Precipice

by Colin Forbes

  'Do go on.'

  'America is a shambles. Its President is a lazy lunatic. I know. I have met him. There is a widespread belief that Russia no longer counts. No longer counts!' His voice rose to a crescendo. 'They have a vast armoury of intercontinental missiles - which can reach London, Chicago, the world. Each month a new nuclear submarine of the silent, undetectable type, is launched from the secret shipyards at Murmansk, their ice-free port. Behind the Urals they have underground factories which are involved in new advances in nuclear warfare. An American diplomat who ventured in that region was expelled recently as a spy. Why? If there is nothing to spy on? Russia is a slumbering giant which will soon awake.'

  'They say the Russian economy is in tatters,' Tweed commented.

  'If that is really true how can they afford to produce the armaments I have listed?' Brazil demanded.

  'It is a puzzle,' Tweed admitted.

  'It is a gigantic smokescreen to blind the West. Behind their bumbling President, Ivan Marov pulls the strings, manipulating the existing President like a puppet. To give the West the impression Russia is finished while he -Marov - works with the generals and MOVAK to rebuild Russian power. You have heard of Marov?'

  'The name seems familiar.'

  'You are not a man I would play poker with, Mr Tweed. I am sure you know a great deal about Marov. A Georgian, he changed his name. I have met him. A Georgian, like Stalin. He looks rather like Stalin -especially when he turns on the charm. At the moment he is very careful to stay hidden behind the scenes. The Americans don't know he exists.' Brazil said contemptuously.

  'You spent time in America, I believe.' remarked Tweed.

  'I was born in Britain and as a young man went to America. I became chief executive of a huge conglomerate. I soon saw it should be broken down into six quite independent units. With such a vast organization the people at the top had no idea what was going on further down the line. I worked night and day to bring about what I knew must be done. You know what happened?'

  'Tell me.'

  'The other members of the board combined to force me to resign. Why? Because as fatcats controlling this huge dinosaur they had enormous salaries, plus big share option deals to make them millionaires. Ignorant Yanks. I returned to Britain.'

  'You mentioned some organization called MOVAK.'

  'That is Marov's invention. A secret unit to replace the hopelessly corrupt KGB. I am sure he will shoot every KGB officer when he takes over power in his own time.'

  'I am still listening.' said Tweed.

  'So the West needs a terrible shock to force it to become strong again. That shock will be the sudden rise of Russia as a world force. The groundwork has been laid. All frontier and customs controls between Russia and the republic of Belorus have been abolished. That means, quite simply, Russia has absorbed Belorus. The next objective is Ukraine.'

  'You are helping people like Marov to achieve his objective of a new all-powerful Russia?' Tweed asked.

  'I can only tell you what I am doing if you agree to join me in a full partnership. The two of us would make an invincible combination. You must decide now. The hour is late.'

  'Why me?'

  'I have studied your track record. You are incorruptible, immensely determined, you keep your word.' For the first time Brazil smiled. 'You are a rare bird.'

  Thank you for the compliment.'

  Tweed stood up, paced slowly round the room. Brazil watched him, was careful to say nothing more. His mind racing, Tweed thought over what Brazil had said. Some of it he felt compelled to agree with. The West was drifting like a rudderless ship towards a stormy sea. Eventually Brazil did speak.

  'I can tell you think very much like I do. I know you won't deny it. The West needs an earthquake-like shock.'

  Tweed stiffened his shoulders. He turned round and stared straight at Brazil, meeting the ice-blue eyes. A truly remarkable, intriguing man, he was thinking. In the mould of General de Gaulle, Winston Churchill, and Konrad Adenauer. He smiled.

  'Mr Brazil. I have to refuse your offer.'

  'Reluctantly?' Brazil enquired as he stood up.

  'I have to refuse your offer.'

  'I feared you would take that decision. I will go now.'

  Brazil left, closing the door quietly behind him. It seemed to Tweed the room was suddenly empty, as though a remarkable force had left behind a vacuum.

