by Colin Forbes
Tweed took hold of the phone, lifted it off the wall grip. He heard Moloch's voice.
'Who is it?'
Tweed. I have to speak to you urgently about Ethan.'
'I'm too busy. Go away. You should have made an appointment.'
There was a click as Moloch broke the connection. Newman had joined the group as Tweed opened a door on the opposite side of the corridor. Inside, behind a large desk, sat Joel Brand. He began opening a drawer.
'How did you get in?' he barked.
'Don't do it.' said Newman, pointing his Smith & Wesson. 'If you have a gun in the drawer, leave it there. And don't come out in the corridor. I have a bullet waiting for you. Oh, you won't be needing that phone.'
Walking in, he grabbed the phone off the desk, ripped out the cord connecting it to a plug in the wall. He gave the intercom the same treatment.
'Don't forget the bullet.' he warned, backing out of the room and closing the door.
Tweed was already opening another door on the same side of the corridor as Moloch's. Inside a tidy office Ethan sat behind his own desk, drinking a cup of coffee. His hair was neatly brushed, he wore a good suit, he smiled pleasantly, stood up when he saw Paula.
'Can I do something for you gentlemen?' he enquired in a very English voice.
Tweed stared hard at him. The transformation in Ethan's personality and appearance was startling. He looked round the room. It was just another office.
'You are Mr Tweed,' Ethan went on. 'I'm sorry if my manners weren't all they should have been when we last met. Fact is I'd had too much to drink. My own fault. I rarely touch alcohol.'
'I was looking for Mr Moloch,' Tweed said.
'First door on your left as you go out. This side of the corridor. Not the opposite side. That's the office where we keep our pet bear, Joel Brand. My apologies again.'
Tweed closed the door, followed by Newman, who had also peered round Ethan's office. Walking further down the corridor, Tweed tried to open the great metal door leading to the chamber. It was locked, immovable. None of them realized that while inside Ethan's office they had been within yards of the controls inside the concealed safe in the wall.
41
Tweed stood outside the closed door to Ethan's office while he looked up and down the empty corridor -empty except for the unconscious guard slumped on the floor in the distance. Newman stirred restlessly.
'Something wrong?'
'The atmosphere here.' Tweed said. 'No sign of guards outside. We've only seen one inside - he's on the floor. This is the headquarters of AMBECO, largest conglomerate in the world. Today it reminds me of a ghost mansion from which most of the inhabitants have fled.'
'Or are dead.' Newman reminded him.
'Moloch has locked himself away...'
He stopped speaking as a door opened and Brand walked into the corridor. Newman aimed his revolver at the big man. Brand grinned, raised both hands, went on grinning.
"The war's over - or didn't you know? You're looking particularly attractive this afternoon, Miss Grey, if I may say so.'
He smiled, and the smile had no lecherous undertone. His words had been polite, had even sounded sincere. Paula stared at him. This was a different Brand and once again she could see how he would be attractive to women.
'Thank you.' she replied quietly. 'Why has everything changed here?'
'I honestly don't know. But I have the feeling AMBECO has at last come to the end of the line. The golden days have gone with the wind. May sound corny, but that's how it seems to me. Newman, I've met some tough fighters in my time, but you take the prize. That must have been quite something - out at Moss Landing.'
'Where?' Newman rapped back. 'Never heard of the place.'
'Good reply.' Brand grinned again, lowered his hands, kept them to his side, palms outwards. 'Tweed, a long time ago - at least it seems like that - I advised VB to let me finish you off. He refused. I think I was right, if you don't mind my saying so. You've outwitted, outmanoeuvred us every time. I think I'm going to have to look for another job. I suspect VB is clearing out of the States. He's always hated the place. At least I've saved money -have half a million dollars to get by on.'
'You have a lot of dead men on your conscience,' Tweed replied.
'So' - Brand spread his hands - 'it goes with the territory, I guess. This is America. I once knew a guy who told me what it was all about, an American. Way back, in the early days, there was a drive to the West, towards this coast. It was every man for himself. A guy got in your way, you shot him - before he shot you. Something of those wild times linger. It's what makes the Yanks rougher than the Europeans. I did say rougher - not tougher. They crumble under pressure.' He grinned again. 'We've crumbled under pressure from you.'
