Deadlock tac-5

by Colin Forbes

  'What are you chattering on about?' Tweed asked, attempting to throw Klein off balance – to reveal too much.

  'A large team of scuba divers has attached sea-mines to many ships. The Cayman Conqueror and Easter Island supertankers. The freighter from Genoa, the Otranto. Three container ships.' A pause. Tweed heard Klein suck in his breath before he went on. 'And above all, the Adenauer.'

  'So you say…'

  ' Tweed! ' Klein's voice was ice-cold. 'Let me explain what I can do. This control box was designed by the Swiss. They are very good with sophisticated mechanisms. You have heard of the Swiss?' The tone was mocking.

  'I believe so. Yes.'

  It was a duel of nerves. Newman grasped that immediately as he watched the erect figure on the platform through his telescopic sight. Hatless, thick dark hair, wearing a leather military-type coat with broad lapels, Klein was determined to dominate the tiny figure at the foot of the tower. And Newman could hear every word of the exchanges. Could Tweed hold his own? A man almost dropping with fatigue.

  'The box I am holding – which will be in my hands at all times – has a number of buttons. Each attuned to a different waveband, each linked in this way with the sea-mines under a particular vessel. Take your hand out of your pocket.'

  Tweed, gripping the microphone at the end of the cable leading to the police van in his right hand, had thrust the other hand inside his coat pocket.

  'I'm not here to pander to your whims,' he replied. 'Get on with what you have to say.'

  'So, by pressing, say number one button, I can sink the Otranto by itself. The freighter will vapourize. The other vessels remain afloat. There is another button for the Cayman Conqueror, and so on. You understand what I am saying?'

  'Highly ingenious.'

  'Tweed, you had better take me seriously…'

  'Oh, I'm doing just that. The reverse applies. You are surrounded, isolated, and Euromast can be stormed at one word of command.'

  'I stiil do not think you have grasped the situation. On the control box! hold there is a red button. The one my thumb is poised over now. That is tuned to a different waveband – a waveband with a signal common to every vessel which has been mined. I press the red button and all the mines detonate, all the ships go down, including the Adenauer.'

  'Highly ingenious…'

  'Two hundred million pounds in gold bullion is the price. My researches tell me that gold is now held at the Deutsche Bank in Frankfurt for a South American loan. Have it loaded aboard the chartered Hercules transport waiting at Frankfurt Airport. I will later give you its destination. The crew for the plane is also waiting. Understood, Tweed?'

  'Government sanction will have to be…'

  'I haven't finished.'

  Above the distortion of the amplifiers Klein's voice came like a whiplash.

  'I can't hang about here all night,' Tweed informed him.

  'Hang? Hanging. Yes, that is part of the scenario you will see unfold.'

  The hairs on the back of Tweed's neck crawled. The cruelty of this man was limitless. What was he talking about? Klein was talking again.

  'A warning. The majority of my men are not inside this tower. They are watching those ships. Do not try to find them. They are in radio communication all the time. Do not attempt to disembark one passenger or crewman from any of the ships. Do not attempt to smuggle out naval bomb disposal scuba divers to any ship. Do not attempt to interfere with my communications with jamming equipment. Do not let anyone go near the cream command vehicle a few yards from where you stand. Do not interfere with the lighting or power of Euromast. If any of these instructions are disobeyed I press the red button.'

  'Any more suggestions?'

  'Tell the Dutch to search for two fishing vessels abandoned offshore west of the mouth of the Maas. The Utrecht and the Drenthe. Their crews will confirm I have done what I have told you. And no craft of any kind must move on the Maas. The go-between who will arrange for the bullion to be loaded aboard the transport aircraft at Frankfurt is Peter Brand, the Belgian banker. Banque Sambre. Understood?'

  'Seems clear enough.'

  'You will come back here in precisely four hours from now. At 3 a.m. You will then be told the destination of the Hercules carrying the bullion.'

  'Governments have to be consulted…'

  'One thing more,' the chilling voice continued. 'The British Sealink ferry was delayed docking at the Hook of Holland by the presence of so much shipping. It waited off shore. That ferry is also mined. It must not move from its present position.'

