LITMIR.BIZ

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Copyright

      Dedication

       Epigraph

      Nantucket

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      New York, London, Ireland

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

       Chapter 5

       Chapter 6

       Washington, Paris, London

       Chapter 7

       Chapter 8

       Chapter 9

       Chapter 10

       Chapter 11

       Chapter 12

       Chapter 13

       Chapter 14

       Also by Jack Higgins

       About the Publisher

       1

      The island of Nantucket, Massachusetts – high summer, the western end of the harbour crowded with boats, many tied up at the jetty. Among them was a scarlet-and-white sport-fisherman named Dolphin. On the flying bridge, a grey-haired man sat at the wheel playing a clarinet, something plaintive and touching. He was around sixty, a white curling beard giving him the look of an old sailor.

      The man who joined him from below, wearing swimming trunks, had dark tousled hair and the beard of some medieval bravo. He was fit and muscular, his smile pleasant enough, his only unusual feature two scars on his left chest which any doctor would have recognized as relics from old bullet wounds.

      He spoke in Irish. ‘Big night, Kelly!’

      The other answered in the same. ‘You could say that. It’ll be dark soon, Tod – if you’re going to grab that swim, it’d better be now.’

      ‘I will. Keep your eye out for that kid, Henry, from the harbourmaster’s office. He’s bringing our passports and the credit card, so don’t forget to speak like the Yank your passport says you are.’

      He slid down the ladder, vaulted over the rail, and swam away. Kelly heard a call from the dock.

      ‘Mr Jackson, are you there?’

      Kelly descended the ladder. ‘He’s having a swim. I’m his partner, Jeremy Hawkins.’

      Henry handed over the two passports. ‘There you go, sir, Mr Jackson’s credit card is in the envelope and your mooring licence covers you until Friday.’

      Kelly took the package. ‘Thanks, son.’

      ‘That’s great clarinet I just heard. Kind of sounds like Gershwin, though I don’t recognize the tune.’

      ‘It’s an Irish folk song called “The Lark in the Clear Air”. And you’re right, I did put a bit of Gershwin in there.’

      ‘I think he would have been pleased, sir. Are you and your friend professional musicians?’

      ‘I was for a while and he does play decent piano, but on the whole we found other things kept getting in the way.’

      ‘Well, that seems like a damn shame to me,’ Henry said, and walked away, calling at another boat.

      Kelly turned and looked out over the harbour to see how Tod was getting on, and saw him swimming towards a round buoy floating on a chain. Many people were diving or jumping off the boats, some in wet suits, generally having a good time while the light still held.

      For his part, Tod stroked the last couple of yards, then grabbed onto the chain, aware of the unmistakable sound of a helicopter descending somewhere in the distance.

      He hung there, listening, and two young men erupted from the water, like black seals in their wet suits. They were like twins, darkly handsome, the same wildness apparent in their faces.

      The nearest one grabbed the chain and laughed as his brother joined them. ‘Mr Jackson, I recognize you from your photo. We’re the ones you came to meet. The Master sends his regards and hopes that success in our venture will make us your favorite Chechens. I’m Yanni and this is Khalid.’

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