by Colin Forbes
'At times he runs away with himself. But what he has done also serves' the purpose of lulling the Chinese. Between us, we now have far more advanced technology in the missile fields than what we have given them. But China has a population of over a billion people. We have only approximately two hundred and sixty million. In a clash China could lose fifty million and think nothing of it. If that happens to the States it would be devastating.'
'I take your point…'
'When we look east we see Europe losing all its strength with their crazy idea of merging countries – nations, Tweed, all with different languages, histories, ways of life. Madness. History shows us the Austro- Hungarian Empire, also a hotch-potch of nations with different cultures, collapsed after the First World War. Yugoslavia, another mixture of nations who detested each other, was held together by Tito for a time. Tito dies. Yugoslavia, as a similar federation to the one proposed for Europe, collapses in a bloodbath. The Soviet Empire is another example of different nationalities which broke down into chaos. You see why Washington is so worried about Europe.'
'You've made a powerful case.'
The waiter appeared to fill their glasses. Morgenstern looked up, smiled.
'Thank you, but I will attend to the wine. We want to be alone. I'll press the bell when we need help.'
'I think you're leading up to something, Jefferson,' Tweed remarked.
'Then, beyond Europe, there are more menaces. Militant Islam is on the upsurge. Turkey, which could fall to Islam, will soon have a population of a hundred and fifty million. Germany, the largest nation in Europe, has eighty million. It only needs a brilliant Muslim general to do a Mohammed. To sweep across Europe. Based in an occupied Britain, their missiles could annihilate the East Coast of the States – while the Chinese did the same thing to our West Coast. You agree it is possible? This dessert isn't bad.'
'It's the best I've eaten in years,' Tweed said.
'Then Iran is building nuclear bombs, has ballistic missile systems. Allied to Turkey, with Iran's huge population, nothing could stand in their way.'
'They sound pretty worried in Washington,' Tweed observed.
'With good reason, as I'm explaining. Britain, for a thousand years the bulwark against tyranny from Europe, is enfeebled in a military sense.- It wasn't necessary. You have no army to speak of, a skeleton of an air force, a ghost of a navy. Yet not so long ago you were the main factor in destroying Hitler. How are the mighty fallen.'
'I find it difficult to argue against what you have said.'
'Why don't we adjourn to the smaller room for coffee and liqueurs?'
'Good idea.'
The 'smaller' room was also large, spacious and luxuriously furnished. They sat facing each other, on two couches, with a coffee table between them. Morgenstern's blue eyes were gleaming with vitality.
'With all these terrible forces soon to be so powerful,' Morgenstern continued, 'we have to adjust, adapt, be revolutionary.'
'I sense we're approaching the reason why you invited me to have dinner,' Tweed said, then sipped his Cointreau.
'You are a very intuitive man. I noticed that rare quality when we met in Washington.'
'Why didn't you ask Howard to meet you?' Tweed enquired.
Tweed was making no attempt to pretend to be running an insurance outfit. Morgenstern would know he was Deputy Director of the SIS, that Howard was Director.
'Howard is a nice man.' Morgenstern paused for the first time, choosing his words carefully. 'But he hasn't a fraction of your global outlook. We regard you as a key figure in the new system.'
'What new system are you referring to, Jefferson?'
'I said earlier we have to be revolutionary.' Morgenstern leaned forward. 'Britain and America have to merge in a new and much stronger relationship. That is why we are talking tonight.'
'Merge?'
'As I said earlier, economically, socially and politically.'
'Before, you go any further I'd like to ask a few questions. I imagine you saw the TV pictures of the outrage in Oxford Street after the bomb detonated?'
'I did. I was appalled. Such savagery.'
'I think some of your people planted that bomb.'
'You think what?' Morgenstern sat back, appeared to be visibly shaken. 'You can't mean that, Tweed. It's crazy. I find it hard to believe I heard what you just said. We don't do things like that. Why would we, for God's sake?'
