Blood Storm

18

'First,' Nelson explained, 'I'm sure you'll agree Britain is now full of frightened citizens. In the suburbs people install glare-lights which illuminate anyone approaching their houses. They sleep with all the doors and windows secured with a variety of locks. Women don't dare walk the streets alone after dark. We live today in an atmosphere of terror. Right?'

'Go on.'

'You agree with what I just said.'

'Yes.'

'So why is this?' Nelson threw his hands wide. 'Because we have let in through Dover alien forces from the Continent, from Africa, from the East. The government fiddles the figures to conceal the truth. We are being inundated with a tidal wave of criminals from all over the world. Hence the atmosphere of terror.' He raised his voice. 'We propose to deport this trash – dangerous trash – back to where it came from. No argument. No stupid tribunals to hear their efforts to stay here. We call on these people in the dead of night, knock on their doors, grab them, take them to the nearest deportation station. ..'

Benton returned in time to hear some of this. He walked to his chair, sat down.

'Veto,' snapped Tweed.

'Why, for God's sake?' thundered Nelson.

'Because it sounds too much like the KGB. Knocking on doors at the dead of night, hauling people out, taking them away. President Putin of Russia, an ex-KGB officer, is moving in the same direction. Veto!'

Benton interceded. 'Now, Nelson, I suspect you have, as you do, dramatized what we really propose,' he said in his calm voice.

'We shall convert Britain into a country for the British,' Nelson rolled on, in full blood. 'Social saboteurs will be rounded up…'

'What is a social saboteur?' Tweed demanded.

'Anyone who disagrees with the government,' Nelson told him. 'Don't you agree that the whole moral structure of society has broken down? That our young people are confused, have no rules to guide their behaviour?'

'Something in that, yes,' Tweed agreed.

'You see,' Benton broke in, 'Tweed is a realist. A very worried realist, Nelson, if I have understood him. You have so exaggerated what we must do, he has compared us to the KGB. We are not monsters, Mr Tweed. Nelson does go over the top at times. We are democrats. Perhaps, Mr Tweed, you would look at that peculiar three-sided table over there where we hold our consultations.'

'So who is the boss?' Tweed enquired. 'Who is in charge here?'

Tweed gazed straight at Benton's small greenish eyes. His face was flushed red, as though he had high blood pressure. The strain of coping with his brother, Nelson? Tweed thought.

'There is no boss,' Benton told him. 'I said we are democrats. We sit at that neutral table and work together. The table is symbolic of our relationship.'

'That should convince you,' Noel said, speaking for the first time. He was lightly spoken and was smiling. Paula thought she rather liked him. So controlled, so charming. His V-shaped features suggested character.

'What about uniforms for this merged State Security?' Tweed asked suddenly.

There was a long silence. Nelson glanced at Benton as if he wished him to answer the question. He did.

'Noel,' Benton explained, 'has designed a distinctive uniform. We think that will give the population a feeling of safety. To see them patrolling the streets day and night. A symbol that protection is available, which is not the case now.'

'I've seen some of them already. Before the bill has been passed – even presented to Parliament. That's illegal.'

'Indeed it is,' agreed Benton. 'Their commander must have jumped the gun. Where did you see them, Mr Tweed?'

'Outside my London house – in the middle of the night.'

'Then someone has tripped up,' Noel spoke again. 'We shall have to investigate that, make sure it doesn't happen again. I am surprised.'

'Building up a completely new organization,' Nelson said in a quieter voice, 'you always get glitches.'

'Big glitch,' Tweed told him. 'Veto.'

Benton finished his coffee. Neither Tweed nor Paula had touched theirs. Tweed stood up and Paula, with relief, followed suit. At his most amiable, Tweed explained they had to leave, thanked them for their explanations, said he would have to think over their conversation before he reacted in his report to the PM.

'The PM?'

Nelson had jumped up, his expression a mix of frustration and anger. He walked over to Tweed, grasped him by the arm.

'I do not see any reason to send a report to Downing Street. This meeting was confidential, off the record completely.'

'You didn't say that at the beginning, did you?' Tweed replied with a smile.

'Of course,' Benton said quietly, 'Mr Tweed must react however he thinks best…'

'We would appreciate seeing a copy before you submit it to the PM,' Nelson said brusquely.

'You will have a copy in due course,' Tweed told him.

'We are all forgetting our manners,' Noel said. He turned to Paula. 'Your reaction is equally important. So what do you think of our proposals?'

