This United state

12

'I think I should summarize what's happened so far. It might help us to get events into sequence at the moment we're in, a fog,' Tweed began.

In his office were Newman and Marler, with Monica and Paula behind their desks. Roy Buchanan had still not arrived and there had been no word from him. Monica had served everyone with strong coffee to increase their alertness.

'It began with the arrival of Cord Dillon, and Paula spiriting him out of a murder attempt. Cord, sacked from his job on the grounds of so-called embezzlement, is at the Bunker. Recently 1 hired Keith Kent, the money tracer, to check on American movements of money. He called me from Basel in Switzerland, suggested I went there. Then he tells me that huge sums in dollars have been sent from Washington to the Zurcher Kredit Bank – in Basel. Paula, give us your impressions of the characters we've encountered so far.'

'You're having lunch with Ed Osborne at the bar in Piccadilly today. At his suggestion. You went to see Sharon Mandeville. At her suggestion. Bob is dining with Sharon this evening. At her suggestion. Marler is taking out Denise Chatel, also this evening. It was at Marler's invitation, but she agreed immediately. All these people are key Americans. I get the idea they're trying to smoke us out.'

'You could be right,' Tweed agreed. 'Now give us portrait snaps of the characters involved.'

'Ed Osborne is tough, clever and dangerous. I'd say he's pretty high up in the opposition. Sharon I haven't met so far. Denise Chatel appears to be the nicest, but she's a mystery, so an unknown quantity who should be watched. Sir Guy Strangeways is also clever, but he's playing a peculiar game. Big question mark. Basil Windermere is a piece of social rubbish. Ditto for Rupert Strangeways, a worthless idler. Don't you agree?'

'Not entirely, but please go on,' Tweed urged her.

'Jake Ronstadt. I only saw him for a short time at Goodfellows but I feel he's very dangerous. He exudes dynamic energy. He was suave when he talked to us – I wonder how he talks to his staff. Hank Waltz tried to torture me to get information – he would have killed me later. I won't dwell on that episode. But it demonstrates the lengths to which they'll go. Then we have a horde of professional thugs entering the country via Paris. Why Paris? Because they hoped to get here secretly.'

'I spoke to Rene Lasalle of the DST this morning,' Tweed told her. 'He's very worried about the Americans – he's sending me by courier some photos discreetly taken of a lot of them. I'd like you to look at them when they arrive. What is really happening, then?'

'They're trying to increase their influence over Britain. At the least.' She paused. 'They could be planning to occupy Britain. You'll think I'm mad-'

She stopped speaking as the phone rang. Monica answered, told them Chief Inspector Roy Buchanan had arrived. Tweed told her to ask him to come up immediately.

When Buchanan entered they were all struck by how grim he looked. At Tweed's invitation he sat down, accepted Monica's offer of a cup of coffee.

'I need it.' He looked round the room. 'I trust everyone here, so I can talk freely. You've heard the news?'

'What news is that?' Tweed enquired. 'You look haggard.'

'A huge bomb went off this morning at a big department store in Oxford Street, when it was crowded with shoppers because of a sale. The bomb was planted under a perfume counter with a lot of boxes of stock. Casualties so far thirty dead and many injured. I've come from there – I closed off Oxford Street, which is why I'm late. It was horrific.'

'A rebellious IRA splinter group?' Marler asked.

'Absolutely not. The Bomb Squad arrived quickly. They found a second huge bomb which hadn't detonated. They locked the timer, dismantled it quickly. They told me it was such a sophisticated electronic device it couldn't be the IRA. Electronics suggests Silicon Valley in the States. Guess where the second bomb was planted.'

'Where?' asked Tweed.

'In the baby clothes and children's toys section. And there are dead children among the casualties.'

'Bastards,' snapped Newman.

'How did the bombers get in?' Tweed probed.

'No idea. The staff who opened the doors saw no signs of forced entry. In addition they had neutralized the alarm system, then re-set it so the staff wouldn't be alerted when they came in first thing.'

'Someone trying to cause panic?' Tweed mused.

'If it was, it worked. Oxford Street was deserted before I had it closed off. The news spread like wildfire. Thank you,' he said to Monica, who had brought him a second cup of coffee. 'It was an atrocity,' he concluded.

'Any idea who was responsible, then?' Tweed asked.

'None at all. It's early days.'

'Roy, you were coming to see me anyway. What was that about?'

'First, a body was washed up on a mud-bank just south of the East End. A small, thickset man with a bald head. A Hank Waltz.'

'How do you know that?'

'Had a soggy American diplomatic passport in his pocket.'

'You're informing the American Embassy?'

'No, I'm not,' Buchanan said vehemently. 'And, would you believe it – I've lost the passport. Let the Yanks ask me – if they do. Then there was a second body.'

'Also dragged out of the Thames?' Tweed suggested. 'No. Had an anonymous call. For some reason I decided to go myself. Probably to see if it was another American. Found the deceased on some steps off Regent Street. This one had a rifle bullet through his head.' 'Any identification?'

