Mightier Than the Sword Read online

  “We’re running out of time,” the colonel reminded them, as he stared at the second hand’s relentless progress. “Seven minutes, three, two, one…”

  “So, Roberts, what do you advise?” asked the captain calmly.

  “You’re not going to like this, sir, but there’s only one thing we can do given the circumstances. And even that’s one hell of a risk, remembering we’re down to less than seven minutes.”

  “Then spit it out, man,” rapped the colonel.

  “Pick the fucking thing up, throw it overboard, and pray.”

  Harry and Giles ran back to the chairman’s suite and took up positions on either side of the vase. There were several questions that Emma, who was now dressed, wanted to ask, but like any sensible chairman she knew when to remain silent.

  “Lift it gently,” said Roberts. “Treat it like a bowl full of boiling water.”

  Like two weight lifters, Harry and Giles crouched down and slowly raised the heavy vase from the table until they were both standing upright. Once they were confident they had it firmly in their grasp they moved sideways across the cabin toward the open door. Scott-Hopkins and Roberts quickly removed any obstacles in their path.

  “Follow me,” said the captain, as the two men stepped into the corridor and edged their way slowly towards the grand staircase. Harry couldn’t believe how heavy the vase was. Then he remembered the giant of a man who’d carried it into the cabin. No wonder he hadn’t hung around for a tip. He was probably on his way back to Belfast by now, or sitting by a radio somewhere waiting to hear the fate of the Buckingham, and how many passengers had lost their lives.

  Once they reached the bottom of the grand staircase, Harry began to count out loud as the two of them mounted each step. Sixteen steps later, he stopped to catch his breath, while the captain and the colonel held open the swing doors that led out onto the sundeck, Emma’s pride and joy.

  “We need to go as far aft as possible,” said the captain. “That will give us a better chance of avoiding any damage to the hull.” Harry didn’t look convinced. “Don’t worry, it’s not too far now.”

  How far is not too far, wondered Harry, who would happily have dumped the vase straight over the side. But he said nothing as they progressed inch by inch toward the stern.

  “I know just how you feel,” said Giles, reading his brother-in-law’s thoughts.

  They continued their snail-like progress past the swimming pool, the deck tennis court, and the sun loungers, neatly laid out in readiness for the sleeping guests to appear later that morning. Harry tried not to think how much time they had left before …

  “Two minutes,” said Sergeant Roberts unhelpfully, checking his watch.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Harry could see the rail at the stern of the ship. It was only a few paces away, but, like conquering Everest, he knew the last few feet were going to be the slowest.

  “Fifty seconds,” said Roberts as they came to a halt at the waist-high rail.

  “Do you remember when we threw Fisher into the river at the end of term?” said Giles.

  “Could I ever forget?”

  “So on the count of three, let’s throw him into the ocean and be rid of the bastard once and for all,” said Giles.

  “One—” both men swung their arms back, but only managed a few inches, “two—” perhaps a couple more, “three—” as far as they could get, and then, with all the strength left in their bodies, they hurled the vase up into the air and over the back rail. As it came down, Harry was convinced it would land on the deck, or at best hit the rail, but it cleared it by a few inches, and landed in the sea with a faint splash. Giles raised his arms in triumph, and shouted “Hallelujah!”

  Seconds later, the bomb exploded, hurling them both back across the deck.

  2

  KEVIN RAFFERTY had switched on the For Hire sign the moment he saw Martinez step out of his house on Eaton Square. His orders couldn’t have been clearer. If the client attempted to make a run for it, he was to assume he had no intention of making the second payment owed for the bombing of the Buckingham, and should be punished accordingly.

  The original order had been sanctioned by the area commander of the IRA in Belfast. The only modification the area commander had agreed to was that Kevin could select which of Don Pedro Martinez’s two sons should be eliminated. However, as both Diego and Luis had already fled to Argentina, and clearly had no intention of returning to England, Don Pedro himself was the only candidate available for the chauffeur’s particular version of Russian roulette.

  “Heathrow,” said Martinez as he climbed into the taxi. Rafferty drove out of Eaton Square and headed down Sloane Street in the direction of Battersea Bridge, ignoring the noisy protests coming from behind him. At four in the morning, with rain still pelting down, he only passed a dozen cars before he crossed the bridge. A few minutes later he pulled up outside a deserted warehouse in Lambeth. Once he was certain there was no one around, he jumped out of the taxi, quickly undid the rusty padlock on the building’s outer door, and drove inside. He swung the cab around, ready for a fast getaway once the job had been completed.

  Rafferty bolted the door and switched on the naked, dust-covered lightbulb that hung from a beam in the center of the room. He removed a gun from an inside pocket before returning to the taxi. Although he was half Martinez’s age, and twice as fit as he had ever been, he couldn’t afford to take any risks. When a man thinks he’s about to die, the adrenalin begins to pump and he can become superhuman in a final effort to survive. Besides, Rafferty suspected this wasn’t the first time Martinez had faced the possibility of death. But this time it was no longer going to be simply a possibility.

  He opened the back door of the taxi and waved the gun at Martinez to indicate that he should get out.

  “This is the money I was bringing to you,” Martinez insisted, holding up the bag.

  “Hoping to catch me at Heathrow, were you?” If it was the full amount, Rafferty knew he would have no choice but to spare his life. “Two hundred and fifty thousand pounds?”

  “No, but there’s over twenty-three thousand. Just a down payment, you understand. The rest is back at the house, so if we head back—”

  The chauffeur knew that the house in Eaton Square, along with Martinez’s other assets, had been repossessed by the bank. Martinez had clearly hoped to make it to the airport before the IRA discovered he had no intention of fulfilling his side of the bargain.

  Rafferty grabbed the bag and threw it on the backseat of the taxi. He’d decided to make Martinez’s death somewhat more protracted than originally planned. After all, he had nothing else to do for the next hour.

  He waved the gun in the direction of a wooden chair that had been placed directly below the lightbulb. It was already splattered with dried blood from previous executions. He pushed his victim down with considerable force, and before Don Pedro had a chance to react, he had tied his arms behind his back, but then he’d carried out this particular exercise several times before. Finally he tied Martinez’s legs together, then stood back to admire his handiwork.

  All Rafferty had to decide now was how long the victim would be allowed to live. His only constraint being, he had to be at Heathrow in time to catch the early morning flight to Belfast. He checked his watch. He always enjoyed seeing that look on the victim’s face when they believed there still might be a chance of survival.

  He returned to the taxi, unzipped Martinez’s bag, and counted the bundles of crisp five-pound notes. At least he’d told the truth about that, even if he was more than £226,000 short. He zipped the bag back up and locked it in the boot. After all, Martinez would no longer have any use for it.

  The area commander’s orders were clear: once the job had been completed he was to leave the body in the warehouse and another operative would deal with its disposal. The only thing required of Rafferty was to make a phone call and deliver the message, “Package ready for collection.” After that, he was to drive to the