The Power

36

Tweed stood quite still in the lobby. The only people in the place besides himself were Paula, Newman and Car-don. They all kept quiet – they knew Tweed was thinking furiously. He turned round once to gaze at the deserted reception area, the closed door behind it. He turned back to Cardon.

'Philip,' he said in a low voice, 'you counted fifteen Americans arriving. Did they see you?'

'Of course not.' Cardon was incredulous at the idea. He raised his book to above eye level, completely concealing his face. 'Can you see me?'

'No. Where are Butler and Nield?'

'Here.' Cardon handed Tweed a piece of paper with the names of the two men, their room numbers. 'Like me they had an early meal. They're up in their rooms now.' He checked his watch. 'Harry is due down to relieve me in five minutes. We worked out a roster to keep an eye on who comes and goes out of this place.'

'I see. They're both on the first floor? Good. Now, I want you to think hard. Did some of the Americans arrive here recently?'

'Yes, they did. They turned up in batches.'

'So at times there was a lot of movement here in this lobby. You were concentrating on concealing yourself -at the same time as you checked people arriving. You might have seen a woman with long blonde hair without really registering the fact.' Tweed gave a brief description of how Jennie had been dressed. 'Think hard. Did a woman like that walk out of the hotel?'

'Half a mo! – now I come to think of it a woman like that came out of the dining-room exit just as you did. Fifteen minutes ago – roughly. She entered the lift. That was the last I saw of her.'

'Did all the Americans go straight into the restaurant? All fifteen of them?'

'Yes, to stan with. Come to think of it two of them, ugly-looking types, came out of the restaurant almost on the heels of Jennie Blade. They must have taken the lift immediately after she'd gone up.'

'Thank you. Stay here.' Tweed turned to Newman and Paula. 'We must hurry, but first I need to collect something.'

He lifted the flap at the end of the reception counter, slipped behind it, grabbed hold of the master key hanging from a hook apart from the other room keys. He ran across to the lift, went inside as soon as the doors opened and pressed the button for the first floor as soon as Paula and Newman were inside.

'What are you up to?' Paula asked.

'First we get hold of Butler and Nield, with their handguns. You may need yours. No shooting unless it's the only way…'.

Paula was still puzzled until Tweed had collected Nield and Butler, had explained the situation.

'We'll check this floor first

Tweed began to walk up to each room door, pressing his ear close to the wooden panel. He had acute hearing and soon moved on to the next door. It was outside the third door he tried that he froze, ear pressed hard against the panel. Voices inside. One with an American accent.

'Look, do you smoke? You don't? Well, honey, you're going to when I press this lighted cigarette into your face, then lower down. What man will ever look at you again…'

'No, you bastards-'

The woman's voice was cut off with a scream. Tweed inserted the master key quietly, turned it noiselessly, took hold of the handle, glanced at Butler who stood with a Walther in his hand. Tweed nodded, turned the handle. Standing aside, he threw the door wide open.

Butler, Walther gripped in both hands, charged into the room in a crouch, prepared to drop to the floor, gun swinging in an arc. Behind him Newman followed with Nield. Tweed removed the key, stepped in after them, inserted the key back into the lock and turned it to the locked position.

Jennie was sprawled back in an armchair, ankles bound with rope, her wrists pinioned behind her. The blouse was pulled down, exposing her breasts. A cloth gag had slipped from her mouth. One tall lanky American was standing behind her, holding her head back with a hand round her throat. A shorter stocky American stood stooped over her, holding a lighted cigarette close to her cheek.

Butler was on his feet in a flash. He brought the muzzle of his Walther down hard on the stocky American's nose. His target screamed with pain, dropped the cigarette. Tweed picked it up off the carpet.

At the same moment Newman reached the lanky American who reacted more quickly. He'd let go of Jennie, his hand had slid inside his jacket. Newman's left arm coiled round his neck from behind, squeezed his Adam's apple. The hard nails of his right hand dug into the back of the American's. There was a grunt of agony, a Luger dropped to the floor. Nield kicked the American's feet from under him and he sagged, gasping for breath.

Tweed had picked up the Luger as the stocky man had one hand over his damaged nose while his other hand fumbled inside his jacket. Tweed rammed the muzzle of the Luger into his abdomen, shook his head. The fumbling hand emerged empty. Tweed used his left hand to explore under the thug's armpit, gripped the butt of a weapon in a shoulder holster, withdrew it. Another Luger.