'Yes. A Swiss passport with the name Kurt Schwarz.' 'He was murdered, then?'

'No doubt about it. Just one rifle shot. Why did I think of the Phantom?'

'Maybe because the PM, Keller in Germany and the Minister in France were also shot through the head with one rifle bullet. Any witnesses?'

'I had the team with me call at every house, waking people up. One of them was Basil Windermere. We know he lives off playing up to rich women.'

'And what did Basil have to say?'

'Said he'd been woken up by a faint crack! Thought it was a car backfiring, so he went back to sleep. He had no idea of the time when he heard the noise.'

'Was he sleeping alone?' Marler interjected.

'Yes.'

'Was he in his pyjamas?' Marler persisted.

'Yes. Why this interest in Windermere?'

'Suppose I just have the natural instincts of a detective.'

'I see.' Buchanan drank more coffee. 'You're not usually so vocal.'

'One more question, Roy,' Tweed said to divert the policeman from the subject of Windermere. 'The Chrysler in Strangeways' garage at Parham. Did you manage to check the vehicle?'

'Yes. I sent a team down to Irongates. They had a search warrant but they were careful. The entrance gates were closed. There were no lights on in the house – even though it was almost dark as night. They scaled the side wall. A locksmith released the padlock on the garage doors. There was nothing inside. No sign of a Chrysler.'

'They'd got out in time.'

'Seems so.' Buchanan took a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, handed it to Tweed. 'That is for your eyes only. Do you recognize any of the names?'

'Yes. Two Cabinet ministers. Several prominent MPs. And a number of well-known businessmen.'

'All of them have been bribed by the Americans. Given large sums in dollar bills inside executive cases. Special Branch officers have been watching the Embassy in Grosvenor Square. They have followed Americans coming out carrying executive cases. They meet the recipient of the bribe in out-of-the-way places. Obscure bars and pubs. They have a drink with the target, then leave alone, having propped the executive case against a bar or table leg. After they've gone one of the men on that list leaves, after picking up the executive case. Three of them opened the case before they went off – produced several stacks of one-hundred-dollar bills and dropped them back inside the case. It's bribery of key British figures on a massive scale.'

'This is getting even more dangerous.'

'What I've told you all in this room is strictly confidential.'

'And will remain that way,' Tweed assured him.

Howard burst into the room at that moment. Seeing Buchanan he apologized. He spoke very quickly immediately afterwards.

'I think all of you ought to come to my office. There's a TV report on the bomb left in an Oxford Street department store. Have you heard?'

Paula led the way out of the room and upstairs to Howard's office. Newman and Marler followed her. Tweed turned to Buchanan, not sure whether he would spare the time.

'I think I'll come with you,' the policeman said. 'Sometimes whoever has committed a crime has an irresistible urge to revisit the scene of what he did…'

Inside Howard's room his secretary had arranged chairs and the TV was on. No one sat down. They stood in silence, waiting.

'How did the TV people get through?' Tweed whispered to Buchanan.

'I left instructions for them to be allowed in. The people who did this thing may rub their hands with glee, thinking it will terrify the population. I take a different view. I think it will cause universal outrage and fury. Here it comes…'

Unusually, there was no commentary, which made what followed more horrifying. The cameras panned round inside the store. The floor was covered with lethal shreds of glass. Paramedics were helping injured women and some men to leave. The counters and checkout points were shattered. No item of furniture remained undamaged. Bloodstained shoppers were still lying on the floor, attended by paramedics and doctors. One man had an arm missing. A prone woman's skirt was dripping with blood, her face slashed by flying glass. A number of bodies were lying very still, sprawled on the ground. The camera panned to the exit.

A woman, lying flat, her neck bandaged, blood seeping through it, was being carried out on a stretcher by two paramedics. She raised herself up, staring at the camera as though unaware of its presence.

'My husband. Where is my husband?'

Behind her, where she couldn't see, the paramedic carrying the rear end of the stretcher, shook his head. Paula gasped.

'Oh, my God,' she said half under her breath.

'It's like a battlefield,' Newman said to Tweed.

Paula stood up to leave. In the open doorway Monica stood staring as though she couldn't believe her eyes. She went down- back to Tweed's office, followed by Newman, Marler, Tweed and Buchanan. The policeman tapped Tweed on the shoulder before they were about to enter the room.

'I'll have to go now. There was no one shown who wasn't with the ambulance men or paramedics. My men did their job. Try and keep in touch with me.'

'You do the same…'

There was complete silence when he went into his office, shut the door and sat down behind his desk. Monica sat stunned, her hands in her lap. Paula gazed at – each of her colleagues, made no comment. Marler, leaning against a wall, was about to light a king-size, decided against it.

Tweed leaned forward across his desk. They all stared at him, knowing he was going to say something important. When he did speak his voice was calm, resolute.

'We use any devious ruthless method to defeat them.'