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In the White House, Jake Cazalet was sitting beside the fire, a prey to conflicting emotion. What would it be like? How would she react? There was a tap on the door, it opened, and Teddy entered.
“Mr. President, your daughter,” he said and stood to one side.
Cazalet got to his feet, found himself shaking, and then Marie de Brissac moved into the room and stood looking at him, but only for a moment.
“Father,” she said.
Cazalet, filled with more emotion than at any time in his life, opened his arms and she ran to him.
It was three hours later that the limousine from the White House picked up Ferguson, Dillon, and Ha
“A nice trouser suit you’re wearing,” Dillon told her. “Armani, isn’t it?”
“They do have a rather splendid boutique at the hotel,” she said. “Got to look right for the White House.”
“I noticed from the functions board in the foyer that the President is entertaining the Russian Prime Minister at di
“Well, that’s good,” Dillon said. “Now that we’ve got her back, he can enjoy it.”
It was raining hard as the limousine moved along Constitution Avenue toward the White House, but in spite of the weather, there were TV cameras and tourists on Pe
Ferguson lowered the glass screen. “I’m surprised, considering the rain.”
The chauffeur said, “A lot of activity with the Russian delegation. I was told to bring you to the East Entrance.”
Ferguson put the screen up again. “They would, I suppose. They use the East Entrance for special visitors who want to avoid media attention.”
The limousine drove up East Executive Avenue and stopped at the gates, where the driver spoke to the guard, who waved them through. They finally stopped and the chauffeur got out and opened the door.
“This way.”
He indicated the door, which opened at once, and Ferguson led the way in. Inside was a Marine Lieutenant in dress uniform, who snapped to attention and saluted.
“Brigadier.”
There was also Teddy Grant, who came forward smiling. “Wonderful to see you all again. If you’d follow me, the President is waiting.”
In the Oval Office, Cazalet sat behind his desk and Marie was standing beside the window with Blake Johnson. She made the first move, ru
Cazalet came round the desk and shook hands with the three of them. “Impossible to thank you. Blake has given me the whole story. If this was Buckingham Palace, you’d be lining up for awards, but it’s America.”
“And thank God for it,” Dillon said.
The President smiled and shook Dillon’s hand again. “You always come through, my fine Irish friend.” He turned to Ferguson. “I’ve spoken to the Prime Minister at Number Ten, given him a résumé of what happened, apologized for using you in such a cavalier way but stressed the unusual circumstances.”
“Oh dear, that could be awkward,” Ferguson said.
“Not at all. He was most understanding and looks forward to hearing about it from your own lips. Now, is there anything else I can do for you?”
“Nemesis, Mr. President?”
Cazalet shrugged. “There’s got to be a better way.”
“I agree,” Ferguson said. “So one last favor. I think we should be getting back to London as soon as possible. If we could borrow the Gulfstream?”
“Of course. No problem, is there, Teddy?”
“Not really,” Teddy said. “We’ll probably need a new crew is all. A question of them exceeding their hours in the air.”
“Take care of it.” Cazalet turned to them again. “Our sincere thanks.”
Marie kissed the Brigadier on the cheek, hugged Ha
“You are a remarkable man, Mr. Dillon.”
“It’s been said before, Countess.” He laughed out loud and Teddy opened the door for them.
Two hours later, they climbed up from Andrews out to the Atlantic and leveled off at fifty thousand. Dillon pressed the buzzer and the flight attendant came from the galley. This one was white and called Roscoe.
“I’ll have a Bushmills,” Dillon said, “a large one.”
“Coming right up, sir.”
Dillon gri
For once, Ha
Roscoe brought the Bushmills, and Dillon said, “Yes, happy endings is what I like, and I suspect Jake Cazalet is a happy-endings man at heart.”
“What on earth are you babbling about?” Ferguson demanded.
“It’s just that deep down inside, I’m an incurable romantic.”
“You?” Ha
“Oh, you know what they say. Read all about it in the papers. The great Dillon is never wrong,” and he settled back and drank his whiskey.
At the Ritz-Carlton in Washington on Massachusetts Avenue, the great and the good and the Russian Prime Minister awaited the appearance of the President of the United States. When he arrived at the front entrance, got out of the limousine and waved to the crowds, the Comtesse Marie de Brissac was at his side, wearing a simple black evening dress, a gold cross at her throat. Teddy got out of the next limousine with two Secret Service men, and ran ahead.
Cazalet smiled. “Countess?” She took his arm and they walked through the foyer and paused at the entrance to the dining room.
Teddy moved just inside. “Mr. Prime Minister, ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention.”
There was a flurry of movement as everyone rose. Teddy took a deep breath and a
Jack Higgins
Jack Higgins was a soldier and then a teacher before becoming a full-time writer. The Eagle Has Landed turned him into an international bestselling author and his novels have since sold over 250 million copies and been translated into fifty-five languages. Many of them have also been made into successful films.