'I'd like to know that myself,' Dillon told him.

Billy said, 'If you look at it, the most significant thing is that Bell and his mob are here as a team. What do they need a whole team for?'

'Well, we don't know, do we?' his uncle asked.

There was a moment's silence, and then Hal Stone said, 'Of course, we could always find out.'

They all looked at him, and Dillon said, 'What are you suggesting?'

'Well, there's four of them, including Bell. I assume they must all know what the game is.'

Billy said, 'So if we cut one of them off from the pack, is that what you're saying?'

'Something like that. I don't know. Seems rather obvious.'

'But sometimes the most obvious plans are the ones that work best,' Dillon said.

Harry said, 'What we'd need to know is when these bleeders are available. When they come into town and for what purpose.'

'To get laid,' Billy said.

They all laughed, but Stone said, 'Actually, you're right. I've kept my ear to the ground. One of them, Costello, I think, is apparently quite fond of an establishment named Madame Rosa's.'

'So what do we do, kidnap him?' Harry Salter asked.

Stone said, 'Why not?'

Billy said, 'Okay, so what do Bell and his goons do when Costello turns up missing?'

'I don't know.' Stone shrugged. 'Of course, it's possible they just might think he's in bed with a woman somewhere. Or two.'

'Why, Professor,' Harry Salter teased him. 'I'm shocked, a man of learning like yourself indulging in such unsavoury thoughts.'

'I'll get over it.'

Dillon left the planning of the operation to Harry Salter, and Harry performed brilliantly. That night, he wore an open-necked dark linen shirt, and a cream linen tropical suit, and looked quite affluent.

He sat with Billy at a pavement cafe on the other side of the road from Madame Rosa's and, thanks to a discreet bribe, waited for word from inside that Costello was on his way. When it came, Harry went in himself – older, well-dressed, wealthy-looking, and had the girls queuing up. Billy waited until he saw Costello arrive, then followed.

Bell and his group sat with Kate Rashid and went over the maps again. Bell said, 'So, we're on line here. The Elders will be en route to the Holy Wells at around noon. We'll fly up tonight in Carver's

Golden Eagle. Sort out weaponry at Shabwa, then carry on by Land Rover in the morning.'

Kate said, 'That sounds good.'

'One change. We'll connect with your brother and his Bedu up there. We may need back-up. Better to have them available.'

'Fine,' Kate said. 'I'll speak to George and arrange it.'

She phoned her brother in London and got nowhere, so she tried his mobile. Paul Rashid answered at once. 'How are things going?'

'Fine. We're going to fly up to Shabwa in one of Carver's planes.'

'I'll see you there. I'm on my way. I'll land at Haman, come on in the Hawk helicopter. Look for me.'

'I will.'

Costello had slipped out of the Excelsior and made his way to Madame Rosa's, where he was greeted with enthusiasm. He had three girls to take care of his every want, Irish whiskey and cocaine to influence him. South Armagh it wasn't. He'd never known such pleasure, and when they took him to a luxurious bedroom, kissed and fondled him a little, then suggested he undress, he was falling over himself. The girls left and Costello started to get ready. The door opened behind him, he turned and Harry Salter came through the door, followed by Billy.

'Here, what is this?' Costello demanded.

Harry had him by the throat. 'Keep your mouth shut. Start dressing again.'

'Now look here.'

Billy took a Browning from his pocket and clouted Costello across the side of the head. 'Just do as the man says if you want to live.'

And Costello, frightened for the first time in years, did as he was told.

They took him out to the Sultan, where Dillon and Hal Stone waited. Two Arab deckhands ran Costello into the stern. Dillon barked orders in Arabic. They ripped off Costello's jacket and shirt and then his trousers, leaving him in his underpants. The Salters leaned against the rail, and Hal Stone sat on a canvas chair and drank cold beer, two of his divers behind him.

Dillon said, 'Don't screw me around, Patrick. Bell wouldn't be over here with you lot if you weren't up to something big.'

Costello said, 'Go on, stuff yourself.'

'Oh, I like that,' Harry Salter said. 'I mean, that's elegant. Don't you think that's elegant, Billy?'

'No. Actually, Harry, I think it's rude and stupid and self-destructive.'

'You've been reading those books on philosophy again.'

Dillon said, 'It's a waste of time. I thought there might be some sweet reason here, and obviously there isn't.' He went and picked up a length of chain by the stern rail and handed it to one of the divers. He said in Arabic, 'Round his ankles and over.'

Costello cried out as they put him down and started with the chain. 'Here, what's going on?'

'You're going down,' Dillon told him. 'You can join Kelly and the two Arabs who tried to finish me and Billy off.'

'You wouldn't.'

Hal Stone got up. 'For God's sake, Dillon, you can't do this.' His part in the good policeman/bad policeman routine was impeccable.

'Well, I'm tired of being Mr Nice Guy, Professor. Killing, bombing, you name it, he's done it. He can go for the deep six and who cares.'

He nodded at the two divers. They upended Costello and put him over the stern rail. He screamed in mortal fear and his head went into the sea.

Harry Salter said, 'Pull the bugger back. Maybe he's learned sense.'

Costello lay on the deck, sobbing. Dillon squatted beside him. 'So what's it about, Patrick?'

'I'll tell you, I swear it,' Costello said. 'There's this bunch of Arab leaders called the Council of Elders, and tomorrow morning, they're going to this place called the Holy Wells and we take them out.'

'Dear God in heaven,' Hal Stone said.

'Where?' Dillon asked.

'Rama. It's called Rama.'

Dillon removed his chain, Costello still sobbing. 'Put him in the hold,' Dillon said in Arabic to the divers.

'What did you say? What did you say? Oh God, you're going to kill me,' Costello said, turned and hurled himself over the rail.

He surfaced on the pale yellow stern light and Dillon said, 'Billy.'

Billy took careful aim and shot him in the back of the head.

'Was that strictly necessary?' Hal Stone asked.

'It was if we want the fact that we know what they're up to to stay private,' Harry Salter told him.

Bell and Kate Rashid waited while Tommy Brosnan and Jack O'Hara went looking for Costello. They came back with no result, and Bell was furious.

'The bastard. I'll cut his balls off. He can't resist skirt. Probably holed up in some whorehouse and drunk.'

'What do we do?' Kate asked.

'We can manage. I'll kick his arse later, but right now let's get moving.'

Ben Carver ran the air taxi firm at the airport. He was fifty, an ex-RAF squadron leader with a DFC from the Gulf War. He was tending to overweight these days. His boys were loading the Golden Eagle. Bell and his men and Kate Rashid approached.

'I heard you lost a plane, Carver,' Kate said. 'A private charter.'

'Yes, a Mister Dillon,' Carver said. 'It crashed in the Empty Quarter, but Colonel Villiers and the Hazar Scouts found them.'

'Well, that's good. I hope you have insurance.'

'Absolutely, Lady Kate.' 'Let's get going then.'

Fifteen minutes later, the Golden Eagle took off, climbed to five thousand and headed for Shabwa.

Dillon caught Villiers on his coded mobile. 'I've got bad news – really bad news – as to why they're here.'

'Tell me.'

Which Dillon did.

Afterwards, Villiers said, 'Have you told Ferguson?'