by Colin Forbes
'Bet I spot the chief dragon,' Paula teased him.
The side street was narrow and deserted. Tweed stopped in front of a building which bore a wall plate: Special Branch. He pointed.
'Let's hope that's never altered to State Security. And they've converted the place into a fortress.'
The ground floor windows had been blocked up with steel sheets. On the first floor all the windows had bars and wire netting over them. To reach the speakphone Tweed had to perch on a big stone slab with a rubber pressure pad attached to its top.
'How do we get into Fort Knox?' he demanded after pressing the bell.
'Identify yourself,' a metallic voice demanded.
'Oh, for Heaven's sake, you know we're coming. Tweed – and don't forget Paula Grey. Now open up, if you can.'
Tweed was about to add something even more caustic when Paula pulled at his sleeve, a finger to her lips. She eased him off the stone slab.
'Probably nothing will open while you're on the pressure pad,' she whispered, then grinned.
They waited. Tweed put his executive case, which contained nothing but blank sheets of paper, over the lens of a camera let into the large metal door. Paula frowned, pulled his arm away.
There was an electronic buzzing sound and the door slid up, disappeared. In the opening stood Noel Macomber, smiling as he checked out Paula. She stared back until his gaze dropped.
'Welcome to you both,' Noel began in a cultured voice. 'In you both trot.'
Trot? Tweed wondered. 'Electronics? Is the fire exit also opened by gizmos? Because if it is and there is a fire you'll all burn to a frazzle.'
If he keeps on like this, Paula thought, we'll get nowhere.
They stepped on to an escalator which purred up to the first floor. Noel had pressed something, there was more buzzing and the entrance door slid back to the closed position.
'We have to take all precautions,' Noel explained as they stepped off the escalator.
'So if anyone wanted to wipe you out,' Tweed replied, 'a truck with a very large bomb could just get down the narrow street by riding its wheels on the pavement.'
Paula wanted to punch Tweed but desisted as Noel opened a mahogany door into a large room, the walls painted cream, the only furniture a triangular table of rosewood with a chair on each of the sides. A large square table stood further back, at which two men were seated. They stood up and came forward to greet their visitors with outstretched hands.
'I'm Nelson,' the largest brother said. 'My father was an admirer of the famous admiral.' After shaking hands with Tweed he turned to Paula, a wide smile on his face as he grasped her hand, then released it. 'Bit of a joke – if I'm in a rowing boat on a lake I feel seasick.'
'Didn't your father realize this later on?' she asked, smiling back.
He laughed. 'A bit late to do anything about it. Not that he'd have bothered. This is Benton, my brother.'
'I am glad to make your acquaintance.' He was smaller than his brother but also heavily built. He also smiled warmly. 'Do come and sit down.' His voice was soft, gentle, unlike Nelson's, who spoke with force.
'Then there is an equally important member of our little group, or perhaps the most important,' Nelson boomed. 'Noel is our planner. He has a head for detail which I fear I lack!'
By now they were close to the large square table. Noel smiled at Paula, a very pleasant wide smile as he studied her. 'I am glad Tweed brought you along. You would have an important part to play in the new organization. We do know something of your remarkable ability.' He held out a chair for her. She looked up, smiled, thanked him.
Tweed, who was rather left out at this stage, was amused. They were all concentrating on Paula. He thought he knew why. When they were all seated Nelson asked whether they would like tea or coffee. Both guests opted for coffee. Black.
Nelson pressed a bell under the table. A side door was opened at once and the Parrot appeared. Tweed looked straight at her, betraying no recognition. Coffee was brought quickly, but was served by a red-haired girl who did not even look at Paula. Coral Flenton.
'I expect,' Benton said, 'that Mr Tweed has heard a few details of what is proposed. May I ask you, sir, what is your reaction? You do have a veto.'
'Veto?' Tweed queried.
'Yes,' Nelson said in his loud voice, 'a veto. You don't like some aspect of the new system, then we eliminate it-'
'I hadn't finished,' Benton interrupted, smiling at Paula now. 'And you will have an important role to play, as Noel told you. We all admire your decisive mind, your courage. You may well be second-in-command to Tweed, as you are now.'
