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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2008
Copyright © Jack Higgins 2008
Cover design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2008
Cover photograph © Paul Bowen/Getty Images (helicopter); Don Farrall/Getty Images (lightning)
Jack Higgins asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780008124960
Ebook Edition © August 2015 ISBN: 9780007283422
Version: 2017-07-21
There was no place President Jake Cazalet wanted to be more right now than this Nantucket beach, the sea thundering in to the shore in the strange luminous light of early evening, the wind tasting of salt.
The President had been delivered there by helicopter from the White House only an hour before, and here he was, walking with his favourite Secret Service man, Clancy Smith; his beloved flatcoat retriever, Murchison, dashing in and out of the incoming waves.
âHeâll need a good hosing,â Cazalet said. âSilly old boy. Youâd think heâd have learned by now that the salt is bad for his skin.â
âIâll see to it, Mr President.â
âIâll have a cigarette now.â
Clancy offered him a Marlboro and flicked his Zippo lighter, which flared in the wind. Cazalet smiled. âI know, Clancy, what would the voters think? Itâs the curse of old soldiers.â
âWeâve all been there, Mr President.â
âHarper on communications as usual?â
âYes. The only other person in the house is Mrs Boulder, cooking dinner.â
âAmen to that.â Cazalet smiled. âI love this place, Clancy. Iraq, Afghanistan, our friends in Moscow â if we can call them that â they could all be on another planet when Iâm here.â He sighed. âAt least until that damned helicopter picks us up and deposits me back at the White House.â
Clancyâs cellphone rang and he answered, listened for a few moments, then turned to Cazalet. âBlake Johnson, Mr President. Heâs arrived back from Kosovo sooner than he thought.â
âWell, thatâs great. Is he coming down?â
âBy helicopter. And he also ran into General Charles Ferguson, who was passing through Washington on his way to London after some business at the United Nations. He thought you might like to meet with him, so heâs bringing him down, too.â
âExcellent.â Cazalet smiled. âItâs always good to see Ferguson, find out what the Prime Ministerâs up to. Itâd be interesting to get his take on Blakeâs report, too.â
They continued walking. âI thought Kosovo was history, Mr President,â Clancy said.
âNot really. After what the Serbs did to them, they want their independence. The Muslims are in the majority now, Serbs the minority. Itâs still a problem. The Kosovo Protection Corps the UN set up in 2004 is still operating â troops from various countries, a British general coordinating the situation â but when you get into the back country, things happen. Thereâve been reports of outside influence, rumours of the presence of Russian troops.â
âAnd they were always for the Serbs,â Clancy pointed out.
âExactly, which is why I decided to send in Blake to scout around and see whatâs happening.â There was the sound of a helicopter in the distance. âThat must be them. Weâd better get back.â
Cazalet called to Murchison, turned to the beach house, and Clancy followed.
Blake and Ferguson sat together on one of the leather sofas beside the open fire, the coffee table between them and the President. Clancy served drinks, whisky and branch water for both of them. Cazalet toasted them.