Midnight Runner - Jack Higgins [28]
"Now get out of here," Salter said, and they ran. He said to Billy, "Not him"--he nodded at the one on the ground--"I want words with him." He turned to Ferguson. "This might not be something you should see, General."
Dillon said, "I'll report in later."
"I'll look forward to it," Ferguson replied.
He got into the Daimler and drove away as Joe Baxter and Sam Hall arrived on the run. Billy still had a foot on the Chinese man, and Joe said, "Did we hear shots?"
"You certainly did, my old son," Harry told him. "Bruce Lee here and his merry men tried to give us a going-over." He stirred the Chinese with his foot. "Have him up, boys."
Billy removed his foot, and Baxter and Hall raised the man by an arm each. He didn't seem afraid but simply glared as Harry moved close.
"Big man," growled the attacker. "How good are you on your own?" And he spat in Salter's face.
"No manners." Harry took out a handkerchief and cleaned himself. "He needs a lesson in etiquette. Billy?"
Billy punched the man in the stomach until he doubled over, then kneed him in his face. Salter took a handful of hair and raised his head.
"Now be a good boy and tell me who put you on to me."
The man shook his head, though he seemed less tough now. "No, I can't."
"Oh dear. All right, Billy, on his back and stamp on his shin. Put him on sticks for six months."
The man gave a grunt. "No!...All right...It was a man called Dauncey. That's all I know. Gave me a grand to see to you."
"Where is it?"
"Inside pocket."
Billy found it, a bundle of ten-pound notes with an elastic band around them. He passed it to Salter, who slipped it in a pocket.
"Now, that wasn't too hard, was it? Of course, you've seriously upset me, and that won't do." He picked up a baseball bat. "Right arm, Billy."
The man tried to struggle, but Baxter and Hall held him fast and Billy pulled the arm straight. The baseball bat rose and fell. There was a crack, and the man cried out and slumped to his knees.
Salter crouched. "There's a hospital a mile up the road. You need the Casualty department, my old son, but you should be able to make it. Just don't come back here again. If you do, I'll kill you." He stood up. "I think I could do with another brandy."
He walked away. The rest followed, but Dillon paused to call Ferguson on his mobile. The General was still in the Daimler.
"What a surprise--they were hired by Rupert Dauncey."
"Well, at least we know where we are now. What happened to the Chinese gentleman? Not in the river, I trust?"
"One of the walking wounded. I'll see you tomorrow." Dillon clicked off his phone and went inside.
It was quiet outside, the only sound that of the injured man hauling himself off his knees. Rupert Dauncey slipped out of the shadows. "Are you all right, old man?"
"He's broken my arm."
"I'd say you're lucky he didn't break your neck." He took out a cigarette and lit it with his AK lighter. "In fact, you're lucky I don't break your neck, you idiot." He blew a stream of smoke at him. "Let me just leave you with this thought. Step out of line, open your mouth just once--and I'll kill you myself. You understand?"
"Yes," the man moaned.
"Excellent."
Rupert Dauncey walked away, and after a while the other man began to stumble up the street.
HAZAR
7
N ORTHOLT, ON THE OUTER EDGE OF LONDON, WAS AN RAF base much used by the Royal Family, the Prime Minister, and major politicians. Because of this, it had become increasingly popular with users of executive aircraft and proved a lucrative sideline for the Royal Air Force.
It was ten o'clock the following morning when Kate Rashid and Rupert Dauncey passed through security and drove round to the apron where the Gulfstream was standing. The engines were already turning over as they arrived, and a few minutes later they had started their climb to fifty thousand feet.
When they leveled out, a young woman in a navy blue uniform, slacks, and tunic approached them. "Tea as usual, Countess?"
"Thank you, Molly."
"Coffee for Mr. Dauncey? We have an American in