The Power

40

'There will be fresh attempts to ambush us,' Tweed warned as they left Kaysersberg behind and the road spiralled up.

'What made you really suspect that bridge?' Newman asked.

'Sixth sense. Reverse thinking, if you like.'

'What's that?' Paula asked.

'Knowing the route between Colmar and the Chateau Noir the average man would assume the real danger would lie high up in the remote regions of the Vosges…'

'But you're not the average man,' Jennie remarked, leaning her arms on the back of Tweed's seat. 'Do go on.' -

That's right, dear, Paula was thinking cynically, lay on the flattery with a trowel.

'Reverse thinking,' Tweed explained, ignoring the interruption, 'is like looking through the wrong end of a telescope. Turn everything round, and learn from any precedent where you can. We have one – demonstrating Norton's callousness when it comes to loss of innocent human life. The attack on us in the Bahnhofstrasse -where the second killer had a machine-pistol and was about to use it until Bob shot him. Spraying a weapon like that in a crowded city street could easily have caused fatal casualties to bystanders. So blowing up a bridge in Kaysersberg which could have killed several locals bothered Norton not one jot.'

'This is going to be a dangerous journey, then,' Jennie suggested. .

'Well, you were warned before you joined us,' rapped out Paula.

'Oh, I'm not frightened. That man on top of that rock was watching us through something,' she went on. 'I saw the sun flashing off glass, maybe binoculars.'

'Are you sure it wasn't imagination?' queried Paula.

'Check it,' Tweed ordered Newman. 'Jennie may well have seen something…'

Despite its snow tyres, the Espace was rocking as it passed over hardened ruts. Newman slowed to a stop on a steep incline, lowered his window. Arctic-like air flowed into the vehicle. Paula could now see the massive bluffs and high knife-edge ridges of the Vosges very clearly in the glaring sunlight. Cardon appeared at Newman's window, paused astride his machine.

'Something suspicious ahead of us,' Newman began.

'On the top of that ridge,' Jennie said, leaning forward, aiming her extended arm and index finger like a gun. 'I know I saw at least one man.'

'Keep the Espace parked here,' Cardon said as Butler returned and pulled up astride his own machine. 'We'll investigate.' He looked at Paula. 'Those dynamite sticks we collected may come in useful. I've got them in my panniers.' He pointed to the containers slung from either side of his machine. 'See you…'

'He's got grenades,' Tweed commented.

'Saving them for a rainy day,' Paula suggested.

After a brief conversation between Cardon and Butler the two men sped off up the curving ascent, bouncing over the ruts. Newman took out a pair of binoculars and scanned the ridge Jennie had pointed at. No sign of anyone, so maybe Paula had been right in suggesting it was Jennie's imagination.

Carrying out the plan they had improvised, Butler and Cardon each played a separate role. Butler continued riding at reduced speed up the road, acting as bait. Behind him Cardon had turned his machine off the road and sped under the lee of the ridge which made him invisible to any watcher on the heights. Before leaving the Espace he had tucked one stick of dynamite, folded inside his scarf, behind his belt. The ground was rough, treacherous, the snow concealing rocks and dips, and he prayed the vibration would not disturb the dynamite. Should have used a grenade instead. Too late to worry about that now.

Cardon was aiming to mount the ridge at its northern extremity where he was likely to have a sweeping view over the entire terrain. He just hoped he'd reach that position before Butler rode up the section of the spiral road which passed under the ridge. He gritted his teeth as the machine bucked like a wild bronco, kept his balance, saw he was close to the end of the ridge. Then up, up, up!

Newman sat very erect in his seat, binoculars screwed close to his eyes. Butler was now approaching the point where he'd be most vulnerable – if Jennie had seen someone up on the ridge.

Cardon had vanished from sight. Newman guessed he was driving his machine to the limit over very rough terrain. He wished to Heaven he was with them, helping out.

Tweed had steeled himself to remain calm, passive. Every instinct made him want to snatch the binoculars from Newman. To see for himself! Beside him he felt Paula shift her position and guessed the tension was mounting for everyone inside the Espace. Then he felt Jennie's gloved knuckles pressing into his shoulder. His tone of voice was off-hand when he spoke.

'Not much going on up there, Bob?'

'I'm not sure. I thought I saw something.'

Tell us what you think your something was,' Tweed requested, his manner still deliberately low-key.

'Movement on the ridge,' Newman said tersely.

'Can you be a little more specific?'

'Thought I saw two men, but it was only a quick glimpse.'