Tweed had been watching his host closely. He had a lot of experience in detecting when people were lying. He could have sworn Morgenstern believed what he had just said. He pressed on.
'We have evidence that a huge number of the worst American thugs – gangsters – have arrived in this country by devious routes recently.' He opened the executive case which he had brought with him, took the batch of prints from the envelope, spread them on the coffee table. 'These are the men I'm talking about.'
'They must be members of the Medellin drug cartel – or maybe the Mafia,' Morgenstern said as he looked at' the prints. 'I can only assume someone has fed you with disinformation.'
'You've seen any of those men inside the Embassy at Grosvenor Square?'
'Heavens no! I most certainly haven't.'
'May I ask, do you know everyone who works at the Embassy?'
'Absolutely not. Why should I? My role is running foreign policy. I have a suite of offices on the second floor. And I always enter the Embassy by a side door – to avoid the press photographers.'
Second floor? Then Tweed remembered that in America the ground floor is called the first floor. So when he had seen the back of Morgenstern with two bodyguards at the time of his visit to Sharon Mandeville, on the first floor, the Americans would refer to that as the second floor. Which linked up with what Morgenstern was telling him. Again he had no doubt that his host was speaking the truth.
'You know Sharon Mandeville?' Tweed persisted.
'Yes I do. She has an office on the same floor as my suite. I don't know what her role is, but she has close connections with the White House. She's friends with the President's wife. You know something, Tweed? You make a good interrogator.'
'I've no intention of offending you…'
'That's enough.' Morgenstern smiled. 'You are someone who could never offend me. Very occasionally, you might be deceived by someone trying to make bad blood between us, but I make no claim to infallibility.
'Would you like to explain in more detail this merger between our two countries you suggested a few minutes ago?'
'I said merge, not merger.'
'There's a difference?'
'I suppose there isn't. Have you read how when France-was falling to Germany in the Second World War Churchill offered the French dual citizenship? The French would also have British nationality – and vice versa.'
'Yes, I have read about that. The French turned it down.'
'Let us suppose Washington made a similar offer to this country. All Britons would become American citizens – with all the huge advantages that would give you.'
'Is Washington going to make such an offer? Positively?'
'It has been discussed by the National Security Council. And I chaired the meeting.'
'You haven't answered my question. Positively,' Tweed goaded.
'Other aspects of the joining of our two nations have been discussed in great detail. The Joint Chiefs of Staff would welcome the establishment of further air force and naval bases in Britain. It would increase the reach of, say, missiles aimed from here at the Middle East by three thousand five hundred miles. And the East Coast of the States would be safe again – safe from the danger of an attack by Muslim powers from occupied Britain.'
'What else has been discussed behind closed doors in Washington?' Tweed demanded.
'A special Act has been drafted in secret for Congress – this would incorporate Britain into the American system.'
'What are the huge advantages to this country you mentioned a few minutes ago?'
'You have a population of a
bout fifty million-plus. At the moment the largest state in the US is California – a population of roughly thirty million. Britain would be by far the most powerful element when it came to electing a President. You would have more electoral votes than any other state in the Union. From America's point of view it would greatly increase the Anglo-Saxon vote. You would be the power-brokers. Who knows? In the not too distant future an Englishman, now an American citizen, might be elected President.'
'You always were very persuasive.'
'Emotionally,' Morgenstern leaned forward again, 'this merger would appeal to many Americans. They would feel they were coming home again. After all, the Republic originated in England, when the Pilgrim Fathers sailed across the Atlantic.'
Morgenstern refilled his liqueur glass with more Grand Marnier after topping up Tweed's Cointreau. He drank half of what he had poured, then continued, his energy undiminished.
'If you allowed yourselves to be dragged into the doomed federation of Europe you would be nobody, outvoted on every issue, And who would you be sitting with? Old enemies. Long ago you destroyed the Armada sent against you by Philip of Spain. One of your greatest generals, Marlborough, checkmated the power of Louis XIV of France in a series of military victories. You fought and defeated the Kaiser – and Adolf Hitler.'
