Dark Justice (Sean Dillon)
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Jack Higgins pits the heroic covert intelligence team of Blake Johnson and Sean Dillon against a hidden foe in a very different kind of game—with a very different set of rules.
needs more. I remember interrogating a man named Luhzkov years ago. He lectured in economics at London University. A deep-cover agent for the KGB. He often spoke with sincere admiration of a Colonel Belov who headed Department Three of the KGB. Belov’s main task was to create chaos in the Western world—chaos, fear and uncertainty, until the cracks showed and governments toppled.” Belov seemed to stay very calm, though his lips tightened, as did his grip on the champagne glass, and it was Dillon
here down by Shepherd’s Market, and I can’t be having that because he’s a friend of mine.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Oh, dear, so we’re going to have to do it the hard way, are we?” Mosby slipped a hand inside his coat and Dillon produced the Walther. “Don’t be stupid,” Salter said. “Put whatever you’ve got in there on the table and get out, unless you’d like Dillon to leave your brains on the wall.” Mosby didn’t even hesitate. He took a .38 Smith & Wesson from his pocket,
“Huntley Hall? I know all about that.” “Yes, so he told us.” “And what he knew was what he’d heard from you,” Kelly said. “He passed it on the way in. Huntley Hall Institution. They’ve certainly got some security there. I mean, some of the big country estates we’ve worked on have got walls like that, but that electronic fence on top is something else again.” Tod slipped off to the bar and got three more large whiskeys. He brought them back and pushed one over to Laker, who took it with
moral principles being bruised a bit.” “Bruised or not, the Superintendent works for this department under the Official Secrets Act. Isn’t that right?” Ferguson glanced at her. Hannah didn’t look easy, but said, “Of course, sir.” “Good. Tell us about Mrs. Morgan, then.” “She’s sixty-five and looks much older. I managed to get hold of her hospital records, and it’s bad. The automobile accident that killed her husband almost finished her off. She narrowly avoided being a paraplegic, but she has
university academic, turning to a faith he’d never accepted before in his life.” “And then ending up in Manhattan with the intention of killing the President,” Dillon said. “Which makes me wonder what goes on at the Queen Street Mosque,” Blake said. “Some of these places are hotbeds of intrigue, pump out the wrong ideas. Sure, we finally captured Saddam in Iraq. But how long ago was that and how many terrorist attacks have there been since?” Ferguson said, “In his last message, Bin Laden spoke