'You said VB was clearing out,' Tweed reminded him. 'Where to?'
'The rumour is he's headed for the Middle East. He has Arab pals out there, another fortune in their banks. He's moving on.'
'I think we'd better do the same thing,' Tweed said firmly.
Brand walked ahead of them. Newman was close behind him, still holding his revolver, ignoring the fact that Tweed had shaken his head. Next to Brand's office a door was open. Tweed heard the sound of a teleprinter chattering away. He stood in the open doorway.
'Hello there.' said Vanity, seated behind her desk.
She had a computer and a fax machine on her desk. Reaching out, she took hold of a handful of paper spewed out by the teleprinter, waved it at him.
'No news is good news.' she said with a smile. "This is junk. I'm clearing my desk.' She looked over Tweed's shoulder at Newman. 'I'm like you that way, Bob. When I've started a job I finish it.'
'You're leaving here, then?' Tweed asked.
'I guess so. Take care.'
Brand escorted them to the front door, then left them to go back to his office. He never looked at the guard, still unconscious on the floor. Tweed was the last to get into the car. For a few moments he stood on the terrace, looking up towards the battlements of the mock Gothic edifice. He had a strange expression on his face, Paula noticed.
'Ethan seemed a changed man, too.' Paula commented as Newman drove them down towards the open gate.
'He looked to be putting on an act to me,' Alvarez remarked.
'I found his manner even more sinister than when we saw him dancing with that girl up at Palo Eldorado,' Tweed replied. 'It was most disturbing.'
Tunny atmosphere in the whole place,' Paula said.
'It reminded me of a ticking bomb,' Tweed responded.
Leaving Black Ridge, both cars were driven a short distance along the highway, then swung off up the slope to The Apex at Tweed's request. He got out of the car and Mrs Benyon appeared, without sticks and carrying a suitcase in each hand.
'Am I glad to see you,' she said to Tweed.
They put her luggage in the boot of the BMW. Then Tweed and Newman helped her manoeuvre her bulk into the front passenger seat. She chuckled, looking at Tweed.
'Either the seat is too small or I'm too big. The latter is the problem, I'm sure. Thank you for not forgetting me.'
Tweed thought she too was a changed person. She looked content, almost happy, relieved. Quite obviously she couldn't wait to leave California. He supposed she had had too many years of strain and stress over Ethan. There came a point when you could take no more anxiety. You just wanted to be free of it.
He got into the front passenger seat of the Merc. Newman was obviously anxious to move off. He sat tapping his hands on the wheel, glanced behind at Paula and Alvarez, looked at Tweed.
'I suppose we are ready to push off?'
'We're ready now. We've done all we can at Black Ridge. The time has come to look after ourselves.'
'Thank Heaven for that.' Paula called out.
Newman drove down the slope, turned left along the highway, rammed his foot down, keeping an eye open for patrol cars. Behind them Marler followed, driving the BMW. In the back sat Butler and Nield.
'The temp
erature's dropping.' Tweed observed. 'Strange the way it plummets about four in the afternoon.'
'It will soon be dusk.' Newman said. 'I'd like to get back before dark.'
'We were delayed for hours by that pile-up.' Tweed reminded him. 'I have to call Monica. It's ages since I last spoke to her. She may have news.'
'I was going to drive straight back to Spanish Bay.' snapped Newman. 'I suppose you could make your call from Mission Ranch.'
'Too public.' Tweed replied. 'Take us into Carmel to that phone booth I've used before.'
'You could phone her from Spanish Bay.' Paula suggested.
'I need a safe phone. I'll use a booth in Carmel.'
He had detected irritation in both Newman and Paula. The atmosphere at Black Ridge had affected them all. Looking out of the window he saw menacing storm clouds drifting in from the Pacific. The sky was clearer further out and the sun, a giant red disc, was sinking close to the horizon. Like Paula behind him, he went on watching a sight which tourists from all over the world found hypnotic. The lower rim of the sun reached the horizon, began to drop behind it. He was surprised how swiftly the sun sank, disappeared, like a huge coin dropping into the slot of tomorrow. But would there be a tomorrow?
