by Colin Forbes
'This,' said Tweed, 'is a summary of a report sent to Paris by Chatel fifteen months ago. Chatel has reported he is followed everywhere by a team of American agents. He fears for his life, but asks to be allowed to continue his investigation.'
'It's getting grimmer,' commented Paula.
'It gets even grimmer,' Lasalle told her.
'The next report from Chatel,' Tweed went on, 'states that there is a highly detailed plan for the Americans to occupy Great Britain by subterfuge, employing every ruthless technique which will help to bring this objective about.'
'Why didn't you warn us?' Newman demanded.
'I wished to do just that,' Lasalle said bitterly. 'But it was argued by my superior that we had no concrete evidence, no documentation. He said the British would simply think it was a device by the French government to drive a wedge between Britain and the United States. I protested vigorously. The issue went up to the President in the Elysee. He agreed with my superior's decision.'
'Here we come to it,' said Tweed. 'Chatel reported that the momentous operation had been devised and was being directed by an individual called Charlie...'
'My God,' exclaimed Paula.
'Let me go on,' said Tweed. 'Chatel reported that he had made all efforts to identify the individual, Charlie, but so far had had no success. He ends by saying he thinks he is very close to locating Charlie.' Tweed looked up at Lasalle. 'How recent was this final report?'
'One week before he was killed in the so-called road accident.'
'Would it be possible, Rene, for me to have a copy of this final report? If so, I suggest you do so in a way which eliminates the printed reference to your department at the top of this sheet?'
'You ask a lot.' Lasalle paused, clasped his hands, stared up at the ceiling. 'But you deserve a lot,' he decided eventually. 'Considering we did not warn you earlier. Ah, at long last, we have coffee.' He spoke in French to the officer who carried a tray. 'Have you had to fly to Brazil to get the beans? Just put it down on my desk and leave us alone.'
He picked up his phone and spoke rapidly in French. Almost at once when he had ended the call an attractive girl came in, took the sheet he had extracted from the file handed back to him by Tweed. Then he poured coffee, handing the first cup to Paula.
'I have it on my conscience that I did not contact you to warn you. We have worked so well together in the past it seemed to me I was guilty of a kind of betrayal.'
'Nonsense,' replied Tweed, after sipping coffee, 'and it is very possible your President was right. Our late Prime Minister was not strong on international politics. He might well have thought it was all more French trickery to undermine our relationship with the Americans.'
'I comfort myself with the fact that I did report to you that a horde of strange Americans were infiltrating Britain by air and by Eurostar.'
'Also, Rene, the photos you sent enabled us to identify some of the most villainous types — most of whom are now dead.'
'Dead?' Lasalle's grey eyes twinkled as he glanced at Newman and Paula. 'I expect you have all been very busy.'
'There has been a certain amount of activity,' Newman replied.
The four of them chatted for a few minutes about times when they had cooperated during a crisis. The attractive girl came back, handed several sheets to Lasalle, who thanked her. Lasalle took the original sheet, carefully inserted it back inside his file. He then folded three other sheets, inserted them into a thick white envelope which he handed to Tweed.
'There are three excellent photocopies of the vital page. You are most welcome.'
The phone rang. Lasalle answered, listened, took a pad from a drawer, scribbled on it. At one stage Tweed heard him asking the caller to spell a name. He then ended the call.
'Tweed, this information may — or may not — be of interest to you. A Mlle Sharon Mandeville left the Ritz a while ago to catch a flight back to London. Shortly afterwards, in another car, a M. Osborne also left to catch the same flight. A M. Basil Windermere with a M. Rupert Strangeways left earlier to board the Eurostar for London.'
'Yes, the information is useful,' Tweed replied. 'May I ask, how do you know this?'
'Because I had one of my men staying as a guest at the Ritz to see what was going on. The information does not involve the staff of the Ritz in any way.'
'Thank you, Rene, for everything. We had better get back to the Ritz ourselves now. Would you know the quickest way we can get back to London?'
'Yes.' Lasalle checked his watch. 'You have two to three hours. The next Eurostar will get you back to London most quickly.'
