The Cauldron

by Colin Forbes

  'I thought you'd lost all touch with Washington.' Paula commented.

  'Even when I'm sent to Siberia' - Alvarez grinned at her - 'I have buddies who will do me favours. Advantage of being with the CIA a long time.'

  'What are they doing about that?' demanded Tweed.

  'Sweet nothing. Moloch is manufacturing explosives for the government at his Des Moines plant. Checkmate. Oh, maybe I ought to confess - they say it's good for the soul.'

  'Confess to what?' Paula was curious.

  'Back at Moss Landing I saw a couple of hostiles with guns creeping up on Marler from behind him. They weren't too professional. They moved close together. I came up behind them, shot them in the head, shoved the remnants into the ocean. Don't tell Marler. Why make a big deal out of it?'

  This is typical of Alvarez, Paula thought. A naturally modest man, he didn't want to have Marler thanking him.

  "There's no doubt, then,' Tweed persisted, 'that the juggernaut had traces of Xenobium - which suggests it had been used to transport a large quantity of the explosive from Des Moines to Black Ridge?'

  'No doubt at all,' Alvarez told him.

  'Our trip to Moss Landing was worthwhile in more ways than one,' Tweed said in a positive tone. 'We now know there is a second so-called drilling dredger much further north. The twin of the Baja.'

  Inwardly his heart had dropped at Alvarez's confirmation about Xenobium. He had little doubt the Kebir, like the Baja, had drilled a giant hole in the seabed, had then inserted and capped a massive bomb. A much larger area of the Californian coast than he had realized was bracketed by potentially enormous explosions.

  'Bob,' he said, 'when you spot a quiet public phone box stop the car. I have an urgent call to make.'

  At Black Ridge Ethan could hardly contain his joy and excitement. On his personal radio-telephone - which bypassed the main switchboard - he had heard from the skipper of the Kebir. The short call had given him the code word which confirmed everything was now operational.

  That meant the bomb had not only been buried and capped - but also that the radio transmitter, on top of the bomb and linked to its interior, was in position. Ethan did a little dance, skipping a few steps, then he unlocked the wall safe. Inside, between the two levers, were two switches. One was already depressed, so the radio-transmitter below the Baja on the seabed was operational.

  Slowly, Ethan pressed down the second switch. He was almost in a state of ecstasy. He stroked each lever before locking the safe, closing the wall panel which concealed it. Now he only had to wait for the foreshocks predicting an earthquake to increase and he'd pull the levers. There would be a five-minute delay before the signal was transmitted to both bombs. The result? Immediate detonation.

  Leaving his office, he hurried to the door which led to the upper chamber. He had constantly to check the recorders, to see when the sinister sharp upturns of the needle on the strong-motion seismograph shot up much higher. As he descended in the elevator he spoke aloud, gleefully.

  'Goodbye, Mother...'

  * * * *

  The following morning after breakfast Tweed was strolling with Paula across the golf links down towards a quiet endless Pacific. They were passing down the same boardwalk Paula had used when she saw a woman floating in under the moonlight. It gave her an odd feeling. Tweed pointed towards the ocean.

  'Strange to think that crossing those thousands of miles of sea the first land you would come to would be Japan.'

  'I find the thought a little intimidating.' she replied. 'I have been wondering whether Newman was right - that our last resort is to storm Black Ridge.'

  'Wouldn't work. I've seen the steel door which leads to the chamber housing the chart recorders. And I told you about the solid steel door in a wall of the chamber, the one which I'm sure leads to an elevator. That will be locked. By the time we reached the chamber - assuming we ever did - the police would have arrived in force. I noticed in Moloch's office his door is very heavy with a strong lock on it. At the first sign we were attacking the place he'd lock himself in and call the police.'

  Over to their left in the distance a forest was vaguely silhouetted. The illusion was caused by a dense veil of mist which had drifted in from the ocean. The scene was so beautiful Paula found it hard to realize the terrors they had experienced in this apparent paradise. She looked to her right.

  A few hundred yards away Newman was walking with Vanity. She had hold of his arm and they seemed deep in conversation.

  'Bob,' Vanity was saying, 'I'm leaving AMBECO.'

