No Rules Ridge King (readnow TXT) 📖

and his family beyond all possibility of official redemption. He would have to resign and return to Kent.

But beyond his personal future—his life was over for the most part anyway—he considered the world. He was as thoroughly convinced of the menace China presented and would continue to present. And he knew Norwalk shared his feelings. Too many of his colleagues in the corps agreed that China was a menace—too many to ignore. And yet he remembered the endless meetings with Meitner and then later with Girard and Yasuda, meetings fraught with indecision because no one would commit his government (or himself) to any definite course of action—and all this frustrating indecision while Russia and China began a war.

No, indecision would not help him any more now than it had then. He realized he’d still be sitting uselessly with Meitner, Girard and the others if he’d not become involved in the Keystone affair. He’d still be cabling London late-breaking events that he had no part in.

But this young man’s life was at stake. By acceding to Kornilevski’s method, he would share personal responsibility for that man’s death, for his murder, although publicly there would be no blame laid to him because if such a thing was done, it had to be done quietly, without the participation of either his or Kornilevski’s government. He knew death. He had seen it often in war; he himself had been responsible for many deaths. But the thought of killing someone like Hawkins to get what he wanted caused him to shudder inside. He made up his mind.

“I agree.”

Kornilevski breathed a heavy sigh of thanks and returned to his chair to pour another glass of port.

“Obviously,” he said when he was seated, “we cannot inform our governments of our decision. It would be possible for me to secure someone to commit the act from Moscow, but this would involve a personal trip for me back home. Once I was there it would be impossible for me to hide it from Lebedyev, although I think I could persuade Lebedyev to agree with us that what must be done, must be done. And time. Time is a factor.”

“No, I see your point. Time is invaluable. I could not return to England secretly either. And it would take too much time.”

“Do you know anyone?” Kornilevski asked.

Ellsworth looked at him with sharp distaste.

“I do not count many assassins among my normal circle of acquaintance, Ambassador,” he said coldly.

“I did not mean that to be an insult, Harold. You’ll forgive me if I am emotional. My country stands to lose a great deal if Thurston is elected.”

“As does mine, albeit perhaps somewhat more indirectly in the beginning.”

“What I mean to say is, do you know of anyone who could help us?”

“Yes. My nephew Vernon now works for Jack Houston St. Clair—he knows some men who turned into mercenaries when they left the Special Boat Service. It might be possible for me to arrange a contact somehow. I’m going to Miami tomorrow where I’ll see Vernon. But when I contact this person, I’m not sure what his reaction would be when I got in touch with him.”

“I see your point. If he was a professional, and he has to be a professional—he would be wary. He could, on the other hand, be expected to act quickly. But we must try something.”

“Yes, we have to try something.”

“What do you suggest, then?” asked Kornilevski.

“I suggest that I work through Vernon. He will not have any idea what we’re about and he won’t say anything to Jack.”

“How will we pay the man? He will be expensive.”

“I can divert some embassy funds, if necessary. You, no doubt, could do the same.”

“Yes, that would be the best way. It’s easily managed.”

“Is there any price you do not wish to exceed?”

“None.”

“Very good, then.”

Ellsworth paused.

“Is there something else, Lord Ellsworth?”

Ellsworth’s eyes landed on the decanter holding the ruby red liquid.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll have another glass of that fine port.”

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

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