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almost given up when he saw her at the end of the sidewalk in front of him, and as he coasted towards her, three youths came round the corner wearing bomber jackets and jeans, young animals of the kind to be found anywhere in the world, from New York to London. Hedley heard the ugly laughter and then they were on to her, one of them yanking her purse away. His anger was instant, he braked at the kerb and jumped out.
     
     
'Leave it.'
     
     
One of them pushed Helen against the wall and they all turned. The one with the purse said, 'Hey, nigger, get out of here, this is none of your business.'
     
     
They moved in on him and it all came back: 'Nam, the Delta, every dirty trick he'd ever learned. He grabbed the wrist of the one holding the purse, twisted the arm straight, and delivered a hammer blow that snapped the bone. His right elbow went back into the face of the one behind, breaking the nose, and his left foot scraped down the leg of the third, dislodging the kneecap.
     
     
They were on the sidewalk, crying in pain. He picked up the purse and took her arm. 'Can we go now?'
     
     
'My God, Hedley, you don't take prisoners.'
     
     
'Never could see the point.'
     
     
'What are you doing here?'
     
     
'I heard you leave, so I followed. Then I lost you when you went on foot.'
     
     
He held the door for her, she slipped in and he got in behind the wheel. Sounding a little breathless, she opened her purse, took out a bottle and shook a couple of pills into her palm.
     
     
'The flask, Hedley.'
     
     
'Lady Helen, you shouldn't.'
     
     
'The flask.' Her voice was insistent and he passed the flask over reluctantly. She drank, washing the pills down, a warm glow spreading through her. 'We'll go back to South Audley Street now and pack. Compton Place in the morning.'
     
     
As he pulled away, he said anxiously, 'Are you okay?'
     
     
'Never better. You see, I just executed Tim Pat Ryan.'
     
     
He swerved slightly, then regained control. 'You've got to be kidding me.'
     
     
'Not at all. Let me tell you about it.'
     
     
Kim opened the door to let Dillon in, and when the Irishman went into the drawing room, he found Hannah Bernstein, wearing a track suit, opposite Ferguson, who wore a robe over his pyjamas.
     
     
'God bless all here,' Dillon said.
     
     
'Enough of the stage Irishman, Dillon. Just tell us the worst,' Ferguson said wearily.
     
     
Dillon did, in a few brief sentences, then went and helped himself to the Bushmills.
     
     
'For God's sake, what am I to do with you?' Ferguson demanded. 'You know the present political situation. Hands off,
     
     
no trouble, and yet out of some strange perversity, you went looking for it.'
     
     
'I only intended to lean on the bastard.'
     
     
For once it was Hannah Bernstein who spoke up.
     
     
'It's no great loss, sir. Ryan was like something from under a stone.'
     
     
'Yes, I admit to a certain satisfaction,' the Brigadier told her. 'But how does that fine Special Branch mind intend to handle it?'
     
     
'By leaving it alone, sir. Someone will find Ryan down there by the wharf soon enough. That leaves Scotland Yard and a Murder Squad investigation. Let's face it, a piece of filth like Ryan had more enemies than you could count. It's not our problem, sir.'
     
     
'I agree,' Ferguson said.
     
     
Dillon shook his head. 'Jesus, 'tis the hard woman you are. Whatever happened to that nice Jewish girl I fell in love with?'
     
     
'Comes of working with you.' She turned to Ferguson. 'To business, sir, our business. This woman with the Irish accent may have done us a favour, but I'd like to know who she is. With your permission, I'll trawl all intelligence sources on the computer at the Ministry of Defence and see what I can see.'
     
     
'Be my guest, Chief Inspector. There may be a Loyalist link here.'
     
     
'I don't think so,' Dillon said. 'Most Loyalists have the Ulster accent like my own. Hers was different.'
     
     
'No matter.' Ferguson stood.