Blood Storm

17

Marler was 'prowling'. He had returned to Covent Garden, and was standing on the opposite side of the street to the building where he had seen the small woman with Paula say goodbye and then enter her flat.

Earlier he had witnessed Newman's fiasco in his attempt to get on with Coral, had seen him emerge and wave both hands in frustration. Then Paula had entered Popsies. Strolling past he had seen the back of Paula's head as she had talked to the woman.

Marler was shrewd. He'd realized this must be Pete Nield's secret informant. He was always suspicious of informants, mistrusting half his own sources. He now stood, watching the door to the flat, on the street under a striped blind projecting from a bar entrance. In his hand he held a mug of coffee. He sipped it occasionally. It gave him a reason for hanging about.

It was dark when a tall woman, good figure, brown hair neatly coiffeured, well dressed in a silk frock and expensive shoes, pressed the bell to the flat. Marler perched the coffee on a nearby ledge, took out a miniature camera which was non-flash, pressed a button for bad light since by now it was dark.

Paula's friend from Popsies appeared, smiled, shook hands with her visitor. As the visitor turned her head Marler took three quick shots of both of them. He followed them until they went into a good restaurant. He immediately returned to the building, checked the bell he'd seen the visitor push. A small card alongside had the owner's name. C. Flenton.

Marler then continued his prowl. He hailed a cab, asked to be dropped in the East End. He got out near a pub called the Pig's Nest, not the most salubrious establishment in London. Mixing with the crowd, he was strolling towards the pub's entrance when he nearly stopped short. His instinct and his training saved him. He continued to stroll.

Marler was startled. For him the immediate reaction was rare. Its cause was hurrying towards him, then turned into the Pig's Nest. Before he did so Marler used his camera to take two shots. His target was Amos Fitch, the man Newman had 'dealt with'.

At Park Crescent, Newman was still out with Pete Nield. Monica thought they must really be knocking it back. Harry had left, telling Monica he was on his way to Paradise.

'Some people call it the East End,' he added as he left.

Paula went over to Tweed, leant over his desk, whispered a suggestion.

'I have info to pass on, just between us. Would your house be the best place?'

'I'm leaving now, so it would be.'

She followed him in her car, stopping several times to pick up some shopping. She arrived after dark to find two new locks on the front door. A Banham and a Chubb. Tweed appeared quickly when she'd pressed the bell three times, then twice.

Taking two of her three carrier bags he ran up the stairs. Paula followed, noting the locks closed automatically when she shut the door. Tweed was sitting at his desk, studying files when she walked in, picked up the two bags.

'You haven't eaten today,' she told him. 'I'm cooking a meal for both of us. Liver, bacon, fried egg – followed by creme brulee.'

'Appreciate that,' he said not looking up.

She went into the kitchen, closed the door. She knew where everything was. She donned an apron, set to work. He had laid the table when she returned with the meal. She frowned.

'That's my job. Come and get it while it's hot. I can tell you about my afternoon while we eat…'

Tweed ate voraciously, congratulated her on another first-class meal. He fixed his eyes on hers as he posed the question.

'You have information?'

She told him. About following Newman and Nield. Their meeting in Popsies with Coral Flenton. Newman, frustrated, driving off with Nield. Her own meeting with Coral, their conversation.

'So Coral and Viola Vander-Browne were friends, went back a long way – to their schooldays,' Tweed observed. 'A strange twist. I find it odd.'

'I found something about Coral odd, but I can't put my finger on what it was. And she emphasized how far away her desk in the next room is from the Cabal's hideaway…'

Paula stopped as the front-door bell rang three times, then twice, the signal that it was someone from Park Crescent. Ever cautious, Tweed in his shirt sleeves extracted his Walther, ran down. A large cardboard-backed envelope had been pushed through the letterbox. On the front in neat lettering was Mr Tweed, from M-r. Marler.

Taking the envelope back upstairs he sank into his favourite armchair. Paula perched on an arm. She watched his expression as he took out a batch of colour photos and hid them from her. The reaction to the first one told her nothing. He looked at two more, then at Paula as he handed her the three photos.

'Who are these women? Any idea? The smaller one is Coral Flenton – Marler has written her name on the back.'

'Glory! This is crazy,' Paula exclaimed. 'The woman who is calling on Coral is the Parrot, I'm sure. She was disguised when she came to see you but I'm sure it's her.'