In the lobby of the Ritz Tweed quietly gave Newman some instructions.
'Please contact Marler, Nield and Butler. Also Keith Kent, of course. Tell them to be ready to leave with us in precisely ninety minutes from now. And book seven. first-class seats on Eurostar through the concierge. Also we shall need two hotel cars to take us to the Gare du Nord, where we board Eurostar. Finally, hand in to the nearest relevant car-hire outfits the two Audis we drove here in. Now, I'm going to my room to make a phone call.'
'Can I come with you?' Paula- asked. 'I'm ready to leave now.'
'Yes, you can.'
Once inside his room Tweed hurried to the desk, sat down, used Beck's mobile to call Monica. Paula wandered over to the window to take a last look at the Place Vendôme.
'Tweed!' Monica sounded so relieved. 'I've been trying to call you but the hotel operator said you were out.' 'I was. What is it?'
'I've got a whole load of data for you, on all the profiles I've been working on. Birth certificates sent to me by courier from the States. giving most of the profiles' full names, et cetera. Are you ready?'
'Hold on just a moment.' Tweed called out to Paula, 'Get me the pad out of the zipped-up pocket in my suitcase.'
She found the pad, ran with it, placed it in front of him on the desk. Then she returned to the window.
'Fire away, Monica.'
Tweed began scribbling away, using sheet after sheet, keeping all the data on each name on a separate sheet. When Monica had come to the end he stared at one sheet, then closed the pad.
'Howard wants to speak to you very urgently. He's here now,' Monica said quickly.
'Tweed, when are you going to be back at Park Crescent? It's vital you arrive here within hours. A monster crisis has arisen. Defeat is staring us in the face. A hideous defeat.'
There was no element of panic in Howard's voice. He sounded to be in command of himself. But, underneath, Tweed detected a terrible anxiety.
'Tell me about it,' he said quietly.
'Not over the phone.'
'This line is safe. Perfectly safe.'
'No phone line is safe. I can't risk going into any detail. I have to wait until see you. When will that be?' 'Today. Definitely. At a guess, mid-afternoon.'
'I can't wait to see you.'
When the connection was broken Tweed decided he wouldn't mention what Howard had said. What was the point in unsettling his team, even causing an atmosphere of alarm? He swung round in his chair.
'I now know who Charlie is,' he told Paula.
'Who?'
'I'm not saying yet. Before you accuse me of being cryptic, it's unlikely you'll meet Charlie, but you might have trouble keeping a blank expression, behaving normally. I think I'd like us to get to Gare du Nord early.'
Settling himself once again in his chair on the control level of the President, Crag opened the signal which had just arrived from the Pentagon. It was a long signal and was accompanied by a map. As he finished reading it once he sat up straighter, his mouth tightened. He looked at his Operations Officer.
'Bill, we have to hit the Brits.'
'What?'
'Not with missiles, Bill. This is a job for the SEALS.' 'What's their objective, sir?'
'A main and secret communications centre. Situation between a funny little place called Dungeness and another one called Hythe. The actual area of attack is Romney Marsh. It's almost on the
coast — there are smooth sandy beaches the SEALs can land on, then they move a short distance inland, locate the installation, destroy it.'
'Won't it cause an international crisis?'
'The Chairman usually knows what he's doing and this operation has top sanction. The map is good — pinpoints the exact location of this communications centre. Contact the Mission Controller aboard the vessel carrying the SEALS. I reckon the attack ought to go in at midnight tomorrow. Get the Commander's opinion — after he's received this signal and the map. Have a look at it yourself first.'
'So this is going to be more than a demonstration of power?'
'Kind of looks that way.'
46
Arriving at Park Crescent, Tweed first ran up the stairs to his own office with Paula and Newman. Monica beamed with relief when she saw him. She pointed to his desk.
'The fat envelope came in from Roy Buchanan.'
'Good.' Tweed opened it, glanced quickly at its contents. 'Now, Monica, try and get Jefferson Morgenstern on the line.'
'I'm sorry. That's one thing I forgot to tell you. Morgenstern wants to see you. He must have called me eight times.'