Everything had happened in a matter of seconds. The stocky man began to swear, using filthy words. Paula hit him across the mouth with her Browning, breaking teeth. He spat out blood.

'Mind your language,' she told him. 'There are ladies present, Any more of that and you know something? All your teeth will go.'

The stocky man glared at her with hatred as he took out a handkerchief, emptied two teeth and blood into it. He saw the expression in her eyes and looked away hastily.

By now Butler and Nield had the lanky American sprawled on the floor, face down. Butler checked him for weapons, found nothing more. As Newman administered the same treatment to the stocky man Tweed and Paula tended to Jennie. Butler handed Paula his clasp knife. She used it to remove the ropes round the victim's ankles and wrists while Tweed untied the gag. He could see no signs of burns on her.

'I'm going to ask you a silly question,' Tweed said and smiled. 'How are you feeling?'

'OK.' Jennie rubbed each wrist in turn. 'The fat one is Eddie, the tall one Hank.' She stood up and Paula stood close, ready to grab her, but she seemed quite steady. 'Do me a favour,' she requested. 'Get Eddie on his feet, two of you hold his arms tight.'

Puzzled, Butler went over to help Newman when Tweed had nodded to them. They hauled Eddie upright, held him tight by each arm. Paula had pulled up Jennie's blouse so she was decent. Her feet were clad in walking shoes. She walked forward slowly until she was within a few feet of the stocky man.

'Eddie is the sadist. Eddie enjoys his work.'

She picked up the burning cigarette Tweed had perched in the lip of a clean ashtray. Flicking off the end of the ash, she faced the stocky man.

'Eddie likes giving people a bad time, revels in it.'

'Look, lady…' Eddie began.

Jennie stabbed the burning cigarette towards his face and he flinched. Tweed frowned, came close to her and whispered.

'Don't burn him. It would take you down to his level. And I won't permit it.'

She shook her head to indicate that wasn't what she had in mind. Her eyes were blazing at the stocky man, who was sweating profusely.

'Spread your feet, Eddie,' Jennie ordered. 'Or you get this cigarette smeared down your face.'

Eddie, mystified and frightened at the same time, stretched out his feet. Jennie moved. Her right leg arched up with all her strength. Paula was startled by the muscular power she displayed, then recalled she was a horse rider. She kicked her target in the groin. He groaned, gulped, gasped, bent over. Released by Newman and Butler, Eddie crouched on the floor, hands clasped to where her foot had contacted him.

'I like to settle my accounts,' Jennie said. 'Can we get out of here?'she asked Tweed.

'Of course. Now…'

As soon as she was inside his room she sank into a chair and broke down, sobbing endlessly.

'I've got a message for you to take back to your boss,' Newman told Hank and Eddie. 'You never come back here again. If I ever see either of your faces one more time you'll never leave Alsace alive. Get out…'

Newman was controlling a pent-up fury. Butler opened the door of the room and Hank walked out, one hand nursing his injured Adam's apple. Eddie had trouble making his exit. Stooped over, he duck-waddled into the corridor. Butler closed the door and with Nield they began a quick search of the room. The most valuable treasure they found was an Uzi sub-machine-gun with plenty of ammo. They took these items with them.

Paula had accompanied Tweed and Jennie to his room. It had plenty of space, was like a small suite with the sitting area just inside the door and sleeping quarters beyond. After consulting Jennie, Paula had nipped down to the Brasserie and asked for a mug of milky coffee with plenty of sugar.

There was no sign of Eve or Gaunt. He was pretty bloody hopeless at looking after a woman, Paula thought as she carried the mug to the room. She'd tell him so when she next met him.

'Hold the mug in both hands,' she coaxed Jennie.

It was a wise precaution. Jennie's hands were shaking but with a little help from Paula she drank some of the liquid. She looked up gratefully.

'Thank you so much. I felt so damned cold.'

'That's shock,' said Tweed quietly. He was standing as he watched her. 'It will wear off. Drink it all if you can.'

'The bastards!' Jennie burst out after she had emptied the mug.