'Like Tweed, I need time to think it over.' She smiled because he was smiling at her. 'There was so much to take in.'

'Yes, there was.' He walked with them towards the exit. 'Nelson is the oldest brother and rather runs away with himself at times. I'll escort you out. That wretched escalator has to be got moving, then there's the electronically operated door. I think they went mad when they designed security for this place. On behalf of my brothers I'd like to thank you both for sparing so much time to see us. May I keep in touch with you?'

'Of course,' she replied.

'I thought I saw Marler a moment ago,' Paula said as they walked down the narrow street. 'Strolling along on the opposite side of Whitehall.'

'You must have been mistaken. What would he be doing here?'

They walked in silence until they reached the car. Once inside Tweed started the engine. He backed cautiously from the parking space into heavy traffic. It never seemed to stop. They were well on their way back to Park Crescent before Tweed asked the question.

'What did you think of the play they performed for us?'

'Play?'

'You don't really think we've seen the real Cabal, do you? Before we arrived they'd decided who would play which part. How did you weigh up the three of them?'

'Well, the most polite and, apparently, the most civilized was Noel.'

'You were rather taken by him?' Tweed said with a grin.

'Of course not,' she snapped.

'What about the others? Who is the boss? Because there is one.'

'I've no idea. At first I thought it was Nelson, he was so dominating. Then I wondered about Benton. He really is an enigma, the peacemaker. The way he intercepted Nelson as soon as he thought he was going over the top. He was very pacific.'

'And Noel?' Tweed asked. 'He may be the youngest but I had the impression he's very clever. And he was the one who talked about reining in the State Security men in uniform. Could be any of the three.'

The traffic was either crawling like a snail or stationary. When he couldn't do anything about a problem Tweed was eternally patient.

'Anything else occur to you,' he asked, 'while you sat and watched them?'

'I was trying to imagine which pair of hands had strangled the cat so horribly all those years ago. Came to no conclusion at all. One of them had a viciously cruel streak in those days.'

'Probably still has. Which could link up with the horrific murder of Viola. That's only a theory,' he warned.

Eventually arriving back at Park Crescent they were met in the office by Marler. He handed Tweed an envelope.

'More snaps for your photo album. I waited near the exit of Special Branch HQ. Saw you both leave, then three men came out one by one, with intervals between them. I took their pics.'

'That's Nelson,' Tweed said, showing Paula who had darted over from her desk. 'Then this is Benton. Finally, we have Noel. You followed them, of course?' he said, looking at Marler.

'Of course. They left at intervals, and one by one they met inside a restaurant beyond Trafalgar Square. Cunning lot. They didn't want to be seen going to lunch together.'

'So how on earth,' queried Paula, 'did you get back here ahead of us – and in time to get these printed downstairs?'

'Motorbike. I passed your stopped car, nipping in and out of traffic. Knew you wouldn't spot me. Not with my helmet and visor. Any good? The pics.'

'First rate,' said Paula, picking them up again. 'You have their features so clearly.' She handed them to Pete and Harry. She told them who was who. 'In case you ever encounter one of them.'

'Maybe I could get a word in edgeways,' Monica piped up. She brought over a thick envelope, dropped it on Tweed's desk. 'Return tickets for you, Newman and Paula. To Marignane on your way to Aix. Phoned Jim Corcoran. He'll be on the lookout for you – to slip you past security.'

'Economy,' Tweed replied. 'Thank you.'

'Well, Newman told me Philip had warned us Noel Macomber was on his way to Aix. If he's delayed he might be on the same flight. I'm gambling that, if he is, he'll hide himself in economy.'

'Clever lady. What would I do without you?'

'Get the paperwork in a proper mess,' she joked.

'So where is Newman?' he asked.

'Back at his flat in bed with Roma, would be my guess. She has lasted longer than any of her predecessors.'

The Cabal had waited until they returned from lunch to talk about their visitors, and were seated at the three-sided table. Nelson set the ball rolling.

'I don't think we're going to get Tweed to join us…' 'No doubt about that,' agreed Benton. 'So the next item on the agenda is: how do we stop him cold?'

'By elimination,' Noel decided. 'I'll be thinking about the best method to deal with them – Paula has to go too – while I'm flying out to Aix. Best thing would be if they both disappeared for ever. Bodies never found. I've set the wheels in motion in case it comes to this.'

'Won't involve Fitch, I hope,' mused Benton.

'I'm the Planner,' snapped Noel, glaring at Benton. 'So you leave the problem to me. You don't want to know.'