Blood Storm

28

Tweed was early at the office. He hadn't slept much, but was exceptionally alert. As he greeted George and started running up the staircase George called up to him.

'Gentleman waiting for you…'

'Who?'

'Didn't give a name. Not the sort of chap you bandy words with. Said he'd an appointment with you.'

Tweed walked into his office. Monica raised her hands in a gesture of helplessness. Seated in the chair facing his desk was General Lucius Macomber, very erect and dressed in a smart business suit.

'Didn't expect you,' Tweed said, taking of his coat, which Monica caught. 'You're an early bird. General.'

'Been like that all my life. Just got back from a meeting with my three cursed offspring.'

'They were early too,' Tweed said in surprise, sitting in his desk chair, facing his visitor.

'Had to be. I phoned them. Told them to be at their station an hour ago. They were, of course.'

'I hope you enjoyed your visit.'

'I did. They didn't.' The General bared his teeth in a grim smile. 'I did all the talking. They listened. Kept quiet. Which is the way it should be.'

'May I ask what you told them?'

'You can. You're a bright chap, Tweed. Know what's going on. So do I. Told them they were a bunch of lunatics.

Merging the security forces into one big dinosaur. They didn't like what I said.' He paused as he let out a barking guffaw of amusement. 'You agree with me.'

'I think it's madness.'

'Good chap. Between us we'll stop them. No doubt about it.'

He slapped the palm of his hand so hard on the desk Monica jumped behind him. He turned round, gazed at her. 'That woke you up, didn't it? You look like an asset.' He turned back to Tweed, switched the subject.

'Things are hotting up on Black Island. The locals are in a state over those buildings sprouting up at the western tip. No good just being in a state. Do something about it, is my motto. They were up in arms about the oil refinery when it was built. Expect you saw it while you were down there.'

'No, I didn't.'

'The tide must have been high. The fellow who ferries you across guides his barge in an arc to the east. You wouldn't see it. If he takes you over at low tide he goes straight across to Lydford. You'll damned well see the monstrosity then.'

'I'll look out for it next time I'm down there.'

'Nice to chat with you.' The General stood up. 'Must go. Time waits for no man, and all that. Got equipment to buy.'

'Will you be in town long?'

'No. Three or four days. Must get a bit of relaxation while I'm up here.' He stretched out a hand. 'We're in this together. Right?'

'Right,' said Tweed as he stood, shook the extended hand.

'I'm off.' He turned to Monica with a smile. 'Don't you let this taskmaster run you into the ground. You know what the late President Reagan once said?'

'No, sir. I'm afraid I don't.'

'"They say hard work never killed anyone, but why take the risk?" Great man, Ronald Reagan.'

Then the General was gone. Like a hurricane arriving and departing. Tweed sat still for several minutes, then spoke to Monica.

'Did he leave an address where we could get hold of him?' 'No.' Monica spread her hands again in the helpless motion. 'I did ask him that when he'd stormed in. He just turned round, smiled, said, "No, you can't.'"

'I wonder what he meant by getting a bit of relaxation?' Tweed looked disturbed as he asked the question. He was gazing out of the window, as he did when he contemplated something dangerous.

Shortly afterwards Tweed asked his second question as Marler arrived, followed by Newman and Harry with Pete Nield.

'I wonder what sort of equipment he plans on buying while he's up here.'

'Who was up here?' Marler asked.

Tweed gave a resume of his conversation with the General. It didn't take him very long.

'What was his real reason for coming?' Paula mused, sitting at her desk.

'I'm not sure,' Tweed told her. 'His mind moves like lightning. He's got the energy of three young men. There was a whiff of scandal about him, as I recall it, after the end of the Gulf War. A captain he'd had to discipline told a reporter the General had ordered his men to shoot down a bunch of Arabs who came over a ridge with their hands up.'

'Did he?' Paula asked.

'Yes. Fortunately a TV reporter attached to the army had been filming everything at the time. The film clearly supported what the General said had happened. A line of Arabs had crossed a ridge just as the war started, hands held up. They were followed almost at once by two more lines of Arab troops, all carrying automatic weapons. It was a trap. If the General's troops had moved forward to take charge of the Arabs "surrendering" they'd have been mown down by the second and third lines. And they had more coming behind them. So the General was a hero, as he should have been. Trouble was the first reports had already appeared in the press. People remember the so-called bad things, forget the truth which later comes to light.'

'The General is smart,' Marler commented. 'And virile.'

'What was that word you used?' snapped Tweed, jumping to his feet.

'Virile.'