'Keep looking. Let us know if there are any fresh developments, please.'

Newman had closed his window earlier and now the heaters were beginning to build up a more bearable atmosphere inside the Espace. The two men and the two women sat like waxwork figures; not moving as they stared up the ascent to the ridge which reminded Tweed of the back of some prehistoric beast. But the growing warmth did nothing to reduce the rising tension inside the vehicle.

'Harry Butler is nearly at the real danger point,' Paula observed quietly.

She was right, Tweed thought grimly. Butler was approaching a location where to his left the road stood at the edge of a sheer abyss. Worse still, to his right the eastern tip of the ridge was a gradual and shallow slope from the summit to the road – exposing him fully to any firepower which might be aimed at him from above.

'Oh, God!' Paula exclaimed. 'No…!'

'Two men, both armed with machine^pistols, point-blank range,' Newman reported in a dull tone.

Butler must have sensed danger. Through his glasses Newman saw him bring his machine to a sudden halt. He was staring up to the summit of the slope as both men took aim with their weapons. Cardon appeared out of nowhere from behind the ridge, stopped his machine so suddenly the back wheel jumped off the ground. He was about thirty feet from the American killers. Distracted for a moment, they turned round as Cardon hoisted his arm like a cricket bowler about to throw the ball. A missile sped through the air, landed almost at the feet of the two potential assassins.

The dynamite exploded with a thumping roar they heard inside the closed Espace. A fountain of rock hurtled skywards, mingled with the blood-stained remnants of his targets. The mangled debris moved in an arc, fell straight down on to the road a few yards in front of where Butler had paused. The upper half of one American, severed at the trunk, littered the road. Butler walked his machine forward, used the wheel to nose the relic over the edge into the abyss.

On the ridge Cardon had ridden his machine the short distance to where he could look down on the road. Butler gazed at him, gave the thumbs-up sign, which Cardon returned. Perched on the summit Cardon couldn't resist the gesture. Staring towards where the Espace waited, he beckoned them on with a grand wave. Advance!

'Let's get moving,' Tweed said in a businesslike manner. 'I want to be at the Chateau Noir as close to eleven as we can. And Pete Nield behind us is champing at the bit in his station wagon. I must talk to Amberg.'

Higher up amid the snows of the Vosges there was another more distant watcher who had observed everything. Seated in a green Renault – the colour merging well with surrounding evergreens – Mencken had positioned himself on a platform which provided an almost uninterrupted view of route N415. He now had the undesirable obligation to report to Norton.

'Don't apologize to the creep,' he told himself.

He dialled Norton on his mobile phone, watching the progress of the convoy towards him far below. They were well organized – he'd give them that, the bloody Brits.

'Norton here,' the familiar voice answered after a lot of atmospherics.

'Mencken. Phase Two of the experiment was a complete bust. I do mean complete,' he continued, piling it on. There are two more players out of the game.'

'Plenty more from where they came from,' Norton responded with his usual considerate regard for human life. 'I am now sure our competitors, who are coming up via Route Two, will return via Route One. There the possibilities for the neutralization of the opposition are more promising. You will now assemble the team for the chateau.'

'Understood,' confirmed Mencken.

'And I hope you also understand that our competitors must never reach Colmar again. That would disturb me. More to the point, you would find it disturbing…'

Mencken swore as he realized Norton was no longer in touch on the phone. His language was an attempt to ignore the fear he felt from Norton's last words. They had implied a lethal threat to Mencken in the event of failure.

Seated behind the wheel of his Renault, Norton drove on up into the mountains after giving his orders to Mencken. He was beginning to have his first doubts as to whether Marvin Mencken was the man for the job. He'd decide about that later.

Norton's next priority was the coming assault on the Chateau Noir. It was just possible that Amberg had the film and the tape with him in his castle. That would solve the whole problem.

But Norton was not banking on this. He had his six in the evening rendezvous with Growly Voice at Lac Noir. Here he had a problem. He'd been instructed to come alone – and to continue to conceal his appearance he would have to go to this isolated spot by himself. It was not a prospect he relished – meeting someone whose identity was as secret as his own. He hoped it was a rendezvous he'd never have to keep.

Finally, Norton thought, ticking off priorities, Tweed and his team would be eliminated before nightfall. Phoning Mencken in Colmar, he had coded the way into the Vosges via Kaysersberg as Route Two – N415. The more southerly way into the mountains – D417 – had been coded as Route One. Which was where Tweed would perish.