LITMIR.BIZ

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lots of other people in the darkness, laughter, guitar music, but there was no one by the Cazalet house.

      They passed it, turning up the left side of the estate through a marshy area with reeds growing high, found a place where the fencing gaped and squeezed into the garden. They could hear conversation and laughter, light through the trees and shrubbery.

      They had taken pills before leaving the cottage and were feeling the effects. ‘Are you getting high, brother?’ Yanni whispered.

      ‘I’m floating, man,’ Khalid told him.

      ‘Then put on your face.’

      Yanni pulled the ski mask on, and grinned as his brother did the same. ‘You look like a clown.’

      ‘So do you,’ Khalid told him, and took his Glock out and dropped the shoulder bag to the ground. ‘Let’s do it,’ he said to Yanni, and led the way cautiously.

      On the terrace, they were at the coffee stage, Ferguson and Cazalet sitting down and Dalton pouring it out. Dillon was standing by the open window, enjoying a cigarette. There were three stone steps leading up to the terrace crowded with overgrown shrubbery, and Sara stood there waiting for her coffee. Yanni crouched, watching her admiringly. His brother stood a few feet away in heavy bushes behind the balustrade.

      They could have killed everyone if they’d fired without hesitating, but the drugs had taken full control and they were shaking with excitement, and it was Yanni who made the first move.

      ‘Let’s go!’ he shouted, and took three quick steps up to the terrace. Sara half turned and he hit her sideways in the face, pulled her against him, and rammed the barrel of the Glock into her side. ‘A present from Osama, with regards from the Master.’

      ‘Oh God,’ she moaned, as if terrified, and closed her eyes, apparently fainting, starting to slide to the floor so that he was losing his grasp.

      Dalton was already drawing his weapon and jumping in front of Cazalet. Khalid stepped out of the bushes and shot him in the chest. In the same moment, Dillon drew the Colt .25 he always carried in a rear belt holder and fired rapidly three times, the hollow-point cartridges tearing Khalid apart, hurling him back into the shrubbery.

      Yanni howled in rage, allowed Sara to slide, and fired once at Dillon, denting the wall. Sara withdrew the flick knife from the sheath she always wore around her right ankle, sprang the blade, and stabbed him under the chin. He dropped his weapon, fell back down the steps, and lay in the middle of rosebushes, kicking as he choked to death.

      There had been surprisingly little sound, just the dull thud of silenced weapons, and Cazalet was already on his knees with Ferguson, examining Dalton, Dillon standing over them, his gun still in his hand. Dalton groaned and Cazalet looked up in relief.

      ‘Thank God, he was wearing his vest. I’ll leave him to you, Charles, while I raise the alarm.’

      He found Dalton’s cell phone and called in. ‘This is Cazalet. Empire down. Two intruders down. Request Nightbird Retrieval.’

      He said to the others, ‘Which means a cover-up job by the CIA. It should be easy enough, since all the weapons were silenced, so the neighbours shouldn’t have any idea what’s been going on, and as you know, the occasional helicopter landing is nothing new here.’ He turned to Sara. ‘I can see why they awarded you a Military Cross in Afghanistan, but your suit will never be the same again. It’s badly bloodstained.’

      ‘No problem, sir, I have another in my luggage. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go to my room to shower and change.’

      ‘Of course,’ he said.

      As she moved out, Dillon murmured, ‘Are you okay?’

      She held up a bloodstained hand. ‘As usual, not even shaking.’

      ‘Just like in the Bible. The sword of the Lord and of Gideon.’

      ‘Which doesn’t help me in the slightest,’ she said, and went out.

      Cazalet eased Dalton onto a chair and gave him some brandy to sip. Dillon poured champagne for himself and Ferguson, who said, ‘God knows why we’re drinking this, but it’s a pity to waste good stuff.’

      ‘That’s what I was thinking.’ Dillon toasted him.

      Cazalet cut in: ‘Did you two hear what the one she killed said to her?’

      Dillon nodded. ‘A present from Osama, with regards from the Master.’

      ‘It appears that Al Qaeda has found us, right here in Nantucket.’

      The Nightbird was of medium size, black in colour, the engine noise remarkably quiet. A dozen men in black overalls got out. The officer in charge, wearing the same black uniform, was calm and efficient.

      ‘Colonel Sam Caxton, Mr President. We’ll be treating this as a crime scene, although it’s not a police investigation. If you would, I’d like you all to wait inside and two of my men will record interviews with you, both individually and together, to cover all the bases. We also have a doctor with us, just to check you all out.’

      ‘We’re at your service, Colonel,’ Cazalet said.

      ‘If you could move in, we’ll get started. It goes without saying that we’re delighted to find you in one piece.’

      He went out, and Cazalet said to Dalton, ‘How do you feel, Frank?’

      ‘The vest I’m wearing can stop a forty-four.’

      ‘You deserve a medal, jumping in front of me like that.’

      ‘That’s what I’m paid to do, sir.’

      Cazalet clapped him on the shoulder. ‘Let’s all return to the kitchen and have a cup of coffee. It’s going to be a long night.’

      On the Dolphin out at sea, the lights of Nantucket had faded when Kelly entered the wheelhouse with two mugs of tea and gave one to Tod, who was listening to a jazz trio.

      ‘Sounds good. Who is it?’ Kelly asked.

      ‘No idea. It’s Nantucket local radio. I was waiting to hear if there were any news reports.’

      ‘What are you going to tell the Master?’

      ‘I’ll think of something.’ He sighed. ‘Probably better get it over with.’

      ‘I’d like to hear that,’ Kelly said. ‘Put it on speaker.’

      In a moment, they were connected.

      ‘This is Tod Flynn.’

      ‘I’ve been waiting to hear from you. Are you still in Nantucket?’

      ‘We’re at sea. Couldn’t contact the Chechens, and there didn’t seem to be any sign of action at the Cazalet house. Nothing on local news, either, so I decided the smart thing to do was leave.’

      The Master cut in. ‘Then I have news for you. Yanni and Khalid are dead, bagged, and waiting to be flown away.’

      Shocked, Tod made an instinctive response. ‘That’s impossible. How could you know that?’

      ‘Because I provided backup that even the Chechens did not know about. A woman sympathetic to our cause that I had in place. After I phoned you, I called her. She had seen you casting off to go to sea and smelled a rat, went after the Chechens herself, and was right behind when they entered Cazalet’s jungle of a garden. There was no time to warn them.’

      ‘So what happened?’ Tod asked.

      ‘The Chechens were butchered. Dillon shot Khalid, and the Gideon woman stabbed Yanni with a knife. When a CIA black unit arrived by helicopter, she slipped away.’

      ‘A hell of a cool customer,’ Tod said.

      ‘Yes, a remarkable lady – but to business. Admit it, you were doing a runner. You never even attempted to warn those boys.’

      ‘Okay,

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