  'If you say so. You could be bluffing,'

  Tweed maintained the same casual, offhand tone he had kept up during the long deadly dialogue, still hoping to provoke Klein into saying the wrong thing. He appeared at long last to have irked his enemy.

  'Tweed! You still do not seem to have fully grasped the enormity of what faces you. Before you go, perhaps this will help to convince you.'

  Klein stepped back from the rail, nodded to two of his men who crouched below the rail. They heaved up the bodies of the two detectives shot in the restaurant and heaved them over the edge, dropping them three hundred feet.

  The first body hit the steps a dozen yards from where Tweed was standing. Hit the concrete like a sack of cement with a soft thud. The second corpse sailed out a few feet further, sank like rock, head first. Tweed clearly heard the crack of the skull splitting open. He felt sick, then a cold fury.

  'One final demonstration,' Klein called out.

  The giant dredger, Ameland, had continued its work of scooping the bed of the Maas clear of silt late with the aid of lights. Now the eighteen-man crew were snatching a quick meal below as the massive hulk began moving from the middle of the Maas on its way to its berthing dock. It moved very slowly and a mile away two men sat in a dinghy offshore from a breakwater watching.

  One man had a pair of night-glasses focused on the Ameland, the other nursed a compact powerful transceiver in his large lap. Both Luxembourgers were dressed as seamen. Beyond the breakwater onshore a Saab was parked in the wilderness of scrub and sand. The man with the transceiver checked his watch by its illuminated face and gave his companion a nudge.

  'Soon now. Any moment…'

  He never finished his sentence. There was a muffled thump – it was a small sea-mine. A brief flash of light which lasted seconds. The dredger shuddered as though struck by a giant's hammer, listed, tilted at a more extreme angle. The scoop at the tip of the metal arm performed a slow arc. The dredger upended, held its distorted angle for a moment, then the whole vessel split in two and sank beneath the surface. Thirty seconds had elapsed since the mine was detonated. No survivors.

  'The demonstration has taken place,' Klein announced. 'Near the mouth of the Maas the dredger Ameland has just been sunk in mid-channel.' He removed his thumb from button number two, moved it above the red button.

  Tweed stood very still, staring upwards. He recalled watching the dredger at work when they had driven out with Van Gorp to the North Sea.

  'What about the crew?' he said into the mike.

  'I imagine they are enjoying life with the fishes – twenty fathoms down.' His voice became more piercing through the amplifier. 'The Maas is now partially blocked to shipping of any size. If necessary, other mined ships inside the river will also go down. The gateway to Europe will be closed. You have until three in the morning, Tweed. Any more questions?'

  Tweed walked back to the police van, handed back the microphone to the driver, then at a brisk pace made his way back to where Newman still waited, rifle aimed at the Euromast platform.

  48

  'It happened,' Van Gorp informed Tweed. 'The Ameland has been sunk in mid-channel. A danger to the largest ships wishing to reach Europort.'

  They were sitting round a table in the HQ building. Newman, Paula, Butler, Jansen and Benoit. The room was bleak and sparsely furnished. Van Gorp had explained it was in the process of renovation. Coffee had been brought in from an improvised kitchen.
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  'How many crew on board the dredger?' Tweed asked.

  'Eighteen. All drowned.'

  'And those two bodies lying at the base of Euromast are your men?'

  'Yes. The two detectives I placed in the restaurant. I asked over the phone via the police van for permission to collect them while you were on your way back up here. Permission was refused, the brutal bastard.'

  'Tactics again,' Tweed said quietly. 'I know Klein now. His policy is to show no mercy.'

  'And he tried to break your will,' Newman observed.

  Tried very hard. My technique of baiting him with a casual attitude did make him talk too much. The unknown is the most terrifying. Now we know he has the box – that he can sink all those ships. So there must be no overt action. Yet.'

  'Your SAS team is due shortly,' Van Gorp reminded him. 'What do they do?'

  'Take up the quarters assigned to them. Blade will continue to act as our liaison with them. You'll never see their faces or that of the commander of the Sabre Troop,' he added, covering Blade's real role.

