by Colin Forbes
Paula reached the gates, saw the entryphone Jean Bur-goyne had told her to look for set into one of the pillars. She pressed the button, looking along the road which led to GHQ Third Corps.
'Yes? Who is it?'
Jean's distinctive voice speaking in French. Paula put her mouth close to the entryphone.
'Paula here. Are you alone?'
'Yes. Come in. I will operate ...'
'Don't open the gates. We are coming in from the back of the estate. Please trust me. Leave a rear door open - I'll be there in about five minutes OK?'
'Anything you say. Looking forward very much to seeing you...'
Paula ran back to the car, jumped in beside Butler. She told them Jean was alone, that it was all right. Butler nodded, said nothing as he drove off the road up a very narrow side road. He'd studied a large-scale map before they had left Arcachon, had found this road led to the back of the villa. He'd also discovered that it forked, that another narrow route led across country before it rejoined the road they'd come along.
To their right was a high stone wall. This didn't worry Butler, who had cross-questioned Paula about the location of the villa the night before in Arcachon. Early that morning he had visited a ship's chandler, had purchased a length of strong rope and an iron grapple. They'd be able to scale the wall at the back.
It was mid-afternoon and the sky was like thick grey soup. No wind, but it was arctic cold. The met forecasts, which Butler monitored when he could, had talked of a heavy sea mist coining in. And they were later than they'd expected to be, which again worried Butler. They'd taken a wrong turn.
Following the road round the back of the walled estate Butler saw the rope and grapple wouldn't be needed. He positioned the car carefully under the branches of an overhanging tree which had its trunk on the far side of the wall.
'Think you're athletic enough to shin up that branch and climb down the other side of the tree, Paula?'
She gave him a dirty look, started to open her door to get out. Butler laid a hand on her arm.
'We do this my way. We're in enemy territory.'
'General de Forge's stronghold.' Nield commented. 'We must be crazy.'
'So,' Butler continued, 'I'm coming with you. If you prefer to talk to Burgoyne on your own, OK. But I want to be in the next room. And I go up the tree first.'
'What about me?' asked Nield.
'You stay with the car - and turn it in the opposite direction for a quick getaway. This won't be any pleasure trip.'
'The other way?' Nield repeated. 'That means about an eight-point turn. Thanks a lot...'
Butler checked his Walther, got out of the car, gripped the strong branch, swung himself over, paused to view the estate. Trees forming a screen by the rear wall - useful. Through the bare branches he saw a few acres of lawn, the back of the villa. He scrambled down the tree.
Paula, dressed in denims, a windcheater and trainers under her trench coat, followed. First she took off the coat, folded it, threw it over the wall. Agilely she scaled the tree, dropped beside Butler who helped her on with the coat. The silence inside the wall was eerie, unsettling.
'I'll go ahead, check the ground,' Butler said.
'But Jean said she was alone ...'
'And could have been speaking with a pistol held to her skull.'
Marler settled himself comfortably in position where he had a wide range of view. The Peugeot was concealed beneath a copse of evergreens: impossible for anyone to catch sight of it.
Crouching low on the knoll behind dead undergrowth he adjusted the focus of his field-glasses. Slowly he systematically swept the lenses searching for anyone - anything - he had missed. He spotted nothing.
It was very quiet. No birdsong. No wind. Dead silence. Patiently he waited - inactivity he was long accustomed to.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Tweed was seated at the desk in his temporary office in the Ministry of Defence when the phone rang. He recognized Monica's voice.
'Go ahead.' he urged.
'I told you I was going to try and get information on the structure of the Steel Vulture which was built at a Norwegian shipyard. Our Oslo contact has reported back. He apologizes for the delay. He wanted you to have the complete picture.'
'Which is?'
'Dramatic. The yard where the ship was built was burnt to the ground soon after they'd dispatched the Vulture to Britain. It was a catastrophe. The workers who had built the ship were celebrating in a shed with the doors closed. The building went up in flames and no one survived. The police suspected arson, but no one was ever arrested.'
'Deliberate, ruthless, and horrific ...'
'I haven't finished yet. Our Oslo contact went to the office of the marine architect who designed Vulture - to get a copy of the plans. They'd had a break-in just about the time of the shipyard fire. A lot of plans had been stolen - including those of Vulture.'
'Naturally...'
'I'm still not finished. Our contact asked where the marine architect lived. He apparently skidded in his car on an icy road in the mountains - ended up at the bottom of a deep abyss. Dead.'
'Of course. Thank you very much, Monica. And do not hesitate to phone me again...'
Tweed put down the phone, leant back in his chair. He was now totally convinced there was something dangerously unorthodox about the Steel Vulture. So vital that it had to be kept secret at all costs. Even at the price of incinerating the whole workforce of a shipyard - and faking an accidental death of the marine architect who had designed her. Brutal murder.
He sat playing back in his mind from memory the report Paula had dictated of her horrific experience off Dunwich, followed by the equally terrifying pursuit across the Aldeburgh marshes, ending in the strangulation of Karin Rosewater. He wasn't going to leave it alone until the significant fact in her account sprang at him.
