A Devil Is Waiting - Jack Higgins [57]
“Of course, he may not be there at all.”
“We’ll only know that by taking a look at the place. I doubt young Jemal is lying. He’s too distressed,” Ferguson said.
“I accept that,” the Prime Minister said. “But on the other hand, Amira may be a nest of Taliban, who would like nothing better than laying hands on my personal representative here. Harry has years of experience in British intelligence that would make him liquid gold to Al Qaeda.”
Ferguson was badly thrown as he tried to think of the right thing to say, and it was Harry Miller who intervened. “On the other hand, nothing is ever wholly certain in this business. I’m willing to take a risk as long as my friends appreciate the danger.”
The PM said to Ferguson, “Do you, Charles?”
“Of course I do, Prime Minister.”
The Prime Minister sighed. “All right. Then I can only wish you Godspeed,” and he shook hands with both of them.
Sitting in the rear of the Daimler as it turned into Whitehall, Ferguson said, “What on earth was all that about? Stirring it up a bit, weren’t you?”
“Nothing to do with me,” Miller told him. “I got a call from Henry Frankel changing the time of the meeting. When I arrived, I was surprised to find you weren’t there.”
“Bloody Henry, sticking his nose in again.” Ferguson was annoyed.
“He was only doing his job as cabinet secretary,” Miller said. “He saw an element of danger in the plan.”
“And that’s your opinion, too?” Ferguson demanded.
“Yes, but I also think it’s worth taking the risk. I want to make sure both things are made clear to everyone. Is that agreed?”
“Yes, damn you, I suppose it is,” Ferguson said, and spent the rest of the trip scowling out the window.
When they arrived at Holland Park, Ferguson went straight to his office, and Miller to the computer room, where he found Gideon and Holley talking to Roper and Dillon.
“What’s happened to the general?” Roper asked.
“He’s in a black mood. We’ve just been to see the PM at Downing Street, who was having second thoughts about what we intend.”
“And why would that be?” Holley asked.
So Miller obliged. Dillon said cheerfully, “For once, a politician is acting like a human being. He actually cares what happens to us, folks, it warms my heart.”
“Well, it didn’t exactly please the general,” Miller said. “I’ve made it clear I’m willing to take my chances, but I don’t think anyone should be ordered to do this one, and there’s one thing I want you all to remember. Al Qaeda terrorists have taken many people hostage, and they have had a bad track record of not only keeping them for a long time but occasionally beheading them on video.”
“Yes, we had heard,” Dillon said. “Anything else?”
“Yes, I’d be remiss not to point out what would happen to a good-looking London lady who fell into their hands, particularly when they discovered she was Jewish.” There was a heavy silence. “I just want you all to consider these facts.”
Sara said to Roper, “Giles, I believe you have quite a collection of costumes here for people going into the field?”
“Yes, we do,” Roper said. “I’ll lead the way.”
She turned and put a hand on Holley’s arm as he stirred, ignoring everyone else. “No, love, I’d rather do this by myself.”
She followed Roper’s wheelchair as he coasted along the corridor, taking a remote control from a pocket in his chair and activating it. A broad door slid back at the far end and revealed a theatrical treasure-house.
There was anything one could ever need. Full makeup facilities at mirrored tables ranged against the rear wall; there were changing- and shower-room facilities; and walk-in wardrobes with sliding doors contained a wide selection of clothes and uniforms, both military and police, as authentic as could be wished for.
“All this is amazing.” She emerged from one wardrobe, holding up a uniform. “A captain in the GRU. I could wear this in Moscow and be totally accepted.”
“But not in the wilderness of North Afghanistan,” he said. “What would you wear?”
“I’ve already