Rhinoceros tac-18

by Colin Forbes

  CHAPTER 45

  They were leaving Berg Island. Stepping out of the elevator, the one with the shaft which ascended vertically through rock, Lisa led the way with Nield by her side. She turned right, away from the path leading to the quay where the steamer berthed. The footpath wended its way round the base of the mountain wall to the north side of the island. It was a long walk to where the Gulfstream aircraft waited on the runway.

  The others followed in couples. The last two, trailing behind the rest, were Tweed and Milo. Ahead of them Harry had glanced briefly at where Rondel had plunged into the sea. No sign of anything. Rondel had come into the world, had gone out of it.

  'For a long time,' Milo said to Tweed, 'I regarded Blondel as my eventual successor, almost as a son. Now, one day, it will be Lisa who takes over the Zurcher Kredit.'

  'I'd say she's more than capable of doing that,' Tweed remarked.

  'My late wife, her mother, was a brilliant woman. Rarely is an offspring blessed with the intellectual gifts of her mother. In this case it happened.'

  'And in the meantime…'

  'I must call Danzer,' Milo interrupted. He took out his mobile phone, then smiled. 'What am I doing? All mobile systems have also been destroyed. No bad thing. People so often used them for useless chatter.'

  He hurled the mobile into the sea, watched as it vanished under the surface.

  'And in the meantime,' Tweed began again, 'what will you do?'

  'Devote myself to checking all the records in my different branches. With the aid of Lisa. I'd taken the precaution of duplicating the details on card-index systems, as we used to do. The computers will be useless from now on.'

  'So we go back to the year 1900, a more peaceful world.'

  'Yes. And I am Rhinoceros. Doubtless you had guessed that.'

  'I wasn't sure,' Tweed said. 'The conversation we had in the garden of the mansion near Blankenese made me more sure.'

  'The name "Rhinoceros", which certain powerful international people call me, originates with the Frankenheim Dynasty I inherited from that last childless head. He had plaques of the head of a rhinoceros fitted to the walls inside the main banking halls. Perhaps childishly, I never disclaimed the name. It continued the Frankenheim Dynasty under a new banner when I seized control of the Zurcher Kredit Bank.'

  'There is a curious telescopic electronic system at Eagle's Nest in Sussex.'

  'I dealt with that. I sent Danzer to that house when Rondel was here. Danzer, an engineer, told me when he returned that the system to neutralize mine wouldn't have worked, but he dismantled it.'

  'This struggle has been quite a saga,' Tweed commented.

  'With unfortunate casualties. I will tell you now I was the one who first hired the late Mark Wendover, poor chap.'

  'Why?'

  'To infiltrate him inside your team.'

  'To spy on me?' Tweed asked with a smile.

  'To confirm finally to me that you were a man of complete integrity. Which he did – before a villain ended his life.'

  'Oskar Vernon?' Tweed asked in a strange tone of voice.

  'No. We must go back to Gavin Thunder, a ruthless man with an insatiable appetite for power. Dictatorial power.'

  'So Mark Wenodver reported back to you where I was. And then Lisa took over reporting my movements to you?'

  'Correct. She did a wonderful job. For most of the time I knew where you were – as you made your odyssey to find out the truth. Which you did admirably and with great courage.'

  'Only part of my job. And Trent is an assumed name for Lisa?' Tweed asked.

  'No. When she decided she wanted to be educated in Britain, she changed her surname. Inspired by a classic mystery novel, Trent's Last Case by E.G. Bentley.

  'And how did you come to choose Wendover?' Tweed mused.

  'My contacts in the States told me he had left the CIA because he disliked some of their methods. He then established the most effective agency in America. Mark Wendover also had a great reputation for honesty, a rare virtue in this troubled world. Incidentally, the Gulfstream can fly you anywhere. Hamburg? London?'

  I'd appreciate it if the pilot would fly us to Hamburg. We can then catch a commercial flight to Heathrow.'

  'I'll let him know.' Milo reached a hand towards his pocket and then laughed. 'It will take all of us a little while to learn to live without those wretched mobile phones. But the pilot and air crew are waiting and you simply give them your instructions.'

  'What about the hired rioters who are waiting in large numbers all over the place to create chaos?'

  'They will go on waiting until they get tired and disperse. The man in Seattle, called Ponytail, I understand, will have fled from his Internet screen, leaving behind the messages which will never be sent.'

