Read The Wolf at the Door for Free Online

Putin. I hear he’s the new Head of Station in Kensington.”
    “I believe he’s expected this weekend. I wonder what they’ve done with Boris Luzhkov?”
    “God knows,” Miller said. There were few things Henry Frankel didn’t know about, but Boris Luzhkov ending up dead in the Thames was one of them.
    “The boss is in, and he’s expecting this, so I’ll deliver it now. He said you’re to wait, so help yourself. Coffee, all kinds of tea, juices. We’ve got a miracle machine now. Just press the right button.”
    Which Miller did and also glanced at the Times. Frankel was in and out several times, but it was thirty-five minutes before he came over to him and smiled.
    “Everything on the go this morning, but he’ll see you now.” Miller followed him. Frankel opened the door of the office and stood to one side.
    “Come in, Harry.” The PM was behind his desk. “Take a chair. First-class report.”
    “Thank you, Prime Minister. Putin didn’t say anything he hasn’t said before, but he does have this dangerous gift of sounding quite reasonable.”
    “As I know, to my cost, but I must tell you that I’ve had Charles Ferguson on the phone. A terrible business, this incident with his car and the death of the driver.”
    “I don’t know what the General has told you, Prime Minister, but it now seems certain that the driver was party to the whole affair. It would seem likely that the device, whatever it was, exploded prematurely, unfortunately for him. General Ferguson is handling the matter as if it was an accident, not a bomb, so there should be no problem with the media.”
    “Yes, that’s the last thing we need. Ferguson’s also filled me in on the unfortunate business on Long Island, and on your own brush with death in Central Park.” He sighed. “Trouble follows you everywhere I send you—Kosovo, Washington, Lebanon. You always end up shooting someone. You are the most irregular Member of Parliament I have ever known.”
    “Hardly my fault, Prime Minister, when you send me to places where people are liable to do a bit of shooting themselves.”
    “A valid point. All those years in the Intelligence Corps dealing with the wild men of Ulster made you spectacularly good at violent solutions. Your decision to leave the army on your father’s death and put yourself up for his seat in Parliament has proved most fortuitous, although it would have been slightly more convenient if we’d both been members of the same political party.”
    “Well, you can’t have everything,” Miller said.
    “I’m aware of that. No one in the Cabinet has any kind of military experience whatsoever, which is why I broke the rules and made you an under-secretary of state. You can be, on occasion, a thoroughly ruthless bastard, and there are times when that’s something that’s needed.”
    “But I am attached to you, Prime Minister, and that makes all the difference.”
    “Flattery gets you nowhere, Miller. I’m due in the House soon, so you’ve got fifteen minutes to explain this whole damn mess and what you and Ferguson intend to do about it.”
    Which Miller did, rapidly and fluently, covering everything. “That’s it, I think.”
    “And quite enough. Prayer cards, killings, a bombing, and, to top all that, this suggestion of an IRA link. That can’t be possible. I’ve enough on my plate with all these banks failing, plus the worst recession in years. I know there are a few crackpot organizations out there still demanding a United Ireland, but enough is enough. Sort it, Harry, sort it—and quickly.”
    He stood up, the door opened behind Miller as he rose, and Henry Frankel ushered him out.
    “How do you know when people are leaving?” Dillon asked. “Are you a magician or something?”
    “Absolutely, love. Take care.” Miller went out, calling Arthur on his mobile.
    “As soon as you like, and we’ll make it Holland Park.”
     
     
     
    Dillon, after a shower and change, went to the canteen, where he