  'You know Klein better than any of us. What do we do?' asked Van Gorp.

  'We give in. Accept his demands. Let him have the bullion.' Tweed spread his hands. 'What else can we do? He may soon sink the Otranto to show he means business. My PM will support me.'

  'I thought she never gave in,' Van Gorp commented.

  'You heard what he said. He can close down Europe -simply by sinking more ships he must have mined inside the Maas. Look at the vast amount of supplies from abroad which come in via Europort – or sail on direct up the Rhine. Germany is very vulnerable. So is Switzerland and Austria. Holland as well. And it's two-way traffic. Think of the huge volume of exports travelling all over the world via Europort. Look at the amount of oil which comes in by this route. Antwerp can't take the extra load – it's working to full capacity already.'

  'We could organize an airlift,' Jansen suggested. 'Like the famous 1948 airlift into Berlin.'

  'That was to keep one city going. And they only just managed it. We are talking about half a continent. To say nothing of the lives of all those people aboard the ships waiting in the North Sea. No,' Tweed said emphatically, 'we give in. I had better tell Klein briefly now to keep him quiet. Where is this phone linked to your van outside Euromast?'

  'In the next room. You just pick it up, speak to the driver and you're through to the speaker mounted on the van's roof. While you were out there talking to him I've made a number of brief phone calls. Bonn, The Hague, Berne and Paris have been alerted. They're talking already, thinking of calling a conference.'

  'No time.' Tweed was abrupt as he stood up. 'Klein will not wait. And there are a lot of decisions to take when I've told him of our decision.'

  He left them, went into the next room to use the phone. Newman lit a cigarette. Van Gorp 'borrowed' one from him. It was Paula who made the comment.

  Tweed is now at his most dangerous. He said he's giving in. Don't believe it. He's waiting his opportunity. No one is going to manipulate him.' She looked at Van Gorp. 'Didn't you notice when he said "no overt action" he added "yet"?'

  'But I don't see what we can do. The governments will not agree, I'm sure. And if they don't Klein will close down Europe. It's deadlock.'

  'I've told him we agree,' Tweed announced when he returned and sat at the table, 'He went on again about how he was in supreme command-the Napoleonic touch again. I just listened and repeated that we agree. He still wants me back at the base of the tower at 3 a.m. What's happened?' he asked seeing the expression on Van Gorp's face.

  'I'm afraid there has been a further development.' It was Benoit who answered. 'A phone call from Brussels. Peter Brand has been kidnapped at gunpoint. I also spoke to his secretary who is in a state of near-hysterics. One of the police officers at Brand's house in Brussels told me he was seen at the airport – boarding a helicopter. It flew off in a south-easterly direction.'

  Tindel Airport. The Banque Sambre in Luxembourg City.' Tweed glanced at Newman. 'Kidnapped! Another Klein smokescreen – to make Brand feel he's protected.

  A go-between, as he called Brand, acting under so-called duress. Brand is going to be on the spot when the bullion is flown aboard that transport plane to Findel.'

  'What do you suggest?' Benoit enquired.

  'I'd like Newman and Butler to be flown at once to Findel. Bob knows Brand, has met him. With your permission, Benoit, I'd like to give Newman carte blanche to act as he thinks fit when he gets there.'

  'And I'd like to take that rifle with me if possible,' Newman requested.

  'Agreed,' said Van Gorp.

  He took one of several form pads which had been placed on the table. Scribbling on a sheet, he signed it, handed it to Newman.

  'That covers you for Holland. Benoit will, I am sure, grant you authority for the firearm later.'

  'Of course,' Benoit said. 'But how quickly can we get moving on the flight at this hour?'

  'I know a Royal Dutch Shell director who has an executive jet at Rotterdam Airport,' Van Gorp replied. 'I'll call him while the three of you are being driven to the airport.'

  'A hand-gun might come in useful for me,' Butler suggested.

  'A Browning automatic would do?' Van Gorp asked. 'Good. We will supply it, borrow it from one of my men.' He scribbled again on his pad, tore off the sheet and handed it to Butler. Writing something on another sheet, he handed it to Newman. 'That is the number here where you can contact Tweed. Anything else before I phone about the executive jet?'