  They had walked a long way along the edge of the runway with the sea quietly splashing beyond. Now they were close to the large Gulfstream. At the foot of the staircase Lisa stood, like an air stewardess, her flaming red hair cascading down her back, ushering the team aboard. Nield stood beside her, arms folded.

  Before they reached the aircraft Tweed paused and Milo halted with him. They looked at each other.

  'It has been an honour to know you,' said Tweed.

  'It is customary where I come from for friends to give each other a bear hug when they part. But I know Englishmen do not like it.'

  'To hell with British reserve,' Tweed told him.

  Milo grasped Tweed, gave him an affectionate bear hug. As they parted Tweed saw he had tears in his eyes. Beneath his impassive manner Milo had the warmest human feelings. He dabbed quickly at his eyes, stuffed the handkerchief out of sight. Tweed hugged Lisa before he boarded, grasping her with both arms.

  'Take care of yourself, Lisa.'

  'Sorry I lied about having an English father.'

  'I will take you out for the finest meal London can provide.'

  He hurried up the staircase. He did not trust his emotions sufficiently to look back. The pilot was already revving up the engines as he sat in the seat waiting for him next to Paula. The plane was airborne when Tweed looked back at the other passengers.

  'Where on earth is Pete Nield?' he asked.

  'He's staying for a while,' Paula explained. 'Lisa wants him to go with her to Stockholm. Sometimes, Tweed, you really are not very observant when it comes to human relationships.'

  'Oh.' Tweed remained silent as the aircraft took off smoothly,, then began to climb. 'I'd better tell the pilot I want him to take us to Hamburg Airport.'

  'He already knows. While you were climbing the staircase Milo signalled to him with his hands, forming a letter H. And the pilot immediately confirmed over the tannoy that, as instructed, he was flying us to Hamburg Airport.'

  'Oh,' said Tweed.

  As the plane flew towards the German coast Paula stared fixedly out of her window. She could see the castle on top of the mountain, the grove where they had sat talking, surrounded by palm trees and huge cacti. She felt she was leaving something behind she would miss.

  Epilogue

  As Tweed, followed by the rest of his team, entered his office at Park Crescent, he saw two folded newspapers on his desk. Monica rushed forward to remove one of them. He sat down in his familiar seat behind his desk, glad to be home. Then he unfolded the newspaper. The headlines shrieked at him.

  AIR DISASTER

  Four World Statesmen Die As Helicopter Crashes Gavin Thunder Among Casualties Tragedy On German Island Of Sylt

  WORLD COMMUNICATIONS

  No Internet. No Phones

  'So Danzer planted a bomb. Wiped out the top villains,' he said as he passed the newspaper to Paula.

  'Who is Danzer?' Monica asked.

  'Just someone we heard about while we were abroad. I see your screen has disappeared.'

  'It started again – the missiles, the terrible noise. I fled from the room. When I came back it was still going on so I pulled the plug. I took a taxi to a firm where I know people. Couldn't use the phone. It's dea
d as a dodo. My friends had experienced the same thing. It's not coming back – the Internet. Don't know about the phone. So I got George from downstairs to take the computer away, to dump it. When he came back he said the dump was piled high with computers.'

  'I'm glad you got out in time. I was worried about you.'

  'You knew?'

  'I'd heard rumours. Incidentally, Buchanan called me in Hamburg. He found the real Mrs Mordaunt had been called away to a fake emergency. He also told me they had rounded up the refugees Marler saw in Dorset – they found them scattered across Dartmoor. Now can I see that newspaper you snatched off my desk?'

  'Prepare yourself for a shock.'

  She brought him the other newspaper. She handed it to him, opened at an inside page. He stared at the headline, dazed, then slowly read the brief text underneath it.

  LORD BARFORD COMMITS SUICIDE

  The distinguished Brigadier, Lord Barford, was found dead in his room at the Four Seasons Hotel, Hamburg. He was found holding in his right hand the revolver which had fired the fatal shot. No note has been found to explain why he took his life.

  'There's an express letter from him,' Monica said quietly. 'It's addressed to you but, in your absence, I took the liberty of opening it. Here it is.'

  Tweed, normally a swift reader, read it slowly three times. He looked out of the window as though trying to see something. He stood up, walked across to Paula's desk, handed it to her, returned to his own desk, again stared into the distance. She read it as carefully as Tweed had.

