Blood Storm tac-22

by Colin Forbes

  'No you haven't,' Paula told him. She opened her holdall on the floor beside her, produced the wrapped scarf, handed it to Newman. 'I always check nothing's been left when I leave a plane or a train.'

  'I can't thank you enough,' Newman responded, the relief showing in his face. 'I do feel better now.'

  'Romance for Roma,' Paula chaffed him.

  'And while you two are blathering,' Tweed said grimly, 'I'm wondering what Marler and Harry are up to.'

  Wearing masks over their faces, Marler and Harry were showing infinite patience as they waited. Harry was leaning against the wall on one side of the metal door guarding the entrance to Special Branch HQ. Marler had adopted the same position on the other side.

  They had positioned themselves so they were invisible to the slow swivel of the security cameras on the wall above them. Every now and again Harry stretched his legs up and down to fight off cramp. Marler remained still as a statue. He checked his watch. They'd kept up their vigil for over an hour. Patience was a virtue.

  The side street was so dark, so ill-lit, that anyone passing down Whitehall who glanced their way would not see their faces, let alone their masks. Marler raised a hand holding one of the grenades. He had heard something. Harry pulled a face. He didn't believe Marler had heard a thing.

  The steel door rose slowly without warning, sliding up and over into its slot. Marler risked peering inside. The slow escalator was on the move. Nelson was standing still, letting the escalator do the work.

  A few steps behind him Benton, clad in a shaggy coat, was studying a report. Behind him Noel was standing quite still. So Noel was back from France. Which meant Radek was in town.

  As the step Nelson stood on neared the bottom Marler nodded to Harry. They acted as one. Marler's first tear-gas grenade landed on Nelson's step, burst, sending up a great cloud of the gas. At the same moment Harry had thrown another higher up, a perfect throw, hitting Benton's tread. Another great cloud of gas erupted.

  Nelson was choking, his eyes hurting as he wobbled, not sure what to do next. Marler lobbed his second grenade high up, actually hitting Noel on the knee, where it burst.

  All three men were choking, coughing, wobbling all over the place. The Parrot appeared at the top, stared in disbelief, caught a whiff of the gas, ran back into the office to call an ambulance. Marler and Harry, masks off, were gone.

  Tweed was talking to Nield when Marler and Harry returned to the office. He thought Harry looked pleased with himself while Marler's expression was his normal blank.

  'Pete,' Tweed continued, 'what game do you think Coral Flenton is playing?'

  'No idea. Except she is playing some game. I'd sooner not go near her again.'

  'Then I'll go tomorrow,' Paula piped up. 'I got on well with her and we agreed to meet again soon. Because I'm a woman she'll find it harder to manipulate me.'

  'Good idea,' agreed Tweed. 'Now Marler, Harry, what have you been up to?'

  Marler, in a few words, explained what they had done at the Cabal's HQ. 'Teach them to send a fake TV van to try and photograph this place.'

  'Think I'll have a bit of fun,' Tweed said. 'Monica, can you get their number? I'll take over immediately.'

  'May I speak to Miss Partridge?' Tweed asked when he took over the line. 'That is Miss Partridge speaking? Good. Tweed here. I gather Benton Macomber wanted me to contact him.'

  'They're ill,' she blurted out. 'In hospital.'

  'Nothing serious, I hope? Expected back maybe tomorrow? I know there have been a lot of cases of food poisoning.'

  'Yes, there have,' she said, having recovered her wits.

  'Well, give them all my regards and wishes for a speedy recovery. Don't eat in any strange restaurants.'

  'I cook my own meals at home,' she responded sharply.

  'I don't think I know where you live.'

  'Hammersmith. In a big flat I bought ages ago.' A pause. 'Maybe you'd come over and see me for supper one day. My address is…'

  Tweed scribbled down her address, phone number, mobile number.

  'I shall look forward to that,' he told her. 'Maybe we could meet soon.'

  'Soon as you like,' she replied in a seductive tone he didn't know she was capable of. 'Thanks for calling. See you…'

  'You must be smitten,' Paula joked.

  'I'd like to smite her. But she's a piece of the mosaic we are assembling. Away from the Cabal she may let her guard down.'

  'She'll tell them.'

