Blood Storm

by Colin Forbes

  'Sinister,' Nield began. 'Early this afternoon I saw a large white van stopped across the road. Had TV painted on its side. They were using cameras to photograph this building. So I went out, crossed the main road in front of the van. It started moving, nearly mowed me down. I skipped on to the pavement and it stopped. I opened the passenger door. The thug beside the driver swore at me. I demanded to know what the hell they were doing, who they were. The passenger tried to kick me in the face. I grabbed his leg, hauled him out, repeated my questions. The driver produced an automatic, pointed it at me, ordered me to let go of his mate. I did so. The van drove off.'

  'Intimidation,' said Tweed. 'So if they're playing rough we must respond at once. Marler, work out a plan.'

  'I already have done. I'll need Harry's help. Now . . .'

  Both men left the office. Tweed, his manner calm, took out a pen and a pad, began doodling. Those remaining waited for his next words.

  'Interesting that Benton asked if I was abroad. He knew I was. Was checking your reaction, Monica. You did well.'

  'How could he know?' Paula wondered aloud.

  'Radek. He'd report our presence to Noel, wherever he was keeping out of sight of violence. Noel would then phone the information to the Cabal. Benton came in about five o'clock this afternoon?' he asked Monica.

  'Not far off that.'

  'We'd be on Eurostar. Noel probably flew back ahead of us. With Radek. Which reminds me.' He took out a photo Philip had handed him, gave it to Monica. 'Take that downstairs. Ask them to make five copies. Urgent. Then everyone has a copy.'

  'Horrible-looking brute,' Monica commented.

  'The devil himself,' chimed in Paula. 'Radek.'

  'You think he's over here already?' Newman suggested.

  'Sure of it. He'd fly back with Noel. We have two choice killers to watch out for. Fitch, now Radek.' He looked at Paula. 'You go back home, escorted by Newman. You won't mind if he sleeps in your spare bedroom tonight?'

  'I'd appreciate it, when I do go. I'm wide awake now we have all this to deal with. I find it strange that General Macomber should warn us.'

  'Could be he doesn't like the Cabal. Or it could be part of the campaign of intimidation.'

  'You can't suspect the General,' she protested.

  'I suspect everyone until we've smashed the Cabal. Why, I wonder, did he visit the Cabal when he's supposed to detest his offspring? I sense everyone is lying.'

  'Can I tell you about my encounter with my informant yesterday?' Nield enquired.

  'Encounter?' Tweed queried. 'Yes, go ahead.'

  'I wasn't happy, so I called her and suggested we had dinner. She accepted immediately, said she was worried. This is how it went. . .'

  Nield had arrived promptly at Coral's apartment. When she opened the door she was dressed to kill. Her flaming red hair was piled on top of her head, and she wore a short close-fitting white dress, accentuating her excellent figure.

  'Come in and have a drink first, Pete,' she invited him with a glowing smile.

  'Unfortunately we haven't time,' he replied, thinking quickly. 'I've booked a table at that restaurant just down the road. If we don't grab it now they'll give it to someone else.'

  'OK. Let me get my coat.'

  'What are you worried about?' he asked as they walked down the street.

  'It can wait until we've had a drink. I need one. Brandy.'

  Seated at a corner table, well away from any of the crowd already creating a babble of voices mingled with the clink of glasses, they were able to talk unheard.

  'This is good,' she said as she consumed her starter, a mix of sliced melon, oranges and bananas, generously flavoured with brandy. 'My favourite tipple, brandy,' she told him.

  'What is worrying you?' he had asked again.

  'The Parrot. She asked me out to lunch today, took me to a very posh restaurant. I saw the bill later. Sky high.'

  'I thought you were enemies. That's what you said last time we talked.'

  'I know, Pete. I thought so too. Now she's all over me. I can't do anything wrong at work. During lunch she said one of the Cabal was after her. Wouldn't say which one. She's not prepared to play ball with him - so she's worried they'll manoeuvre her out of her job.'

  'They?'

  'The Cabal. They support each other. They're planning something aggressive against Tweed's outfit. Thought you ought to know.'

  'But how do you know this? They're in a separate room.'

  'I know.' She fluttered her eyes at him. 'You'll think I'm wicked. The hinges between our large room and the Cabal's HQ have been oiled, but the door doesn't shut properly if someone isn't careful. When the Parrot is away I creep over, open it just a bit more and listen to what they're saying.'

  'Dangerous.'

  'I'm very careful. I have a file tucked under my arm. There is a filing cabinet close to that door in our room.'

  'Going back to what you said earlier,' Pete said, pausing while the waiter served their main course, 'you referred to some aggressive action planned against Tweed. Any details?'

  'Only that Noel, who was away, planned it. Benton said he hoped Noel wouldn't go mad. Then I sidled back to my desk. Just in time. One of them closed the door.'

  'Noel was away. Where?'

