Authors: Colin Forbes
Paula stopped as the front-door bell rang three times,
then twice, the signal that it was someone from Park
Crescent. Ever cautious, Tweed in his shirt sleeves
extracted his Walther, ran down. A large cardboard-backed
envelope had been pushed through the letterbox. On the
front in neat lettering was Mr Tweed, from M—r. Marler.
Taking the envelope back upstairs he sank into his
favourite armchair. Paula perched on an arm. She watched
his expression as he took out a batch of colour photos and
hid them from her. The reaction to the first one told her
nothing. He looked at two more, then at Paula as he handed
her the three photos.
'Who are these women? Any idea? The smaller one is Coral Flenton - Marler has written her name on the back.'
'Glory! This is crazy,' Paula exclaimed. 'The woman who
is calling on Coral is the Parrot, I'm sure. She was disguised
when she came to see you but I'm sure it's her.'
'And Coral told you in Popsies she hated the Parrot. No
sign of hatred there. They look the best of friends.'
'What the devil is going on?'
'Loose strands are beginning to link up. First, Coral knew
poor Viola. Now she has the Parrot as a friend.'
'I'm confused,' Paula admitted.
'Well, you know I never trust anyone. Nield's informant
has been playing a double game, but how?'
'I'm shaken - after what Coral told me. And I've just grasped what I thought was odd about her. While talking she kept looking down at her coffee as though she didn't want to meet my eyes.'
'There are four more colour pics Marler took. In the East
End, this time. Fitch is on the loose again.'
He handed her the pic showing Fitch walking towards
Newman, then three more. One showed the sign board of the Pig's Nest. Another of Fitch inside the pub talking to
another man. There were two of the same view. Marler
must have stood at the open door. He had a lot of nerve, Tweed thought as he handed her the last photos.
'I recognize Fitch at the bar,' she said. 'But not the thug he's drinking with.'
'Thug is too mild a word. That's Mugger Morgan, a very
nasty piece of work. Buchanan once showed me a picture of
him leaving court. Once again his lawyer had got him off a
serious charge of brutal manslaughter. On a technicality.
Newman caught Fitch trying to invade your home. He may
try again. Wherever you go now you need someone with you from the team.'
'I think you're right.'
'And I'd better follow you home in my car.'
'Couldn't I stay in the spare bedroom tonight? I've done so before. I did bring some night things with me.'
'Good idea. Sleep well.'
She bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek, then headed for the spare bedroom. Tweed continued checking
his files on agents operating abroad, recent reports.
Nothing from Philip Cardon, who could be anywhere.
Paula reappeared in her pyjamas and dressing-gown.
'Any idea of what time it is?'
'I thought you'd be asleep.'
'My mind was churning over those photos and other
developments. It's 2 a.m.' She placed both hands from
behind him firmly on his shoulders. 'Up you get and off to
bed.'
'I suppose you're right.' He suppressed a yawn. 'I need to
be fresh for tomorrow, that is today in the morning.'
'Why?'
'We have a meeting with the Cabal at their HQ in
Whitehall. The two of us. I want to study those three brothers.'
'Two brothers, one half-brother.' She increased the
pressure on his shoulders. 'I want to see you actually go to
bed.'
For discretion's sake, Paula left early, collected her car from
behind Tweed's in the nearby mews where he'd rented
space. When Tweed arrived three-quarters of an hour later
the whole team was assembled in his office. Monica spoke
up immediately.
'I've got someone hanging on the line you will want to
talk to,' she said.
'Hello,' Tweed answered.
'Wonder if you still recognize my voice,' the caller began.
'Philip! Where the hell are you now? Or maybe you'd
sooner . . .'
'Just listen. You need to fly to Aix-en-Provence today.
By this flight. Here are the details . . . You land at
Marignane Airport, in the middle of nowhere. I'll have a
car waiting to drive you to your Aix hotel, the one in the
north of the city. It would be safer if you brought two
members of the team.'
'Paula and Newman?'
'Perfect. Something very weird is going on. A certain
Noel Macomber is arriving late tonight to meet a most dubious character tomorrow evening. Twenty-four hours should do the trick. OK?'
'Yes.'
The line went dead. Tweed looked round the room.
Paula could tell he was delighted. He gave them the news.
'So,' Newman commented, 'our wandering boy Philip
Garden has surfaced again. Bet he knows what is going on
over here. Strange that Noel Macomber is flying out to Aix.
To meet whom?'
