Without Mercy (Sean Dillon)
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As Detective Superintendent Hannah Bernstein of Special Branch lies recuperating in the hospital, an enigmatic shadow from the past, burning with hatred, steals into her room and finishes the job. Consumed by grief and rage, Dillon, Blake Johnson, and all who loved Hannah swear vengeance, no matter where it takes them. But they have no idea of the searing journey upon which they are about to embark—or of the bloody war into which they are about to charge.
Filled with dark suspense, driven by characters of complexity and passion, Without Mercy once again proves that Jack Higgins is the unchallenged master of international intrigue.
out with a coffin. He watched it being put into the hearse, and the rear door closed. As Rabbi Bernstein got into the front of the hearse behind the driver and the pallbearers got into another limousine, Levin cut back. There was the name and telephone number of the undertaker in gold leaf under the rear door. He memorized it and walked on to the Embassy. Once in his office, he phoned Ashimov. Things have moved.’ Tell me.’ Levin did. ‘I told you they’d been clumsy, your IRA chums. It won’t
to the entrance, glanced briefly at Dillon, then went on. There was something more, Dillon was aware of that, but his emotion was too great. He drank a little more Bushmills and returned the flask to Joe Baxter, and a moment later people emerged from the chapel. There was a family plot, the open grave ready. People huddled round, a festoon of umbrellas against the rain. Dillon and Billy stood at the rear, Ferguson and company on the other side, Levin hidden among a group of friends, the
it. Ashimov said, ‘This isn’t good, Captain. You disappoint me.’ ‘Well, the bloody IRA must have disappointed you with their botched job on Bernstein and their total incompetence in the Blake Johnson affair. The idiots I used for Roper were on your list. The Salters’ Bentley was just bad luck.’ ‘You’re making excuses,’ Ashimov roared. ‘Take it up with Volkov. I have. When I’ve something to say, I’ll phone. Goodbye.’ He put the phone down. * * * Dillon stayed on with Billy, drinking a cup of
drifting, he went up to the reception area of the Belov Complex and found the receptionist in his green uniform being treated by paramedics. He took the avuncular approach. ‘You’ve done well. This must have been a terrible shock for you.’ ‘I can’t understand it. It was Mr Belov himself, with some old lady. He said, “I’m Josef Belov. Surely you recognize me?’” ‘And then what happened?’ ‘Someone called out in English. It was from the plane. He said, “Come on, Igor.” No – wait. He started to say
he said, “Tell Greta not to be stupid.”’ She stopped smiling and shrugged. Ferguson said, ‘He’s right, except that diplomatic immunity would send him home.’ ‘He is half English.’ ‘Volkov would crucify him.’ ‘I’m not so sure. He’ll go from Archbury, there’s a Falcon there. I’ve checked. Are you going to stop him?’ ‘Irish citizen. What would be the point?’ He turned to Dillon. ‘What do you think?’ ‘Well, we not only know where he is, he’s left his mobile number.’ ‘Exactly,’ Ferguson smiled.