  'Yes,' said Tweed. 'Apart from checking on those fishing boats – as Klein suggested – I strongly urge you to ensure all his other instructions are obeyed. No searching for his men watching those ships, no attempt to use scuba divers to check the named vessels for those sea-mines. They are where he said they were. We just wait. One thing worries me intensely.'

  'Which is?' asked Paula.

  'His reference to hanging. That it was part of his scenario. I can't figure it out. But I don't like it. Now, I need the use of a scrambler phone to call the PM…'

  'Just installed. The lines will be burning all night between here and The Hague. To say nothing of Bonn and God knows where else. Through that door. There's an anteroom leading to the quarters your SAS team will occupy. You can use the phone now. Don't forget to press the red button…'

  Tweed closed the door behind him as a plain-clothes detective came into the room and spoke to Van Gorp in Dutch, then left. There was a lot of activity and Newman was impressed with the way everything seemed under control. No sign of panic. Van Gorp used the phone on the table, had a brief conversation in Dutch, ended the call, looked at Newman.

  'The executive jet is at your disposal. The pilot will be at the airport waiting when you get there. And a car is waiting in the side street for you. Also a policeman on the ground floor will give you a scabbard to conceal that rifle. Butler, he will give you a Browning and a hip-holster – if that's OK?'

  'Prefer them. Takes forever to haul it from the shoulder type.'

  'One point,' Benoit intervened as he stood up with Newman and Butler, 'I'd like to call in briefly at Brussels Airport before we fly on to Findel. First, I can call the local chief of police in Luxembourg City. Second, Brand and another man were by chance seen at that airport. I'd like a first-hand report.'

  'Tell the pilot. He is under your instructions to fly wherever you teli him.' He stood up, shook hands with all three men. 'Good luck. We'll keep in touch. This nightmare has to end soon – for better or worse…'

  Inside Euromast at platform level Klein had finished checking that everything was to his satisfaction. He'd sent Chabot to organize defence at ground level. At this stage he would not risk being trapped in the elevator and out of touch. Everywhere he went he carried the control box.

  The elevator doors opened and Chabot stepped out. He nodded to Klein.

  'If they try to rush the building they'll be cut down. Furniture has been piled up into barriers. Men with machine-pistols
are posted covering the entrance.'

  'Expecting a spot of trouble?' drawled Marler who had walked in from the platform, rifle cuddled under one arm.

  'Just taking every precaution,' Klein replied coldly. 'It's not likely while I hold this.' He extended his right hand, gripping the control box, thumb poised over the red button.

  'And the whole shooting match really goes up if you pressed that little jigger?'

  'Every ship I have named floating offshore – and a few more I haven't in the Maas.'

  'Good show. You seem to be organized. Think they'll really pay up the dibs?'

  'What option have they?' Klein turned away and addressed the Frenchman. 'Go fetch the girl. Time to prepare her.'

  'Prepare her for what exactly?' Marler enquired.

  'You'll see. In due course. Shouldn't you be watching on the platform?'

  'With two of your sturdy lads out there guarding the fort? Incidentally, they're a bit tense. Tell from the way they grip their weapons. Persuade them to relax a bit when you next go out. Trigger-happy characters worry me. I could do with a drink.'

  'There's only mineral water or coffee…'

  'Water will do splendidly. Gets a bit thirst-making during the early hours…'

  Earlier Klein had personally supervised the emptying down a sink of every bottle of alcohol stacked in the bar. No one was going to have his brain muddled with alcohol while the operation was in progress. Marler stared with vague interest as Chabot and a Luxembourger hauled Lara Seagrave out of the restaurant kicking and elbowing them in the ribs. She glared at Klein.

  'What the hell do these thugs think they are doing?'

  'Acting on my instructions. Tie her by the hands – behind her back – and by the ankles.'

  A second Luxembourger appeared and grabbed her from behind. Chabot released her and walked towards Klein, his expression grim, his large hands clenched into fists.

  'What exactly are you doing?' he demanded.

  'I know you're sweet on her. That is immaterial. Go out on to the platform and check the situation. Then come back and report to me.'