Cell

54

A stand-off., Newman thought. Two guns, each aimed point-blank at a different target. Dangerous. Eva's 6.35mm Beretta. It was a light weapon, but fired at close range it would crush Warner's skull, kill him.

'Eva,' Warner said with the hint of a tremble. 'Why?'

As he spoke he was careful to keep his Colt aimed at Paula, a clever move to freeze everyone else in the room. With her left hand Eva reached inside her jacket, took out a newspaper cutting, dropped it on his desk. Tweed recognized it as the strange, much delayed obituary notice Newman had extracted from the Daily Nation.

'What is this?' Warner asked, his voice weaker.

He made no attempt to look down. He was too concerned with keeping Paula under his gun.

'An obituary of a man who died two years ago in Yemen,' Eva told him. 'Captain Charles Hobart. Remember him? Don't say you don't. I'll pull the trigger.'

'Vaguely.' He hastened to amplify. 'It's coming back to me. A… casualty. A… Special Forces… officer.'

'Yemen,' Eva repeated in the same disturbing monotone. 'A mission to kill an al-Qa'eda unit in the desert. One man volunteered to wipe it out. He could have done. Except he was betrayed. You were there when it happened. You'd just been appointed Minister of Security. You out-ranked the unit's commander. You secretly sent a message warning al-Qa'eda he was coming. Alone. So they killed him. An ambush. Killed my father…'

'Hobart… you are… Eva Brand.'

'No, I am Eva Hobart. Before leaving Medfords to get a job close to you I changed my name by deed poll. The Director of Medfords, a friend, agreed to keep quiet. I know you were the mastermind controlling the attack on London. I can prove it.'

'Im… poss… ible.'

Again Eva used her left hand to reach inside her jacket. She produced a folded sheet of paper, dropped it on his desk. Once more Warner dare not look down. Had to keep his eye on Paula, his Colt still aimed at her chest.

'That,' Eva told him, 'is the first coded message which I told you I had never received. So another was sent to you. It's in Arabic, but not from the Embassy – instead from an address in Cairo. I decoded it, then told you it had never arrived. Want to know what it says? Top Secret.'

'You had no right…'

'Shut your treacherous trap. It reads, "Happy to hear attack on London is imminent. That it will be greater than September 11."'

'There must… be a… mistake.'

'No mistake. It was addressed to you. "For your eyes only."'

'You decoded it… wrongly.'

'Victor, I was very fond of my father. He meant everything to me. When I flew with Drew to Cairo I talked to Sergeant Langford, retired now, but a key NCO with the unit in Yemen. He overheard you talking in Arabic in a tent on a phone – Langford is fluent in Arabic. He heard you say that one man only, a Captain Hobart, was coming to eliminate them the next day. Langford decided he couldn't report it because who would believe him? He's now flying to London to report to Drew, under oath, what he heard. Drew will publish. You are going down.'

'You bitch

'Superintendent Buchanan, could you come alongside me? But don't attempt to grab my pistol. I can fire instantly.' She used her left hand to extract something from a pocket. 'Mr Tweed, I would sooner you came to me.'

Tweed approached slowly, stood beside her while Warner kept his Colt aimed at Paula. She asked Tweed to hold out his hand, dropped a small key into it. Tweed went back to where he had been standing.

'Victor Warner is a master planner,' Eva went on. 'I will give him that. He also was the planner behind September 11. That key opens a secret drawer in the side of his desk. I managed to open it while Warner was in Cabinet. Medford training. In that drawer you will find a mass of material -a big airline timetable, American, listing all major flights. All those long distance, carrying a huge petrol load, are marked in blue. In red are marked the flights used from Boston and Newark on September 11. Al-Qa'eda trained the killers. Warner planned the routes…'

'I should kill you,' screamed Warner.

'You want a bullet in the head now?'

Warner, still aiming the Colt at Paula, began backing away from his desk. He soon reached the panelled wall. He used his left elbow to press against it. A section slid back like a secret door. Beyond was a tunnel. As he dived into it, Eva fired. The bullet hit the panelling.

'Missed,' Newman said to himself.

Eva, like a panther stalking its prey, slipped over to the door, disappeared into the tunnel. Paula ran forward, was thrust aside by Tweed, then by Newman. The tunnel, wide and tall, the floor stone-paved, sloped down. Warner was running when Eva fired again.

'Missed,' Newman repeated to himself.

At the end of the tunnel was an opening, daylight. Pressing the hidden button on the panelling in the study opened doors at both ends. Warner's tall figure was leaping down the tunnel, Eva not far behind. She fired again. 'Missed,' Newman repeated.

It was Paula who caught on to what was happening. She caught up with Newman, spoke in a quiet voice.

'She's missing deliberately, driving him into something.'

Warner reached the opening, was diving through it, when Eva fired again. The bullet hit the top of the opening. Newman grunted. The fourth shot. Three more bullets left in her Beretta. Both Tweed and Newman had guns in their hands but dare not use them for fear of hitting Eva. Suddenly they emerged into the open. It was misty at this level. Eva fired her fifth shot. It landed close enough to chip the edge of Warner's right shoe.

He panicked, tearing down the slope into the mist, followed by the others. Eva stopped, fired carefully. The bullet chipped the edge of Warner's other shoe. The mist thinned so they saw what happened.

Warner suddenly realized he had reached the brink of the lime pit. Too late. He lost his balance. He screamed as he plunged into the pit. His pursuers stood stock still, frozen by the sight. Warner managed to heave the upper part of his body upwards, smeared with lime. He waved his arms desperately, screamed again. His body was sucked down into the pit. With only his head above the whiteness, he opened his mouth to scream again. He swallowed lime. The scream came out as 'Goo… ch!' Then the head went under and where he had gone down the surface of the lime swirled for a few seconds, then settled.