Tweed knew then she was recovering rapidly. He had the impression she had not only considerable physical powers but also great mental resilience. He waited while Paula sat beside her on a chair she'd pulled close.

'I'm feeling much better,' Jennie announced suddenly. 'Thanks to both of you. I suppose I shouldn't have done what I did to that punk, Eddie.'

'I'd have scratched his eyes out,' Paula assured her.

'Feel up to my asking a few questions?' Tweed enquired.

'Fire away!'

'What information were they trying to extract from you?'

They wanted to know about a film and a tape. Seemed to think I knew where they were after my visit to the Chateau Noir. I told them I didn't know what the hell they were talking about, that kidnapping was a capital offence in France if anything happened to the victim. I made that last bit up – but as they were Americans I didn't think they'd know much about Europe. When I kept that up – which is true – that I didn't know what they were talking about, they turned very nasty. I was so lucky you got there just in time.'

'Did they know you'd driven with Gaunt to the chateau?' Tweed asked gently.

'Oh, they knew all right. I didn't tell them.'

'Did they mention Amberg?'

'Not a word. Just kept on about their flaming film and tape.'

'I see…'

Tweed saw more than she realized. To know of Gaunt's visit to Amberg the opposition had to have the Chateau Noir under close surveillance. It was valuable information, but disturbing. It meant the American apparatus had had no trouble tracking Amberg from Zurich to Basle and then to the Vosges.

'Any more questions?' Jennie asked. 'Anything I could help you with?'

'I don't think so,' Tweed replied. 'But you have been very helpful.'

'You're the ones who've been helpful. I'm more grateful than I can tell you. And now, I'm feeling a bit tired. I think a lie-down for a while would help.'

'Flop on the left-hand bed,' Tweed suggested. 'I'll see there's always someone in this room to guard you. If you could take oyer for a start, Paula? Thank you. The bathroom is through that door.'

'Do you think they'll try something else?' whispered Paula as she accompanied him to the door into the corridor.

'Bound to,' he whispered back. 'And next time it's likely to be something pretty diabolical – worse than what they were going to do to Jennie. These aren't just barbaric thugs. They're top professionals.'

'So you two made a real balls-up,' Mencken commented.

It was a deliberately cruel remark in view of the fact that Eddie sat on a bed in Mencken's room, still nursing the injured part of his anatomy. He glared at Mencken, then looked quickly away. Mencken's eyes had all the soul of a python's.

Hank stretched his lanky frame, standing against a wall. He didn't like the remark, he didn't like Mencken. Who did?

'We'd have got it out of her if Tweed's troops hadn't burst in on us,' he protested.

Troops?' Mencken sneered. 'I could strangle Tweed with two fingers. What else had you to deal with? Newman, a tabloid gossip gone to seed. Some broad. And another amateur.' He took out a cigar, lit it slowly, blew smoke in Hank's face. 'You two are straight out of Mickey Mouse. My old mom could have done a better job.'

'Didn't know you ever had one,' blazed Hank.

He regretted the insult the moment the words had left his mouth. Mencken had leapt out of his chair as though propelled by a spring. His skeletal head was inches from Hank's as he held the burning cigar end so close Hank could feel its heat on his face. Mencken projected two long talon-like fingers into Hank's painful Adam's apple.

'You said what?' Mencken asked.

'Sorry, boss.' Hank gulped. 'Sure we made a balls-up. Sure we did. Next time we'll do better,' he croaked.

'If there is a next. time.' Mencken removed his hand, puffed at his cigar as he stood back a couple of feet, the smoke getting into Hank's eyes. The lanky American licked his lips.

'Something we never got time to tell you, boss. There was a third man came into that room. Thought you should know.'

'So now I know.' Mencken continued staring at him, puffing the cigar. 'For Chrissakes, you mishandled it from the start. One of you should have been enough to deal with the twist…' Which was his flattering reference to Jennie Blade. 'If the other had stood guard with the Uzi you could have cut down the lot – including Tweed. Then taken the twist to your car, driven into the foothills, screwed the information out of her, then phoned me. That is how I'd have handled it.'

'The noise that sub-machine-gun would have made-' Hank began.

'Would have woken up the hotel,' Mencken interrupted. 'So you moved straight out of the hotel as I suggested. You blow a lot of smoke, Hank. You and Eddie never sat with us in the diner. We'd have been OK. No more crap.'