  'You know, I don't think she will,' Tweed replied. 'Now it's time Newman took you home. I saw you yawn. You must be exhausted.'

  'Bed would be nice.'

  Newman drove off first and Paula followed him. The traffic was lighter and as he moved up Brompton Road he slowed almost to a crawl. She wondered why. Then he parked, turned and gestured for her to join him.

  'Something wrong?' she enquired as she settled beside him.

  'Couldn't be more wrong.'

  'What is it?'

  'See that battered old Ford outside the entrance to your yard? Two men in front, the driver gesturing towards your place to his companion. Recognize anyone?'

  'Oh God! Not the driver, but his passenger is Radek.'

  'And the driver is Fitch. Inside that car is the most deadly killing machine in town. They're checking your place. Aren't you glad Tweed told me to look after you? I could kill them both,' he went on. On his lap was a Smith amp; Wesson. 'Perfect opportunity.'

  'Don't.' She placed her hand on his. 'It would be murder. I don't think the police would take into account what they are.'

  'This isn't my normal revolver,' he argued. 'It's one Harry gave me. Never been used before. Serial number filed off. No check on the bullets would be found in the records…'

  'Don't!' she repeated more emphatically. 'I'd like to kill them myself but it's too dangerous. And it's just outside my flat. I'd be the first one the police grill.'

  The argument was settled as the Ford drove off down the Fulham Road. Newman waited to give them time to get well clear, then drove on, crossed the road into the yard, parked the car out of sight at the back of the building. Paula, who had returned to her car, followed him.

  'I won't use the spare bedroom tonight,' Newman decided as she fiddled with her door keys. 'I'll sleep on the couch in the living room, then I can see and hear anyone coming.'

  'I'll make up the couch into a bed,' she promised him. 'It has one of these pull-out beds underneath it. I'll make you comfortable.'

  'I know you will. And I'll have my normal revolver handy. No, I don't want anything to eat. Just a carafe of water.'

  In the living room overlooking the street she fussed with pillows and sheets and blankets. Then she gave a great yawn as she said good night. In her bedroom she forced herself to take a quick shower, dried, flopped into bed and was fast asleep the moment her head hit the pillow.

  In the morning, when it was still dark, Paula was up first. She found Newman still awake. She went to close the curtains.

  'Don't do that,' he warned. 'I need a view of the street. You look a million dollars,' he remarked as he put on his shoes and windcheater. 'I take it you slept well.'

  'It was glorious. I didn't dream once. Breakfast now, then back to the office, I expect. I'm wondering how Radek got here so quickly.'

  'Simple. Radek flies over from Paris with Noel. Then Noel drives him in the car he's left at airport parking to Fitch's hangout.'

  'Which is where?' she asked as she skilfully broke eggs over a pan in the compact kitchen leading off the living room. 'I hope you're hungry.'

  'Could eat a horse,' Newman said.

  'Sorry, not on the menu. You were saying?'

  'Harry knows he has a warehouse in the East End. He's never been inside but a pal has, described it. Fitch sleeps in a small messy room. The main feature is a vast room which has nothing in it. The floor is the old planks. Noel will know the place.'

  'Why Noel?'

  'Because he's the Planner. Fitch is just the type of scum N
oel would use for dirty jobs. I've got Noel, with his public-school accent, weighed up.'

  'Sit down. Eat…'

  At Nelson's insistence, against the doctor's wishes, the three men were released from hospital after promising to drink plenty of water. They were walking down the exit stairs, watched by the doctor, when Nelson stumbled, grabbed hold of the banister.

  'I expect to see you back here soon,' the doctor warned.

  'We're businessmen,' Nelson shouted. 'Not doctors who piddle around for a few hours a day.'

  'Not another word,' Benton told him in his quiet voice.

  The limo Nelson had called for on his mobile waited for them outside. A uniformed chauffeur opened the doors.

  They had just got in when Nelson gave an abrupt instruction to the driver.

  'We're in a hurry to get to our building. No crawling.'

  Near Trafalgar Street the limo was stopped in a solid motionless wedge of traffic. Noel glanced out of the window, saw a newspaper stall. He opened his door, dived out. Behind the wheel the chauffeur raised his eyes to heaven. He could have started moving while Noel was half out of the car. At the newspaper stall Noel asked for the latest edition of the Daily Nation, paid, dived back into the limo, began studying the paper.