'The dinner was excellent,' Tweed said suddenly. He suspected the chef was French."'Thank you for a memorable evening.'
'You're not going? You haven't given me your reaction to all I've told you.'
'You propose to turn Britain into the fifty-first state of the United States…'
18
'They've all gone home,' said George when he opened the door at Park Crescent. He was blinking as though he'd just had a nap. 'Only Paula is still here.'
When Tweed opened the door to his office Paula was sitting behind Monica's desk. She checked her watch, looked at him as she made her comment.
'I persuaded Monica to go home, get some sleep. She's worked like a Trojan in building up her profiles. I said I'd wait to take calls. You've been a long time. It must have been a very long dinner with Morgenstern.'
'After I left Jefferson I got a taxi to take me to Downing Street. I had a chat with the PM, who is also working all hours.'
Removing his coat, he sat behind his desk. He poured water from a carafe into a glass that Monica, he felt sure, had left him.
'Roy Buchanan phoned,' Paula reported. 'When I told him I'd no idea when you'd be back he told me instead. He's heard a positive rumour that the American syndicate has bid for two leading daily newspapers, a key TV station and two important radio outfits. The money offered is so huge he's sure that a majority of shareholders will accept.'
'I know. The PM told me. It's a fact, not a rumour.' 'We're letting them get away with it?'
'The PM is still cleverly playing it softly, softly. He's allowing the bids to be made, then he'll refer them to the Monopolies and Mergers Commission. Meantime, he's going to watch how the Americans handle their new propaganda machine.'
'That is clever. How did you get on with Morgenstern – or shouldn't I ask?'
Paula was talking as much as she could. Anything to cover up her nagging doubts about Tweed.
'Paula,' he began, his expression grave, 'what I am about to tell you is for your ears only. I may tell Newman and Marler later – and anyone else if I feel they should know. Has this room been checked for bugs recently?'
'Only an hour ago. Harry Butler came in, checked everywhere – then he told me it was clean.'
'This is going to take awhile. I'm recalling everything which Morgenstern said to me…'
Paula found her confidence in him flooding back as he recited word for word the entire conversation over dinner. He ended by clenching his fist, banging it on his desk.
'Now you have the lot. Except I now believe the Americans are operating at two different levels.'
'What does that mean?'
'One is the diplomatic level. Morgenstern handles that. I'm certain he was telling me the truth when he vehemently would not believe any of his people could be involved in the bomb in Oxford Street. They're concealing the other level from him – knowing such a man would never go along with it.'
'And the other level?'
'The Charlie-Ronstadt level – the thugs and killers whose job is to destabilize Britain. I'm convinced now the two levels are operating in watertight compartments. One doesn't know the other exists. Someone – probably Charlie – is being diabolically clever. They're using every dirty method in the book – intimidation, bribery, mass murder, you name it. The object is to bring Britain to its knees, then the proposal that we merge with the US will seem attractive. We may see an FBI team arriving, "to clear up the mess".'
'Would the PM accept them coming?'
'I just don't know. Incidentally, when I was with the PM I suggested he take action in case they use logic bombs.'
'What on earth are they?' Paula wondered.
'New American expression. It covers advanced techniques for closing down phone communications and power supplies inside a country they want to destabilize. Imagine the breakdown if we couldn't contact anyone, if we had no power for heat and for lighting in present weather conditions. They could also insert misleading information into our computers. Hence the phrase, logic bombs. Logic would vanish.'
'Can't anything be done to stop them?'
'It can, provided we prepare for such an onslaught in advance. The PM has ordered troops to guard key exchanges in London – keeping out of sight. He's shutting down vital computers, fax machines. From now on communication is by a troop of army couriers on motorcycles.'
'That wouldn't be your idea?'
'Well, the PM and I did discuss the problem.'
