increase. They’re completely harmless from my point of view. Some do make a bit of a holiday out of it, stay at a bed-and-breakfast in Zion Village and there’s a place that hires caravans. Harmless eccentrics, in away.”

“Why do you say that?” Sara demanded.

“Well, I remember one of them telling me in the pub that the rooks in the village came from Saint Petersburg in October, the winter there for them being too cold. Starlings, too.”

“Why would that make them eccentric?” Sara asked.

“Doesn’t seem all that likely.”

“The Russians ring birds, too. I’m sure they could do that in Saint Petersburg. Don’t you think so, Igor?” Sara asked.

“Ask Greta, she comes from Saint Petersburg.”

“Yes, they do ring rooks there and they do fly away to avoid the Russian winter. I learned this as a little girl.”

“Well, there you are then,” Sara said, and they pulled up at the gate. A man in a similar uniform to Bosey looked out, then operated the electronic barrier, which rose.

“Hello,” Sara called cheerfully, and he gri

Her mother muttered, “For goodness sake, Sara.”

But Bosey, totally charmed, flushed with pleasure, although he couldn’t think of a thing to say.

In a way, it was rather like the old days in that kind of house, for they were greeted on the wide steps by a middle-aged lady whom Bosey introduced as Mrs. Bertha Tetley, the housekeeper, who lived in, as did her support staff, Kitty, Ida and Vera.

“If you follow me, I’ll show you all your rooms. Luncheon will be served soon. This way.” She took them through to the vast hall and led the way upstairs.

“I’ll see you in a moment and we’ll discuss things,” Levin said to Bosey, who nodded.

When Levin and Chomsky went down, they found Bosey in the library. He offered them a drink and they settled for vodka. “Have you been here long?” Levin asked.

“Ten years, and not just for General Ferguson, but I’ve handled jobs for him on a number of occasions, so I’ve come to know him well.”

“You were an army man?”

“Military police.”

“An excellent recommendation. What do you know about this business?”

“General Ferguson told me all I need. We’re providing refuge for the Rashid family, who are apparently under some terrorist threat. A period of one week, longer if needed. I understand that you gentlemen and Miss Novikova are members of General Ferguson’s security outfit and that’s enough for me. We have weaponry on the premises but don’t usually carry it.”

“Good man, and it’s Major Novikova. She outranks us all.” At that moment, she came in. “Just in time for a drink, Major,” Levin said.

He winked at Bosey, who smiled and reached for the vodka bottle. “Thank you, Captain.” She toasted them. “To a pleasant stay and all our troubles over.”

There were voices on the stairs outside, Sara’s clear, and then Caspar and Molly followed her into the library. Sara was in excellent spirits.

“This is nice,” she said and ran to the window. Caspar looked hunted and his wife unhappy. “Is lunch ready?” Caspar asked.

“There’s something we have to get clear first,” Levin said, “And this comes directly from General Ferguson. The house phones are only for use internally. You can’t call London. If we communicate with the outside world, it must be through Captain Bosey and his coded mobile system in the communications room. The staff are not allowed personal mobiles on the premises.”

“What on earth are you talking about?” Molly asked.

Her husband said warily, “A call from a mobile phone can be very easily traced.”

“What nonsense, it’s preposterous,” Molly told him.

“At the moment, no one knows where you are,” Greta said patiently. “We’d prefer to leave it that way.”

“So I am not allowed to phone a hospital to check on my patients?”

“For God’s sake.” Caspar took a mobile phone from his pocket and slammed it down on the table. “It’s only for a week.”

Molly took a deep breath and seemed about to explode and then the breath went out of her. She opened her handbag and took out not one but two phones. “If you must, and Sara’s, of course.”

Sara said, “Cheer up, Mummy, we’re going to have a lovely time. Now let’s eat.”

IT WAS AFTER LUNCH that Molly Rashid went up to the bedroom and checked the luggage, which included her doctor’s bag. She opened it, pulled her stethoscope out of the way and revealed the spare mobile and its charger she always kept in there in case of a hospital emergency. At least she could still check on the progress of the Bedford child, but it could wait.

Chapter 14

HAL STONE HAD A MEWS COTTAGE IN CHAPEL LANE, Cambridge, even though his position at Corpus Christi entitled him to rooms at the college. The cottage was somewhere to hide from the incessant demands of students when he was writing a book.

It was a Victorian cottage consisting of three bedrooms, a study, a kitchen and a lovely sitting room, its old-fashioned French windows opening to a garden that was a great pride to him, the garden surrounded by flint walls with a door that led to a back lane.

He was in the kitchen making tea when his phone rang. He answered it, declaring, “Hal Stone has gone away.”

“No, he hasn’t, you daft bastard,” Roper said. “You’ve just got back.”

“Ah, Roper, is that you? You’re not wanting me for anything active again? After Hazar, I need a rest. Indiana Jones I’m not.”

“Don’t worry, old boy, I’m just bringing you up to speed on what’s happened. Just listen.” He went through everything, Hussein’s departure from Hazar with Khazid, what had taken place in Algeria, the stolen floatplane to Majorca, the security film at Palma, the plane to Re

“Well, I see where you’re coming from. It looks like a stage-by-stage progress to England.”

“Where else could it be? No point in bringing the French in because of that plane at Re

“I still can’t see it, him coming to England, it would be suicide. I mean, his face has been all over the place. Somebody somewhere would be bound to recognize him. He’s hardly had time for plastic surgery.”

“God knows, it’s beyond me, but at night alone in front of the computers and fighting my own personal pain with more whiskey, I look at him on the screen and think he’s on his way.”

“So what are you doing about it?”

“We’ve persuaded the Rashids to vacate the Hampstead house and fly down to the depths of West Sussex for a week in a safe house. Zion House.”

“Now, that does sound interesting. Tell me more.”

Roper did, everything, including the report he’d just had in from Levin. “Molly Rashid’s a tough one. Likes her own way too much. The business about her mobile, all that fuss. Too damn much.”

“She’s a truly fine surgeon, and people like that are obsessive. They think that what they do is more important than anything else. Unfortunately, it often is.”

“Anyway, now you know the present score,” Roper said. “To a great extent, we’re in Hussein’s hands.”

“And I think he won’t come at all.” Hal Stone laughed, “After all, he’s a Harvard man. He’d have more sense.”

“Try telling them that at Yale,” Roper told him.

“I wish you luck, my friend. Take care.”

“So long.”

Hal Stone shook his head. Crazy, the whole business. He returned to making his tea.