Without Mercy Read Free Page B

glass down and she refilled it.
    Roper said to the others, “Ferguson’s on his way back from Washington after seeing Cazalet about Belov International. The President wants answers, so he’s sent Blake with him to help out.”
    Dillon took down his second drink. “Have you shared the news about Belov’s miraculous rebirth, his appearance in Siberia at Station Gorky?”
    “I have.”
    “Rebirth, my arse,” Billy said. “Come off it, Dillon, all this talk of some double is rubbish. The photo on the Web site could have been taken anytime.”
    “I’m not so sure about that,” Harry said. “Look at the Second World War. Doubles all over the place. Hitler, Churchill, even Rommel.”
    “I’d say the double story is genuine,” Roper said. “That time in Venezuela and Paris, he couldn’t have been in two places at once.”
    “Yes, but the important question isn’t whether they have a fake Belov out there,” Harry said. “The question is why. But never mind that for now. I hear you’ve been to see the Superintendent, Dillon. How was she?”
    “Not good.”
    “I never was very fond of coppers, but Bernstein is special,” Harry Salter said.
    Billy nodded. “A lovely lady. If it hadn’t been for her, we’d never have got together with you, Dillon.”
    Roper said, “How was that?”
    “Really? You never heard that story?” Billy carried on, “Well, Prime Minister John Major was hosting a function for President Clinton at the House of Commons. There was a question of security. Dillon said it was crap and that he could make it onto the terrace dressed as a waiter.”
    “He what?” Roper was incredulous.
    “But it could only be done from the river, see? He conned Bernstein into finding him the biggest expert on the River Thames, only it wasn’t anyone in Customs or the River Police.”
    “It was me,” Harry said. He smiled. “God bless her, she never forgave Dillon.”
    “And why would that be?”
    “We’d a little bit of business. Diamonds on a boat from Amsterdam coming upriver. There was an informer at work. Bernstein knew we were going to be nicked that night here on the wharf. We’d have gone down the steps for ten years each, only Dillon here decided to be a naughty boy again, which meant the police didn’t catch us with the loot.”
    Roper turned to Dillon. “You dog.”
    Dillon reached for the third Bushmills Dora had poured. “It’s been said before.”
    “The Superintendent wasn’t pleased at all. Since she works for Ferguson, she’s covered by the Official Secrets Act, which meant she couldn’t open her mouth.” Salter shook his head. “So, as I said, I don’t think she ever forgave Dillon for that, especially as, with our assistance, he did indeed make it to the terrace at the House of Commons dressed as a waiter, and served canapés to President Clinton, the Prime Minister, Ferguson . . .”
    “And let me guess,” Roper said, “Superintendent Hannah Bernstein.”
    “To be accurate, Chief Inspector, as she was then,” Billy said.
    His uncle nodded. “And still a lovely girl.” He shook his head. “However, if we were capable of getting Dillon onto the terrace at the House of Commons to serve canapés to the President of the United States, we ought to be able to come up with an answer to this present puzzle.”
    “And that’s what it is,” Roper said. “We all know what happened at Drumore. So what’s all this business with Belov International?”
    “The thing is,” Dillon said, “we know, but for obvious reasons we can’t advertise the fact. Belov International could be banking on that.”
    “But for what purpose?” Roper demanded. “Life goes on, even where big business is concerned.”
    “Especially where big business is concerned,” Dillon said. “Especially international companies worth six or seven billion with powerful government forces behind them.”
    “And the bleeding Cold War starting all over again,” Harry said. “Or so I was reading in