Rhinoceros

CHAPTER 4

It was 11.30 a.m. Lisa had eaten the breakfast Herb had brought to her room. Her body was tingling with the second shower she had enjoyed and she'd decided she would go out. She was dressed to merge with the area outside The Hangman's Noose. A shabby old pair of jeans, an ancient blouse, a windcheater that had seen better days and an old pair of shoes with metal rims. She slung a well-worn shoulder bag over her shoulder and her hair was covered with a ragged shawl.

Going downstairs into the bar she was looking forward to wandering round the market. She loved the atmosphere. As she headed towards the door Herb called out to her from behind the bar.

'Wait a tick, I'm comin' with you.' He turned to a formidable fat woman also behind the bar. 'Millie, dear. Look after the place. I fancies a breath of fresh air

They had just stepped into the street when the sun came out. Wandering among the market stalls Lisa revelled in the aroma of fresh fruit and vegetables. The cobbled street was littered with discarded cabbage leaves, and inhabitants of the old houses, attracted by the brilliant sunlight, leaned out of first-floor windows. Lisa stopped suddenly for a second, then resumed her slow walk.

'You've seen 'im,' said Herb.

'Yes.' She grabbed a pair of tinted glasses from her bag, put them on. 'Delgado. What's he doing here? He's a long way from Bulgaria or wherever he comes from.'

'That's why I came with you.'

Delgado, holding a large brown paper bag in his left hand, was standing on the far pavement, his dark eyes sweeping the area slowly. A giant, over six feet tall, he had a body to match his height. His greasy black fringe needed trimming and below it was a vicious face. A large nose broken in several places loomed above a wide cruel mouth, an aggressive jaw. He wore a long dark coat that almost reached his ankles.

'And he's brought a small gang of thugs with 'im,' Herb remarked. 'All foreigners. There's one.'

A small, powerfully built man, wearing a dirty baseball cap back to front, had stopped at a stall, grabbed hold of a banana, was eating it. The stallholder asked him to pay for it. The small man turned round slowly, finished his banana, threw the skin in the other man's face, waited. The stallholder decided not to make an issue of it when he looked at the culprit closely.

'I saw Delgado grab a leg of lamb off a stall, shove it into that bag he's holding. When payment was demanded Delgado produced a knife from somewhere. Blade must have bin eight inches long. He didn't pay.'

'What's going on?' Lisa asked.

'They're scanning the area. 'Ad a good look at my pub. They check out alleys, anywhere they could 'ide. That squat thug pinched the cap off Bert.'

'When?'

'They first appeared a couple of hours ago, got out of cars, scanned this area quickly, then drove off. I sent Bert after them on his motorbike. They drove to the West End, parked, then checked out expensive restaurants, discotheques. You name it. Now they're back 'ere.'

'You think they're getting ready for a riot?'

'Not yet,' Herb told her. 'Not if I read the signs aright. They're choosin' targets for somethin' later. Here come six more of the tykes. Foreigners again. Walkin' separate as though they don't know each other.'

Selecting an apple from a stall, Lisa asked how much. The stallholder grinned, shook his head. He exchanged banter with Herb, who explained as they continued walking while she munched the apple.

'That was because you was with me. See that villainous lot that's just arrived? They're passin' Delgado as though he didn't exist. That's deliberate. Ever seen that brute before?'

'Yes. Once in a bar in Brussels. He caught me looking at him and I think he's a man who remembers people. Shouldn't you have some protection, with Delgado's mob casing the area?'

'Got a shotgun under the bar. Illegal. But not if Delgado ever comes in, waving that knife about. We'd better get back so I can help out Millie.'

'Did Bert make a list of the targets here and in the West End that Delgado was interested in?'

'He did.'

'Could I have a copy?'

'Course you can. I'll borrow it off Bert now. Can't think why you want it but you keeps yourself to yourself. Then, you're a smart lady

…'

Customers were filling up the pub but Lisa was able to go to the end of the bar by herself. She copied Bert's list, then used the phone to call Tweed again. The same nice woman answered, regretted that Tweed was out again, asked if he could call her.

'I'll try again later, thank you…'

Tweed and Paula went inside Marlows, an obscure club located on Pall Mall alongside more prestigious establishments. Tweed was asking the porter if Mr Gavin Thunder had arrived when a small well-dressed man in a grey suit appeared in the hall. Well-built, he couldn't have been more than five feet four inches tall, Paula estimated, and he exuded physical energy as he held out a hand, smiling.

'Welcome, Tweed. Too long since we last met. And this must be the hyper-efficient Miss Paula Grey. And an attractive lady, if I may say so.'

'Thank you,' replied Paula as she shook his firm, muscled hand. 'I don't know about hyper-efficient but I get by.'