  Newman, clad in a military-style trench coat with large lapels, a wide-brimmed hat on his head, and a scarf half-covering his face, walked across Bahnhofplatz as light snow began to fall. Standing at the top of the steps, leading into the main station, stood a man also wearing a trench coat and a hat. He had the appearance of a passenger who had just got off a train and was waiting for the snow to stop.

  Newman paused beside him, apparently to light a cigarette.

  'Well, Marler, did you get the clothing needed for Butler and Nield?'

  'Yes. They're waiting just round the corner in Bahnhofstrasse. The clothing is a perfect replica.'

  'Good. I wonder if it will be needed. Any sign of that Volvo?'

  'Not so far. If it appears I signal Butler and Nield. I'm sure the charade will work.'

  'Let us hope so, if it's needed. I'm going back so I am near the exit from the Schweizerhof. At least we are ready for them . . .'

  29

  Brazil avoided the lift after leaving Tweed's room. He ran down the staircase, reached the lobby, crossed it to the secluded bar. As he had hoped, at that time of the year it was empty except for the barman and one customer. Craig.

  'I'll have a Cointreau,' Brazil said to the barman. He laid a large banknote on the counter. 'I don't want any change but my friend and I have something confidential to discuss. Would you mind waiting in the lobby? You can see from there if any new customer comes into here.'

  The barman had trouble not spilling the glass of Cointreau. His eyes were on the banknote.

  'Thank you very much, sir. I'll be outside if you do need me.'

  'Well,' said Craig as soon as they were alone, 'did he agree to come in with us?'

  'No, regrettably. He refused.'

  'Then he's for the chop.'

  Craig wore a heavy overcoat and a white silk scarf. He had trouble concealing his satisfaction.

  'Craig.' Brazil said quietly. 'If anything happens to Tweed I'll see you don't stay alive an hour. And the way you treat your henchmen it will be a pleasure for any of them to carry out my order.'

  'OK.' Craig was shaken. He drank the rest of his Scotch quickly. 'I've got the message. But what about his team? They're going to get in the way. You can bet on that.'

  'I fear you're right.'

  'So I have your authority to eliminate the whole of his team off this planet?'

  'Yes.' Brazil paused. 'I suppose it's the only sensible thing to do.'

  'Right. You'll be waiting for your limo.' Craig took a mobile phone from his pocket, dialled, spoke briefly. 'Craig here. Come and get me. Work to do. Pack the car with troops . . .'

  Standing at the corner where Bahnhofstrasse met the platz, Newman brushed snow off his trench coat. He never took his eyes off Marler, still standing on the station steps. Then he saw him stretch both arms as though weary.

  The Volvo had appeared, began to cruise round the platz. Craig, standing in the hotel exit, walked a few feet up the street away from Newman. The Volvo, with three men inside, the driver and one man in front, a third man in the back, paused and Craig opened the rear door on the pavement side and slipped into the vacant seat.

  Newman removed his scarf and hat, tucked them inside his coat, waited on the edge of the kerb. Craig saw him immediately, said something to the driver. The Volvo cruised slowly towards where Newman stood. At the same moment two men appeared, clad in black leather, wearing helmets, and walking towards the approaching car. One man banged on the back window.

  Craig, confused, told the driver to stop. He was convinced that, without orders, two of his Leather Bombers had arrived. He lowered the
window and Newman walked up to him.

  'Not a nice evening, Craig.' Newman called out.

  'Not for you. You're the first.' Craig snarled.

  He reached down to the car floor, grabbed hold of a shotgun. The first of the two men clad in leather, Butler, produced a tear-gas pistol and fired into the back of the vehicle. At the same moment Nield, similarly clad, fired his own pistol across Butler's shoulder into the front of the car.

  Choking, the driver panicked, pressed the accelerator as one of Zurich's blue trams, built like a tank, was turning to proceed down Bahnhofstrasse. Craig saw the huge shape looming up through streaming eyes. He grasped the door handle, threw the door wide open, rumbled onto the pavement, rolling so his shoulders took the fall like a paratrooper landing.

