in Hebrew. ‘Perhaps we have much in common.’
Her surprise was obvious. ‘I’m not sure what to say,’ she replied in the same.
‘Well, I am,’ Dillon cut between them in English. ‘It’s not just the Russian Embassy that’s keeping Gatov from justice. There’s the American connection.’
There was a pause. ‘What would that be?’ Paul Rashid asked.
Hannah said to Rashid, ‘As you know, the Americans and Russians are great rivals in southern Arabia, but they will work together if it suits them.’
Paul said, ‘I know all this, but what has it to do with my mother’s death?’
It was Dillon who told him, and in Arabic. ‘This piece of dung is a double agent. He worked for the Americans on the other side of the coin. It’s not only the Russians who don’t want him in court, but the Yanks as well. He’s too important.’
‘Too important for what?’ Paul Rashid asked.
It was Ferguson who said, ‘The Americans and Russians are working on some kind of oil deal – and Gatov was brokering it. He’s right in the middle. There are billions to be made down there.’
Dillon said, ‘He’s right. Arabia Felix, Happy Arabia, that’s what they called it in the old days.’
Kate Rashid, who had listened in silence, said, ‘So we’re talking about money here?’
‘I’d say so,’ Dillon said.
‘And to facilitate their wheeler-dealing, both the Americans and Russians look upon my mother’s death simply as an inconvenience?’
‘A severe one.’
She paused and glanced at her brother, who nodded. She said, ‘Some days ago, at the Oasis of Shabwa, an interesting event took place. Were you aware, Brigadier, that the Sultan of Hazar had allied himself not only with a major American oil company but also a Russian one?’
Ferguson frowned. ‘No, that’s news to me.’
‘Two assassins attempted to kill my brother on the night we received news of my mother’s accident.’ She nodded to Dillon. ‘One tried to kill me. My brother saved my life and shot him dead.’
‘The important thing is that we discovered from the second assassin that I was targeted by the Sultan himself on behalf of the Americans and Russians,’ Paul Rashid told them.
Ferguson nodded. ‘He told you everything?’
‘Of course,’ Dillon put in.
Ferguson said, ‘Are you suggesting that your mother’s death was deliberate?’
‘No,’ Paul said. ‘The police have gone over the evidence with us, and I see nothing these dogs could have gained by murdering my mother. But what is clear to me is that, for them, life is cheap. And I plan to make it very expensive.’
He stood up and held out his hand. ‘Thank you very much for your information, Brigadier.’ He turned to Dillon. ‘In the Guards in South Armagh, a Loyalist politician told me once that Wyatt Earp could account for the deaths of twenty men, but that Sean Dillon didn’t even know his total.’
‘A slight exaggeration,’ Dillon told him. ‘I think.’
Rashid smiled at each of them and turned to follow Kim. Kate held out a hand to Dillon. ‘You’re a very interesting man.’
‘Oh, you have a way with the words, girl dear.’ He kissed her hand. ‘And a face to thank God for.’
‘That’s my sister, Mr Dillon,’ Rashid said.
‘And how could I forget it?’
They left, and before Ferguson could say anything, his red phone rang. He picked it up, listened, had a brief conversation, then replaced the receiver, his face grave.
‘It would seem the Sultan of Hazar has just been assassinated.’ He turned to Dillon. ‘A remarkable coincidence, don’t you think?’
The Irishman lit a cigarette. ‘Oh, yes, remarkable.’ He blew out smoke. ‘I know one thing. I feel sorry for Igor Gatov.’
That evening, there was a function at the Dorchester, a political affair attended by the Prime Minister, and Ferguson, Bernstein and Dillon had been drafted for security, not without a little grumbling.
Dillon and the Superintendent moved in from the Park Lane entrance to the ballroom, checked all the arrangements and, satisfied, followed Ferguson through. And there at the bar was the Earl of Loch Dhu and his sister.
Ferguson said, ‘Talk about a bad penny. Hannah and I will continue with the security. See if there’s anything more you can find out, Dillon.’
Kate and Paul Rashid stood together, watching the crowd, as Dillon approached and said, ‘What a coincidence.’
‘I’ve never believed in coincidences, Mr Dillon,’ Paul Rashid told him. ‘Have you?’
‘Funny you should say that. Like you, I’m a cynic, but today –’
Just then, a young man interrupted. ‘My Lord, the Prime Minister would like a word.’
Rashid said to the Irishman, ‘I’m so sorry, Mr Dillon, our conversation will have to wait. However, I’d appreciate it if you’d see to my sister for me.’
‘It’d be an honour.’
Rashid walked away and Kate turned to Dillon. ‘Well, as long as you’re seeing to me, how about a fresh drink?’
Dillon was just turning to hand her a glass when a rather large man with a florid face appeared, and gave her a squeeze from behind. ‘Kate, my darling,’ he said in a booming voice.
Seeing he would have no chance to talk to her now, Dillon decided to leave – but managed to step on the man’s right foot as he moved away. The man let her go. ‘Damn you, you clumsy oaf.’
Dillon smiled. ‘So sorry.’ He bowed to Kate. ‘I’ll be in the Piano Bar.’
He walked through the main hotel to the Dorchester’s Piano Bar, where, since it was still early evening, it was quiet. Guiliano, the manager, greeted him warmly, for they were old friends.
‘Glass of champagne?’
‘Why not?’ Dillon said. ‘And I’ll give you a tune on the piano while you’re waiting for your man to turn up.’
He was well into a Gershwin melody when Kate Rashid appeared.
‘I see you’re a man of many talents.’
‘Good barroom piano is all it is, ma’am. What happened to the gentleman?’
‘The gentleman – and I use the term loosely – is Lord Gravely, a life peer who inhabits the House of Lords and does little good there.’
‘I