'With flying colours, according to many who know you. Shall we adjourn to the library? Very quiet in there. I'll lead the way…'

He was just as she'd expected. In his forties, he had dark brown hair, a high forehead, a commanding nose, a strong mouth. He walked rapidly and had an aura of amiability that put people at their ease. His most striking feature were his eyes, intense blue eyes that looked straight at you.

They followed him into a room lined with bookcases from floor to ceiling. The room was deserted except for a waiter and Thunder sat them at a small table circled with comfortable arm chairs.

'Coffee for everyone?' he suggested and nodded to the waiter. He sat forward, hands clasped in his lap, looked from one guest to the other.

'Got your reports, Tweed, as I said on the phone. Read both of them.' He spoke rapidly, like a man with an agile brain. 'Doesn't seem to be any doubt about what happened to poor Jeremy Mordaunt. Murder.'

'I'm afraid it was,' agreed Tweed and fell silent.

'What worries me, frankly,' Thunder continued when he realized Tweed was not going to say any more, 'is the inquest. It will, of course, be held at Eastbourne. That might just keep most of the press away. The government can do without yet another scandal.'

He kept quiet as the waiter returned and served the coffee. He only resumed speaking when the door had closed…

'Incidentally, I'm Gavin. Have I your permission to call you Paula? Thank you. I get so fed up with being addressed as "Minister".' He smiled. 'I feel like looking round to make sure I'm not in church.'

Paula chuckled and Thunder waved both hands as much as to say what a world we live in. He stared at Tweed, his expression grave.

'May I ask you a personal question? If you don't want to reply I'll quite understand.' He leaned forward again. 'At the inquest will you be telling the coroner you are still pursuing your investigations and request an adjournment?'

'I'm going to do exactly that.'

'Thank you for answering – between the three of us only.'

'Am I then to assume,' Tweed began, his voice sharper, 'that I am still in charge of the investigation? That would be most unusual.'

'You are to assume that, yes. I know it's unusual – there are people who would call it irregular. But there could be political implications, now we know it was murder. You see, Jeremy was very bright technically.' He paused. 'I have again to ask you to keep this just between the three of us.' He paused. 'A couple of days before Jeremy travelled to Alfriston he discovered my office was bugged.'

'And you'd discussed confidential matters in that room?' asked Tweed.

'Heavens, yes, I had. Thought I was safe there. So Jeremy removed all the listening devices. I decided not to report it to anyone.'

'Why?'

'Because I was beginning to wonder who I could trust.'

'Even among Cabinet members?'

'If you don't mind, I'd sooner not answer that question.

But I've been doing all the talking. Have you something you'd like to ask me?'

'Yes, I have. Do you know why Jeremy Mordaunt travelled down to Alfriston? Who he was going to see?'

'I have absolutely no idea. I kept him on a loose rein -he was clever and wouldn't tell me certain things until he had the complete story. I have made enquiries.'

'What about?'

'Discreetly, about who lives in that part of the world. So far I have only come up with Lord Barford. But since he gave up the job as chief of the Special Branch hasn't he retired?'

'One would expect him to have done that.'

'Oh, there is something else.' Thunder checked his Rolex watch. 'I'll have to go shortly. A Cabinet meeting.' He looked at Paula and smiled. 'You wouldn't care to come and keep me company – to prevent me from being bored stiff?'

'I don't think they'd welcome me,' she said, returning his smile.

'Before we go,' Tweed said, 'what was the something else?'

'I'd appreciate it if you'd liaise with Chief Inspector Roy Buchanan about your investigations. It would go some way to regularizing the situation.'

'I was going to do that anyway.'

They left the library. Thunder collected his coat, and they walked into the street. As they did so a limo pulled up at the kerb. Thunder swore, apologized to Paula.

'I did tell them to send an ordinary car for me. All this pomp and circumstance is so idiotic. Now, thank you both so much for giving me your time. And I've enjoyed your company.' He whispered the rest as the chauffeur opened the door with a flourish. 'Which is more than I expect to do when I get back to Downing Street…'

'You have your lunch with Aubrey Barford,' Tweed reminded her as the limo moved off. 'Is there time for us to walk up St James's Street before you get a taxi?'

'Yes, there is.' They began to stroll. 'Well, that surprised me. I expected him to rave.'

'He can, I've heard. If a subordinate isn't quick enough or forgets something. And Thunder is the right name for him when he's speaking in the House of Commons. A magnificent orator. I've heard gossip that there's a cabal of Ministers plotting to remove the present PM – so they can instal Thunder in his place.'

'What did you think of his story about Jeremy locating and then removing the bugs from his office?' queried Paula.

'Gavin Thunder has an ingenious brain.'