'Really? And who would that be?' Paul Rashid said.

'I can't help but notice that the Russian Premier is in town next month.'

'Is that so?' Paul Rashid told him. 'How interesting.'

'Also too damned obvious,' Dillon said, and lit another cigarette. 'No, he's got something else on the agenda.'

'You'll have to wait and see, won't you?' Paul Rashid got up. 'Come on, Kate.'

It was Blake who said, 'For God's sake, why, sir? Your mother's death was a tragedy, but why take it so far?'

'You're a decent man, Mr Johnson, and yet you still don't see it. The business interests in your country think they can walk in anywhere they like in the world, take over, corrupt, trample on people's rights. The Russians are exactly the same. Well, you won't get away with it in Rashid territory, in Hazar or the Empty Quarter. I have the financial resources to back me up and I have my people. Chew on that, my friend. One thing I'll promise, I'll surprise you.' He turned to his sister.

Dillon took them to the door and opened it. 'Try and make him see sense, Kate.'

'My brother always makes perfect sense, Dillon,' she told him.

'Then we'll all end up going down the same dark road to hell.'

'An interesting thought,' Paul Rashid observed, and led the way out.

The door closed, and Ferguson said, 'So, we know where we are.'

'Only with him,' Blake said. 'But we don't know the first damn thing about what he intends to do.'

'The ball's in your court,' Dillon said to Ferguson.

Ferguson nodded. 'Let's try the simple approach. We won't get very far trying to listen in to Rashid's phone calls, and coded mobiles make things even more difficult these days, but we'll tap them anyway. We can monitor his travel movements. His planes need a slot, passengers have to be declared beforehand. Special Branch can check them out. Meanwhile, we'll plough through all his friends, all his associates. Maybe we'll get lucky.'

'Sooner rather than later,' Blake said. 'There's an energy to Rashid that I find disturbing.'

'What will you do?' Dillon asked.

'I'm going home. There's a lot I have to talk about with the President. If there's anything you need me for, though, anything at all, just let me know and I'll be back.'

In the car, Paul Rashid pushed the glass divider closed and said to Kate, 'They'll be on our case in every possible way.'

T know. It'll be next to impossible to get to the Premier now.'

'He was never my alternative, Kate.'

She was amazed. 'But Paul, I assumed it must be.'

'Which is what I wanted everyone to think, and they did, except for Dillon, of course.'

'Then who?'

'For you and you alone: it's the Council of Elders in Hazar, all twelve of them. They're dragging their feet. They're afraid of me, and they don't want me – they distrust my influence with the tribes, and they're right to. Once I dispose of them and am named the Sultan, I will declare a jihad. Then all the great powers will have reason to tremble.'

'How do you intend to do it?'

'They'll all be together in two weeks. I want you to go down and base yourself in our office in Hazar. I'll join you later.'

'And how will the job be executed?'

'A suitable bomb, and for that we'll need Bell's expertise, and we'll also need to get you there to talk with him without people knowing. Speak to Kelly. He knows some dodgy people, the kind who do illegal flights in small planes from old RAF airstrips. In and out very quickly. Get it arranged.'

'As you say, brother.'

And Kelly came up trumps. He produced a place in Surrey called Grover's Air Taxis, where the proprietor was a shifty-looking middle-aged man in a brown flying jacket and overalls, who met them outside a Second World War Nissen hut, two hangars looming behind.

'Now then, Mick,' Kelly said. 'Let's call this lady Miss Smith and get on with it. As I told you, we need Drumcree. A couple of hours at the most, then back again.'

'No trouble. I can do the old Titan. It's got twin engines and an airstair door.'

'No problem on the approach?'

'None. I'll go in under six hundred from a couple of miles out at sea. There's an old RAF landing strip ten miles out of Drumcree. I'll use my local contact and have a car left there.'

'Good man, then let's go.'

'Just a minute. What about my money?'

Kate opened her briefcase, took out a brown paper envelope, and handed it to him.

'Can we leave now?'

Grover hesitated, obviously tempted to look into the envelope, then thought better of it.

'All right.' He turned and led the way to the end hangar, rolled back the door and disclosed the Titan.

'How long will it take?' Kelly asked.

'Hour and a half, depending on the wind.'

'Fine. Let's get on with it,' Kelly said, and ushered Kate through the airstair door.

She called Bell on her coded mobile when they were halfway across the Irish Sea. She caught him in the kitchen of his farmhouse.

'This is Kate Rashid. I'll be with you in an hour.'

'You'll what?'

'I want to discuss your vacation in a much warmer climate.'

'What are we talking about?'

'A big payday. The alternative target.'

'Well, that's for me, sweetheart.'

'Kelly's minding me,' she said, 'We'll see you at the Royal George.'

Without bothering to check with Ferguson, Dillon had been following Kate Rashid from the moment she'd left London. Wearing black leathers and astride a Suzuki motorcycle, he'd waited in a small copse and watched Kelly, Kate and Grover through glasses. When they got in the Titan and took off, Dillon drove to the village a mile down the road and went into the pub. There was a log fire burning, but no sign of customers. A middle-aged woman came in from the kitchen.

'My God, it's like a funeral parlour in here,' Dillon said cheerfully.

'It's early,' she said. 'What do you expect?'

'A Bushmills whiskey and directions to Hoxby.' He lied effortlessly and lit a cigarette. 'I was surprised to see a plane take off a little while ago.'

'Oh, that's Mick Grover's outfit. Just up the road in an old wartime feeder station. He does crop spraying, the odd charter flight. Don't know how he makes a living.'

'I don't know how I do.' Dillon grinned. 'You do food?'

'That's right.'

'I'll go and see to my business in Hoxby. I'll probably look in on my way back.'

Grover stayed with the plane, and Kelly drove Kate down to the Royal George. It was quiet enough at that time in the morning, only Patrick Murphy, the barman, reading the Belfast Telegraph at the bar. Kelly led the way in.

'Aidan Bell's expecting us.'

'He's in the snug.'

Kate went first and opened the door and Kelly followed. Aidan Bell sat by the fire, smoking a cigarette and drinking tea. He looked up.

'Lady Kate. Now this really does sound interesting. What do you want me to do?'

'What you do best. Twelve Arab sheiks, the Council of Elders in Hazar, are proving a problem.'

'Well now, we can't have that. On the other hand, I'd always understood that the Rashid would follow your brother anywhere. All those wild tribesmen.'

'They will, once the sheiks are taken care of. This one needs the expert touch. It also needs to be a spectacular. Make various people sit up and take notice. You'll need a team, of course.'

'No problem there. I've got some boys.'

'Are they any good?'

'We're all still here, aren't we? And, yes, to answer your question, they won't screw up like Liam. So what's the deal?'

'Rashid Investments has construction interests in Hazar, and I'm flying out today supposedly to supervise them. I want you and your "boys" to turn up the day after tomorrow at Dublin Airport. Our Gulfstream will run you down to Hazar. We'll talk things over more when you arrive.'

'What are you looking for? Some sort of ambush? A bomb? What's your pleasure?'