  'Expecting good news?' Benton asked caustically.

  'You never know…'

  He broke off, swearing silently to himself, using the foulest language.

  Newman drove off from her flat first. Paula's car was close behind him. They were nearly at Park Crescent when she honked her horn. Newman glanced in his rear-view mirror, saw her parked, running into a newspaper shop. She came out quickly with the Daily Nation, the latest edition, which the shop's owner told her had just arrived.

  She dropped it on the seat, honked again and they drove on to Park Crescent. As soon as she sat at her desk Paula began studying the paper, concentrating on Drew Franklin's column. She smiled, waved her hand in the air in a victory gesture.

  'So what is so exciting?' Tweed asked.

  'Three cheers for Philip Garden. Harry, that barge thing off the lie St-Louis. You were going to help Philip do something. What was it?'

  'Sounded a tricky idea to me. Philip was giving me a frogman's suit while he put on his own. Then we were going to wait until all twenty-five Slovaks from the second coach had been ferried aboard in small boats from a ramp on the lie. Waited a bit longer while they were hidden in the hold. I'd have had two limpet mines with magnetic attachments, Philip one. We'd then have swum out from the same ramp, unseen underwater. I had to attach two of the mines either side of the prow while Philip attached his on the stern. Then we'd have swum to the opposite shore. Philip had a small powerful radio. When he pressed the button the mines would have detonated. Why are you asking?'

  'Mind if I see that newspaper?' Tweed asked.

  Paula ran across. She had folded the paper to the front page. Drew Franklin's report was very prominent.

  IMMIGRAN'I SABOTEURS KILLED ON SEINE

  A cunning plan to smuggle Slovak saboteurs into Britain was foiled yesterday evening in Paris. The ship bound for Britain was stationary opposite the lie St-Louis when a huge explosion took out the entire bottom of the ship, which sank quickly. The French police report they are still searching the Seine for bodies.

  'So Philip did it by himself,' Tweed commented. 'I really will have to send him more funds. That eliminates the rest of Radek's army of killers, remembering the explosion on the bridge outside Aix. No one like Philip.'

  Inside the Cabal's HQ, Noel's expression was murderous. He met the Parrot, who made the mistake of speaking to him.

  'You're looking so much better. I was really worried what that tear gas would do to you. You're looking great.'

  'Am I?' He raged. 'Well if so it's nothing to do with seeing you of all people as soon as we arrive. Cow!'

  'What did you call me?' she shrieked.

  'Cow! Cow! Cow! Get your legs moving. We want a gallon of coffee.'

  He was menacing. His hands were clenched into fists. He was waving them at her. Hell, she thought, he's going to hit me. She slipped into the next room, slammed the door behind her. Nelson was glaring when Noel sat down at the three-sided table. His voice was a deep rumble.

  'That, Noel, in case you've forgotten, is a key member of our team. She deals with all the paperwork.'

  'No, she doesn't,' Noel rapped back. 'She takes it next door and dumps it on Coral Flenton.'

  'Are you contradicting me?' Nelson asked, leaning forward, his eyes glittering viciously. 'You're not totally indispensable, you know.'

  'Lost my cool,' Noel said, recovering control. 'Apologies to you, to both of you. Just back from France. I guess I'm tired.'

  'So how did it go in France?' Nelson asked, sneering.

  'Partly OK, partly not. You can't win everything.'

  'And would this,' Benton asked gently, 'be some of the partly not?'

  He pushed across the table the Drew Franklin column he'd cut out of the paper. Noel read it again, as though for the first time. He nodded.

  'Someone else handled that. They were going to be the core of our special squad.' He smiled engagingly. 'The OK part is Radek is over here. He's brilliant. Tough as granite but with a subtle brain.'

  'You'd better exercise tight control over him,' Benton suggested. 'I've heard of his reputation.'

  'Situations on the Continent are different from over here.'

  Noel had regained his confidence. Time to assert his position. He smiled at the other two. Then he spoke emphatically to get his message across.