'The same word Frank, the keeper of the Crooked Village on Black Island, used.'

Tweed wandered over to the window. He stood staring into the distance. Monica knew he was disturbed again.

In the Fulham Road, on the opposite side to Paula's flat and a distance back, an old Ford was parked. Inside and behind the wheel Fitch had glasses glued to his eyes when, earlier, Paula had left with Marler.

'It's her,' he said to Radek, seated by his side.

'I can see that,' Radek growled, 'and without peering through binoculars. She's well guarded, was when she came back early this morning. We'll have to wait.'

'For what?' Fitch demanded aggressively.

'For when she returns home alone – or, better still, with Tweed. Then we can grab both of them.'

'Could take for ever.'

'I've waited in the same spot for three weeks to kill a man. Patience is the key. Or we could start a fire or a riot in the East End. That might send most of the team away from her.'

'Tricky. That schmuck Harry lives somewhere down there. He might catch on. So how are you going to start a fire?'

'Take in concealed beer bottles filled with petrol. Order drinks, sit in a dark corner. Spread the petrol on the floor.

Use a cigarette lighter and clear out in the panic. The Pig's Nest would be a good place.'

'It might just work.' Fitch said. 'Needs thinking about.'

Harry had disappeared from Park Crescent without saying a word to anybody. No one worried. Harry was independent at times in the decisions he took. He returned in the early afternoon, carrying his 'tool-kit' bag.

'May we ask where you have been?' Tweed enquired gently.

'You may. While you lot have been sitting on your backsides, chewing the fat, I've dealt with something you asked me to do when I could. I've just driven to Peckham Mallet. Found the place on the map. Paula told me earlier how to find it.'

'And?' Tweed persisted as Harry drank from a bottle of water Paula gave him.

'That truck you saw parked in a field,' he said to Tweed. 'It's still there. No one about. Not even the guard. I checked in the quarry where you'd hidden him after Paula hit him on the nose.'

'He's not still there?' she said anxiously, wondering if she'd hit him too hard, maybe killed him.

'No, he wasn't. And I could see his footsteps in the chalk where he'd hauled himself out of it. Now, that truck.'

'What was inside it?' she asked, so relieved at hearing the guard had to be alive and well.

'A small load of Semtex, attached to wires leading to the detonator box. So I fiddled with the wiring. When it was attached to the detonator the clock was at zero. Now it's at sixty seconds. I also found a map showing the way to Richmond Park.'

'Oh, my God!' exclaimed Newman. 'Exploded there it would cause a mass slaughter.'

'No, it wouldn't,' Harry contradicted him. 'The route marked led to a side entrance a long way from the river.

Hardly anybody uses that entrance. I checked on my way back. Not a soul about.'

'Well, what will happen when the driver arrives to position it?'

'He'll get in, start the engine. The vibrations will set off the clock, then the detonator. I doubt if he'll have even moved forward before the whole caboose explodes harmlessly in the field. End of truck, end of driver.'

'Well, that's one worry off our minds,' Tweed commented. 'So many thanks to you, Harry.'

'All part of the job.'

A moment later George appeared. He was holding an envelope sent by registered post. He took it over to Paula. 'For you,' he said and left the office quickly to return to his post.

'I recognize the handwriting,' Paula said. 'It's from Coral

'Stop!' Tweed had jumped to his feet. 'Don't open that. Take it downstairs and have it X-rayed.'

'I think that's carrying security a bit far,' she grumbled, but she left them with the package to consult a boffin. She was back quickly. 'It's OK. The X-ray showed a key and a folded sheet of paper. If you don't mind, I would like to open it.'

Dear Paula – Got something to tell you. I'm so excited! Can you pop over one evening? Soon! Love, Coral.

She was taking it over to show Tweed when Newman snatched it off her to her intense annoyance. He read it, gave it back to her.

'Do you make a habit of reading people's personal correspondence?' she snapped.

'I do in the present dangerous situation.'

She glared at him, then gave Tweed the letter as Newman completed his comment.

'Sounds as though she'd just got a new boyfriend.'

'I agree,' said Tweed, returning the letter to Paula. 'Might be nice to call on her when you can.'

'When I can,' she said, returning to her desk. 'Nice to know she trusts me.' She held up the front-door key. 'But it will have to wait a few days. I've got my own report you asked me to type for Howard and a dozen other things in my lap.'

The door opened and Howard himself walked in. Normally amiable, his expression was grim. He chose his favourite chair, assumed his usual seated stance, sprawling one leg over an arm of the chair. Tweed waited for him to say something.