  The Volvo continued its onward rush for only a few seconds. A few seconds too long. It collided into the massive tram. The car telescoped with the force of the impact. The three men inside disappeared, lost in the mess of crushed metal. The tram's passengers were shaken, but unhurt.

  Craig staggered to his feet, dazed. He recovered, ran off in the opposite direction, vanished. On the pavement lay the shotgun Craig had been going to use. Newman nodded to Butler and Nield. They ran along the platz, turned down the quiet side-street where Tweed had walked earlier.

  Tearing off their leather, they stuffed it with the helmets into a litter bin. Wearing normal business suits, they disappeared inside the Gotthard via the door leading into the Hummer Bar. Newman was already inside the lobby of the Schweizerhof, heading for the lifts.

  'Hell of a crash outside.' he said to the concierge, who was moving towards the front door. 'Some drunken oaf drove into a tram - at least that's what I was told.'

  He went straight to Tweed's room. Brazil, still in the bar, heard what he had said. He pursed his lips. If Craig had been involved he was becoming a liability. If he was still alive.

  'I saw it.' Tweed said when he had let Newman into his room. 'So the war has really started.'

  'Craig had a shotgun . . .'

  'I know. I saw that, too. Lying on the pavement. I turned down Brazil's offer for me to work with him - in a partnership. Now, it can only be twenty minutes since Brazil left this room, and they've already tried to kill you. Brazil himself must have given the order. He is not only ruthless, he is brutal.'

  Tweed sounded grimmer than Newman had experienced for a long time.

  'What partnership?' he asked.

  Tweed sat down, told him everything Brazil had said.

  'It's strange.' Newman commented, sitting in another chair. 'But I find myself agreeing with some of what he thinks. Only some of it.'

  'So did I.' agreed Tweed. 'And he didn't mention one more aspect of the global situation - although I'm sure he had it in mind. If Russia becomes strong again it provides a barrier against the Chinese, who grow more aggressive every day. They have now had successful tests at Lop Nor, launching intercontinental missiles with a range of over five thousand miles. That means those missiles could reach London - or the West Coast of the United States. Brazil has logic on his side, he can think globally, which few of our feeble politicians are able to. It's his methods I find repugnant. He would argue that is the only way to achieve a necessary change in the balance of world power.'

  'So what do we do now?'

  'Eliminate Brazil and all his works . . .'

  Craig made his way back round the side streets until he came out in Bahnhofstrasse almost opposite the Baur-en-Ville. Entering the reception hall, he saw Eve coming towards him.

  'Craig, I wanted toRIGHT SQUARE BRACKET'

  'Drop dead.'

  Craig marched on, surveying the visitors sitting and chatting over tea. He went up to a thin man with a dead white face and a bandage round the back of his head.

  'Marco, come upstairs with me. We're going to have a conference in Brazil's board room - with Luigi. Move the feet.'

  'Charming man,' Eve said to herself after he had insulted her.

  Then she listened carefully. Above the subdued hum of the voices of the scattering of guests she heard every word he'd said to Marco. Eve had acute hearing and Craig, still in a rage, had raised his voice more than he had intended to. She watched them disappear into a lift, waited, then walked into an empty one.

  She had turned the corner into the long corridor leading to her room when she stopped, stepped back a few paces. Jose was just entering Brazil's living room. Presumably Craig and his henchmen had already gone into the board room.

  She went back to her own room but left the door ajar. She was still holding the fresh glass of vodka she had ordered from the bar when she had met Craig coming back off the street downstairs. She sipped it, standing close to the door.

  A few minutes later she heard a door close. When she glanced out she saw Jose walking away in the opposite direction. She decided to take another chance. Collecting the stethoscope from the cupboard, she stuffed it inside her shoulder bag, left her room, walked back to Brazil's living room. She opened the door quietly, the glass of vodka, half-drunk, in her other hand. The room was empty. She tiptoed over to the closed sliding doors leading to the board room, put her glass on a ledge, took out her stethoscope, listened. Craig was speaking, his tone ugly.