Shortly afterwards they passed Mission Ranch below them. A crowd of people were gathered, gazing at the fireglow where the sun had vanished. Newman never gave them a glance, driving on at the maximum speed limit within Carmel. Then he pulled in to the kerb.
"There's your phone booth. You've got what you wanted.'
Tweed dived out of the car. The deep purple of dusk had faded as night fell. Couples were walking into restaurants. Inside the booth he called Park Crescent, so far away.
Tweed here, Monica.'
'Oh, thank Heaven. I thought something had happened to you. I've been calling Spanish Bay for hours.'
'Why?'
'Is this a safe phone? Are you calling from theRIGHT SQUARE BRACKET'
'It's a safe phone. What's the problem?'
'I thought you ought to know. My contact at Lloyd's told me the Venetia is still standing off Falmouth harbour. The skipper has informed the Harbour Master it will be leaving within forty-eight hours. Destination, a cruise in the eastern Mediterranean. I think it will be heading for Beirut. There's a conference of top sheiks meeting there in a fortnight's time. All the billionaires.'
"Thank you. That's significant.'
'Don't go. There's more. Someone has twisted an arm high up here. Jim Corcoran, Security Chief at Heathrow, has been ordered to make special arrangements to receive a Lear jet tomorrow afternoon. The VIP aboard will be Vincent Bernard Moloch.'
'Thanks again. That is significant. See you shortly, Monica. We will soon be on our way back.'
I hope, he thought as he left the booth. More couples were strolling round the tree-lined streets of Carmel. He was crossing the pavement to the car when he felt he was walking on quicksand. It was the first tremor.
42
Tweed stood very still. He looked quickly up and down the street. The few couples in sight had also stopped. One man put his arm round his companion's waist to reassure her. The long loaded pause continued. The ground was now stable. There was no fresh movement. The people in the street who had frozen, like a still from a film, began to move again.
Hurrying to the car, Tweed got inside next to Newman. Paula's voice was calm with only a hint of tension.
'What on earth happened?'
'California is in the earthquake belt,' Tweed replied. 'So I imagine that was not a unique experience.' He kept the urgency out of his voice. 'Bob, let's get back to Spanish Bay.' He went on speaking as the car began moving again. 'Monica reported that Moloch is expected at Heathrow tomorrow in his Lear jet. The Venetia is still waiting off Falmouth. Its new destination - when it sails - is still the eastern Mediterranean.'
He glanced at Newman, who caught the brief expression on his face. Without commenting Newman increased speed gradually. Once outside Carmel he rammed his foot down. Paula's tone was steady as she spoke.
"That means Moloch is leaving the States - maybe for good. I wonder why?'
'He's decided to find fresh pastures for his activities, I feel sure,' Tweed replied casually. 'So there's really no point in our staying here any longer. Alvarez, we're ready to leave. Paula has seats booked for us on the next flight out of San Francisco International. When we get back could you try and summon up the Chinook to fly us there?'
'Sure thing. Guess I'll come with you, see you safely home.'
'That would be a good idea.'
There was a strange atmosphere inside the car as it entered the grounds of Spanish Bay. No one spoke and the silence had an awkward character - no one wished to express the fear they were feeling. No one wished to speak in case they said the wrong thing. As they approached the car park Tweed laid an arm along the back of Newman's seat, leaned close and whispered something. Newman merely nodded to show he'd understood. The Merc, pulled up in the usual place. While Tweed was getting out of the car Newman released his seatbelt, pressed a button to elevate the aerial with the spider's web of wires. He was pressing more buttons as Alvarez slipped out, got into the front passenger seat, grasped the microphone. Tweed leaned into the car.
'Everyone assembles in my apartment with their luggage.'
He was praying Alvarez would contact Cord Dillon as he walked quickly back to the BMW, which had pulled up behind them. He opened the front door, smiled at Mrs Benyon.
