The Power

42

Like a general planning a major battle, Mencken stood up in the front of the Land-Rover he had driven up into the Vosges. He had hired the vehicle before leaving Basle, anticipating driving over some rough country.

From where he'd parked the four-wheel drive – on the edge of a small copse of evergreens – he could look down on the Chateau Noir, scanning the interior courtyard with binoculars. In the back two of his men sat carrying machine-pistols.

'We launch the attack precisely at noon. So synchronize your watches,' Mencken ordered. 'It is now exactly fifteen minutes to noon. Repeat the instructions I gave you. Word for word or I'll break your necks.'

'At noon,' Eddie began, reciting by rote, 'I blow open those gates to let the cars burst into that yard with the troops they'll be carrying.'

'Hank?' Mencken prodded.

Eddie and Hank were the two men who had been on the verge of torturing Jennie Blade when Tweed and his men had stormed into her bedroom at the Hotel Bristol. Both men were still on Mencken's list for liquidation, but maybe someone else would do the job for him in the coming assault.

'At one minute to noon,' reported the tall lean Hank, 'I neutralize that electric wire running atop the outer wall. The telescopic ladders are in position-'

'OK,' Mencken interrupted him. He elevated the aerial on his walkie-talkie. 'Calling Blue, Green, Yellow,

Orange, Brown. Are you in position? Check back in the sequence I called you…'

'So that's it,' Mencken commented when the last team leader had confirmed. 'Everything really depends on Johnny,' he remarked, speaking half to himself. 'He's an expert at scaling heights. With a rope and grappling iron he'll get to the top of that tower -I guess they call it the keep. Armed with machine-pistols he'll dominate all entrances and exits to the chateau. He'll be way above everyone. And if Newman and his amateurs get in your way, kill 'em. OK.'

Mencken twisted round, stared down at his henchmen. 'So what are you waiting for? Take up your positions -this is going to be an easy run. Who can stop us? I'll be inside roughing up Amberg by a quarter after noon.' He glanced up at the clear blue sky as Eddie and Hank hastily jumped out of the Land-Rover. 'What a perfect day for a slaughter…'

Earlier, Marler had arrived at the Ballon d'Alsace high up in the southern Vosges. The controller of the gliding school, Masson, a large genial Frenchman, was apologetic.

'My own team has been laid low with this accursed flu. I felt I could not let you down – especially after the large deposit you paid me.'

'So you didn't let me down? What is the problem?' Marler enquired genially in French.

'Problem solved. I contacted a Swiss friend who also runs a gliding outfit. He has sent a Swiss pilot with his own machine to take you into the heavens.'

Marler had wondered why a Piper Tomahawk, a single-propeller plane with Swiss markings, was waiting on the runway. Behind it, attached to the Tomahawk's fuselage, stretched along the runway was the tow-rope linking it with the glider which Marler would be flying a long way north.

'I got the Met report on my bedroom radio,' Marler told Masson. 'But although it sounded good the data you get is what counts.'

'For a flight to the north? To the Col de la Schlucht, sir? The wind direction is perfect. At the moment, I must emphasize. The weather' – Masson shrugged – 'it can change its mind faster than the most temperamental woman. But this I am sure you know. It is quite a trip you plan to make. Now, the Swiss pilot is waiting…'

Marler chose a moment when he was alone with the Swiss to give him instructions which differed from those he had suggested to Masson the previous day. He wanted the pilot to tow him considerably further north – closer to the Col du Bonhomme, and closer to the Chateau Noir, an objective he did not mention.

It was cold as Marler settled himself inside the cockpit of the glider, adjusted his helmet and goggles. Alone – for Masson had returned to the single-storey admin, cabin -Marler unzipped his canvas hold-all, swiftly assembled and loaded the Armalite. Then he loaded the tear-gas pistol and tucked both weapons by his side in the confined space of his little world. Round his neck he had slung a pair of field-glasses.

He tested with his feet the pedals controlling the glider, especially the rudder which guided the plane once it was turned loose. Satisfied he had done all he could, he raised a hand, dropped it, signalling to the Swiss pilot of the Tomahawk that he was ready.

The pilot already had his engine tuned up. The revs increased, Marler saw the Tomahawk begin its take-off down the runway, the tow-rope linking him to the mother plane stiffened, elevated above the runway. The glider moved forward after a brief jerk.

Less than a minute later the Tomahawk was airborne and so was the glider, Marler glanced at his watch. If he had timed it properly he would arrive over the Chateau Noir just before noon.

While Tweed had been talking to Amberg in his strange working quarters, pressurizing the Swiss banker, Newman had stayed by the indoor pool with Paula and Eve. From the beginning, Jennie, who had accompanied them inside the chateau, had sat in a chair near the entrance, well away from the pool.

Seated with her legs crossed, an elbow perched on them, she had supported her chin with her right hand while she appeared to be observing Eve closely as she completed her lengths in the pool, and later when she sat with Newman, Paula and Gaunt. Newman had called out for Jennie to join them but she had smiled and shaken her head. He offered her a drink.

'Orange juice, no ice, would suit me very well, thank you.'

'Jennie seems a bit stand-offish,' Paula remarked to Newman in a low tone, standing up and joining him as though stretching her legs. He paused, the drink he was carrying to Jennie in his hand, replied also in a whisper.