  'I should have said things used to be different on the Continent. Look at what happened last night. To all of us, including you, Benton. We were leaving the building when we were savagely attacked with tear-gas bombs, which put us in hospital. Who do you think was responsible? Tweed, of course. So now we pay back. Ruin Tweed's reputation for ever. Then deal rather more brutally with the rest of his team. Put them out of action. At the least into hospital for a long time. Maybe more if they fight back. Agreed?' 'I think you're right,' said Nelson. 'Go ahead.'

  23

  Tweed was known in security circles for his remarkable intuition, his ability to foresee what the enemy's next move would be. He had just listened to Marler's tear-gas exploit with Harry. Later Marler had checked the hospitals, had found the whole Cabal was undergoing medical treatment.

  'The battle between us and the enemy will accelerate. I'm sure they won't take what they suffered lying down. We must prepare for a no-holds-barred counter-attack. So it's vital we strike first. I want those three compromised so they're thrown out of their positions. Marler, Newman, work out a strategy. I'm still trying to track down who slaughtered Viola.'

  'I suggest,' said Paula, 'that I visit Coral this evening, turn her inside out. A woman with another woman can often do that better than a man. No criticism of you, Pete.'

  'Do it,' agreed Tweed. 'Try to find out more about Viola. What we need is information.'

  'What about me?' asked Nield.

  'And me?' growled Harry.

  'I want you both to guard Paula. Keep in the background so Coral never sees you. I have a feeling Paula could become a major target.'

  'So could you,' Harry growled again.

  Paula jumped up, operated a lever. Outside the large windows steel blinds were lowered at a slanting angle. They had been designed to ward off explosive grenades.

  'Now we're safer,' she said.

  'I should have thought of that before,' admitted Newman. 'I also think George downstairs should be armed. Heaven knows he can handle a gun. He was in the infantry.'

  'Agreed,' said Tweed. 'Now I'm going to contact Benton. I'm curious as to why he wanted to see me while I was away.'

  An hour later Noel, his head covered with an old peaked cap, his clothes shabby, his shoes down at heel, was inside the warehouse. He stood in the large empty room with Fitch and Radek.

  'It's open warfare against Tweed and his whole team,' he said
, using language he'd have toned down back in Whitehall. 'The key figures are Tweed and his tart, Paula.'

  'Kill them?' suggested Fitch.

  'I have a better idea,' interjected Radek. His accent was pronounced, his command of English perfect. 'We drive both out of their minds. They end up insane permanently. That will scare the rest of the team stiff. They'll be leaderless.'

  'An original idea,' Noel agreed with a sadistic smile. 'I like it. But how are you going to do that?'

  Radek opened the large case he had brought with him. He took out a number of viewing screens, four projectors. He attached a screen with nails to each of the four wooden walls. His eyes gleamed as he turned round.

  'This way whichever way they look they can't avoid what will appear. We need iron rings inserted into the floor. Tweed and this Paula will be tied to the rings. It should take an hour or so before they go out of their minds.'

  'I still don't see it,' protested Noel.

  'You will. You may feel queasy after only a short demonstration but that will wear off. Better take these earplugs or you'll go deaf.'

  He set up the projectors so that each screen had one projected on it. Then he lifted out another machine, laid it on the floor behind them. They watched as he inserted film then, lighting a torch, switched off the overhead lights.

  Noel was beginning to get nervous. What fiendish apparatus was Radek setting up? Radek noticed his nervousness when he suddenly swung the powerful torch beam straight into Noel's face.

  'Turn that bloody thing away from me,' shouted Noel.

  Radek grinned. He loved to see a man breaking down. It was one of the pleasures of life. He shone the beam on the projectors, bent down, pressed four buttons, switched off his torch. He stood up to enjoy himself, slipping the earplugs in place.

  Each of the four screens began showing moving pictures. Noel gazed, eyes glued to what was showing. Up in the mountains somewhere. Snow on the ground. Thick wooden posts with a man tied to each, wearing hardly any clothes. By each post a man holding a huge axe began swinging it. Noel stared, his face taut.

  The first post attracted his attention. The man swinging the axe brought it down in a sweep, sliced off a foot above the ankle. Blood spurted. The axe was raised and brought down again. The second foot was severed. The prisoner's mouth was wide open, doubtless in an unheard scream of terror. The axe was hoisted again, brought down on the prisoner's right shoulder, severing half the shoulder and the arm.