'And we're still going to Basel tomorrow by early flight?'
'We most certainly are.'
'It will be interesting staying at the Three Kings Hotel – we stayed there once before. Remember?'
'Of course I do. Intriguing that Sharon and Denise are also staying there. I'd like another talk with Sharon.' 'I'm looking forward to this trip,' Paula mused. 'Maybe you shouldn't. My sixth sense tells me we're walking into an inferno.'
Tweed, Paula and Newman boarded the early morning flight to Basel. They were escorted to the plane by Jim Corcoran, a friendly man in his late thirties. Later the other passengers took their seats. The plane was three- quarters empty and Tweed gave Paula the window seat, with himself alongside her. Behind them Newman occupied one of the two seats on his own. Even though no other passengers were near them, he was protecting the privacy of Tweed and Paula so they could talk freely.
Tweed was clutching an executive case which he kept in his-lap. The plane was flying over France, heading for Germany where the pilot would turn south up the invisible Rhine. They both accepted the offer of drinks and Paula teased Tweed.
'You're getting to be a regular toper. Drinking on top of all that wine you told me you consumed last night.'
`You know I can turn it on and off like a tap. Like to see what I have inside this case?'
'I did wonder.'
Glancing over his shoulder, making sure the stewardess was busy at the rear of the plane, Tweed unlocked the case, raised the lid. Paula stared. It was neatly stacked with packages of one-hundred-dollar bills. He must have transferred the bills from the old briefcase, Paula thought.
'Should be enough to pay the hotel bill,' Tweed joked. 'I'll say. At a guess there must be a hundred thousand dollars you're carrying.'
'Nearer two hundred thousand.' He closed the lid, relocked the case. 'They're for Keith Kent, who is meeting our flight at Basel.'
`The brilliant money tracer. Why does he need them?'
`To pay into a certain account at the Zurcher Kredit Bank in Basel. No idea how he's going to do it, but he's going to manipulate the transaction so the millions of dollars paid in from Washington get lost in the system. That should help to stir things up a bit for starters.'
'They'll g
o berserk!'
'And that might cause them to make a big mistake. Doesn't look very wonderful out of your window.'
Paula felt a sensation of enormous relief now she knew what the huge sum of dollars was intended for. This was followed by a feeling of guilt that she could ever have doubted the integrity of Tweed.
She looked out of the window. Ever since they had left Heathrow there had been nothing but sullen dark overcast below them. It seemed even denser, the closer they approached Basel.
'I suppose that was one reason why you got Jim Corcoran to bypass most controls – all that money.'
'It was the reason. The case was specially designed some time ago at my suggestion by the boffins in the basement at Park Crescent. It looks normal but it hasn't a hint of metal in its construction. Plastic to look like metal was used. You noticed I carried it through the detector and there wasn't a hint of a ping. Because Jim was with us they didn't even ask me to open it. We've begun to descend.'
Five minutes later they broke through the overcast. Paula looked down at the ground and sighed heavily. 'Something wrong?' Tweed asked.
'There's a covering of snow, of all things. I didn't think Basel ever had snow.'
'It rarely does. It looks much heavier over there in Germany. That huge uplifted hump is the Black Forest…'
Tweed had asked Monica to arrange for two hire cars to wait for their arrival. Basel still had a very small, cosy airport, unlike Geneva and Zurich where once-compact airports had expanded into major terminals. Keith Kent was waiting for them when they walked outside.
'Welcome to Switzerland. The locals keep saying they never get snow and are very indignant. Is it in that executive case, Tweed?'
'It is,' Tweed assured him, handing over the case. 'So how long before millions of American dollars vanish into thin air?'
'About a couple of hours from now.'
Keith Kent was of medium height, slim, clean-shaven, with a sharp-featured face and shrewd dark eyes. He had a ready smile and was dressed in a dark suit under a smart overcoat. Anyone who met him immediately had the impression of a businessman, probably the director of a firm.
