Rhinoceros

by Colin Forbes

  'Now look here, please,' Milo said.

  He pointed to the central lever, which remained at right angles to the floor.

  'When I pull that lever right down, the system operates and every Internet system in the West is destroyed. Also many further east. Have you understood?'

  'Yes. It is quite clear how it is set in motion,' Tweed assured him.

  Milo was returning the levers to their original positions. Paula, looking up again, saw the pole and its dishes slide down out of sight inside the chimney. She looked at Milo, who had closed the machine's door, had locked it, pocketed the key. Tweed, still holding the duplicate key in the palm of his hand, looked at it.

  'You really want me to keep this?'

  'I insist.' He took hold of Tweed's arm, squeezed it warmly. 'You are one of the very few people I can trust. I have had you thoroughly investigated for several years. Now, let us go into the garden and enjoy a little chat, the three of us.'

  He had just closed the outer steel door, after pressing the concealed red button again, when Lisa appeared. Milo took her by the arm.

  'You will join us. We go for a short walk. How are they getting on in my study?'

  'Enjoying themselves. Rondel keeps telling jokes and has us all in stitches.' She paused. 'Oh, Harry Butler said he needed some fresh air. He went outside.'

  Ah, Tweed thought, there is something in the atmosphere Harry doesn't like. He's positioning himself so he can intervene if necessary. I wonder why?

  CHAPTER 41

  At the end of the corridor Milo opened a door and they stepped out into the open. Paula gasped. The curving pathway ahead led through a jungle of exotic plants, each with a perspex cone close to it. The pathway Milo led them along crossed the spine of the summit. On each side, beyond a railing, the land dropped away down to the sea. She looked first to her right. What she saw gave her a shock. She couldn't believe it.

  She could see the quay, tiny it was so far down, the quay where the steamer had berthed. There was no steamer. It had gone. Milo was ahead with Tweed by his side. Lisa was behind them, in front of Paula. She decided she had to warn Tweed.

  'Milo,' she called out. 'The steamer has gone. We were returning to the mainland aboard it. What is happening?'

  Milo stopped, turned round. He had a strange smile on his face. He looked at Tweed who had turned round to look at Paula.

  'Paula is disconcerted. She thinks I'm keeping you on the island as prisoners. I can see it in her expression. But she hasn't looked the other way.'

  Paula quickly looked down over the other railing. Again a slope sheered down. But instead of the shore plunging into the sea, which frothed gently against the island, she saw a long wide platform extending a long way to the east, a platform of concrete. At the end was a large private jet, a Gulfstream.

  'That is how you will leave Berg Island,' Milo called out to her. 'If Tweed wishes to return direct to Hamburg the Gulfstream will take you all there. Blondel uses it a lot. You feel better now, Paula? You again have confidence in me?'

  'Of course. It was just that . . .' She felt confused. '. . . As we came in the steamer . . .'

  'I understand your surprise. I assume the tourists found it too hot down there and were happy to return early . . .'

  Tweed was still looking back when Lisa gave a little dance of joy. She waved her arms, lifted them up towards the clear blue sky. Tweed continued staring at her and she stopped dancing and waving her arms. They walked a short distance further and entered a large grove surrounded by palm trees. A semi-circular banquette ran halfway round the grove. On a table were glasses covered with tissue paper, bottles, sandwiches in cartons. They sat down.

  'Milo,' Tweed began, 'when you said the Internet will be destroyed by your highly advanced system surely it could be repaired — the Internet, I mean?'

  'Not for years. The Internet is linked to the telephone system. The telephone system will also be wiped out - and that will take years to build again. You know that certain satellites orbiting the earth are also linked to the phone system. Those satellites also will be rendered useless. We will go back to how we were in the pre-1900 era. That will be a good thing.'

  'Why?'

  'You are so busy I doubt you've had the time to trawl — better word than "surf" - the Internet. We know Thunder is using it - Thunder and his friends - to send coded orders to hundreds of brigands waiting to send our world up in flames. Soon it would be used by terrorists to plot their campaigns of murder and mayhem. Then, not to mention the explicit sexual programmes which appear on it, it has become the lifeline for paedophiles to communicate with each other. The Internet is evil - and is it a good thing that nations can communicate with each other other in seconds? I think not. It will lead to wars.'

  'You make a powerful case against it.' Tweed looked at Lisa. 'Now what do you think, Mrs France?'

  'I think

  Lisa stopped speaking, looked embarrassed, at a loss for how to reply, flushed deeply. She sat staring at Tweed.

  'He's found out our secret,' Milo said and chuckled. 'I should have guessed this would happen. Paula?'

  'I'm all at sea, don't know what's happening.'

  'Then I'll bring you ashore,' said Tweed. 'When we first met her at the mansion outside Hamburg she had disguised herself with clothes much too large for her, a huge straw hat under which she hid her glorious red hair. When she came to see us in my room at Tender she used a different disguise. I'm sure her flaming red mane was rolled up, tied back behind her head, hidden under a black wig. She wore glasses suitable for a headmistress. She had tinted contact lenses to change the colour of her eyes. Maybe she's had acting experience.'

