Precipice tac-14

by Colin Forbes

  'I said wait.' Tweed ordered.

  'In that case I'm handing in my resignation to you now.'

  She had her grip on the door handle when Tweed replied in the same quiet tone.

  'Your resignation is not accepted.'

  Newman jumped up, accompanied Paula to her room. She turned to him when they were both inside.

  'I have to pack.'

  'I know.' said Newman and grinned. 'I gave Philip a little extra armament. I'd like you to be equipped with the same. Back in no time. I'll rap on your door with my usual tattoo.'

  'It's getting a bit out of date, that tattoo. You should invent a new one.' Paula commented with a smile.

  He returned very quickly as she was finishing packing her case. From a small canvas holdall he produced a cardboard carton wrapped in blue ribbon and with the word Dumbo on the outside. He handed it to her.

  'What in Heaven's name is that, Bob?'

  'A present for the nephew you don't have. Actually you will find a tear-gas pistol inside, spare shells, smoke bombs – and be careful with these. They're stun grenades. You've handled them before.'

  'No need for you to send Marler and Co. after me.' she joked.

  He waited until she had concealed the 'presents' he had given her. She put on her coat and gloves, smiled at Newman.

  'Carry your bag, lady?' he said.

  'I'd be grateful, porter. You may even get a tip.'

  Arriving at the main station, Newman checked the departure board, saw there was an express leaving for Geneva in five minutes. He told her to find a compartment and rushed to get her a first-class ticket. She was leaning out of the window when he ran onto the platform, handed her the ticket. She leaned further out, kissed him on the cheek.

  'That's your tip.'

  The express began to move out and she waved to him from the window. He stood watching its last coach until it disappeared round a bend.

  28

  Newman was giving last-minute instructions in Marler's room at the Gotthard when the phone rang. He pursed his lips at the interruption, gazing round at Butler and Nield as Marler answered the phone.

  'Who is it?' he asked abruptly.

  'Mr Marler, I'm sorry to bother you.' the operator began, 'but I have a woman on the line who wishes to speak to Mr Robert Newman if he is there.'

  'What made you call me?' demanded Marler.

  'When Mr Newman came in I asked if I could help. I was on reception for a few minutes while my stand-in took over. I recognized Mr Newman from pictures I've seen of him in the papers in the past. I did not tell the caller he was here. I merely said I would enquire.'

  'But who is on the line?' Marler asked brusquely.

  'A Miss Eve Warner

  'Hold on. I'll be back in a moment.'

  'You won't believe this.' he said to Newman. 'On the line waiting to speak to you is Eve Warner.'

  'How the hell does she know I'm here?' Newman thought for a moment. 'Well, she does – and I'd better find out how she knows that.'

  'Where are you speaking from?' were Newman's first words.

  'A call box in Bahnhofstrasse.'

  'So what made you think I might be found here? Tell me or I'll put the phone down.'

  'Don't be like that, Bob,' she coaxed. 'I'll be honest. I saw you coming out of the Gotthard earlier today. I have information you need urgently.'

  'How much?' Newman enquired cynically.

  'That's not nice. Not nice at all. I'm not asking for money. This time.'

  'Then why are you calling? What information?'

  'Tweed's life is in danger. I overheard Craig saying he was covering Bahnhofstrasse and the platz with his troops ready for when Brazil meets Tweed at the Schweizerhof.'

  'Did Craig say the target was Tweed?'

  'Well…' A pause. 'Actually, no. I think he may have plans to kill you.'

  'Thanks for the information.'

  'I may call again if I have more information. So.' she ended, 'you see you have misjudged me. Not everyone in this world is interested only in money…'

  Newman put down the phone, reported what she'd said to the others. Marler lit a king-size, took a puff.

  'Don't understand what she's up to. From what you've said about her, Bob, she's on the make. All of the time.'

  'I still think she is. Maybe this was her opening shot.'

  He clapped his hands. 'We can't waste any more time on her. Now, is everyone clear as to the positions they're going to take up in Bahnhofplatz while Tweed is holding this crazy meeting with Brazil?'

  'I'm clear.' said Butler, 'and I'll have smoke bombs ready.'

  'I'm clear, too.' said Meld. 'And I also have my smoke bombs. Why are we using those – if we have to?'

  'Because if there's shooting, corpses in the street, Chief of Police Arthur Beck will be in deep trouble. So shall we.' He checked his watch.

  'Not long now.' Marler remarked. 'Zero hour draws nigh…'

  Eve emerged from the call box in a furious mood -furious with Newman. The very idea that all she was interested in was money! It was insulting. Still, the important thing was she had established contact with him.

  She was so annoyed she failed to notice a man inside a doorway who had been watching her. Not that she would probably have observed him anyway. Gustav, who had followed her from the hotel, was an expert shadow.

  An attractive woman glanced into the doorway, looked away quickly when she saw him. He scowled. He knew why she had averted her gaze. Gustav's face was not a pretty picture. His long nose had been broken in a fight, which gave it a hooked appearance. His mouth was thin, cruel. He was coming to dislike women, except for one purpose.

  What was Eve up to? he wondered. Something underhand – or else why should she go out to a call box to phone someone when she could have used the phone in her room? He'd report what had happened to Brazil when the chance arose. Not to Craig – who would simply take all the credit, would probably say he'd ordered Gustav to keep an eye on Eve.

  As Eve drew near the Baur-en-Ville she saw the limo with the amber-tinted windows glide to the kerb. She stopped, pretended to gaze into a shop window. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Brazil emerge from the rear, opening the door himself. He ran into the hotel, checking his watch as he moved swiftly.