At the Villa Forban, Butler found the rear door unlocked. He opened it quietly but as he pushed it slowly open it creaked. He was holding the Walther in his hand while he pressed it wide open and stepped inside an ultra-modern kitchen. He found himself staring into the muzzle of a 7.63mm Mauser.
Behind the automatic pistol a woman with long blond hair stood, gripping the butt with both hands in a most professional manner. Butler spoke in English, whispering as his eyes swept the kitchen.
'Can I write a message on that pad?'
As he spoke he carefully laid down his Walther on top of a working surface. He had noticed the pad with a pen lying beside it. The woman, who was beautiful, nodded, still aiming the weapon. Butler tore a sheet from the pad, turned it over, placed the sheet on the cardboard back, wrote a quick message. He then held up the sheet so she could read it.
Are you alone in this place? Paula Grey is waiting at the bottom of the garden. I'm her escort.
'Thank God! I'm Jean Burgoyne.' She had lowered the gun. She looked badly shaken. 'I caught a glimpse of you through the window. A strange man with a gun. I thought de Forge had sent someone to kill me. Please ask Paula to come in. I'll make coffee. Do you take milk?' She managed a wan smile. 'Isn't it ridiculous? One moment I'm scared witless, the next I'm asking if you take milk. Do you? And sugar?'
'Black for me.' Butler replied calmly. 'And for Paula. Can I take my gun? Thanks. I'll fetch Paula ...'
He went back outside and beckoned to Paula who came running from behind a tree trunk. He stopped her before she went inside, told her briefly what had happened. Following her into the villa, Butler inwardly felt the tension draining out of his system.
First, he'd thought maybe hidden men had forced Burgoyne to confront him. Second, he'd noticed how her finger was on the trigger: one squeeze and that would have been that. He needed the coffee.
'I'll watch the front of the villa while you two talk somewhere else,' he suggested. 'Then if anyone turns up unexpectedly we'll leave by the rear door. I'd just as soon you left it unlocked.'
'Gladly.' Jean gave him a warm smile. 'I'm so sorry I startled you. You must have had an
awful shock.'
'All in a day's work...'
Butler left the kitchen, checked the layout of the ground floor, took up a position behind a curtain in the living room where he could watch the drive leading to the grille gates.
'... and I'm so glad to see you.' Jean went on as she poured coffee. 'I'm a bit jittery. We can talk in the study at the back after I've taken your escort his coffee.'
She was back very quickly and led the way to the study which overlooked the large garden at the back. Paula sat in an armchair, noticed Jean's hand shaking as she drank her coffee. This seemed a perfect moment to tackle her host on a dangerous topic, to try and get her to talk frankly.
'Jean.' she began, 'Harry told me you thought de Forge had sent someone to kill you. Why would he do that?'
Burgoyne seemed to close in on herself. Her mood became wary. She smoothed down her long thick hair. Paula kept up the barrage gently.
'You've reached the stage where you have to talk to someone about it. I sense that you've been under strain for months. And my job is actually security.'
'National security?' Jean enquired casually.
'It can impinge on that.'
Jean smiled. 'I think I told you my uncle in Aldeburgh was in Military Intelligence ...'
'And still has contacts with the MOD?' Paula interjected.
'I didn't quite say that, did I?' Jean studied her cup. 'But after you'd been attacked and I'd driven you back to the Brudenell, what do you think he said when I got back?'
'I couldn't even guess.'
'Uncle said that girl is something to do with Intelligence. I always know, he went on.'
'So, let's suppose he wasn't a mile away from the truth. Pure supposition on my part, of course.'
'Of course.' Jean smiled her warm smile again. 'You may have guessed I've been de Forge's mistress for more months than I care to count. Not for the pleasure of it, either.'
'And what have you discovered? That man is a bloody menace to France - to the world,' Paula said vehemently.
'He plans to make himself President of France,' Jean said, staring at the wall. 'He is secretly co-operating with Dubois, the fanatic who heads the Pour France movement. He is plotting to create so much chaos the ordinary women and men will see him as a saviour.'
'But exactly how will he go about it?' Paula pressed.
'I don't know whether I should tell you.' Jean hesitated, but only briefly. 'He left his dispatch case here one day for a short time on a table in the living room. While he had a bath I went through it - there were plans for a military coup. Details of the units to be used, the routes to be followed for a swoop by his Third Corps on Paris.'
'What details?'
'I memorized them at the time. After he'd gone I wrote them down. I'd give you the notes I made but it would put your life in danger.'
'Leave here now with me and my escort. Bring the notes with you.'
'Where are you staying?' Jean asked.
'In Arcachon.'
'It shouldn't be too difficult for me to drive there, to hand the notes to you. Here we are too close to the Third Corps GHQ. It's my responsibility. Where can I get in touch with you in Arcachon?'
Paula decided it would be useless to press her further to hand over the notes. Jean Burgoyne was a strong-willed woman. The exchange would have to take place in Arcachon.
'I'll be staying at a small hotel. The Atlantique. A silly name for such a small place, hardly more than a pension ...'