'I want you to come with me. I'll carry your things.' Then he gestured to Marler and the other two men. 'Assemble in my apartment in two minutes from now. With suitcases.'
Butler, despite his injured knee, was heaving out Mrs Benyon's two suitcases from the boot. He shook his head when Tweed attempted to relieve him of his burden.
'Take care of the lady.' he said firmly.
Strains of dance music drifted out from somewhere on the chilly air. The sound struck Paula as odd, like the last dance before a great battle. As she walked to the hotel entrance she heard Alvarez speaking in a staccato voice. He had got through to Cord Dillon.
She saw Tweed pausing at the entrance. He was looking back up the drive into the distance. She had the distinct impression he was expecting someone to arrive, hoping that they would. Then he hurried inside on his way to his apartment, moving with swift steps.
Shortly afterwards she was the first to enter Tweed's apartment. He had slid aside the glass windows, was holding his own suitcase. He always travelled light. Mrs Benyon sat on a couch.
'What about the hotel bill?' Paula asked.
'I paid that before we left for Black Ridge. Paid it to include tomorrow night, but warned them we might have to leave early.'
Newman came in, followed by the others. Alvarez was the last to arrive. He gestured towards the window Tweed had slid open.
'We go out there. The Chinook is on its way. It will land on one of the greens on the golf course. I know which one. Let's get moving. I need to be out there to signal with my flash when it comes in.'
'I'll be out there shortly,' Tweed said. 'I'm waiting at the front.'
'Don't wait all night,' Alvarez warned. 'The Chinook pilot won't.'
At Black Ridge Ethan was inside the upper chamber, his eyes glued to the strong-motion recorder. The vertical markings were still jumping at irregular intervals, but so far there was nothing dramatic. He stood, staring down, fingertips in his mouth as he gnawed at them.
He couldn't keep still. He kept moving round the chamber, then hurrying back to the seismograph. The regular foreshocks convinced him San Moreno was about to erupt. Why was it all taking so long? He had bitten his nails down to the quick.
'Come on! Come on!' he said aloud.
He was working himself up into a frenzy. Rushing over to a table, he poured himself more coffee from a thermos into a plastic cup, swallowed it. In his haste he almost choked. He walked back to the seismograph with his eyes closed. He opened them, stared like a man hypnotized
.
Very steep markings had jumped way above their predecessors. Steeper even than he'd expected. He flung the cup across the chamber, spilling coffee over the floor. He flew up the ladder, opened the heavy door leading into the corridor. It was deserted. Then a door opened and Joel Brand came out.
'It's coming now!' Ethan shrieked at him.
'What is?' growled Brand.
"The greatest earthquake in the history of the world. My earthquake ...'
Brand grabbed the revolver from the holster by his side. He aimed, fired. The bullet travelled harmlessly down the empty corridor. Ethan had slipped inside his office, had double-locked the door from the inside. He heard Brand turning the handle furiously, then the handle stopped turning.
Ethan had already opened the panel, inserted his key in the wall safe, exposed the interior. His hands were damp with perspiration. He rubbed them on the backs of his trousers, gazed at the two levers. Taking a deep breath, he took hold of each lever with one hand, pulled them down with a mighty jerk. The system was operative. He had five minutes to board the waiting chopper.
Opening his office door, after taking an automatic from a drawer in his desk, he peered out. The corridor was deserted. Where could Brand have gone? With the automatic trembling in his right hand he ran along the route which would take him to the hangar. The moment he emerged into the cold night air he heard the beat-beat of the helicopter's rotors. It had come out of the hangar, was lifting off.
'Wait for me!' Ethan screamed.
Inside the passenger section Moloch looked down, saw Ethan waving his arms madly. He sighed as the machine gained height. He never wanted to see Ethan Benyon again. Mad as a hatter, he thought. Why did I ever not realize it earlier? All the signs were there. Because I didn't want to recognize it.
On the ground Ethan was beside himself with terror. He ran back inside the house, hurtled along the corridor to the front entrance where cars were parked. Arriving outside he saw Brand about to get behind the wheel of Moloch's Lincoln Continental.