  'No idea

  They chatted about other things until they'd finished the meal. When they left the restaurant, Nield walked her to the entrance to her flat. She took out her keys, opened the door, tucked her arm in his. She turned to face him, her eyebrows raised, invited him in for a quiet drink.

  'I'd love to,' he lied, 'but before I came over I was dealing with another problem and they will want to hear about it back at Park Crescent. Certain phone calls have to be made this evening. Maybe another time?'

  She made a moue as he kissed her on both cheeks. Not best pleased. She said good night, walked in and closed the door in his face.

  22

  'So,' Nield concluded his narrative, 'I escaped without being compromised. Coral looked furious.'

  'I don't believe one word of what that woman says,' decided Paula. 'Why is she twisting and turning the situation in that building?'

  'It's possible that she's acting on instructions from one of the Cabal,' Tweed mused. 'But I doubt it.'

  'Which one?' Paula asked.

  'I have no idea. I rather doubt my theory. Can't think of what she's up to.'

  'Maybe she's barmy,' Nield suggested. 'It was someone out of their mind who committed that horrible Viola murder.'

  'She's too small to have done it,' Nield said.

  'It's like a mosaic,' Tweed ruminated. 'Every piece fits in somewhere. But we're missing the main picture.'

  'Oh Lord!' Newman burst out. 'I'm missing one expensive present. I've left the scarf for Roma on the rack on the Eurostar.'

  'No you haven't,' Paula told him. She opened her holdall on the floor beside her, produced the wrapped scarf, handed it to Newman. 'I always check nothing's been left when I leave a plane or a train.'

  'I can't thank you enough,' Newman responded, the relief showing in his face. 'I do feel better now.'

  'Romance for Roma,' Paula chaffed him.

  'And while you two are blathering,' Tweed said grimly, 'I'm wondering what Marler and Harry are up to.'

  Wearing masks over their faces, Marler and Harry were showing infinite patience as they waited. Harry was leaning against the wall on one side of the metal door guarding the entrance to Special Branch HQ. Marler had adopted the same position on the other side.

  They had positioned themselves so they were invisible to the slow swivel of the security cameras on the wall above them. Every now and again Harry stretched his legs up and down to fight off cramp. Marler remained still as a statue. He checked his watch. They'd kept up their vigil for over an hour. Patience was a virtue.

  The side street was so dark, so ill-lit, that anyone passing down Whitehall who glanced their way would not see their faces, let alone their masks. Marler raised a hand holding one of the g
renades. He had heard something. Harry pulled a face. He didn't believe Marler had heard a thing.

  The steel door rose slowly without warning, sliding up and over into its slot. Marler risked peering inside. The slow escalator was on the move. Nelson was standing still, letting the escalator do the work.

  A few steps behind him Benton, clad in a shaggy coat, was studying a report. Behind him Noel was standing quite still. So Noel was back from France. Which meant Radek was in town.

  As the step Nelson stood on neared the bottom Marler nodded to Harry. They acted as one. Marler's first tear-gas grenade landed on Nelson's step, burst, sending up a great cloud of the gas. At the same moment Harry had thrown another higher up, a perfect throw, hitting Benton's tread. Another great cloud of gas erupted.

  Nelson was choking, his eyes hurting as he wobbled, not sure what to do next. Marler lobbed his second grenade high up, actually hitting Noel on the knee, where it burst.

  All three men were choking, coughing, wobbling all over the place. The Parrot appeared at the top, stared in disbelief, caught a whiff of the gas, ran back into the office to call an ambulance. Marler and Harry, masks off, were gone.

  Tweed was talking to Nield when Marler and Harry returned to the office. He thought Harry looked pleased with himself while Marler's expression was his normal blank.

  'Pete,' Tweed continued, 'what game do you think Coral Flenton is playing?'

  'No idea. Except she is playing some game. I'd sooner not go near her again.'

  'Then I'll go tomorrow,' Paula piped up. 'I got on well with her and we agreed to meet again soon. Because I'm a woman she'll find it harder to manipulate me.'

  'Good idea,' agreed Tweed. 'Now Marler, Harry, what have you been up to?'

  Marler, in a few words, explained what they had done at the Cabal's HQ. 'Teach them to send a fake TV van to try and photograph this place.'

  'Think I'll have a bit of fun,' Tweed said. 'Monica, can you get their number? I'll take over immediately.'

  'May I speak to Miss Partridge?' Tweed asked when he took over the line. 'That is Miss Partridge speaking? Good. Tweed here. I gather Benton Macomber wanted me to contact him.'

  'They're ill,' she blurted out. 'In hospital.'

  'Nothing serious, I hope? Expected back maybe tomorrow? I know there have been a lot of cases of food poisoning.'

  'Yes, there have,' she said, having recovered her wits.

  'Well, give them all my regards and wishes for a speedy recovery. Don't eat in any strange restaurants.'

  'I cook my own meals at home,' she responded sharply.

  'I don't think I know where you live.'

  'Hammersmith. In a big flat I bought ages ago.' A pause. 'Maybe you'd come over and see me for supper one day. My address is . . .'