  'I have,' Lisa said quietly, 'at a drama school when I was living in London. Milo suggested the idea. I always pack flying kit in my case, hoping an opportunity to fly will crop up. When I left your room, Newman went back to his and I slipped in to mine, changed my clothes. How did you spot me, Tweed?'

  'Your body language,' he said.

  'Lisa,' said Milo, 'is my daughter. For years I was so busy building up the Zurcher Kredit I never thought of marriage. Then I met a brilliant German woman whose mind - as well as appearance - entranced me. We married quickly. Helga was born first, her intellect very limited.

  439Lisa who came later is also the result of that marriage. My wife died suddenly a number of years ago.'

  'Milo,' Lisa said quietly, 'thought I could assess you better if you did not know who I really was. Few people do.'

  'When do you propose to operate your system?' Tweed asked after glancing at his watch.

  'I understand from messages from Seattle we have decoded we have two or three days.'

  'Then I have grim news for you. The latest messages one of my staff in London decoded warned that the timing for chaos was imminent. Two or three days? We may have only two or three hours left.'

  Milo jumped up, startled, his expression full of anxiety. He suggested that they hurry back to his study.

  'You know there is a meeting on Sylt taking place?' Milo asked as they walked rapidly back.

  'I do know all about that. Thunder and three other powerful men.'

  'I have made arrangements about Sylt.'

  'What arrangements?' Tweed asked.

  'We can discuss those later. Those four villains.'

  'Didn't you know there is a fifth man, as yet unidentified?'

  As they continued hurrying along the path back to the castle, Tweed explained tersely the scene he had witnessed while hiding inside the windmill.

  'So there is definitely a fifth man,' he concluded.

  'Oh, my God!' Milo clapped a hand to his forehead. 'Then we are all in great danger.'

  CHAPTER 42

  They went back into the castle along the corridor and Milo, who had been hurrying, slowed down. He had a large body with small feet and now he walked in his normal manner, padding forward with slow deliberate steps. He reminded Paula of a tiger stalking its prey. Something different about his mood too.
She began to feel tense and wondered why.

  'That's the laboratory where the scientists work,' he said.

  She looked through the windows. Inside the large room were a number of men in white coats. On metal-topped tables were various pieces of advanced equipment she didn't recognize.

  'Don't forget to press the red button,' Milo warned as they passed the steel door, 'unless it's an emergency. Then the girls need to get away from their screens damn quick.'

  Behind their host Tweed looked at his watch. He was hoping Milo would operate his extraordinary system soon. They were running out of time. They entered the oblong study and a babble of voices greeted them. Rondel was performing as usual, making Paula laugh as he walked placing one foot in front of the other without losing his balance.

  'We have things to discuss,' Milo said in a grim voice.

  'All joy ceases from now on, ladies and gentlemen,' Rondel called out. 'Serious business is afoot. . .'

  'Please keep quiet, Blondel,' Milo said severely. 'This is no laughing matter.'

  'Everyone stand to attention,' Rondel called out.

  Milo ignored him, sat behind his desk which was fairly close to the vast picture window at the other end of the study. Paula noticed Milo's desk was piled high with a muddle of books. She froze. Milo had put a cigar in his mouth and picked up a silver-plated automatic. Milo swivelled his eyes, sensing she was watching him.

  'No call for alarm, my dear.'

  He aimed the automatic at the far wall. He pressed the trigger. A small flame spurted up from the top of the muzzle. He moved it round the tip of his cigar, began puffing it. He dropped the 'automatic' back into the muddle of books, looked at her.

  'It is just a lighter. My late wife had it designed for me in London. It is one of my most precious possessions.'

  'It's so original,' Paula said.

  'And this is so original,' Rondel burst out, as though he wished to hold the stage. He was pointing at the huge picture window comprising the end wall. 'You thought it was ordinary glass?'

  'Yes, I did,'

  'Milo had it made in the Czech Republic to his own specification. It's quite thin glass but very strong. If I threw a paperweight through it all you would see would be the exact hole, the shape of the paperweight. So repairing it would be simple — using the same type of glass.'

  'I thought it had great clarity.'

  'We have serious matters to discuss immediately,' interjected Milo. 'Tweed has told me the final messages informing the bandits when to wreck major cities will be sent out within hours.'

  'Really?'

  There was a sceptical note in the way Rondel spoke.

  'You don't believe it, then?' Milo suggested.

  'I do believe you have shown him the system you designed inside the chimney. The diabolical system.'

  'Diabolical?' Tweed enquired.

  Everyone, including Tweed, was now seated on the banquette that ran under the wall at the far end of the room, the wall opposite the special window. They had been ushered to the banquette by Rondel when they re-entered the study. In front of the banquette was a long table. On it were Meissen gold-rimmed plates with gold knives, forks and spoons. Each plate contained mouth-watering food. There were various glasses, buckets of ice with bottles of champagne, bottles of chilled white wine, wicker baskets with bottles of red wine resting at an angle, carafes of water.