  My dear Tweed – By the time you read this you will probably have heard of my decision. Why did I do it? Because after a long and reasonably honourable career, I made an appalling mistake. Gavin Thunder, who hopes to be Prime Minister, and probably will be after what is going to happen, persuaded me to accept the post of Supreme Governor of a Britain divided into six military areas. On reflection, I realized that, although I thought some change was needed in our way of life, what he proposed -and what I agreed to – was a crime. I decided I could only make amends for my ghastly error of judgement by removing myself from this fragile world. I remember gratefully your friendship in the past. Goodbye.

  The letter was signed 'Bernard Barford'. Paula folded up the sheet and looked at Tweed.

  'This is awful. Poor man. I don't know what to say.'

  'It was his only way out,' Tweed said, so quietly that she only just caught the words. 'He was an honourable man. I shall go to the memorial service, if there is one.'

  The letter was passed round to everyone. Afterwards there was a silence in the room that no one seemed inclined to disturb. The intercom Monica had just installed buzzed. She answered it, frowned, looked at Tweed.

  'There's someone downstairs who won't give a name.'

  'Tweed here. Ah, it's you. By all means, come up. George will show you the way.'

  Tweed looked round the room. This will stun them, he thought. He spoke quickly.

  'When our visitor arrives do not be alarmed. You are all in for a surprise.'

  The door was opened by George, who stood back to let someone walk in. Everyone, except Tweed and Monica, stared in disbelief as the visitor entered.

  Oskar Vernon was smiling, as always. He wore a bright green shirt, a pale lemon suit and a wild white tie decorated with clusters of lemons. In his hand he carried a straw hat.

  'Meet Oskar,' Tweed said, 'a man who helped me greatly all through the saga we have experienced.'

  'I don't understand,' said Paula.

  'I can appreciate Paula's confusion,' Oskar commented. He looked at Tweed, who had gestured for him to sit down. 'Maybe you had better explain.'

  'Oskar,' Tweed began, 'has kept me closely informed about the enemy's movements as often as he could. Knowing his underworld contacts, I suggested he used his reputation to infiltrate the enemy organization…'

  'Some reputation,' snapped Marler, leaning against the wall.

  'It has taken Oskar years,' Tweed went on, 'to build up a reputation among the police, the security services and the underworld as being a mastermind behind every kind of villainy. Except he isn't a villain. He detests all the people he has had to impress.'

  'I hate their guts,' Oskar remarked. 'So I revel in first fooling them, then destroying them. I arranged for rumours to be spread about my criminal activities long ago, but they could never prove anything. I mean the police. Because I am innocent.'

  'Anything else you did to help us?' Tweed enquired.

  'Well…' Oskar straightened his tie. '… I did try to kill off those two paragons of virtue, Barton and Panko. In the middle of the night at Tonder airfield I placed a bomb inside their aircraft. But they must have discovered it since they took off safely. On the other hand, I did shoot dead two men of the Special Reserve in the third jeep, coming up behind them in my black Audi – incidentally, just before they were going to kill me.'

  'That was a great help,' Tweed commented. 'Otherwise we'd have had seven instead of five enemies to deal with at the sand quarry. Also, Oskar phoned me when I was alone in my room, gave me news of the enemy's latest plans. Without him we may not have survived.'

  'One thing puzzles me,' said Paula, 'While I was in Lisa's room someone phoned and said they were Oskar.'

  'Not me.' Oskar looked perplexed. 'Anything else strange that happened about the same time?'

  'There was a man vacuuming the floor outside. He didn't look like staff and disappeared soon afterwards.'

  'Ah!' Oskar beamed. 'That would be Thunder's idea to discredit Lisa, make you suspicious of her. The fake servant would use his mobile to tell whoever phoned that you were in her room.'

  'We'd better take you out to dinner for starters,' Paula suggested. 'After all you've done for us.'

  'Thank you so much,' Oskar replied. 'But I must decline your kind invitation.' He beamed. 'It would ruin my reputation to be seen with such law-abiding citizens! I must slip away now. It has been a pleasure to work for you.' He stood up. 'Bless you all…'

  'Well, I'll be damned,' said Newman when Oskar had left.

  'I did tell you, Paula,' Tweed remarked with a smile.

  'Told me what?'

  'That no one was what they seemed to be.'

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