  Tweed scribbled down her address, phone number, mobile number.

  'I shall look forward to that,' he told her. 'Maybe we could meet soon.'

  'Soon as you like,' she replied in a seductive tone he didn't know she was capable of. 'Thanks for calling. See you . . .'

  'You must be smitten,' Paula joked.

  'I'd like to smite her. But she's a piece of the mosaic we are assembling. Away from the Cabal she may let her guard down.'

  'She'll tell them.'

  'You know, I don't think she will,' Tweed replied. 'Now it's time Newman took you home. I saw you yawn. You must be exhausted.'

  'Bed would be nice.'

  Newman drove off first and Paula followed him. The traffic was lighter and as he moved up Brompton Road he slowed almost to a crawl. She wondered why. Then he parked, turned and gestured for her to join him.

  'Something wrong?' she enquired as she settled beside him.

  'Couldn't be more wrong.'

  'What is it?'

  'See that battered old Ford outside the entrance to your yard? Two men in front, the driver gesturing towards your place to his companion. Recognize anyone?'

  'Oh God! Not the driver, but his passenger is Radek.'

  'And the driver is Fitch. Inside that car is the most deadly killing machine in town. They're checking your place. Aren't you glad Tweed told me to look after you? I could kill them both,' he went on. On his lap was a Smith & Wesson. 'Perfect opportunity.'

  'Don't.' She placed her hand on his. 'It would be murder. I don't think the police would take into account what they are.'

  'This isn't my normal revolver,' he argued. 'It's one Harry gave me. Never been used before. Serial number filed off. No check on the bullets would be found in the records . . .'

  'Don't!' she repeated more emphatically. 'I'd like to kill them myself but it's too dangerous. And it's just outside my flat. I'd be the first one the police grill.'

  The argument was settled as the Ford drove off down the Fulham Road. Newman waited to give them time to get well clear, then drove on, crossed the road into the yard, parked the car out of sight at the back of the building. Paula, who had returned to her car, followed him.

  'I won't use the spare bedroom tonight,' Newman decided as she fiddled with her door keys. 'I'll sleep on the couch in the living room, then I can see and hear anyone coming.'

  'I'll make up the couch into a bed,' she promised him. 'It has one of these pull-out beds underneath it. I'll make you comfortable.'

  'I know you will. And I'll have my normal revolver handy. No, I don't want anything to eat. Just a carafe of water.'

  In the living room overlooking the street she fussed with pillows and sheets and blankets. Then she gave a great yawn as she said good night. In her bedroom she forced herself to take a quick shower, dried, flopped into bed and was fast asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

  In the morning, when it was still dark, Paula was up first. She found Newman still awake. She went to close the curtains.

  'Don't do that,' he warned. 'I need a view of the street. You look a million dollars,' he remarked as he put on his shoes and windcheater. 'I take it you slept well.'

  'It was glorious. I didn't dream once. Breakfast now, then back to the office, I expect. I'm wondering how Radek got here so quickly.'

  'Simple. Radek flies over from Paris with Noel. Then Noel drives him in the car he's left at airport parking to Fitch's hangout.'

  'Which is where?' she asked as she skilfully broke eggs over a pan in the compact kitchen leading off the living room. 'I hope you're hungry.'

  'Could eat a horse,' Newman said.

  'Sorry, not on the menu. You were saying?'

  'Harry knows he has a warehouse in the East End. He's never been inside but a pal has, described it. Fitch sleeps in a small messy room. The main feature is a vast room which has nothing in it. The floor is the old planks. Noel will know the place.'

  'Why Noel?'

  'Because he's the Planner. Fitch is just the type of scum Noel would use for dirty jobs. I've got Noel, with his public-school accent, weighed up.'

  'Sit down. Eat. . .'

  At Nelson's insistence, against the doctor's wishes, the three men were released from hospital after promising to drink plenty of water. They were walking down the exit stairs, watched by the doctor, when Nelson stumbled, grabbed hold of the banister.

  'I expect to see you back here soon,' the doctor warned.

  'We're businessmen,' Nelson shouted. 'Not doctors who piddle around for a few hours a day.'

  'Not another word,' Benton told him in his quiet voice.

  The limo Nelson had called for on his mobile waited for them outside. A uniformed chauffeur opened the doors.

  They had just got in when Nelson gave an abrupt instruction to the driver.

  'We're in a hurry to get to our building. No crawling.'

  Near Trafalgar Street the limo was stopped in a solid motionless wedge of traffic. Noel glanced out of the window, saw a newspaper stall. He opened his door, dived out. Behind the wheel the chauffeur raised his eyes to heaven. He could have started moving while Noel was half out of the car. At the newspaper stall Noel asked for the latest edition of the Daily Nation
, paid, dived back into the limo, began studying the paper.

  'Expecting good news?' Benton asked caustically.

  'You never know . . .'

  He broke off, swearing silently to himself, using the foulest language.