'My impression is something important struck her and she's mulling it over. Let her be.'

'Struck her?' Paula persisted. 'What do you mean?'

'At some point since we arrived at the chateau and Amberg let us in. Let it rest. I'll make sure Jennie's not feeling out of it when I give her this drink.'

'Remember to come back sometime,' Paula chaffed him. 'She is very attractive.'

'Paula!' Gaunt roared at the top of his voice. 'Paula, I need your company. I always work on the principle that a man should have two devastatingly sensual women so he can play one off against the other. Eve is seducing me with her gorgeous eyes.'

And not just with her eyes, Paula thought when she saw how Eve had arranged her legs as she sat in full view of Gaunt. It was shortly after this that Tweed appeared briefly and spoke to Gaunt.

'Amberg has something to show you in the cinema. Can you find it? At a lower level, Amberg said.'

'Enjoy the picture show. I suppose it's pornographic as we're not invited. Let's time you.' Eve looked at her waterproof Blancpain. 'In ten minutes from now it will be noon. Tell Walter I shall want lunch

…'

Tweed was not surprised to be shown with Gaunt into a large luxurious cinema by Amberg. There was row upon row of comfortable seats and the floor slanted downwards towards a large screen.

'I have set up the tape on a recorder,' Amberg informed them in his fussy manner. 'I will operate the projector to show the film. Make yourselves comfortable. It is air-conditioned, of course.'

'Of course!' Gaunt whispered to Tweed as they walked together towards a middle row. 'That Yankee millionaire who built this horror wasn't short of a dollar. Damned place reminds me of pictures I've seen in magazines of a pre-Second World War Odeon.'

'I'll take an aisle seat,' Tweed said, glancing back to where Amberg had retreated to a large projector mounted on a high dais.

'At least we didn't have to buy a ticket,' Gaunt continued as he settled in a seat next to Tweed. 'Which is a surprise – considering Amberg's love of money.'

'This should be what we have come all this way to see.'

'What happened to Newman?' Gaunt enquired. 'He disappeared on our way down here.'

'Probably gone to the loo.'

Tweed was lying. Newman had taken Tweed aside and told him he was going outside.

'I think I'd better see how Butler, Nield and Cardon are getting on with checking the defences.'

Tweed had nodded agreement. He'd also noticed Newman was carrying the hold-all he had kept close to himself ever since they had arrived inside the chateau. The hold-all contained the Uzi sub-machine-gun Newman had taken off the two American thugs who had kidnapped Jennie at the Bristol.

'Time, gentlemen, for the big picture,' Amberg called out with unaccustomed humour.

The lights were switched down. Tweed and Gaunt sat in near darkness. Taking off his glasses, Tweed cleaned them on his handkerchief, put them on again, looked back once more to where the vague silhouette of Amberg was crouched over his projector.

'How on earth does he keep this place clean without any servants?' Tweed mused.

'He brings in peasants off the lower slopes,' Gaunt told him. 'Pays them a pittance but in cash. This is France. The tax man never sees a franc of their earnings, which makes it all worthwhile – for the peasants and for Amberg.'

A glaring light flashed on to the screen, white with odd streaks of black. Tweed leaned forward intently. In the heavy silence he could hear the tape recorder revolving, spewing out atmospherics. No voices yet.

The light continued to blaze at them. No picture yet. Tweed checked the running time by the illuminated hands of his watch. Almost noon.

The light continued glaring non-stop. The tape recorder went on spewing out atmospherics. Tweed stirred restlessly. It was about time they saw something in the way of images. He suspected Gaunt was equally irked. Gaunt took out a cigar, lit it, blew the smoke away from Tweed, who now had a grim expression.

The strong light vibrated for a while longer, accompanied by the recorder's atmospherics. Without warning the light was turned off. Gaunt blinked, but Tweed had earlier taken the precaution of staring at the floor to keep his vision. The screen went blank. Tweed jumped up, made his way along the aisle to where Amberg stood.

'It's blank,' the banker said in a bewildered tone of voice. 'There's nothing on the film, nothing on the tape…'

'That's because you've substituted an unused film for the real one,' Tweed said in a ferocious hiss. 'Same with the tape. Where have you hidden the real ones?'

Then he heard the distant rattle of a machine-pistol and froze. None of his team possessed one. Newman had the Uzi sub-machine-gun, but Tweed could hear the difference. The Chateau Noir was under attack by Norton's murderous professionals.

When Newman had left the chateau by a rear exit, armed with the Uzi and his Smith amp; Wesson, his objective had been to take the high ground – to get inside the keep and reach its flat roof.

Close to the keep's wall, which sheered above him, he had reached a closed door inside an alcove when he saw Butler waving frantically to him. With the Luger in his right hand, Butler was crouched inside and close to the open doors of the old building used as a garage. He appeared to be warning Newman for God's sake to keep under cover.

Newman then spotted Nield and Cardon pressed against the side wall of the building. What the devil was going on? He suddenly saw a strong rope, knotted at intervals, hanging down the side of the tower. A climber's rope.

He glanced upwards in the nick of time. Way above him on the roof a man was peering down, aiming a machine-pistol at him. Newman jumped back inside the alcove as a fusillade of bullets hammered down on the cobbles only feet from where he had been standing. They were trapped.