A Devil Is Waiting - Jack Higgins [73]
Mahmud shook his hand. “How interesting all this becomes, General. But I am just a simple surgeon who knows his place, so I ask no questions. Major Miller has been patched up for the moment, pumped full of drugs and sedated. He should survive a flight by private jet, but will need the best of treatment at the earliest possible moment.”
“I promise he’ll get it. We’re very grateful.” Ferguson shook his hand.
“Happy to help,” Mahmud said. “And you, Nephew, remember where we live. Your aunt thinks you’ve forgotten.”
At that moment a comatose Miller was wheeled out, and they followed him down the corridor and outside to the ambulance, where he was lifted inside by two male nurses. Hamza and Ferguson joined him and the ambulance drove away.
The Gulfstream was waiting outside the hangar, and Lacey and Parry supervised the careful loading of Miller into the cabin. They were all there now.
Ferguson said, “Time to go, people, but not before thanking Colonel Hamza for conduct far above the call of duty, and Captain Slay for some extraordinary flying.” He gave Slay a package. “It’s a bit late in the day, but here’s one of our nylon-and-titanium vests with our appreciation.”
Slay smiled and took it. “One never knows.”
Ferguson shook his hand. “So Hamza’s arranged a lift back to Hazar for you?”
“Yes, all taken care of. All I can say is it’s been an amazing couple of days and I wouldn’t have missed them for anything,” Slay said. “Watch your backs, you lot.”
He walked across to where Hamid waited and was driven away. The others said their good-byes to Hamza and boarded, leaving him and Ferguson alone.
“Our governments may sometimes disagree,” Ferguson said. “But in the world we inhabit today, it’s vital for us to keep in touch. What we’ve just been through together proves that. It was good working with you, Colonel.”
“And you, General. And I have one last piece of information. Ali Selim’s plane left an hour and a half ago with a flight plan for Bahrain. Only the two pilots on board.”
“I’m sure Roper will find that useful.” Ferguson shook hands. “Take care, my friend.”
He turned, went up the steps to where Parry waited, and went inside. As Hamza turned away, the Gulfstream started to move.
It rose to thirty thousand feet and turned northwest, still climbing into a darkening sky. Ferguson sat on his own at one end of the cabin and talked to Roper by Skype. He told him of his final conversation with Hamza.
“I’ll put a trace on that jet and I’ll try and do something about the Raptor helicopter Ali Selim cleared off in,” Roper said. “How’s Harry?”
“Out for the count, thanks to the medication Brigadier Mahmud gave him. It’s all a bit subdued on the plane at the moment, but, then, night flights usually are. Walking on eggshells around a wounded man makes it even more so. Any word from Downing Street?”
“I believe the Prime Minister was speaking in the House today. Maybe Henry’s not been able to give him the bad news yet.”
“Damn Frankel,” Ferguson said. “He’s enjoying my humiliation.”
“Don’t be so silly,” Roper told him. “If he was, it would mean he was treating Harry’s being wounded unimportant, which is rubbish. This damn operation was a complete failure. We couldn’t lay hands on Ali Selim, and every one of our people had to kill to survive. It was like a bad day in Afghanistan. You’re lucky we got away with just one wounded man.”
“Good God, Giles,” Ferguson said. “You’re angry with me?”
“You’re damn right I am,” Roper said. “So go and get yourself a large Scotch and shut up.”
He logged off, the screen cleared, and Ferguson sat there, completely deflated. “God help me, I’m getting old,” he said softly, turned to get up, and found Sara holding out a glass of whiskey.
“I heard,” she said. “Try not to take it to heart. But he was right, you know. A lot of people died so we could be here. If it weren’t for Greg Slay and Hamza—well, they saved the day.”
“The way I heard it, you, Daniel, and Dillon were into it up to your necks, too.