'We'll find out, won't we,' Tweed told him. 'Heathrow is the worst part. All those queues on security grounds. I hate
that.'
'That's all right,' Monica called out. 'I'll phone your old
friend, Jim Corcoran, chief of security. He'll slip you
through the queues.'
'Good idea,' Tweed agreed. 'Now Paula and I have an
appointment with the magic circle. All the Macombers. I'm
anxious to detect which one is the boss.'
Tweed found a parking space as a car pulled out. They
walked the rest of the way down Whitehall and into the side
street - into the dragons' lair, as he called it.
'Bet I spot the chief dragon,' Paula teased him.
The side street was narrow and deserted. Tweed stopped
in front of a building which bore a wall plate: Special
Branch. He pointed.
'Let's hope that's never altered to State Security. And
they've converted the place into a fortress.'
The ground floor windows had been blocked up with
steel sheets. On the first floor all the windows had bars and
wire netting over them. To reach the speakphone Tweed
had to perch on a big stone slab with a rubber pressure pad
attached to its top.
'How do we get into Fort Knox?' he demanded after
pressing the bell.
'Identify yourself,' a metallic voice demanded.
'Oh, for Heaven's sake, you know we're coming. Tweed
- and don't forget Paula Grey. Now open up, if you can.'
Tweed was about to add something even more caustic
when Paula pulled at his sleeve, a finger to her lips. She
eased him off the stone slab.
'Probably nothing will open while you're on the pressure
pad,' she whispered, then grinned.
They waited. Tweed put his executive case, which
contained nothing but blank sheets of paper, over the lens
of a camera let into the large metal door. Paula frowned,
pulled his arm away.
There was an electronic buzzing sound and the door slid
up, disappeared. In the opening stood Noel Macomber,
smiling as he checked out Paula. She stared back until his
gaze dropped.
'Welcome to you both,' Noel began in a cultured voice.
'In you both trot.'
Trot? Tweed wondered. 'Electronics? Is the fire exit also
opened by gizmos? Because if it is and there is a fire you'll
all burn to a frazzle.'
If he keeps on like this, Paula thought, we'll get nowhere.
They stepped on to an escalator which purred up to the first floor. Noel had pressed something, there was more
buzzing and the entrance door slid back to the closed
position.
'We have to take all precautions,' Noel explained as they
stepped off the escalator.
'So if anyone wanted to wipe you out,' Tweed replied, 'a
truck with a very large bomb could just get down the narrow
street by riding its wheels on the pavement.'
Paula wanted to punch Tweed but desisted as Noel
opened a mahogany door into a large room, the walls
painted cream, the only furniture a triangular table of
rosewood with a chair on each of the sides. A large square
table stood further back, at which two men were seated.
They stood up and came forward to greet their visitors with
outstretched hands.
'I'm Nelson,' the largest brother said. 'My father was an admirer of the famous admiral.' After shaking hands with Tweed he turned to Paula, a wide smile on his face as he grasped her hand, then released it. 'Bit of a joke - if I'm in a rowing boat on a lake I feel seasick.'
'Didn't your father realize this later on?' she asked,
smiling back.
He laughed. 'A bit late to do anything about it. Not that
he'd have bothered. This is Benton, my brother.'
'I am glad to make your acquaintance.' He was smaller
than his brother but also heavily built. He also smiled
warmly. 'Do come and sit down.' His voice was soft, gentle,
unlike Nelson's, who spoke with force.
'Then there is an equally important member of our little
group, or perhaps the most important,' Nelson boomed.
'Noel is our planner. He has a head for detail which I fear I
lack!'
By now they were close to the large square table. Noel
smiled at Paula, a very pleasant wide smile as he studied
her. 'I am glad Tweed brought you along. You would have
an important part to play in the new organization. We do
know something of your remarkable ability.' He held out a
chair for her. She looked up, smiled, thanked him.
Tweed, who was rather left out at this stage, was amused.
They were all concentrating on Paula.
He thought he knew
why. When they were all seated Nelson asked whether they
would like tea or coffee. Both guests opted for coffee. Black.
Nelson pressed a bell under the table. A side door was
opened at once and the Parrot appeared. Tweed looked
straight at her, betraying no recognition. Coffee was
brought quickly, but was served by a red-haired girl who did
not even look at Paula. Coral Flenton.
'I expect,' Benton said, 'that Mr Tweed has heard a few
details of what is proposed. May I ask you, sir, what is your
reaction? You do have a veto.'