'Tell him I'm now available to meet him within the hour. At any place of his choosing. Now I have to go up and see Howard.'
He left his office, ran up the stairs, followed by Paula and Newman, who waited outside Howard's office. Tweed walked straight in. Howard, as always impeccably dressed, was seated behind his desk. He showed signs of strain but his voice was firm.
'Am I glad to see you,' he greeted Tweed, standing up to shake his hand. `Do sit down.'
'I have Paula and Bob outside. Could they join us?' 'I think they'd better.'
When everyone was seated Howard clasped his hands on top of his desk. He leaned forward.
'Briefly, a vast American task force is approaching our shores. No warning from Washington that it was on its way here. We'd never have known until the bastards showed up — except for the captain of a BA jet flying to New York. He saw it through a break in the clouds, even took video pictures of the damned thing, which was smart of him. The pics were flown back here on the next flight from New York. See for yourselves.'
Howard pushed forward a number of large colour prints across his desk. Tweed was surprised at their clarity. He looked at Howard.
'How high up was the aircraft?'
'I spoke to the captain myself over the phone. He was flying at thirty-five thousand feet. Apparently photography is his hobby. Told me he'd spent a mint on his camera. As soon as he'd taken his pics he sent a signal to the Ministry of Defence. A high-ranking pal of mine contacted me. The originals are with the MoD. Those are copies.'
'Amazing detail. What's that microscope you've got on your desk?'
'The most advanced version in the world. Loaned to me by my naval pal. Use it.'
Newman reached for the microscope. Under its lens he studied a warship sailing to port of the aircraft carrier. Then he whistled quietly.
'I'd say there are a load of SEALs aboard that ship. And they appear to be exercising for a landing. They're lowering small motorized amphibious landing craft over the side.'
'That's what my naval friend said,' Howard confirmed. 'Sinister, don't you think?'
'Any idea of their course, of when this battle group arrives?' asked Tweed.
'The captain of the aircraft told me that, as far as he could tell, it is headed straight for Britain. Time of arrival? The naval people tell me that, if it continues on course, they estimate the task force should appear in the English Channel after dark. Tomorrow.'
'Engagement possibly imminent.'
'Tweed...' Howard paused, appeared embarrassed. 'I have to tell you I made a real botch-up. I was tired out, hadn't slept for forty-eight hours — but I wouldn't take that as an excuse from a subordinate. I was driving down to the Bunker in daylight, middle of the afternoon. I was vaguely aware of a chopper hanging around. Took no notice. Drove straight into the courtyard of the Bunker. Mrs Carson tore me off a real strip. Deservedly so. The damned machine then circled over the complex for several minutes, flew off. Mrs Carson said the helicopter had no markings. I'm sorry, very sorry. Let the side down in a big way.'
'Don't be sorry.' Tweed smiled. 'No one is infallible. I have made some pretty stupid mistakes myself in the past. Do you mind if I leave now? I had a lot to do anyway, but after what you've told me I must move like Concorde.'
'I feel better now you're back.'
'I'll keep you fully informed about developments. Everything is going to happen very quickly now.'
He was on his way when Howard jumped up, followed him to the door. Howard almost whispered.
One more very important point. The PM is anxious to see you as soon as possible.' He smiled ruefully. 'I think he regards me as second best.'
'Nonsense...'
Returning to his office, Tweed found an impatient Monica waiting for him. She waved a bit of paper.
'Jefferson Morgenstern says he'll see you at his office in the Embassy. He'll wait for you. Any time this afternoon.'
'Good. Now I want you to get me Sharon Mandeville on the phone. She's probably at the Embassy.'
Paula was behind her desk, Newman had settled himself in an armchair, Tweed was just about to seat himself in his own chair when the door opened. Marler walked in, an unlit king-size in his right hand.
'Sorry to barge in but I have someone downstairs I think you'd like to meet. All Rudge, boss of my cabdriver mob.'
'Ask him to come up now.'
When the door opened again everyone stared at the figure Marler ushered in. All Rudge was at least six feet tall, in his fifties, with a burly figure. In his hand he held one of the old-fashioned caps many cabbies used to wear. His blue eyes scanned the room quickly.
