Midnight Runner - Jack Higgins [68]
"Ah, very apt." Quinn smiled gently. "Good-bye and God bless you, Sarah." And he turned and went out.
Filled with despair, she dropped to her knees in the pew and started to pray. There was a movement nearby, and she opened her eyes, half-turned, and found a man squatting beside her. The blond hair, the handsome face was the Devil's face, she knew that at once.
"It's all right, Sister, I mean you no harm. I followed him here and, of course, saw your name at the door. I know who you are. You're the remarkable young nun from Bo Din."
"And who are you?"
"Many things. A bad Catholic, for one. Don't worry, I'd never harm you. God wouldn't forgive that."
"You're crazy."
"Possibly. I'm also the man he blames for his daughter's death."
"Rupert Dauncey," she whispered.
"That's me." He stood. "I liked your idea of a blessing. A prayer for the dying. That could well be appropriate." He smiled. "Don't forget to give him a call. Tell him I was here."
His footsteps echoed away and she pushed herself up and sat again in the pew, more afraid than she had ever been.
B ack at Park Place, Newton and Cook saw the Mercedes drive into the yard. Quinn and Luke got out, and Quinn said, "I won't need you first thing, Luke. I'll go for a run in Hyde Park around seven-thirty, so tell Mary breakfast at nine."
The two men across the street heard it, and Cook phoned Dauncey, who had just got in, and relayed the information.
Rupert said, "Very good. Go home, but be back in the morning, dressed for running. When he leaves the house, follow him to the park."
"Then what?"
"Do what you have to do."
He didn't go to see his cousin and bring her up to date. Sister Sarah Palmer was too personal, and Kate would never understand his feelings. He poured a Jack Daniel's, found the evening paper, and sat down to read it. A moment later, his phone rang and he picked it up.
"It's Quinn. I've had Sister Sarah Palmer on the phone. I swear to God, if you harm that lady..."
"Don't be stupid, Senator, she's the last person in the world I'd harm, a marvelous woman like that. So goodnight and sleep tight." He hung up.
Quinn replaced his receiver, conscious that he actually believed Dauncey. He stood there thinking about it, and, on impulse, rang Sean Dillon at Stable Mews.
"It's Quinn." He told him the story. "I believe it when he says he wouldn't harm her. I don't know why, but I do."
"All right. The important thing, though, is that he followed you to this St. Mary's Priory, obviously from your house. I'd say you have watchers. Anything unusual in your street?"
"Hang on a minute." Quinn went to the window and peered out. "There's a British Telecom van."
"Telecom, my arse."
"Thanks for the tip."
"How did things go in Boston?"
"Much as you'd expect. It was Washington that was the disappointment." He told him about it, finishing, "And he made it clear Ferguson agrees with him."
"Well, we'll see about that. I'm my own man, and always have been. I'll see you in the morning and we'll discuss it."
"I'm going for a run in Hyde Park at seven-thirty. Have breakfast with me at nine."
"It's a date," and Dillon put down the phone.
H e woke early the next morning and, looking at the clock, realized he had time to join Quinn on the run. He got up, dressed in a tracksuit, went downstairs, found his helmet, opened the mews garage, and drove away on the Suzuki.
On the way to Park Place, he thought about the Telecom van that Quinn had mentioned and wondered about the best way to handle that. Possibly an anonymous call to the police. Simple and direct.
He turned into South Audley Street from Grosvenor Square and, as he moved toward Park Place, Quinn emerged and darted across the road. A moment later, Cook and Newton, in tracksuits, showed up and followed him. Dillon cursed, swerved into Park Place, and turned in through Quinn's gates. He pulled the Suzuki up on its stand, reached into the right-hand saddlebag, lifted the secret flap at the bottom, and found his