His whole manner was persuasive, the ever present smile warm. Paula showed no reaction, staring at his greenish eyes below his fair hair. He was very convincing. She looked at Tweed, who started speaking.
'Details. How would this so-called State Security operate?'
There was a tap on the door connecting with the next room. Nelson called out, 'Come.' The Parrot entered, stared at Benton. 'A call for you on the phone next door, Mr Macomber.'
'I'd better take it, I suppose, please excuse me. I'll make sure whatever this is it doesn't take long.'
'Details,' Tweed repeated. Visitors come first.
Nelson began to outline how he saw the merger of the security services would work.
18
'First,' Nelson explained, 'I'm sure you'll agree Britain is now full of frightened citizens. In the suburbs people install glare-lights which illuminate anyone approaching their houses. They sleep with all the doors and windows secured with a variety of locks. Women don't dare walk the streets alone after dark. We live today in an atmosphere of terror. Right?'
'Go on.'
'You agree with what I just said.'
'Yes.'
'So why is this?' Nelson threw his hands wide. 'Because we have let in through Dover alien forces from the Continent, from Africa, from the East. The government fiddles the figures to conceal the truth. We are being inundated with a tidal wave of criminals from all over the world. Hence the atmosphere of terror.' He raised his voice. 'We propose to deport this trash – dangerous trash – back to where it came from. No argument. No stupid tribunals to hear their efforts to stay here. We call on these people in the dead of night, knock on their doors, grab them, take them to the nearest deportation station. ..'
Benton returned in time to hear some of this. He walked to his chair, sat down.
'Veto,' snapped Tweed.
'Why, for God's sake?' thundered Nelson.
'Because it sounds too much like the KGB. Knocking on doors at the dead of night, hauling people out, taking them away. President Putin of Russia, an ex-KGB officer, is moving in the same direction. Veto!'
Benton interceded. 'Now, Nelson, I suspect you have, as you do, dramatized what we really propose,' he said in his calm voice.
'We shall convert Britain into a country for the British,' Nelson rolled on, in full blood. 'Social saboteurs will be rounded up…'
'What is a social saboteur?' Tweed demanded.
'Anyone who disagrees with the government,' Nelson told him. 'Don't you agree that the whole moral structure of society has broken down? That our young people are confused, have no rules to guide their behaviour?'
'Something in that, yes,' Tweed agreed.
'You see,' Benton broke in, 'Tweed is a realist. A very worried realist, Nelson, if I have understood him. You have so exaggerated what we must do, he has compared us to the KGB. We are not monsters, Mr Tweed. Nelson does go over the top at times. We are democrats. Perhaps, Mr Tweed, you would look at that peculiar three-sided table over there where we hold our consultations.'
'So who is the boss?' Tweed enquired. 'Who is in charge here?'
Tweed gazed straight at Benton's small greenish eyes. His face was flushed red, as though he had high blood pressure. The strain of coping with his brother, Nelson? Tweed thought.
'There is no boss,' Benton told him. 'I said we are democrats. We sit at that neutral table an
d work together. The table is symbolic of our relationship.'
'That should convince you,' Noel said, speaking for the first time. He was lightly spoken and was smiling. Paula thought she rather liked him. So controlled, so charming. His V-shaped features suggested character.
'What about uniforms for this merged State Security?' Tweed asked suddenly.
There was a long silence. Nelson glanced at Benton as if he wished him to answer the question. He did.
'Noel,' Benton explained, 'has designed a distinctive uniform. We think that will give the population a feeling of safety. To see them patrolling the streets day and night. A symbol that protection is available, which is not the case now.'
'I've seen some of them already. Before the bill has been passed – even presented to Parliament. That's illegal.'
'Indeed it is,' agreed Benton. 'Their commander must have jumped the gun. Where did you see them, Mr Tweed?'
'Outside my London house – in the middle of the night.'