  'I repeat, only Tweed is not to be harmed. God knows why. But that is Brazil's personal instruction.'

  'You said all this before.' Marco's voice protested.

  'Shut your face! Listen. I am saying it again to get it into your thick heads. You are listening, Luigi?'

  'With both my ears.'

  'Don't get funny with me. Listen, damn you! Every member of Tweed's team is a target for extermination. That includes Paula Grey, Robert Newman, Philip Cardon, and, possibly, Bill Franklin. We leave Franklin alone until we have confirmation of his real status.'

  'Excuse me,' Luigi said. 'But do they know about Sion?'

  'I am coming to that. I said listen. There are two other members of Tweed's gang, identities unknown at the moment. They appeared in Bahnhofplatz late this afternoon dressed in black leather motorcyclist outfits. They also will be killed, when we know who they are. Any questions so far?'

  'Do they know about Sion?' Luigi asked anxiously.

  'I'm sure they don't. Even if they did they will never reach it. I now come to my plan. They will never leave Zurich alive. How do we guarantee that? By stationing a group at Kloten Airport, another one at the Hauptbahn-hof in case they attempt to leave by train. They will be gunned down. Make sure they are dead.'

  'Supposing they drive out of Zurich?' persisted Luigi.

  'All motorways will have motorcyclist teams ready for that contingency. Zurich will be sealed off.' Craig paused. 'As a final reserve, do you have motorcyclist teams at Sion, Luigi?'

  'An elite team waits there

  Eve slipped her stethoscope back into her shoulder bag. She was careful to remember her glass of vodka as she crept out of the room and returned to her own bedroom. She locked the door and leaned against it, breathing heavily with tension.

  'So, that's more than enough.' she said to herself. 'And Craig's top three deputies are Marco, the expert knife-thrower, Luigi, who appears to be in charge of whatever is at Sion, and Gustav, crack shot with a handgun. I wonder why he wasn't there?'

  Gustav entered the bar at the Schweizerhof to find Brazil checking his watch, looking annoyed. He looked up, saw Gustav, frowned.

  Even men fear my face, Gustav thought. Even the top man.

  He hurried forward, full of apologies for not arriving earlier.

  'Jose has twisted his right ankle, which makes it tricky for him to drive. I have the limo waiting outside.'

  'Then let's go immediately. And don't open the door for me. I hate fuss.'

  Half an hour later the operator rang Newman in his room. 'I have a gentleman on the phone. He won't give a name. He says you know him well, that you last met him at a place called Kimmeridge. I made him spell that name. I hope I have pronounced it correctly.'

  '
You have. Put him through.'

  'Mr Newman?'

  Only two words spoken on the phone but Newman recognized the voice at once. Archie.

  'Yes, speaking. Very good to hear your voice.'

  'Mr Newman, I know where you are. I am speaking from a call box nearby. May I come to see you?'

  'Of course, Mr Sullivan. The concierge will give you my room number.'

  Archie had gone. He was quick enough to know he should announce himself as Mr Sullivan to the concierge. Newman felt sure that Tweed would wish to see him, but he went along to his room to check.

  Tweed was surprised to hear Archie was in Zurich but he said he would certainly see him with Newman.

  Tb this room, I suggest.' he went on. 'It's larger. So you had better instruct the concierge.'

  Newman met Archie at the lift, said nothing until he had escorted him to Tweed's room. Tweed greeted him warmly, showed him to a comfortable chair, asked him if he'd like something to drink.

  'Just water, please.'

  Archie wore a heavy fur coat which he removed, his battered hat and, as usual, he had the dead stub of a half-smoked cigarette at the corner of his mouth.

  'May I ask how you knew Bob was here?' Tweed enquired amiably.

  'Simple. I phoned Monica at Park Crescent. She was very thorough in checking me out, then she gave me the number of this hotel. Gentlemen, you are in very great danger.'