Deadlock

49

The car taking Newman, Butler and Benoit to the airport followed Route One – a route Van Gorp had worked out carefully on a map and had cordoned off. On the way they passed a small convoy of three vans proceeding at high speed in the opposite direction.

The SAS team,' Newman said laconically. 'Thank God it was flown over – after what happened to the Dutch marines.'

'You think Tweed will ever use it?' asked Benoit.

'He'll use it. He's just waiting for Klein to make one slip – and Klein will do just that. He thinks he's infallible. No one is.'

'When we get to the airport,' Butler interjected, 'can we find out what type of machine was used to fly Brand and his so-called captor to Findel? It will help us when we get there. I mean Brussels Airport.'

'Good idea,' Benoit agreed. 'Should have thought of it myself.'

'He doesn't say a lot,' Newman commented, 'but when he does it's worth listening to. And if you ever see him coming towards you on a motor-bike,' he joked, 'run for your life.'

'Everyone has to have a hobby,' Butler replied.

'Yes, but not a lethal one.'

Newman was aware of a different atmosphere inside the car as the uniformed police driver approached the airport. Back at the improvised HQ near Euromast it had been claustrophobic. Now he was doing something active Newman felt a lifting of the spirits. He sensed the same reaction in his companions.

'Van Gorp has arranged for food to be taken aboard the jet,' remarked Benoit. 'Suddenly I'm ravenous.'

'I could do with a bite to eat myself,' agreed Butler.

'And I do believe we have arrived,' Benoit said as the car came to a stop. A police escort took them to the waiting machine and no one asked Newman questions about the scabbard he carried with the suitcase he'd picked up from the Hilton en route. Five minutes later the jet was airborne, leaving behind the deserted airport, heading through the night for Brussels.

In Luxembourg City inside the Banque Sambre on the Avenue de la Liberte, Brand and Hipper sat in the banker's office. On their way in they had paused in the empty street to attach the notice announcing the bank was temporarily closed to the front doors.

Hipper had played out his charade of acting as Brand's captor from the moment the Sikorsky landed at Findel. He had walked shoulder to shoulder with the banker to the waiting limousine where a chauffeur opened the rear doors for them.

They were driving along the highway into the city when the Sikorsky took off again, flying back to Rotterdam Airport to join Victor Saur's other machine.

Relaxing in his executive swivel chair, Brand had just called a senior director of the Deutsche Bank in Frankfurt who had already been alerted by Bonn. He picked up a glass of cognac and stared at Hipper, sitting like a sack of potatoes on the other side of the desk.

'They're saying they refuse to release the bullion,' Brand remarked in a lordly tone.

They must…'

'Relax, Hipper. That's the opening move I expected. It's like a chess game. We all go through the motions. But in due course they will release that bullion, permit it to be loaded aboard the waiting transport. Now, hadn't you better do your thing? Call the local police, tell them you have me here with a gun to my head? All that jazz. And if they try to break in here you'll shoot me out of hand. Whatever that weird phrase means,' he added blandly.

'I hope they're convinced…'

'Up to you to do just that – convince 'em. Then we wait until the bullion plane arrives and I trot out with you to Findel to check it's all in order.' He sipped his brandy and indicated a closed door. 'Lucky I have an efficient secretary. She has stocked up the fridge and the freezer. We shan't starve. You can cook, I take it?'

'I was once a cook in a restaurant.'

'Splendid! We can eat in the board's dining room. Might as well keep up a decent standard of living while Klein puts on the pressure. Now, that call to the police…'

Tweed came back into the room and Paula watched him anxiously, still worried about his lack of sleep. He walked briskly to his chair, sat down and clasped his hands.

'The PM has given me full authority to act in liaison with you, Van Corp. She's livid about the mining of the Sealink ferry – livid and worried. But she's chirpy, as always. She's already been in touch with the German Chancellor in Bonn, suggesting he permits release of the bullion when I give the word.'

'When will that be?' asked Van Corp.

'No idea. I've also asked Commander Bellenger to get over here fast from the Hilton. After he's phoned London to arrange for a specialist team of bomb disposal to fly here. Men who know the workings of this new sea-mine and bomb.'

'But,' objected Jansen, 'you've told us not to make any attempt to go near the threatened ships.'

'Correct. But when we've finished off Klein we'll need that team to go out and defuse those mines.'

'You sound very confident,' Paula ventured.

'He's a megalomaniac. He's sure he's got us in the palm of his hand – which he has at the moment. He'll make a mistake through over-confidence. Then we strike. Talking of striking, I thought I heard men arriving in the room beyond the place I was phoning from.'

'The SAS team arrived by the fire escape at the back. They're settling into their quarters. The other door from the anteroom leads into one of their rooms…'

Blade came into the room, wearing his civilian outfit. Speaking to Tweed, his manner was urgent.

'The troop commander wants to take his men out on to the roof so they can take a look at Euromast, size it up. It means we need the roof cleared of your men, if that's all right for a few minutes, Van Corp. They want you to go with them, Tweed – to brief them.'