'Then someone has tripped up,' Noel spoke again. 'We shall have to investigate that, make sure it doesn't happen again. I am surprised.'
'Building up a completely new organization,' Nelson said in a quieter voice, 'you always get glitches.'
'Big glitch,' Tweed told him. 'Veto.'
Benton finished his coffee. Neither Tweed nor Paula had touched theirs. Tweed stood up and Paula, with relief, followed suit. At his most amiable, Tweed explained they had to leave, thanked them for their explanations, said he would have to think over their conversation before he reacted in his report to the PM.
'The PM?'
Nelson had jumped up, his expression a mix of frustration and anger. He walked over to Tweed, grasped him by the arm.
'I do not see any reason to send a report to Downing Street. This meeting was confidential, off the record completely.'
'You didn't say that at the beginning, did you?' Tweed replied with a smile.
'Of course,' Benton said quietly, 'Mr Tweed must react however he thinks best…'
'We would appreciate seeing a copy before you submit it to the PM,' Nelson said brusquely.
'You will have a copy in due course,' Tweed told him.
'We are all forgetting our manners,' Noel said. He turned to Paula. 'Your reaction is equally important. So what do you think of our proposals?'
'Like Tweed, I need time to think it over.' She smiled because he was smiling at her. 'There was so much to take in.'
'Yes, there was.' He walked with them towards the exit. 'Nelson is the oldest brother and rather runs away with himself at times. I'll escort you out. That wretched escalator has to be got moving, then there's the electronically operated door. I think they went mad when they designed security for this place. On behalf of my brothers I'd like to thank you both for sparing so much time to see us. May I keep in touch with you?'
'Of course,' she replied.
'I thought I saw Marler a moment ago,' Paula said as they walked down the narrow street. 'Strolling along on the opposite side of Whitehall.'
'You must have been mistaken. What would he be doing here?'
They walked in silence until they reached the car. Once inside Tweed started the engine. He backed cautiously from the parking space into heavy traffic. It never seemed to stop. They were well on their way back to Park Crescent before Tweed asked the question.
'What did you think of the play they performed for us?'
'Play?'
'You don't really think we've seen the real Cabal, do you? Before we arrived they'd decided who would play which part. How did you weigh up the three of them?'
'Well, the most polite and, apparently, the most civilized was Noel.'
'You were rather taken by him?' Tweed said with a grin.
'Of course not,' she snapped.
'What about the others? Who is the boss? Because there is one.'
'I've no idea. At first I thought it was Nelson, he was so dominating. Then I wondered about Benton. He really is an enigma, the peacemaker. The way he intercepted Nelson as soon as he thought he was going over the top. He was very pacific.'
'And Noel?' Tweed asked. 'He may be the youngest but I had the impression he's very clever. And he was the one who talked about reining in the State Security men in uniform. Could be any of the three.'
The traffic was either crawling like a snail or stationary. When he couldn't do anything about a problem Tweed was eternally patient.
'Anything else occur to you,' he asked, 'while you sat and watched them?'
'I was trying to imagine which pair of hands had strangled the cat so horribly all those years ago. Came to no conclusion at all. One of them had a viciously cruel streak in those days.'
'Probably still has. Which could link up with the horrific murder of Viola. That's only a theory,' he warned.
Eventually arriving back at Park Crescent they were met in the office by Marler. He handed Tweed an envelope.
'More snaps for your photo album. I waited near the exit of Special Branch HQ. Saw you both leave, then three men came out one by one, with intervals between them. I took their pics.'
'That's Nelson,' Tweed said, showing Paula who had darted over from her desk. 'Then this is Benton. Finally, we have Noel. You followed them, of course?' he said, looking at Marler.
'Of course. They left at intervals, and one by one they met inside a restaurant beyond Trafalgar Square. Cunning lot. They didn't want to be seen going to lunch together.'
'So how on earth,' queried Paula, 'did you get back here ahead of us – and in time to get these printed downstairs?'
'Motorbike. I passed your stopped car, nipping in and out of traffic. Knew you wouldn't spot me. Not with my helmet and visor. Any good? The pics.'