She looked up as Butler walked swiftly into the room, grabbed her by the arm. Something had gone wrong. He hustled her towards the door, speaking quickly in a low voice to Jean.
'Trouble has arrived at the front. De Forge, I think. And a heavy escort...'
'See you in Arcachon,' Paula whispered.
They hurried to the back of the villa, out of the door which had been left unlocked. As Paula took off like a marathon runner for the rear wall Butler paused to shut the door quietly. He then tore after Paula. When he reached the wall Paula had already shinned up the tree, dropped out of sight on the far side. Butler paused again for a second astride the wall top, glanced back at the villa. No sign of life. He dropped to the ground from the overhanging branch, ran to the Renault.
Paula was akeady seated in the rear, Nield had the engine running. Butler dived into the front passenger seat and Nield drove off at a moderate speed: if he rammed his foot down he'd make more noise.
General de Forge had his keys ready to open the front door of the villa. He glanced over his shoulder to where Lamy waited in his limousine and the group of armed motorcycle riders sat astride their machines, weapons looped over their shoulders.
De Forge walked swiftly through the living room, opened the connecting door to the study. Jean Burgoyne was sitting reading a book. She looked surprised, closed the book, stood up.
'I thought you weren't coming today, Charles ...'
'Exactly!'
As he spat the word at her he shoved her roughly back into the chair, made his way into the kitchen. He looked round, turned the handle of the rear door and it opened. Security at the villa was tight. All windows were bulletproof. The rear door had a fish-eye spyhole. But it also had three bolts in addition to the lock. It was seeing the bolts drawn free which had attracted his attention.
Drawing his pistol, de Forge stepped outside, stared down the full length of the garden. He saw nothing but he heard something - the faint sound of a car retreating in the distance.
He rushed back inside, locked the door, ran straight to the front door. Throwing it open he ran down the steps to the limousine. Lamy was outside the vehicle instantly, stood on the gravel.
'There's a road at the back of the villa leading across country, isn't there?'
'Yes. And very much a lonely country road ...'
'Send an outrider along that road. If he overtakes a car he's to stop it - by force if necessary. Get someone on that road now.'
He walked back inside the villa as Lamy issued instructions. Alone in the study, Jean took the Mauser from a drawer. Should she shoot the bastard now? She hadn't had time to go and lock and throw the three bolts across on the rear door. She'd heard his key rattling in the front door and he might have caught her.
When de Forge walked into the study she was sitting in the same chair, staring at him with a cold look, the book closed on her lap. She'd decided against using the gun: Paula's escort had warned her de Forge was not alone. If she killed him she'd end up dead herself. She got her verbal blow in first.
'Have you gone mad? I'm not one of your slave privates you can knock about whenever the whim takes you. This time you have gone too far.'
'No!' De Forge gripped the top of her armchair, partly to regain self-control. 'You have gone too far. The rear door was open. Who was with you? Who ran for it when I arrived unexpectedly?'
'No one.' she said quietly, laying her book on a table as she stood to face him. 'I went into the back garden for some fresh air. Then I heard your cavalcade arriving so I came quickly back because you expect me to be waiting for you. And I'm damned if I see why I have to explain all my movements. In fact, I'm not prepared to.'
De Forge had his fury under control. His brain was ice-cold and racing. He smiled, took her in his arms, kissed her. She stood there, letting him do it, without responding. He released her from his embrace.
'You're looking more beautiful than ever.' he commented. The fresh air did you good. I just called in en route - to make sure you were all right. I'll come tomorrow - in the evening. Until then...'
He was careful to walk quickly across the polished woodblock floor of the hall, so she would hear he was in a hurry. His expression changed as he sat in the limousine beside Major Lamy and the vehicle began moving. His voice was harsh.
'You sent an outrider to look for that car?'
'Immediately. He will stop it, identify the occupant. He will then use his radio to call me to say who it is, still detaining the car.'
'Good. There mig
ht well be an unfortunate shooting accident. A fatal one. Back to GHQ.'
'Press your foot down, Pete,' Butler ordered. 'If they did hear our car they may send someone to follow us. I want to be off this loop road, back on the main highway before anyone catches us up. Then we have no connection with the Villa Forban.'
'Hold on, Paula,' Nield warned and rammed his foot down.
The narrow winding country road was sunk in a gully which meant they were concealed from the main road they were looping round to join. Its surface was uneven and bumpy. Paula braced herself as Nield swung the wheel to the left, to the right and the car rocked at high speed.
Nield had been a racing car buff who earlier had driven at Brand's Hatch. Few drivers could have moved at his pace and kept the vehicle on the road. Paula watched the needle climbing on the speedometer and then decided she didn't want to know how fast they were travelling.
They were within a couple of miles of the highway when Paula glanced back. The road had straightened, was stretched ahead of them like a ruler. The rocking had stopped, the road surface had improved. Paula stared through the rear window, reached for her field-glasses inside her shoulder bag. She was now able to swivel round and aim the binoculars.
Behind them a dot had appeared, a dot which grew steadily larger. She focused on it and sucked in her breath. She patted Butler on the shoulder. He twisted round.