Mencken had decided Eddie and Hank were expendable. They were known now to Tweed and his team. He'd terminate that problem once they got up into the mountains. The phone rang. Mencken walked towards it with a slow deliberate pace, picked up the receiver. It was Norton.

The shaggy grey-haired man with half-moon glasses perched on his nose had to use the phone from his room. He had registered at the small hotel, L'Arbre Vert – the Green Tree – in Kaysersberg, as Harvey Cheney. There were no public phone boxes in this village.

'Norton here. Time you gave me a progress report. Watch any confidential information about our competitors – we're on open lines.'

'I visited that place you noticed where the product is stored, obtained sufficient samples. Get me?' Mencken rasped.

Norton got him – he had broken into the explosives shed near the stone quarry, had walked off with an ample supply. Mencken had moved fast, but Norton had no intention of congratulating him.

'What about the construction of the bridge? Have you surveyed it?'

For 'construction' Mencken understood 'destruction' of the hump-backed bridge in the centre of Kaysersberg.

'A team has examined it. Some blasting operation will be necessary. Long-distance work. Everything is prepared. Goddamnit! I know my job.'

Norton ignored the irritable outburst. Explosives had been placed under the bridge, waiting for Tweed's team to drive over it. The explosion would be detonated by someone who needed a good view of the target.

'Since it's a remote-control operation we need to have an observer at a distance but close enough to see the result.'

Mencken sighed audibly. 'That also has been worked out. All that we planned is arranged. OK? OK?'

Norton sensed resentment about his authority. That had to be stamped on immediately. Mencken must be in no doubt as to who was running the show.

'Then,' Norton went on remorselessly, 'there's the section of rock which has to be cleared. Have you attended to that?'

'Jesus! Why don't you come and hold my hand,' snarled Mencken. 'Yes, the rock is ready to come down. Now, if that's everything…'

There was silence at the other end of the line. Mencken had just confirmed that the rock above the cliff looming over the road had been drilled, explosives inserted. He had sent up two men per team on a roster basis.

He had hired plenty of transport in Basle, had drawn up a roster of men, giving them their objectives as soon as he had returned from the cafe in Little Venice after talking with Norton through the lace curtain.

'You'll have to do something about your manners,' Norton said eventually, very abrasive. Talk to me like that just once more and you're on the first plane back to the States. I'll take over the operation myself. Imagine what will be waiting for you when you leave the aircraft. I trust, Marvin,' the voice continued softly, 'you do have some imagination?'

Mencken froze. Fury gave way to fear. Yes, he knew what would be waiting for him. A limo with an open window and the muzzle of a gun aimed point blank.

'I'm trying to do my best for you. No one is going to let you down. Maybe I was a little bitchy. Everything is under control. It will be a breeze…'

'No, it won't, sonny boy. Get that into your thick skull. Our competitor, Tweed, is a barracuda. Don't you ever forget that. Sonny boy…'

The phone went dead. Mencken kept his face to the wall so his men couldn't see his expression, a mixture of fright and rage. He was careful not to slam down the phone. Glancing down at his cigar, he saw that a length of ash had dropped on to the floor. He ground it savagely into the new carpet. When Tweed was blown into a thousand pieces he'd be top gun. And when Joel Dyson and Special Agent Barton Ives raised their heads above the parapet he'd personally put the bullets into both of them. Then he'd take out Cord Dillon.

Norton wandered out of the small hotel into the dark and paused. Snow had begun to fall. He adjusted his fur hat, pulled up the collar of his astrakhan coat. It was bitingly cold, well below zero, he reckoned. He began to stroll back into Kaysersberg – the Green Tree was located on the northern outskirts. No one else was in sight.

Norton had no eye for the beauty and character of the medieval village with its cobbled streets and leaning houses. Disneyland, he thought contemptuously.

A few minutes later he saw the bridge. He paused and studied it. Glancing up to his left he saw an ancient castle looming over the village – the perfect vantage point for the watcher who would control the detonation of the explosive under the bridge. Norton had a strong feeling this was the route Tweed would choose. He'd never even see the Chateau Noir. He turned back to the hotel. He was expecting a call from Bradford March. He had already informed Sara of his new phone number.