  Eve waited until Jose had driven away the limo to park it and hurried into the hotel and up to her room. It was, fortunately, on the same floor as Brazil's suite. Inside her room, she locked the door, opened a hanging cupboard, knelt down, and felt along her shoes scattered across the floor. She brought out the stethoscope she had purchased in a Zurich shop, tucked it inside her shoulder bag.

  Returning to the corridor, she walked quietly to the door leading into Brazil's living room. She had her excuse ready as she opened it, peered inside. Empty. Closing the door after entering, she ran lightly over the deep-pile carpet, opened a cabinet, took out a bottle of vodka, poured herself a glass and left it on a table near the two closed sliding doors leading into the meeting room with a long table.

  She pressed her ear to one door and the material was so thin she could hear voices. She took out the stethoscope, pressed one end against the door, the other ends to her ears. If she heard someone coming she'd ram the stethoscope into her shoulder bag and say she'd come to get a glass of vodka. With the aid of the stethoscope she heard clearly.

  'So you arrived safely from Sion, Luigi. How is everything going down there?' asked Brazil, voice booming.

  'The station is ready for operation. We tested laser contact with the satellite and it was a tremendous success.' An unpleasant pedantic voice. Italian accent.

  'Please be more specific. What exactly happened when they carried out the experiment?'

  'We used the equipment inside the room in the old house on the mountainside. The laser was directed at the phone number in that room which was included in the satellite's circuitry. It was tremendous!'

  'But what exactly happened when you returned to the room after sending the signal for
that number?'

  'Every piece of equipment was shattered. The tethered goat was dead – killed by the terrible screaming noise.'

  'Then it does work. Let me think…'

  Eve shoved the stethoscope back inside her shoulder bag. Drinking half the glass of vodka quickly, she held the glass as she left the room in case someone like Craig should be in the corridor. Back inside her room she sank onto a couch.

  'What the hell was that all about?' she asked herself.

  She didn't even know where Sion was. Then she had an idea. Jumping up, she remembered to hide the stethoscope before leaving her room. She had just quietly opened her door when she heard voices further down the corridor. She froze.

  'How are the scientists behaving themselves, Luigi? It is vital none of them leave the laboratory. If one should escape…'

  'No one will escape, Mr Brazil.'

  She heard a door close. She rattled the key in her lock as though just opening it, walked out, locked it. A small fat man in an expensive grey business suit walked towards her. He had a plump face, sensuous lips and a dark moustache to match his thick hair. He looked at her with brazen interest as they passed each other, then stopped, came back alongside her.

  'My name is Luigi, beautiful lady.'

  'My name is I damn well don't know you…'

  She left him with a nasty expression on his face and went down into the lobby. Strolling around, she checked to make sure none of Craig's thugs were about. Then she walked up to the concierge.

  'A friend has suggested to me it might be interesting to visit Sion. I don't even know where it is.'

  'In the Valais, Madame. Let me show you on the map.'

  She studied the map as he went on talking to her.

  'I can't recommend Sion at this time of the year.'

  'Why not?'

  'It is in the canton of the Valais. Very popular with winter sports enthusiasts during the season, but the season is almost over. The weather has turned bad down there. We have had several reports of avalanches. If you were thinking of walking in the mountains I would advise against it.'

  'Thank you.'

  Eve went back to her room, closed and locked the door. She lit a cigarette, folded one arm across her chest, supported the elbow of the other on her hand. She walked slowly back and forth.

  It was curious that Brazil, always so security-conscious, should talk about scientists and a laboratory so publicly. Then she remembered the long corridor had been empty except for the fat man, Luigi. Doubtless Brazil had peered out before he began talking.

  She recalled the weird conversation she had eavesdropped on. She could remember every word although she didn't understand the meaning. Newman and Tweed would, she felt sure, understand what had been said. It sounded like information they should have.

  ***

  Tweed was waiting in the lobby of the Schweizerhof when Brazil arrived, stepped out of the limo, walked briskly into the hotel. He held out his hand and Tweed shook it.

  'I have a room upstairs where we can talk.' Tweed said and led the way to the elevator.

  Brazil wore a blue pin-stripe suit, a white shirt, and, unusually for him, a gaudy tie in exotic colours. He was brimful of energy, refused Tweed's offer of anything to drink.

  'No alcohol when I'm discussing business.'

  Tweed had arranged an armchair on either side of a long glass-topped table. They sat facing each other, like duellists. Tweed said nothing, taking off his glasses to clean them with his handkerchief.

  'I've come to offer you a partnership with me in a great historic enterprise.' Brazil told him. 'A plan to change the whole balance of world power.'

  'Sounds rather ambitious.'

  'The West is going into a steep decline, is rendering itself defenceless, cutting its arms budgets almost daily. In Britain, as in other countries, people are demoralized, no longer have any sense of purpose. They are drifting, Mr Tweed. So law and order is breaking down everywhere. Criminals control the streets. We need the discipline we once had, the stability, the sense of purpose. We are collapsing into moral decadence, which produces a growing decay in our society. Or would you not agree?'

  'So far what you have said makes sense.' Tweed replied as he put on his glasses. 'What is your solution?'

  'We need strong, ruthless leadership. The only thing to wake people up is the return of fear. There was fear when Soviet Russia was strong. Then there was energy in the West, the building up of NATO. People were alert, on their guard. Only the revival of Russia as a great power will instil the sense of fear which is needed to give the West a sense of purpose. The battle for survival. Do you agree, Mr Tweed?'

  '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.