  'You are?' Newman couldn't conceal his surprise, his alarm. 'Where are you off to?'

  'Maybe New York. I've had the offer of a big job there.'

  "That means I won't see you again.'

  'Does it?'

  'I could fly to see you in New York.' he said quickly, encouraged by her response.

  'It might be fun. Just the two of us.'

  'It would be.' he said with enthusiasm. 'When are you going? I have some unfinished business to clear up with Tweed.'

  'I also have to clear up some work for VB. Why don't we keep in touch with each other's movements?'

  'Why don't we?'

  They had almost reached the ocean and could hear the surge of the surf swishing on the beach, when Tweed swung on his heel, took Paula by the arm, began to stride back up the boardwalk.

  'What's happening?' asked Paula.

  'We can't wait and wonder any longer. We have to take action. I need to phone Weatherby. I'll have to risk going through the hotel switchboard.'

  Paula was accustomed to Tweed's methods. After returning from Moss Landing the previous day he had spent most of his time sitting in his living room, staring into space. She could almost hear the wheels of his brain turning at high speed. At one moment he had picked up a packet of cigarettes Newman had left on the table. Lighting one, he had taken short puffs. Tweed had hardly ever been known to smoke.

  He had had all his meals sent in by Room Service. Paula had stayed with him, knowing he was deeply troubled. It had been late when she retired to her own room to go to bed. Tweed had phoned her that morning, had suggested they had breakfast in Roy's. After that, he had said he'd like a walk down to the beach.

  Now he was striding up the boardwalk at such a pace she had to hurry to keep up. In the distance she saw Newman watching. He had noticed the speed with which Tweed was returning to the hotel.

  'It's strange,' she said, 'looking around at all the golfers travelling around in their carts, playing on the links as though everything was normal. And you have a look on your face which suggests the world is coming to an end.'

  'Maybe this part of it is about to do just that...'

  Inside his living room he perched on the edge of a couch, pressed buttons on the phone, recalling Weatherby's number from memory. The door bell rang, Paula answered it, and Newman entered. He called back to Vanity in the corridor. 'I'll see you in a few minutes in the lobby.'

  'Is that you, Weatherby? Nine o'clock in the morning here, so I reckon it's five in the afternoon there.'

  'It is. You sound as though it's something urgent.'

  'Sorry to bore you - going over the same ground again. Operator, this is a bad line...' Tweed waited for a voice to reply, for a click which would tell him someone had been listening in. Nothing happened. 'Weatherby, this call is going through a hotel switchboard. I think it's all right but we won't take any chances. I'm talking about Mr Xenobium, an explosive character. You're with me?'

  'I am.'

  'If two of him were on the seabed out here - at widely separated points - and he blew his top, could they shift the plate?'

  "The tectonic plate? Shove it inwards?'

  'Exactly.'

  "They'd have to be of a magnitude I've not come across.'

  'More than ten times the power of Mr Hydrogen.'

  'Each gentleman?'

  'Yes.'

  'That's a frightening amount of power. And yet, I'd have thought it unlikely the plate wo
uld move.'

  'Even with Ethan directing the scenario?'

  For the first time in the high-speed conversation there was a long pause. Tweed waited. Then Weatherby came back on the line.

  'If Ethan is controlling the project I'd be very worried. He might manage it. Especially if a real quake was imminent.'

  'Thank you.'

  Tweed put down the phone. He looked at Newman and asked his question.

  'What did that poor Standish twin say to you when you hauled her out of the water at that cove below Nansidwell?'

  'Water was coming out of her mouth. She had trouble speaking. But I caught what she said. "Quack. Quack."'

  'What she was trying to say was, "Quake. Quake." She was trying to warn you about an earthquake.'

  'Well, I'll be damned.'

  'Let's hope all of us aren't. Now I must call Mrs Benyon. I don't think we have much time left.'

  Tweed pressed more buttons, again recalling the number from memory.

  'Mrs Benyon? This is Tweed. Angelo, to use the code word we agreed so you know it's me speaking.'

  'You have a very distinctive voice, Mr Tweed. I'd have known it was you,' she replied in a vigorous tone.