'And Coral told you in Popsies she hated the Parrot. No sign of hatred there. They look the best of friends.'

'What the devil is going on?'

'Loose strands are beginning to link up. First, Coral knew poor Viola. Now she has the Parrot as a friend.'

'I'm confused,' Paula admitted.

'Well, you know I never trust anyone. Nield's informant has been playing a double game, but how?'

'I'm shaken – after what Coral told me. And I've just grasped what I thought was odd about her. While talking she kept looking down at her coffee as though she didn't want to meet my eyes.'

'There are four more colour pics Marler took. In the East End, this time. Fitch is on the loose again.'

He handed her the pic showing Fitch walking towards Newman, then three more. One showed the sign board of the Pig's Nest. Another of Fitch inside the pub talking to another man. There were two of the same view. Marler must have stood at the open door. He had a lot of nerve, Tweed thought as he handed her the last photos.

'I recognize Fitch at the bar,' she said. 'But not the thug he's drinking with.'

'Thug is too mild a word. That's Mugger Morgan, a very nasty piece of work. Buchanan once showed me a picture of him leaving court. Once again his lawyer had got him off a serious charge of brutal manslaughter. On a technicality. Newman caught Fitch trying to invade your home. He may try again. Wherever you go now you need someone with you from the team.'

'I think you're right.'

'And I'd better follow you home in my car.'

'Couldn't I stay in the spare bedroom tonight? I've done so before. I did bring some night things with me.'

'Good idea. Sleep well.'

She bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then headed for the spare bedroom. Tweed continued checking his files on agents operating abroad, recent reports. Nothing from Philip Cardon, who could be anywhere.

Paula reappeared in her pyjamas and dressing-gown.

'Any idea of what time it is?'

'I thought you'd be asleep.'

'My mind was churning over those photos and other developments. It's 2 a.m.' She placed both hands from behind him firmly on his shoulders. 'Up you get and off to bed.'

'I suppose you're right.' He suppressed a yawn. 'I need to be fresh for tomorrow, that is today in the morning.'

'Why?'

'We have a meeting with the Cabal at their HQ in Whitehall. The two of us. I want to study those three brothers.'

'Two brothers, one half-brother.' She increased the pressure on his shoulders. 'I want to see you actually go to bed.'

For discretion's sake, Paula left early, collected her car from behind Tweed's in the nearby mews where he'd rented space. When Tweed arrived three-quarters of an hour later the whole team was assembled in his office. Monica spoke up immediately.

'I've got someone hanging on the line you will want to talk to,' she said.

'Hello,' Tweed answered.

'Wonder if you still recognize my voice,' the caller began.

'Philip! Where the hell are you now? Or maybe you'd sooner…'

'Just listen. You need to fly to Aix-en-Provence today. By this flight. Here are the details… You land at Marignane Airport, in the middle of nowhere. I'll have a car waiting to drive you to your Aix hotel, the one in the north of the city. It would be safer if you brought two members of the team.'

'Paula and Newman?'

'Perfect. Something very weird is going on. A certain Noel Macomber is arriving late tonight to meet a most dubious character tomorrow evening. Twenty-four hours should do the trick. OK?'

'Yes.'

The line went dead. Tweed looked round the room. Paula could tell he was delighted. He gave them the news.

'So,' Newman commented, 'our wandering boy Philip Garden has surfaced again. Bet he knows what is going on over here. Strange that Noel Macomber is flying out to Aix. To meet whom?'

'We'll find out, won't we,' Tweed told him. 'Heathrow is the worst part. All those queues on security grounds. I hate that.'

'That's all right,' Monica called out. 'I'll phone your old friend, Jim Corcoran, chief of security. He'll slip you through the queues.'

'Good idea,' Tweed agreed. 'Now Paula and I have an appointment with the magic circle. All the Macombers. I'm anxious to detect which one is the boss.'

Tweed found a parking space as a car pulled out. They walked the rest of the way down Whitehall and into the side street – into the dragons' lair, as he called it.

'Bet I spot the chief dragon,' Paula teased him.

The side street was narrow and deserted. Tweed stopped in front of a building which bore a wall plate: Special Branch. He pointed.

'Let's hope that's never altered to State Security. And they've converted the place into a fortress.'

The ground floor windows had been blocked up with steel sheets. On the first floor all the windows had bars and wire netting over them. To reach the speakphone Tweed had to perch on a big stone slab with a rubber pressure pad attached to its top.

