The Marching Season

said.
    "We eliminated your friends on the hillside. You've any more of that?" he said, nodding at the tea.
    Dalton ignored Spencer's request. "Eliminated them?" he said, his eyes suddenly wide. "And what happens when it's discovered that you've eliminated them? I said I'd hide a few guns and a wee bit of Semtex for you, Gavin. You didn't tell me you were going to bring down the Special Branch and the British army on top of my fuckin' head."
    "You've nothing to worry about, Sam," Spencer said. "I'm tak-
    The Marching Season 235
    ing all of it tonight. Even if the Branch and the army break down the door, there'll be nothing for them to find."
    "All of it?" Sam Dalton asked incredulously.
    "All of it," Spencer replied. "Where's your brother?"
    Dalton looked up at the ceiling and said, "Upstairs sleeping."
    "Start pulling out the guns and the Semtex. I want a word with Sleeping Beauty. I'll be down in a minute."
    Sam Dalton nodded and went downstairs into the cellar. Gavin Spencer went upstairs and found Christopher Dalton asleep in his bed, mouth open, snoring softly. Spencer withdrew a silenced Walther automatic pistol from his coat pocket, leaned down, and slipped the barrel into the sleeping man's mouth. Christopher Dalton gagged and awakened with a jolt, eyes wide. Spencer pulled the trigger; blood and brain tissue exploded onto the pillow and the bedding. Spencer put the gun away and walked out of the room, leaving Christopher Dalton's twitching body on the bed.
    "Where's Chris?" Dalton asked, when Spencer arrived in the cellar.
    "Still sleeping," Spencer said. "I didn't have the heart to wake him."
    Dalton finished packing the guns and the explosives. When he was finished, three canvas duffels lay side by side on the floor. He was kneeling, zipping up the last of the bags, when Spencer pressed the barrel of the captured SAS automatic against the back of his head.
    "Gavin, no," he pleaded. "Please, Gavin."
    "Don't worry, Sam. You're going to a better place than this."
    Spencer pulled the trigger.
    236 Daniel Silva
    At 6 A.M. the telephone rang on Michael's bedside table in the guest bedroom at Winfield House. He rolled over and snatched the receiver before it could ring a second time. It was Graham Seymour, telephoning from his home in Belgravia.
    "Get dressed. I'll pick you up in half an hour."
    Graham hung up abruptly. Michael showered and dressed quickly. Twenty minutes later a chauffeured Rover pulled into the drive at Winfield House. Michael got in next to Graham Seymour.
    Graham handed him coffee in a paper cup. He looked like a man who had been awakened with bad news. His eyes were red-rimmed, his shave was patchy and obviously hurried. As the car sped through the dawn light of Regent's Park, Graham quietly described what had happened overnight at the farmhouse in the Sperrin Mountains.
    "Jesus Christ," Michael said softly.
    The car raced along the Outer Circle, then east a short distance on the Euston Road before heading south on Tottenham Court Road. Michael clutched the armrest as the driver wove in and out of the early-morning traffic.
    "Mind telling me where we're going?" Michael asked.
    "I thought I'd surprise you."
    "I detest surprises."
    "I know," Graham said, managing a brief smile.
    Five minutes later they were speeding along Whitehall. The car drew to a halt at the iron gates guarding the entrance of Downing Street. Graham identified himself to the security officer, and the gates opened. The car moved forward, coming to a stop in front of the world's most famous doorway. Michael looked at Graham.
    "Come along, darling," Graham said. "Mustn't keep the great man waiting."
    The Marching Season 237
    They entered No. 10 and walked along the front corridor and up the famous staircase hung with the portraits of Tony Blair's predecessors. An aide showed them into the prime minister's study. Blair was seated behind a disorderly desk wearing a shirt and tie. A breakfast tray was untouched.
    "When I approved Operation Kettledrum, gentlemen, I didn't expect it would come at a price like this," Blair said, without waiting for introductions. "My God, two E-Four officers and two SAS men dead."
    Michael and Graham remained silent, waiting for the prime minister to continue.
    "The whole of Northern Ireland is going to awaken to this news in a few minutes, and when it does the Catholic community is going to react strongly."
    Graham cleared his throat. "Prime Minister, I assure you—"
    "I've heard your assurances,