Dillon said. ‘Isn’t that the place that got blown up last night? What a coincidence.’ He smiled beautifully. ‘Well, that isn’t going to help the cash flow.’
Fox said, ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. That had nothing to do with me.’
‘Oh, I believe it did,’ Blake told him. ‘And then there’s all that family money you lost in the Asian banking collapse, money you didn’t have the right to invest. Unless Don Marco knew and approved of it all? Which I doubt.’
Fox said calmly, ‘What are you getting at?’
‘That you’re in deep shit with Don Marco unless you come up with some very considerable cash very soon.’ Dillon smiled. ‘And we intend to see that you don’t get it.’
Fox turned to Falcone. ‘Aldo, break this little bastard’s right arm for me.’
Falcone moved forward, and Dillon’s left foot flicked as he kicked the Sicilian under his right kneecap. At the same moment Blake took a Walther from under his jacket and laid it on the table. Falcone was down on one knee, grabbed for the table, and pulled himself up. Russo had a hand on the gun under his left shoulder.
‘Is this what you want?’ Blake asked. ‘A gunfight at the OK Corral?’
‘Not really,’ Fox said. ‘Let’s leave it to a more appropriate time. Just go.’
‘Our pleasure.’ Blake stood up, and Dillon rose beside him.
‘I have a line for you that I remember from some old movie I saw on television. To our next merry meeting in hell.’
‘I look forward to it,’ Fox told him.
They turned and went out.
Falcone said, ‘They knew about the Depository.’
‘So did a lot of people. It was an open secret. How many clubs did we deal with? A secret’s only a secret when one person knows it.’
‘You think they know about anything else?’
‘No, they were just bluffing. Come on. We have to leave for London soon.’ Fox drained the champagne in his glass and made a face. ‘You know, that little bastard was right. This stuff is bad.’
In the bar at the Plaza, Dillon and Blake were sharing a pot of tea and Irish whiskeys when Ferguson and Hannah Bernstein appeared.
‘My goodness,’ Ferguson said. ‘Here you two sit enjoying yourselves, when according to Captain Harry Parker somebody torched up Mr Jack Fox’s illegal liquor still last night.’
‘Do you tell me?’ Dillon shook his head. ‘Isn’t that dreadful.’
‘Are you coming home, Dillon?’
‘Why not? I think I’m done with business here for the moment.’
‘I would point out that when I saved you from the Serbs and took you on board, I offered to clear your rather terrible slate.’
‘So you did.’
‘But, on the other hand, you still haven’t learned to behave yourself.’
‘That’s the Irish for you.’
Ferguson said, ‘Sean, you still work for me. Use your judgement, but please keep me informed.’
‘Jesus, Brigadier, I won’t let you down. There’s only one thing.’
‘And what would that be?’
‘I intend to totally destroy Jack Fox and the Solazzo family. In Ireland, London, Beirut – wherever it takes me.’ Dillon turned to Blake. ‘Is that okay with you?’
‘It sure as hell is. I’ll see the President tomorrow and retire if I have to.’
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