'How do we get into Fort Knox?' he demanded after pressing the bell.

'Identify yourself,' a metallic voice demanded.

'Oh, for Heaven's sake, you know we're coming. Tweed – and don't forget Paula Grey. Now open up, if you can.'

Tweed was about to add something even more caustic when Paula pulled at his sleeve, a finger to her lips. She eased him off the stone slab.

'Probably nothing will open while you're on the pressure pad,' she whispered, then grinned.

They waited. Tweed put his executive case, which contained nothing but blank sheets of paper, over the lens of a camera let into the large metal door. Paula frowned, pulled his arm away.

There was an electronic buzzing sound and the door slid up, disappeared. In the opening stood Noel Macomber, smiling as he checked out Paula. She stared back until his gaze dropped.

'Welcome to you both,' Noel began in a cultured voice. 'In you both trot.'

Trot? Tweed wondered. 'Electronics? Is the fire exit also opened by gizmos? Because if it is and there is a fire you'll all burn to a frazzle.'

If he keeps on like this, Paula thought, we'll get nowhere.

They stepped on to an escalator which purred up to the first floor. Noel had pressed something, there was more buzzing and the entrance door slid back to the closed position.

'We have to take all precautions,' Noel explained as they stepped off the escalator.

'So if anyone wanted to wipe you out,' Tweed replied, 'a truck with a very large bomb could just get down the narrow street by riding its wheels on the pavement.'

Paula wanted to punch Tweed but desisted as Noel opened a mahogany door into a large room, the walls painted cream, the only furniture a triangular table of rosewood with a chair on each of the sides. A large square table stood further back, at which two men were seated. They stood up and came forward to greet their visitors with outstretched hands.

'I'm Nelson,' the largest brother said. 'My father was an admirer of the famous admiral.' After shaking hands with Tweed he turned to Paula, a wide smile on his face as he grasped her hand, then released it. 'Bit of a joke – if I'm in a rowing boat on a lake I feel seasick.'

'Didn't your father realize this later on?' she asked, smiling back.

He laughed. 'A bit late to do anything about it. Not that he'd have bothered. This is Benton, my brother.'

'I am glad to make your acquaintance.' He was smaller than his brother but also heavily built. He also smiled warmly. 'Do come and sit down.' His voice was soft, gentle, unlike Nelson's, who spoke with force.

'Then there is an equally important member of our little group, or perhaps the most important,' Nelson boomed. 'Noel is our planner. He has a head for detail which I fear I lack!'

By now they were close to the large square table. Noel smiled at Paula, a very pleasant wide smile as he studied her. 'I am glad Tweed brought you along. You would have an important part to play in the new organization. We do know something of your remarkable ability.' He held out a chair for her. She looked up, smiled, thanked him.

Tweed, who was rather left out at this stage, was amused. They were all concentrating on Paula. He thought he knew why. When they were all seated Nelson asked whether they would like tea or coffee. Both guests opted for coffee. Black.

Nelson pressed a bell under the table. A side door was opened at once and the Parrot appeared. Tweed looked straight at her, betraying no recognition. Coffee was brought quickly, but was served by a red-haired girl who did not even look at Paula. Coral Flenton.

'I expect,' Benton said, 'that Mr Tweed has heard a few details of what is proposed. May I ask you, sir, what is your reaction? You do have a veto.'

'Veto?' Tweed queried.

'Yes,' Nelson said in his loud voice, 'a veto. You don't like some aspect of the new system, then we eliminate it-'

'I hadn't finished,' Benton interrupted, smiling at Paula now. 'And you will have an important role to play, as Noel told you. We all admire your decisive mind, your courage. You may well be second-in-command to Tweed, as you are now.'

His whole manner was persuasive, the ever present smile warm. Paula showed no reaction, staring at his greenish eyes below his fair hair. He was very convincing. She looked at Tweed, who started speaking.

'Details. How would this so-called State Security operate?'

There was a tap on the door connecting with the next room. Nelson called out, 'Come.' The Parrot entered, stared at Benton. 'A call for you on the phone next door, Mr Macomber.'

'I'd better take it, I suppose, please excuse me. I'll make sure whatever this is it doesn't take long.'

'Details,' Tweed repeated. Visitors come first.

Nelson began to outline how he saw the merger of the security services would work.