'Well, let's get him into surgery as soon as possible.' There was a military hospital on a small air force base twenty miles away on the main coast.

'I just heard the President's there already with Clancy,' Campbell told him.

'Then let's get moving.'

On the Hawk, they put Liam Casey on a stretcher, battle packs taped to his wounds. His eyes opened and he stared around him, and there was a kind of recognition when he saw Blake.

'I know you,' he whispered.

Blake leaned close. 'How do you know me?'

'The Basement. You're Dillon's friend. The Basement man.'

Blake had never been so astonished. 'How in the hell do you know that?' But there was no reply, for Liam Casey had passed out.

At the hospital, he was taken away and Blake found the President having coffee in a private lounge.

'How's Clancy, Mr President?' Blake asked.

'He'll be fine. He should get a medal. Hell, he shoved me aside and took that bullet, Blake. I've been informed you've found the assassin. How is he?'

'Being rushed into surgery. He spoke once.' Blake told him what the Irishman had said.

'The Basement man? Dillon's friend? Blake, what have we got here?'

'God knows, sir. We'll have to wait.'

'Well, one thing is certain. I don't want any publicity. Keep this totally under wraps. It never happened. You, me and the Secret Service – that's all who know. But what I want to know is: who is behind this, and why?'

'Should I call Ferguson, Mr President? The man did mention Dillon. I should check.'

'That makes sense. Okay, talk to Charles and Dillon, too. No one else.'

'Not Murchison, he already knows.'

Murchison, lying by the electric fire, got up and the President of the United States kissed him on the nose. 'He went straight for that bastard. Saved my life.'

'He's special, all right.' Blake smiled. 'Excuse me. I'll get on with this if you'll follow me, Mr President.'

The Alice Brown rose and fell on a heavy rolling swell as Bell surfaced on the Dolphin. Nets trailed into the water, all very businesslike, and Grant came to the stern rail.

Bell undid the Velcro ties of his jacket and eased off his air bottles into the water. He pulled off his mask and flippers; the AK he had dropped off a mile back.

'Throw me a line.'

Grant frowned. 'Where's your friend?'

'There was an accident.'

Grant didn't like it, his face clouding. 'Now look, what's going on here?'

Bell unzipped his nylon diving jacket, produced the Browning, and shot him between the eyes. Then he reached for the rail and pulled himself over and turned and fired several shots into the Dolphin, which started to settle into the water. He went through the lockers in the wheelhouse and found a length of chain, which he wound around Grant's ankles before pushing him under the rail. The body slid under the surface and Bell hauled in the nets quickly, then went below, got a bottle of Irish from the galley and hurried back on deck. He went into the wheelhouse, switched on the engines and moved away, one hand on the wheel while he poured whiskey, a very large one, into a plastic cup. He swallowed the lot, then poured another as rain started again.

In the living room of the great house at Quogue, Paul and Kate Rashid sat by a log fire. Michael and George were in London. Rashid's coded mobile rang, he answered and found Bell.

'What news?'

'There was a screw-up. This is the story.'

He gave an account of what had happened, which was a reasonably true version, omitting only the fact that he'd finished off Liam Casey.

'I'd like to say I'm sorry,' Bell said, 'but I did nothing wrong and everything right. It was just that damned dog.'

'You know what the Arabs say? Inshallah. As God wills,' Paul Rashid told him. 'You couldn't shoot the dog?'

'There was no time.'

'When will you arrive?'

'Four hours.'

'All right. I'll have the Gulfstream waiting at Westhampton Airport. My sister is here. We'll fly back to the UK together.'

'Suits me.'

'What about Grant? I hate loose ends.'

'Taken care of. What's the expression? Arthur Grant is asleep with the fishes.'

'And what about his boat?'

'I'll swim ashore.'

'We'll see you soon, then.'

Paul Rashid switched off and turned to Kate. 'A dog – a flatcoat retriever called Murchison.' He started to laugh, then he reached for his mobile. 'I'll phone the airport and tell them to get the Gulfstream ready. Then we'll have a glass of champagne.'

'But what do we drink to?'

'Why, Murchison, of course.'

At the hospital, the fight for Clancy Smith's life continued for four hours. The Air Force flew in two additional trauma surgeons and the President's own doctor.

After the surgery, Cazalet and Blake sat for a while with Clancy, whose pain had been dulled by drugs. The chief surgeon came in and had a look at him.

'You'll be fine, son, just fine.'

'Thank you, sir.'

The surgeon nodded to Cazalet, who followed him out. 'Mr President, does this mean what I think it means?'

'Robert, I need your holy oath on this,' Cazalet said.

'Of course, Mr President. That was an AK bullet we took out of that young man. I had one in me myself in Vietnam.'

'Well, this one was meant for me, and that brave boy pushed me aside, turned his back and took it for me.'

'God in heaven. And the other?'

'Is the assassin, although we think there could have been another one, too. Will he live?'

'Debatable. I'll keep you posted. We're just finishing in there.'

Cazalet went back in the room and brought Blake up to date. 'Let's hope he survives. It's a bizarre business and I'd like an answer.'

Clancy was drifting off. 'Do I still have a job, Mr President, or are you having Campbell move someone else in?'

'Over my dead body.'

Clancy started to laugh helplessly. 'God, that hurts, but you've got to admit it's kind of funny.'

'Get some sleep, Clancy,' Blake said. 'The President and I are going to grab something to eat. We'll see you later.'

Aidan Bell was really lucky on the final approach to Quogue in the Alice Brown. There was a heavy sea mist blanketing everything. He tipped the dinghy over the side with its small outboard about half a mile out, then went below and opened the seacocks. He went over the side, switched on the outboard and moved some little distance away and waited. It didn't take long. The Alice Brown settled, decks awash, then went very quickly. Bell opened the throttle and sped away toward the shore.

In the living room, Rashid and his sister were talking. 'So what now?' she asked.

'I have an alternative target. I always did.'

'Am I permitted to know?'

'Soon, my dear, but not yet.'

There was a rapping at the french windows. Paul Rashid opened a drawer near at hand and took out a Walther. He stood up and nodded to Kate. It was Bell standing out there. When she opened the window, he stepped in with a smile, still wearing the diving suit.

'God bless all here, that's what the Fenians say.'

'You're all right?' she asked.

'Yes. Just show me where you parked my bags. A shower and a change of clothes and I'm ready.'

'Then make it fast,' Paul Rashid said. 'We're leaving Westhampton in one hour.'

'Has there been any news on the television yet?' 'There hasn't been a hint, which I find very strange. I don't like it, so let's get moving.'

At the hospital, the President slept on a small bed in one of the interns' rooms. Blake dozed in a chair in the lounge and came awake to a hand on his shoulder. He looked up and found one of the surgeons, an Air Force Colonel, there.

'Mr Johnson. He's come round, but it's not good. He's very weak.'

'Can I talk to him?'

'You can try, but I don't think you'll get much.'

'Fine. Notify the President. I'll go in.'