  'We are visiting Black Ridge. Can you pack in one hour? Good. We'll pick you up about one hour from now.'

  'I'm already packed. I was moving back to my old house - to get away from Black Ridge.'

  'Stay where you are. We'll call for you. Lock all doors. Let no one except myself in. Excuse me, I'm in a rush.'

  Tweed stood up, clenched his hands. He looked at Newman again.

  'Have you packed ready for instant departure? Have you told the others to do the same thing when I called you late last night?'

  'Yes to both questions. What's this nonsense about going to Black Ridge? You turned down the idea of storming the place.'

  'I'm going to see Moloch. I want to make one last effort - to persuade him to lock up Ethan Benyon. Paula, you can come with me.'

  'I'll drive.' Newman said. 'What's the betting Alvarez appears like magic?'

  40

  When Tweed led the way Alvarez was sitting in the lobby, appearing to read a newspaper. Vanity was walking back and forth, a mobile phone in her hand. Newman went up to her.

  'We're on our way to Black Ridge.'

  'So am 1.1 was waiting to tell you. VB called me and told me to drive there like the wind.'

  'We'll travel in convoy. I'll be out in front.'

  'Bet I overtake you.'

  'Don't.' He gripped her arm. Trust me. Don't do that. Stay on my tail.'

  'Well don't blame me if I bang your bloody tail!'

  She tossed her red mane, then caught sight of Paula. She realized Paula had overheard what she'd said and smiled.

  'Bob and I do have our fights. Just now and again.'

  'Good for you.'

  Tweed was already outside the lobby, heading for where the Merc, was parked. Newman ran past him with Alvarez at his heels. Vanity, fleet of foot, shot past them, dived into her car, dropped the mobile phone on the seat beside her. Newman reached in, grabbed the phone.

  'What the hellRIGHT SQUARE BRACKET' Vanity began.

  'I need a mobile to make an urgent call on the way,' Newman lied. 'If a call comes through for you I'll wave you down. So stay behind me, please.'

  'Please? That's better.'

  Newman drove away from Spanish Bay with Tweed, Paula and Alavarez; behind Vanity's car he saw the BMW following. Marler was at the wheel with Butler and Nield in the back. Trust Marler not to miss a trick. They made good progress along Highway One. It was another wonderful day, the sun glowing down out of a duck-egg blue sky. There was a pleasant breeze off the ocean which helped to cool the atmosphere.

  Paula had been intrigued by the skilful way Newman had relieved Vanity of her mobile phone. Despite the obvious growing relationship between them, Newman's brain was still in high gear. He had taken the mobile to avoid any risk of Vanity reporting to VB their imminent arrival.

  They were more than halfway to Black Ridge when they saw the endless queue of cars, almost bumper to bumper, stationary ahead. Newman swore inwardly. He got out as a State trooper strolled past the queue.

  'What's the problem, officer?' he asked.

  'The problem, Brit..' said the trooper, six feet tall and built like a quarterback, chewing gum, 'is you're not going any place for a long time. Now, move the jalopy as far off the highway as you can get it.'

  'Why?'

  'Maybe because I say so. Maybe because there's been a multiple pile-up blocking the highway. Maybe because we're waiting for lift trucks to pick up the mess, clear the highway. Wouldn't you say that was a good enough reason?'

  'Certainly I would.' Newman agreed amiably.

  No point in tangling with the law at this stage. He told the others what had happened.

  'It's going to delay us badly,' Alvarez remarked.

  'We'll get there eventually.' replied Tweed.

  He seemed the coolest person in the car. He had long ago learned that when you couldn't do anything you relaxed. Newman walked back to Vanity who had been joined by Marler, explained the situation.

  'We could be here for hours.' Vanity told him. 'Isn't it fortunate I'm well organized? I'm always ready for a breakdown in a remote place. In the trunk is a cool bag with a hamper. Food, wine and coffee. Tell me, Bob, does Tweed prefer strong coffee or decaffeinated?'

  'Strong.' Newman replied automatically. 'You think we'll be here long?'

  'Long enough to clean out my cool bag when everyone has had their rations. These multiples take some clearing up...'

