Foreign Influence_ A Thriller - Brad Thor [90]
“Peaches.”
“Exactly,” replied Ashford as he changed lanes, cutting off a cab driver who honked in protest. “He has always been a gentleman, though. Exceedingly polite, your boss.”
“He speaks very highly of you too,” said Harvath.
“He damn well should. Without me, he never would have been allowed back into the U.K. again.”
Harvath had heard rumors around the Carlton Group offices about the Old Man’s past. “He didn’t really strike Prince Charles, did he?”
“He didn’t strike him. He knocked him out bloody cold, mate. That’s where that whole polo accident story came from.”
“All because Charles had said something about Diana?”
“Reed was very fond of the princess. He had gotten to know the royal family quite well while working over here. They always insisted he be involved with their security when they came to the U.S. Whether that rankled the Secret Service or not, I don’t know, but Reed always made sure the royal family had the very best agents. Some even said their security plans rivaled the president’s.”
“He got called in for help after Diana’s death, right? He was part of the secret team looking into whether the car crash was an accident or a homicide.”
Ashford nodded. “When Reed arrived, Charles had been drinking, a lot. That’s when the prince made a crude remark about Diana and Reed punched him out. I stuck up for Peaches, of course.”
“Which means you pulled your gun when Charles’s security detail rushed him?”
“There are many conflicting stories as to what happened that night,” said Ashford as he switched lanes and cut off another vehicle. “Let’s put it this way, I understand why all my peers have been knighted and I haven’t. But in the end, as long as I’m still recognized in the pub when I go back to Yorkshire, that’s all that matters to me.”
Harvath smiled. “Bullshit. I haven’t met a Brit yet who doesn’t dream of being knighted.”
The MI5 man smiled back and changed the subject. “Reed’s phone call has caused quite a bit of a stir.”
“I can imagine,” said Harvath.
“Obviously, we want to extend to you every professional courtesy, but we are taking the lead on this.”
“Based upon the intelligence we gathered for you and which specifically states that Americans are the target?”
Ashford downshifted and switched lanes. “The targets may be American, but the attack is planned for Britain and British lives, as well as other nationalities, are also at risk. Besides, if the shoe was on the other foot, would you be giving us control over Times Square?”
The man had a point. “No, we wouldn’t.”
“Of course you wouldn’t. Nobody wants an attack to take place in their own country.”
“As long as we work together.”
“We already are. Against our better judgment, we are not raising the terror-alert level and we are not going to close down Piccadilly Circus. You and your team will be able to work the area, but our teams will be there too.”
Harvath was about to reply, when he added, “And before you say anything, I want you to know that you have nothing to worry about. You won’t see my people.”
“Yes, I will.”
Ashford laughed. “Okay, maybe you will see them, but I guarantee you the bad guys won’t.”
Harvath loved the Brits. They were some of the most squared-away operators he had ever met, but he wasn’t comforted by Ashford’s assurance.
“And there’s one final item which is not open for negotiation,” the man added. “Any suspects taken into custody here shall belong to us and will be interrogated by us. It’s the only way I could get this signed off. Is that clear?”
“Crystal,” Harvath replied. “Interrogations make me squeamish anyway.”
Ashford looked at him. “Somehow I doubt that.”
For the balance