'First rate,' said Paula, picking them up again. 'You have their features so clearly.' She handed them to Pete and Harry. She told them who was who. 'In case you ever encounter one of them.'
'Maybe I could get a word in edgeways,' Monica piped up. She brought over a thick envelope, dropped it on Tweed's desk. 'Return tickets for you, Newman and Paula. To Marignane on your way to Aix. Phoned Jim Corcoran. He'll be on the lookout for you – to slip you past security.'
'Economy,' Tweed replied. 'Thank you.'
'Well, Newman told me Philip had warned us Noel Macomber was on his way to Aix. If he's delayed he might be on the same flight. I'm gambling that, if he is, he'll hide himself in economy.'
'Clever lady. What would I do without you?'
'Get the paperwork in a proper mess,' she joked.
'So where is Newman?' he asked.
'Back at his flat in bed with Roma, would be my guess. She has lasted longer than any of her predecessors.'
The Cabal had waited until they returned from lunch to talk about their visitors, and were seated at the three-sided table. Nelson set the ball rolling.
'I don't think we're going to get Tweed to join us…' 'No doubt about that,' agreed Benton. 'So the next item on the agenda is: how do we stop him cold?'
'By elimination,' Noel decided. 'I'll be thinking about the best method to deal with them – Paula has to go too – while I'm flying out to Aix. Best thing would be if they both disappeared for ever. Bodies never found. I've set the wheels in motion in case it comes to this.'
'Won't involve Fitch, I hope,' mused Benton.
'I'm the Planner,' snapped Noel, glaring at Benton. 'So you leave the problem to me. You don't want to know.'
19
Tweed was in a hurry. Monica had warned him they should leave soon or miss the Air France flight. He gave orders to Pete Nield to see Coral Flenton again, to extract more information from her – about the Parrot, about her friendship with Viola from their schooldays on.
'Harry,' he called out. 'You are coming with us to Aix, flying tonight. At the special late request of Philip.'
'Now we're in April,' Paula told him, 'it's warmer. I have checked Provence. It's warmer still down there. So in that bag you'll find lighter-weight clothes.'
/> Monica walked over, handed Harry an envelope. 'There's a return ticket for you also,' she said. 'So make sure you come back.'
'Thanks for the vote of confidence,' he replied.
Within minutes they were all inside Newman's Range Rover, on their way to Heathrow. Tweed told Newman to park in Short Stay. Crossing the bridge from the car park to the airport they met Jim Corcoran.
'You go aboard first,' he told them. 'Get a move on. I'll be with you until you're aboard…'
At the check-in desk Paula became aware of a passenger behind her who appeared to have survived a car crash. He was a tall man, smartly dressed, but his head was covered with a bandage. He gazed round through dark tinted glasses. As Paula presented her ticket he muttered something like 'wrong check-in…'
As he walked away Newman watched him and Paula did the same. The bandaged victim was standing near the exit talking into a sophisticated mobile. Newman grunted, smiled.
'A spy reporting the flight we're on. Maybe a reception committee waiting for us.'
'That was Mugger Morgan,' Harry said. 'Forgot to bandage his jaw. I broke it once.'
They settled in their seats. Very quickly the engines built up power, they were rolling towards the departure slot, straight on to the runway, then taking off.
Newman found two cushions, slipped one behind Paula's back, seated in front of him, the other behind her head. She rested her head, fell fast asleep. It was almost dark but in the seat beside her Tweed remained alert. He hated sleeping when flying.
Paula woke suddenly, looked out of the window. A moon cast a luminous glow over a landscape with rows of sticks on a south-facing slope. Vineyards were beginning to show signs of life. The plane was dropping rapidly. She'd slept during the whole flight.
'That man at the airport,' she whispered to Tweed. 'I wonder what will happen at Aix's airport?'
'Philip will have foreseen that development. Never misses a trick. I don't understand his late request for Harry.'
He kept his voice very low since Harry was seated across the aisle.