'Pleased to meet you, Alf,' Tweed said, extending a hand. 'I am Tweed. Make yourself at home. Try that armchair.'
'Hold that call for the moment,' he called across to Monica.
Tweed then introduced All to everyone in the room. All got up, shook hands with them. He struck Paula as being rather shy - or reserved - as his large paw squeezed hers. The big man then sat down in the armchair again, looked across the desk.
'I've 'eard a lot about you, Mr Tweed. No one except an idiot tries any monkey business with you.'
His cockney accent was very pronounced. Tweed immediately warmed to Alf. The salt of the earth, he thought. The backbone of England which really counted.
'Anything we can do to 'elp,' All went on, 'we'll do. Marler 'ere has knocked 'ell out of us in his trainin' out in the country.' He looked over his shoulder at Paula and Monica. 'Excuse me, ladies.'
'We may need you as reinforcements at a moment's notice,' Tweed told him. 'Tomorrow at the latest, I would guess. How can we have your people close at hand?'
'Easy, Mr Tweed. I've got my mobile and the boys 'ave got theirs. Tell you what, if you agree - from this evening I'll have all of 'em patrolling the streets near here. They won't pick up no customers. Don't think they should be parked - make 'em obvious.'
'They'll patrol throughout the night - without sleep?'
'Won't worry 'em one little bit. They can always park for forty winks if they feels they needs it. Shall I lay it on?'
'Yes, please, Alf. Keep in touch with Marler. And thank you for offering to help us.'
'It's nothin', Mr Tweed,' Alf said, embarrassed as he stood up to leave. He turned at the door. 'If this means we 'ave a go at the Yanks the boys will love it...'
Marler returned almost immediately after escorting Alf to the front door. He looked round.
'Well, what's the verdict?'
'If all Alf's friends are like Alf,' Tweed said, 'then we have the equivalent of a very tough army platoon at our disposal.'
'They're all like Alf,' Marler declared.
'I really took to him,' Paula enthused. 'I was touched by his shyness, but I detected underneath it a man who would never let us down, however desperate the situation.'
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'I'm on the side of Alf,' Newman agreed.
'But what about weapons?' Tweed queried.
'You know me,' Marler said, leaning against a wall, 'I break all the regulations. For training purposes I had a whole armoury of weapons sent up from the Surrey mansion a few weeks ago. Alf and his mob are armed to the teeth. Including bazookas.'
'You trained them to use bazookas?' asked Tweed. 'Yes. And they really know how to use them.
Especially the three who were in the Gulf War. All will have thought of weapons. His boys will be carrying them secreted inside their cabs. Now, I'll love you and leave you. Things to do.'
'Make that call, please, Monica,' Tweed requested when Marler had gone.
'Tweed!' Sharon's soft voice purred with delight over the phone. 'You're back in London? Wonderful. You have neglected me, you know. You can't deny it.'
'I wouldn't even try, Sharon. Good to know you are safely back. If possible, I'd like to come and see you this afternoon. The answer is yes? Splendid. Oh, do you mind if I bring Newman and Paula with me? You'd love to see them. Sometime this afternoon, then.'
As he put his coat on he gave Monica an instruction.
'Please inform Howard where I'm going. Tell him Paula and Bob are coming with me. Then Howard won't worry.'
'Who do we see first?' Paula asked.
They were sitting in the back of the car Newman was driving towards Grosvenor Square. The good weather was lasting. It was a brilliantly sunny afternoon with not a cloud in a duck-egg blue sky. The air was fresh and pedestrians were walking briskly as though enjoying the return of the sun.
'The sequence is important,' Tweed said. 'First we see Morgenstern. Afterwards we call in on Sharon.' 'So you can ask her out to dinner,' she teased.
'I thought I came first,' Newman called out. 'Am I supposed to stand in line?'
'We'll see,' Tweed replied.
'And you are clutching that package of evidence from Buchanan as though the fate of the world depended on it,' Paula commented.
'Maybe it does,' Tweed told her.
'What's inside it?'
'Among other things, photos of the dead Umbrella Men who tried to kill me in Basel near Market-platz. With their names.'