'I'll attend to it now,' Van Gorp replied.

He stood up and went up the staircase on to the roof. He was back very quickly. 'All clear. Warn them to crouch low – it is probable Klein has men with glasses scanning all the surrounding buildings.'

They'd do that anyway, but thanks. I've been asked to stay in their quarters while they're away – to guard certain special equipment.'

He glanced at Tweed and disappeared into the anteroom. 'Do we stay?' asked Jansen. 'I've heard no one ever sees their faces.'

'I don't think you will,' observed Tweed, 'so I'd have some more coffee and stay where you are.'

There was a delay of only a few minutes. Only Tweed realized Blade was changing into his SAS gear before he led the troop to the rooftop. The anteroom door opened without warning and Paula gave a gasp, her hand flying to her throat.

A file of men padded into the room, moving past the table at either end. To Paula they seemed incredibly sinister. They moved so silently. Each man was wearing a Balaclava helmet shrouded with a camouflage net so only the eyes showed. They were clad in complete battle gear and most wore a series of canvas pouches attached round their waists. Most carried an ugly-looking squat sub-machine gun but three were armed with rifles. They slithered through the room like ghosts and were gone as Tweed led them upstairs.

'Oh, my God,' Paula said, 'I wouldn't like to have them after me. What was that funny gun most of them carried?'

'A 9 mm Ingram MAC 11. Has a range of a hundred and fifty feet, equipped with a collapsible stock. Fires at the rate of six hundred rounds a minute. The magazine takes forty rounds,' Van Gorp explained.

'Sounds deadly.'

'It is. And some of them had the type of Browning automatic we gave Butler before he left for Findel. That has an effective range of two hundred feet. Those boys are really tooled up for action…'

'I counted fifteen men.'

'A formidable force…'

Out on the roof Tweed crouched low and ran for the wall with an agility which surprised Blade, close behind in his battle gear. They squatted on their haunches behind the wall as the rest of the troop spread out on either side. Blade had Tweed on his right, his deputy to his left.

'Get the picture, Eddie?' he asked. 'And if anything happens to me you take your orders from Tweed. No move to be made without his sanction. Well, there's the target. How does it look to you?'

Eddie peered through the mounted telescope, adjusted the focus, swivelled the instrument very slowly, stopping, moving on. He lowered the angle to study the entrance at the top of ihe steps.

'We've tackled worse,' he replied eventually. 'Main problem is it's isolated – no buildings close enough to operate from – and we won't be scaling that tower.'

'How would you go about it then?'

'You've explained the interior. Divide the troop into a couple of sections. One storms the entrance, clears the ground floor. Two heads straight for the elevator, makes for the platform level, cleans out platform and restaurant. Any idea how big that elevator is?'

'Eight feet wide, six feet deep. I paced it out when we were going up, when I walked out of it.'

'Six men, I suggest. Three pressed against one wall of the elevator, three against the other. Stun grenades at the ready, of course.'

'Just like that?' Blade snapped.

'Main problem as you told it is this Klein and his little toy, the control box with the red button.'

'You're right,' Tweed whispered. 'No assault can be attempted so long as he's holding that gadget. We have to hope for a lucky break.'

'One more idea,' Eddie said, his eye pressed to the telescope which he'd raised to its original position aimed at the lighted windows of the restaurant. 'We place a man with the bazooka on this roof, a man linked with a walkie-talkie to one of the team inside the elevator. How fast does it go up?'

'Seconds,' said Tweed.

'Fair enough. Chap in the elevator gives the word the moment he presses the button for the elevator to go up. Our man up here instantly fires a bazooka shot inside the restaurant – that distracts the attention of any Klein men in the lobby at restaurant level. Only for seconds as the elevator shoots up. Seconds are all we need. Stun grenades, of course, to paralyse any men in the lobby. That's just first thoughts. And an important query. Any hostages?'

'They have a girl with them, Lara Seagrave,' Tweed said.

' With them?' rapped out Blade. 'What does that mean? One of them?'

'I don't think she knew any of this was going to happen. She is the step-daughter of Lady Windermere, the queen of bitches. I met Lady W in London. She drove her step-daughter out of the family home. So Lara goes out to prove she can make it on her own, looking for adventure. I think she's a pawn in Klein's deadly game.'

'Which is it?' Blade demanded. 'We treat her as a hostage?'

'Yes.'

'But if you're wrong,' Eddie whispered, 'if she has a gun in her hand, we shoot. It's the only way we operate. And would you excuse me a second? I want to check with the lads – see if they've any questions. Be back shortly…'

'Blade, I have one special instruction to give you for when you go in. You pass it on to everyone in the troop just before the assault. ..'

He whispered for less than a minute and in that time Eddie was back, crouching beside Blade.

'It's OK,' he reported. 'Everyone is happy.'

Happy? Tweed thought only Newman, who had trained with this troop, would understand the use of that word in these circumstances. He led the way back across the roof and down the staircase.