  In his office at Black Ridge Moloch was working like a beaver. He was shredding documents which should never see the light of day.

  He had to check every sheet in case there was something he had to keep. It was a laborious job but one only he could do - some of the data was dangerous. As usual, Joel Brand entered without knocking. Moloch put a blank sheet on top of the pile he was working on.

  'What is it? I am very busy.'

  'Vanity hasn't turned up. I thought you asked her to get over here fast.'

  'I did. I hope she hasn't had an accident.'

  'She might have.' Brand said maliciously, 'there's been a multiple pile-up back along the highway towards Carmel.'

  'I'll try and get her on the mobile. Haven't you anything to do with the time I pay you so much for?'

  Opening a drawer, he took out his own mobile, pressed buttons. In the modern world it seemed he was always pressing buttons. The phone call worked, but there was a pause after he'd spoken before Vanity came on the line.

  'Sorry for the delay. The one answering you. And for the delay in getting there.' Vanity's voice came over clearly. 'There's a multiple pile-up on the highway. It's going to take hours to clear. I'll get there as soon as I can. I'm OK.'

  "That's all that matters. I'm shredding. Just get here when you can...'

  Vanity handed back the mobile Newman had rushed to her. In her other hand she was holding a sandwich,

  'You seem to want the phone more than I do. And that's all we needed.'

  She was referring to the fact that American mechanical efficiency seemed to be taking a day off. A huge breakdown vehicle, which had arrived to help remove the smashed-up cars blocking the highway, had itself broken down. This meant calling more help to remove the breakdown truck before work could start on clearing the cars involved in the pile-up. Ambulances had arrived from the opposite direction, had taken away casualties and several fatalities.

  'This could go on for ever,' Paula fumed.

  Her patience was not helped by the fact that Tweed had fallen fast asleep. They had cleaned out Vanity's hamper, had drunk all her coffee before there were signs of movement. By now it was mid-afternoon.

  Gradually the queue of cars ahead of them spread out, many breaking the speed limit in their annoyance, once clear of the State troopers. Newman increased speed.

  Eventually, with the traffic now thin, t
hey saw the strange Gothic towers of Black Ridge come into view. Tweed was peering out of his side of the car, told Newman to slow down as they came close to The Apex.

  Mrs Benyon was standing on the terrace, staring down at the highway. She'd had the sense, Tweed noted, to leave her luggage out of sight. He leaned out of the window, waved to her. Then he made a U-turn gesture, hoping she'd grasp that they would be coming back for her. She waved back to acknowledge that she'd understood him.

  When he had woken up to eat, Tweed had made several cheerful comments. This was to disguise the grim foreboding he had felt after talking to Professor Weatherby. His apparent buoyant mood had not been helped when he had overheard Vanity telling Newman that Moloch was busy shredding documents. This suggested to him VB was on the point of departure.

  As they approached the closed gates of Black Ridge Vanity saucily slipped ahead of Newman. Using her monitor, she opened the gates and drove up the slope with Newman following. Behind them Marler slowed, stopped his car close to the right-hand gate to prevent its closing. You never knew when an escape route would be needed.

  Arriving at the heavy front-door, Tweed pressed the large bell. Alvarez was alongside him when the door was opened, framing an unpleasant-looking man in a camouflage suit. His bruiser-like face surveyed them without enthusiasm.

  'Who the hell are you?'

  'CIA,' Alvarez said, brandishing a folder. 'Here to keep an appointment with VB. No need to inform him. He's waiting for us.'

  'I'll let him know first.'

  Camouflage Suit turned his back on them, raised his hand to lift a wall phone. Alvarez took three swift steps forward, holding his Walther by the barrel. He brought down the butt on the back of Camouflage Suit's head. The thug sagged to the floor.

  'He'll be out for half an hour,' Alvarez said as though it was normal routine.

  'I thought you'd handed in your resignation.' Paula said as Tweed led the way down the corridor.

  'I forgot to hand in my credentials.' Alvarez replied and grinned at her.

  Tweed reached the door to Moloch's office. He tried the handle. The door was locked. On the wall was a phone.