  'Diabolical,' Rondel repeated. 'He probably told you it was a system designed to destroy the Internet. He didn't, I am sure, tell you it is something different. Milo thinks the world has become a rotten place. The system inside the locked room is equipped with long-distance missiles. One is aimed at London, another at Paris, another at Berlin, and a fourth is aimed at Amsterdam. Each missile contains a huge quantity of poison gas.'

  Paula stared at the place next to her which was unoccupied. Obviously meant for Harry Butler. She felt chilled by what Rondel had told them. She looked at Milo. He was sitting hunched behind his desk, his large body very still, his eyes gazing straight ahead at the blank wall opposite him. Oh, my God, she thought. We've got it all wrong.

  CHAPTER 43

  Outside the study in the open air Harry stood leaning against the end wall. Beyond it was the special window, which he was not able to see. Below a rail which he rested his hands on the mountain wall fell sheer to the Baltic far below. At his feet was the hold-all containing the Uzi.

  Harry had been bored by the conversation. He preferred action, or words concerned with what they would do next. He could hear nothing from inside the soundproofed study and was glad of it.

  Harry had never suffered from even a hint of vertigo. So he looked down the precipitous drop frequently, watching the thin white line of surf breaking gently at the base of the cliff. A faint breeze had blown up. He thought the vertical drop was impressive.

  Earlier he had worried when he saw the quay they had berthed at was empty. The steamer had gone. Later he saw at the far end of the castle Tweed and Paula emerging along the footpath with their host and Lisa.

  He had seen both Tweed and Paula in turn glance down at the empty quay and then continue to walk away. As Tweed must have seen the empty quay and appeared to be enjoying himself, Harry stopped worrying. There must be some other quay on the north side he couldn't see, some other ship to take them home.

  The sun was still very hot and he soaked it up. At times his eyes closed and he was almost asleep, standing up.

  Milo took another puff at his cigar. He was still gazing at the far wall. He tipped ash into a crystal ashtray, took another puff. The silence inside the room was dreadful. It was as though no one dared to be the next to speak.

  Paula glanced at Tweed. He sat very still, his eyes half closed. In her agitation she wanted to nudge him, to make him pay more attention, to speak, to say something, anything. She looked at Milo. He also sat very still except for the movement of one hand to tap ash from his cigar. How could they have made the fatal mistake of trusting this weird man? She remembered seeing Oskar on the Traverminde shore, how he had given a small wave which had seemed so final. Goodbye, for ever. Oskar had known the truth.

  She switched her gaze to Rondel. He stood with his arms folded. His tall trim figure, his handsome face, were silhouetted against the huge picture window. Why didn't he say something?

  Then she had another frightening thought. The key Milo had given to Tweed. A duplicate? It was a fake key that would never open that ghastly door. Milo was intelligent, highly intelligent, and wily. He had lulled any suspicions Tweed might have harboured.

  It all added up as her thoughts raced through her mind. A rotten world that had to be destroyed. That had been the gist of what Milo had said to Tweed's face. Alone on this grim rock, Milo had brooded on the state of the world, had decided it no longer deserved to exist. Yes, it all made sense.

  'Poison gas?' Milo said suddenly in a quiet voice,

  'Worse, I suspect,' Rondel said savagely. 'Some of your scientists have been experimenting with bubonic plague. I wondered why they were ever engaged on such a project.

  Now I see it all, too late. Some, maybe all, the missiles will be filled with bubonic plague.'

  Paula's mind reeled with horror. Milo still sat calmly smoking his cigar. The sheer callousness of the hunched man appalled her. He must be the most evil man in the world, she thought. When the missiles fell, aircraft would take off to escape doom - carrying with them the plague to America, the Far East and God knew where else. She felt she couldn't move. Maybe that was why Tweed was sitting so motionless. The same terrible thoughts had been running through his mind.

  Then she remembered the Slovak guards they had seen with rifles. They would be under the command of Milo. Maybe he spoke their language fluently. He had said he came from Slovenia. That was not very far from Slovakia. Milo Slavic. A very Balkan name. Apparently none of his missiles were aimed at the Balkan region. Then Milo, who had smoked half his cigar, spoke, the words spaced out more than usual, as though his mind had left t
he realm of sanity.

  'Blondel is very good at telling amusing fairy tales.'

  'Of course he would say that,' Rondel shouted. 'He has fooled all of us. Even his own daughter, Lisa.'

  Paula turned her head slightly, looked for the first time at Lisa. She also sat very still, her gaze blank as she looked at Milo. She's in a state of shock, Paula decided. No wonder. She saw Lisa lick her lips briefly as she stared at her father.

  Suddenly, it seemed to Paula that she was watching a nightmare tableau. Everyone so still. So little talk. And no one moving a muscle. She recalled her reaction when, at the quarry, the white-haired giant had aimed the gun at her, the gun with a mouth like a cannon. She had frozen then as she was frozen still now.

  'One of them is wrong,' said Tweed, speaking for the first time. 'The question is, which one?'

  'You can decide that for yourself,' Milo replied blandly.

  Too bland, Paula observed. He sat behind his desk like a man in total command of the situation. An attitude that frightened Paula even more. A man out of his mind would react like that. Up here on this mountain he thinks he's a god on Olympus, she realized. You can't argue with insanity.