Next in Line (William Warwick, #5)(98)

‘Then put me through to my leader immediately, or you’ll have spoken to your friend Hogan for the last time.’

William reluctantly handed the phone to Khalifah, and although he couldn’t understand a word of the conversation that followed, the name Diana occurred several times. After a few minutes Khalifah passed the phone back to William.

‘Now listen carefully, Superintendent,’ said Chalabi, ‘because I’m going to say this once and once only. In a couple of hours’ time, I will be phoning you again, and by then you will have arranged for a car to take His Excellency Mansour Khalifah to Heathrow, where he will board his private jet ready to take off for Libya. Do I make myself clear?’

‘Two hours may not be enough time to find a car and get him to the airport,’ protested William.

‘Come, come,’ said Chalabi. ‘If you can’t, I will have to execute one of my prisoners on the hour every hour. I’m sure Lady Victoria, like her ancestors before her, will set a good example. It shouldn’t be difficult for you to work out who will follow her, if you make one false move.’

‘But …’ began William.

‘There will be no buts, Superintendent. That is if you’re hoping to see the Princess alive again. As you now have only one hour and fifty-eight minutes, I won’t waste any more of your precious time.’

William had his next sentence prepared, only to find he’d already been cut off. Khalifah, who appeared to have made a remarkable recovery, gave him a condescending smile.

‘I won’t hold you up, dear boy,’ said Khalifah in an exaggerated public-school accent, ‘unless the governor wants to hang about and kiss my arse …’

The governor took a pace forward, but William threw out an arm, blocked his path and quietly led him out into the corridor, accompanied by a regal wave of the hand from Khalifah.

‘I’d be happy to serve a life sentence for killing that man,’ muttered the governor as the door slammed behind them.

‘Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,’ said William.

The governor paused for a moment before saying, ‘I owe you an apology, William, because I can’t begin to imagine what else you know, and can’t share with me,’ he said as the younger of the two doctors came out of the hospital wing and joined them in the corridor.

‘I told him I needed to take a leak,’ said the young doctor, ‘so this will have to be quick.’

‘I don’t think you know Dr Harrison, governor,’ said William. ‘We were on the same track team at London University, although he was a long-distance man.’

‘Where I studied Middle Eastern languages, not medicine,’ confessed Harrison as he shook hands with the governor. ‘So I’m a PhD, not an MD.’

‘What did Khalifah have to say for himself?’ asked William, not wanting to waste any more time.

‘I could only hear his side of the conversation,’ said Harrison, ‘but he made it clear that DI Hogan should be thrown overboard the moment his plane had taken off from Heathrow, and that once the yacht reaches Libyan territorial waters, someone called Victoria will suffer the same fate.’

‘And the Princess?’ asked William.

‘They have no intention of letting her go, even if Mansour Khalifah is released.’

‘Then what else do they have planned?’ asked the governor.

Harrison hesitated.

‘Get on with it, man,’ said the governor.

‘She’ll be paraded through the streets of Tripoli on the way to Martyrs’ Square, where she’ll be beheaded. They’ve even chosen the person who will carry out the execution.’

‘Nasreen Hassan, no doubt,’ said William as he checked his watch. ‘Which means I’ve now only got one hour and forty-nine minutes before …’

? ? ?

The C-130 carrying the elite SBS team flew over HMS Cornwall just after six thirty p.m., to be greeted by three flashes from a signal lamp. The pilot swung around and circled the vessel. The Cornwall’s captain watched from the bridge as the rear door of the C-130 slowly opened, and three rigid inflatable boats appeared and parachuted slowly down to the sea. The plane circled the Cornwall once again, before returning to discharge its remaining human cargo.

The first to make the jump was Captain Mike Davenport, not a man who liked bringing up the rear. Once his parachute had opened, the rest of his men followed in quick succession, dropping into the waves just as the brigadier had predicted, as easily as children jumping into a swimming pool.

The moment they hit the water, they discarded their parachutes and swam to the nearest boat. Once they had all clambered aboard they headed for the Cornwall.

Davenport nipped up the rope ladder that was hanging over the ship’s side. He stepped onto the deck to be greeted by an ensign before being escorted to the bridge, where the captain was waiting for him. They spent the next hour going over his plan in great detail, including the role those selected for the advance party would need to perform if the outcome was to be a success.

After the briefing, Davenport joined his men and ordered them to rest, not their favourite occupation. But as he reminded them, waiting is always the worst part of any mission, so they should try to get some sleep, as they couldn’t begin Operation ‘Overboard’ until the sun had disappeared below the horizon. He was well aware that none of them would have a moment’s sleep, himself included.