'He's not convinced…'
'The same problem I had in Brussels,' Benoit intervened. 'A lack of solid evidence.'
'There's your evidence.' Tweed nodded to Haber, then turned his head away.
'The Minister is attending a cabinet meeting this morning,' Van Gorp continued. 'He promised to bring the matter to their attention. His exact words.'
Tweed glanced at him suspiciously, detecting a touch of irony. Van Gorp stared back, his grey eyes motionless.
'The Dutch Government won't close down Europort without an overwhelming case.'
'Then Klein will close it down for them. You've taken no action at all?'
The Dutchman's eyes twinkled. 'I didn't say that, did I? I believe you. I have cancelled all police leave. I have brought in extra units from The Hague. We are combing the city – looking for any unusual activity. The trouble is you are Secret Service. The Minister made great play with that. Not your scene, man. Tracking bandits.'
'My omission,' Tweed apologized. He produced his warrant card. 'Temporary appointment. I'm a Commander of the Anti-Terrorist Squad.'
Van Gorp grinned. Thank you. Now I may have the Minister by the balls. Let's get back to the Hilton fast.' He called out to detectives waiting in a group near the stern. 'Do something about this horror in the gravel. And hurry it up.'
They made their way round the tall white cloth screen erected to shield the barge from public gaze. On their way back in the car Tweed thought about Paula searching for Haber's wife and son.
The car pulled up outside the mill in the middle of the Ardennes. Paula jumped out, followed by her police escort, Pierre. She studied the old stone tower, the shuttered windows, then walked all round it.
'I think this is a very likely prison,' she told him. 'You have the spare set of keys the agent gave you?'
'Yes.' Pierre puckered his lips doubtfully. 'Strictly speaking I need a warrant from a magistrate.'
'Why? We checked the other places yesterday.'
'This one has been bought. Paid for outright.'
'Suppose they're starving inside? A woman with her child?'
'You are very persuasive. After all,' he joked, 'I can only lose my pension.'
The heavy door opened with a groaning creak. Paula followed him inside. Creepy. Pierre switched on his torch. It was Paula who mounted the old circular staircase to the door on the first floor landing. She took a deep breath as Pierre studied the labels attached to the keys, selected one, thrust it inside the keyhole and turned it.
Taking hold of the ancient handle, he paused, turned it swiftly and entered, his automatic in his hand. Paula followed. At the far circumference of the circular wall a woman with bedraggled hair stood, her arm round a boy.
'Marline Haber?' asked Paula in French.
'Yes. Thank God. Who are you?'
'Paula Grey. Pierre and I have been looking for you, searching empty houses from lists supplied by estate agents. Are you all right?'
'Yes. Perhaps because we didn't drink that.' She pointed to a thermos standing on a crude wooden table. 'It is coffee supplied by the kidnapper, but it tasted odd. So we did not drink any…'
'I'll take that,' said Pierre, 'for analysis…'
'My husband, Joseph. Is he all right? Do you know where he is? Who are these madmen?'
'We'd better get you both back to Dinant,' Paula said. 'Then I can enquire further.'
Entering the Hilton, Tweed was approached by the concierge who told him there was a gentleman waiting for him in the breakfast room, a Commander Bellenger. Tweed hurried to the room.
'Hello, Tweed. Thought I'd have a spot of breakfast while I waited. Flew over as soon as I'd got the message. Luckily we checked with Brussels before I took off. They told us you were on your way here. Are you on your own?'
'No.' Tweed lowered his voice. The Dutch Chief of Police is waiting in my room when you've finished your meal…'
'Finished now, old chap. Duty calls.' Bellenger stood up, wiping his mouth with a napkin, leaving his half- eaten meal. 'Get used to sudden calls to action in the Navy,' he continued as they made their way to the elevator. 'Snatch a bite to eat between watches – and before you've swallowed two mouthfuls there's an emergency. There's one here, isn't there?'
'Let's talk with everyone present. And thank you for flying over so quickly. I want you to impress on these people what we're facing. That armoury of explosives -Triton Three – is now hidden somewhere near here, I'm convinced. Target – Europort.'
'Oh God,' Bellenger said as they stepped out of the elevator. 'They could shut down a continent…'
In his room Van Gorp waited with Newman, Benoit and Butler. Tweed made quick introductions, then poured another cup of coffee for the bluff, ruddy-faced Bellenger who perched on the arm of a chair.
'Tell them,' said Tweed. He looked at Van Gorp, standing with his back to the window. 'But first you should know a huge quantity of new type of explosive was stolen from a depot inside Soviet Russia…'
He phrased the next bit carefully, embroidering to keep his promise of secrecy to Lysenko not to mention Igor Zarov.
'Klein organized the theft of thirty sea-mines and twenty-five bombs of a very advanced type. He used the so-called Free Armenian Movement and others he bribed. That armoury was transported aboard a Greek ship, the Lesbos, which vanished into thin air. Only very recently did we realize it is now a wrecked hulk which has lain off the Norfolk coast for months. The armoury was smuggled ashore, hidden inside a hundred-year-old crypt. The whole operation was brilliantly organized – because in Klein we are up against one of the most ruthless men I've ever encountered. I've lost count of the people he's murdered personally to cover his tracks.' Tweed addressed Bellenger. 'I've just returned from viewing his latest victim – Joseph Haber, a bargee from Dinant. He's lying in his own load of gravel aboard a barge in Waalhaven near here, his throat slashed from ear to ear. That was how the timers and control boxes – designed by a Swiss – came to be smuggled into Holland. We've reached today.'
'Very bad news,' Bellenger commented, 'that bit about Swiss-made timers and control boxes.' He looked at Van Gorp. 'I can't tell you how, but I do know the one crude element used in the Soviet mines and bombs is the detonating device.'
'These mines and bombs,' Van Gorp commented, 'must be pretty large – difficult to hide so many.'
'Not at all. It's a great technical breakthrough-achieved, I suspect, with East German scientists. Both bombs and mines will be very light in weight, exceptionally small in size.' He cupped his hands. 'One no larger than a pineapple could entirely destroy a small ship.'
'What about a seven hundred ton coaster?' Newman enquired.
'Wipe it off the face of the earth. You'd have trouble finding any bits left.' He glanced at Tweed. 'I've heard reports there was a mysterious and huge explosion in the North Sea off the Dutch coast last night.'
'That was the coaster – bringing across the armoury. We're sure the armoury was off-loaded on to smaller vessels in the middle of the sea passage from Norfolk to here. Then a bomb was used to eliminate the coaster.'
'Entirely possible,' Bellenger agreed. He looked at Van Gorp. 'And a frightening prospect for you.'
'Just how powerful are these miniaturized mines and bombs?' the Dutchman asked. 'I mean I'd like some idea of the explosive power of this new stuff.'
'Very crudely put, midway between conventional high-explosive and an atom bomb.'
'I see.' Van Gorp's expression was unusually grim. 'As you say, I might have a problem. Where do we start?' he asked Tweed. 'You've been in on this business from the start. You know more than any of us about this Klein. Incidentally, I've informed the Minister of your status with the Anti-Terrorist Squad. You know what he replied? 'Well, that regularizes the situation.' Just that…'
He broke off as the phone rang, picked it up, spoke a few words in English, then handed it to Tweed. 'For you. A Paula Grey, speaking from Dinant.'
'How is it going, Paula?'
'Fine. Marvellous news!' She sounded jubilant. 'We've found Martine and her son, Lucien.' Her voice became guarded. 'I'm speaking from Dinant police HQ – over an open line.'
