A Matter of Honor Read online

“And did he give them any clue?”

  “No, all he told Pemberton was that he was in possession of a piece of property so valuable that no amount of money we could offer would be sufficient to purchase it back.”

  “Indeed,” said the voice.

  “The British think the important word is property,” said the caller.

  “They’re wrong,” said the voice on the other end of the line. “It’s purchase.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because the Russian ambassador in Washington has requested a meeting with the Secretary of State on 20 June, and he’s bringing with him a bullion order to the value of 712 million dollars in gold.”

  “So where does that leave us?”

  “On our way to Dijon so that we can be sure to lay our hands on that icon before the British or the Russians. The Russians obviously feel confident that it will soon be in their possession. So my bet is that they must already be on the way.”

  “But I’ve already agreed to go along with the British plan.”

  “Try not to forget which side you’re on, Commander.”

  “Yes, sir. But what are we going to do about Antarctic if we get our hands on the icon?”

  “It’s only the icon we’re after. Once that’s in our possession, Antarctic is expendable.”

  Adam checked his watch: a few minutes after seven.

  It was time for him to leave because he had decided not to carry out Lawrence’s instructions to the letter. He intended to be waiting for them, and not as Lawrence had planned. He locked the bedroom door and returned to reception, where he paid for the use of the room and the telephone calls he had made.

  “Thank you,” he said to the receptionist, and turned to leave.

  “Dudley.” Adam froze on the spot.

  “Dudley,” the voice boomed again. “I almost didn’t recognize you. Did you change your mind?” A hand thumped him on the shoulder—at least it wasn’t the left shoulder, he thought—as he stared down at Jim Hardcastle.

  “No,” said Adam, wishing he possessed the guile of Robin’s father. “I think I was spotted in town so I had to get a change of clothes and keep out of sight for a few hours.”

  “Then why don’t you come to the Mustard dinner?” said Jim. “No one will see you there.”

  “Wish I was able to,” said Adam, “but I can’t afford to lose any more time.”

  “Anything I can do to help?” said Jim conspiratorially.

  “No, I’ve got to get to … I have a rendezvous just outside the town in less than an hour.”

  “Wish I could take you there myself,” said Jim. “Do anything to help an old soldier, but I’m a bit stuck tonight—of all nights.”

  “Don’t give it a second thought, Jim, I’ll be all right.”

  “I could always take him, Dad,” said Linda, who had slipped up by her father’s side and was listening intently.

  They both turned toward Linda, who was wearing a tight-fitting black crepe dress that started as low and ended as high as it dared. Her freshly washed hair now fell to her shoulders. She looked up hopefully.

  “You’ve only just got your license, lass. Don’t be daft.”

  “You always treat me like a child when there’s something worthwhile to do,” came back the immediate response.

  Jim hesitated. “How far is this rendezvous?” he asked apprehensively.

  “About five, maybe six miles,” said Adam, “but I’ll be fine. I can get a taxi easily.”

  “The lass is right,” said Jim, and taking his car keys out of his pocket, he turned to her and added, “but if you ever let on to your mother, I’ll kill you.” Jim took Adam by the hand and shook it furiously.

  “But I’ll be just fine …”

  “I won’t hear of it, lad. Never forget that in the end we’re both on the same side. And good luck.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Adam reluctantly.

  Jim beamed. “You’d better be getting along, lass, before your mother shows up.”

  Linda happily took Adam by the hand and led him away to the parking lot.

  “Which direction?” she asked, once they were seated in the car.

  “The Auxerre road,” said Adam, looking down at the piece of paper on which he had written the directions Lawrence had read over the phone to him.

  Linda set off at a slow pace, seeming at first to be unsure of the car, but once they had reached the outskirts of the town, Adam suggested that she might go a little faster.

  “I’m very nervous,” she said, as she put her hand on Adam’s knee.

  “Yes, I can tell you are,” said Adam, crossing his legs quickly. “Don’t miss the turning,” he added when he noticed a signpost pointing to the left.

  Linda swung down off the A road on to a country lane while Adam kept his eyes peeled for the building Lawrence had described. It was another two miles before it came into sight.

  “Draw into the side,” said Adam, “and turn the lights off.”

  “At last,” said Linda, sounding more hopeful, as she stopped the car.

  “Thank you very much,” said Adam, as he touched the door handle.

  “Is that all I get for risking life and limb?” asked Linda.

  “I wouldn’t want you to be late for the dinner.”

  “That dinner will be about as exciting as a dance at the Young Conservatives.”

  “But your mother will be worried about you.”

  “Dudley, you’re so uptight.”

  “I wouldn’t be in normal circumstances, but if you stay much longer your life could be in danger,” Adam said quietly.

  Linda turned ashen. “You’re not joking, are you?”

  “I wish I was,” said Adam. “Now, when I get out of this car you must turn round and go back to the hotel and never mention this conversation to anyone, especially your mother.”

  “I will,” Linda said, sounding nervous for the first time.

  “You’re a fantastic girl,” said Adam, and took her in his arms and gave her the longest, warmest kiss she had ever experienced. Adam then got out of the car and watched her nearly drive into a ditch before she headed off back in the direction of Dijon.

  He checked his watch: an hour and a half still to go before they were due, and by then it would be pitch dark. He jogged over to the airfield and studied the burned-out buildings that ran alongside the road. It was exactly as Lawrence had described it. It was like a ghost town, and Adam was confident that no one else could be there yet, as they still wouldn’t have had enough time to carry out Lawrence’s plan.

  Looking across the runway, Adam spotted the ideal place to hide while he waited to see which of the two plans he had prepared would prove necessary.

  Flight Lt. Alan Banks of the British Royal Air Force was thankful that the moon shone so brightly that night. He had landed the little RAF Hawker Typhoon in far worse conditions when a runway had been lit up like the Blackpool sea-front.

  Banks circled the perimeter of the airfield once and studied the two runways carefully. The airport had been out of action for such a long time that none of the aircraft manuals included a detailed ground plan.

  The flight lieutenant was breaking every rule in the book, including piloting an unmarked aircraft and informing the French that they would be landing in Paris; not easy to explain overshooting an airport by over a hundred miles.

  “I can make a landing on the north-south runway more easily,” Banks said, turning to the SAS captain, who sat crouched in the back with his five men. “How near to that hangar do you want me to go?” he said, pointing out of the window.

  “Stay well clear, at least a couple of hundred yards,” came back the reply. “We still don’t know what to expect.”

  The six SAS men continued to stare cautiously out of the side windows. They had been briefed to pick up a lone Englishman called Scott who would be waiting for them, and then get out fast. It sounded easy enough, but it couldn’t be; otherwise they wouldn’t have been called in.