'I've read your proposed report on present happenings for the PM, Tweed. The situation is even worse than I had realized. I hope you don't mind, but I have strengthened certain passages.'

'I thought you'd tone them down.'

'We've got to shock him into action with the Cabinet -with the truth. I would like to wait a few days before I submit it, subject to your approval. It will give me time to talk to certain important MPs and key civil servants. Then we drop this bomb in the PM's lap – after the ground has been prepared.'

'I leave the timing to you.'

Howard, who would have been useless handling Tweed's work, was a clever diplomat when it came to dealing with the Whitehall jungle. He dealt with people Tweed had no desire to meet. Howard was pompous, but he dealt with pompous people. He studied Tweed.

'You've got so much on your plate yet you look so fresh. This crazy idea of merging all security services. Then you are investigating a particularly brutal murder. It's a lot.'

'I'm coping,' Tweed said.

'I wish to thank all of you,' Howard said, standing up. 'I do know you employ your many skills to support Mr Tweed. And a key element in any problem is always you, Paula. My thanks.'

On which note he left. Paula was taken aback. Never before had Howard been so nice to the staff. It was a sign that he appreciated the tension they were all working under.

'I'm going down to Whitehall,' Marler announced. 'To keep an eye on that Cabal. See you…'

'And I'm off to my patch,' Harry said, jumping up. 'Something's happening in the East End. Back sometime.'

'Paula,' said Nield, 'would you mind if I go and see Coral? Can I tell her your package has arrived safely? That you'll be coming to see her but you're overwhelmed just now?'

'Wish you would. Saves me a phone call, maybe several before I get her when she comes back from work.'

'On my way.'

The phone rang shortly after Nield had left. Monica answered, pulled a face as she looked at Tweed.

'We've got Commander Buchanan downstairs. Wants to see you yesterday.'

'I suppose I'd better see him.'

Tweed had stood up behind his desk to greet his old friend. Buchanan, wearing uniform, shoved open the door roughly, came in with an expression like thunder.

'Welcome, Roy,' Tweed said with a smile. 'Do sit down. Now, what is the problem?'

'You are.'

'Tell me about it, Roy,' Tweed replied calmly, sitting down.

'Chief Inspector Hammer wants a statement from you. Including your movements on the night of the murder of Viola Vander-Browne. He knows you dined with her at Mungano's that night. Then she drove home alone. No trace of you afterwards. So no alibi.'

'Because I have no alibi,' Tweed informed him quietly.

'Well, you're Hammer's chief suspect,' barked Buchanan.

'Commander,' Paula called out, 'do you mind keeping your voice down.'

'Interrupting your concentration, am I?' Buchanan shot back as he turned to look at her.

'Yes, you are,' she replied.

'Sorry, I didn't intend to do that.'

Buchanan had calmed down a bit due to Paula's intervention. Tweed waited, hands clasped on his desk.

'I visited you on the day after that horrible murder, said I'd come back the next day. You weren't here. No one would say where you'd gone. Now, what about that statement?' Buchanan asked more quietly.

'I'm the chief investigator. There will be no statement.'

'Oh, dear.' The Commander took off his peaked cap, mopped his damp forehead. 'Maybe I overshot the mark a bit. There has been a new terrorist alert and we're working without any hope of sleep.'

'We have known each other many years, Roy,' Tweed reminded him.

'I know, but Chief Inspector Hammer-'

'Bloody Hammerhead,' Paula said to herself.

'What was that?' Buchanan demanded, turning again to her.

'Nothing.'

He was giving her a hard look. She stared straight back, a certain look in her eyes. He dropped his gaze first, then stood up, the cap in his hand.

'Well, I've done all I can,' he snapped.

'Many years,' Tweed repeated.

Buchanan opened his mouth as though to apologize but nothing came out. He disappeared.

'What do you think of that?' Monica asked indignantly.

'He's exhausted,' Paula said. 'He had a gaunt look. I doubt he's had sleep for several days.'

'Nor has Tweed on many occasions,' Monica persisted, 'but he's never lost his self-control. Maybe we can get a bit of peace and quiet now for the rest of the day and evening.'

She turned out to be quite wrong.

It was much later when the phone rang. Monica answered, called out to Tweed.

'Professor Saafeld on the line.'

'Yes,' said Tweed after picking up his extension.

'There's been another one.'

'I see.' Tweed paused. 'Who? Where?'

'A Marina Vander-Browne. I can give you the address.'

'I know it. Not the same modus operandi?'

'Exactly the same. Suggest you don't bring Paula. It seems even more hideous somehow.'

'I'll come now.'