in the Baker Street area. Driving into the garage where he often bought petrol, Tweed got out, called out to the mechanic.
`Something's not right with the accelerator, I suspect. I may be wrong but perhaps you could check it. I won't need the car for a few hours.'
`I'll give it a thorough check, sir,' the mechanic assured him.
`Looks like rain,' Tweed remarked.
Opening the boot, he took out his rather shabby Burberry and a deerstalker hat. Handing the keys to the mechanic, he put on the raincoat and hat. Leaving the mechanic, he took off his glasses before emerging into the street. He walked towards Regent's Park without glancing back. A few minutes later he paused at a bus stop and pretended to study the timetable, glancing back. No sign of the Land-Rover or its driver.
`You'll have a long wait for nothing, laddie,' he said to himself.
Crossing the road, he walked along Park Crescent and up the steps of the building carrying the doorplate, General amp; Cumbria Assurance. Monica jumped up when he entered his office.
`Have I got news for you – and don't tell me you already know. Because I don't think you do.'
13
At No. 185 The Boltons several hours later Dr Wand sat in his spacious study at the rear of the mansion. In London the sky was overcast and he had the curtains half-closed across the window behind him. A shaded desk lamp provided the only illumination and the rest of the room was in deep shadow. The intercom on his large Regency desk buzzed and he pressed a switch.
`Yes?'
`The messenger you're expecting has arrived, sir.'
`Tell him to wait for a moment or two. I will let you know when I am ready.'
Seated in his swivel chair behind the the desk and facing the door, Wand's large hands began to fold up the maps he had been referring to – maps of Western Europe. He folded them slowly and carefully. Next he covered up a list of names with his leather-bound blotter. He pressed the intercom switch again.
`Send – him – in – please, Mrs Kramer.'
Wand leaned back in his chair out of the glow of the light. He was staring straight at the door when it opened and his visitor came inside, closing the door behind him. Wand steepled his fingers in the shadows.
`Sit down and give me your report. With precision.'
The uncomfortable carver was placed a good six feet beyond the front of the desk. As the man sat down Wand reached out a hand, swivelled the desk lamp so it shone in his visitor's eyes. The man shielded them with a hand briefly, then lowered it.
`I followed Tweed as instructed from Passford House and…'
Was he at any time aware of your presence?'
`I'm sure he wasn't…'
'I wouldn't bank on that. Please proceed.'
'I followed Tweed all the way to London without losing him once…'
'I don't like the sound of what is coming. Proceed.'
The eyes were blank behind the gold-rimmed glasses and the visitor was not helped in guessing Wand's reactions by the light glinting off the gold. But he could see the mouth which – for a moment – twisted in a most unpleasant smile. The smile always filled him with foreboding.
`He drove into a garage in Baker Street and I waited for him to drive out. He never did. After a while I left my parked Land-Rover and went into the garage. I kidded up the mechanic the driver of the Escort was a friend and got him talking. He didn't even know Tweed's name – he always pays for petrol and any service by cash. I looked all over the garage, pretending I might use it for servicing my car. Tweed had vanished.'
`You – lost- him.'
There was an ominous silence while the visitor tried to think what to say next. He hoped Wand would speak again but soon realized he was expected to speak himself. He felt horribly unnerved.
`I plan to go back to the garage and wait until he comes back.'
`He won't. He knew you were following him. Really, you haven't done awfully well, have you?'
`I'm sorry…'
Please don't say that. Apologies for gross incompetence unsettle me. A team is waiting downstairs – I foresaw this might happen. You will take charge and this time it would be safer for your health if you do a proper job. You don't mind my expressing myself like this, I hope?'
Again the twisted smile. And the voice was so softly speaking the atmosphere of menace seemed more terrifying.
`Forget Tweed,' Wand continued. 'Find a Miss Paula Grey. She is Tweed's assistant. At least that is her title…' He smiled again. 'It might imply a more intimate relationship. I simply wish to know how much she means to Tweed, where she lives, every little detail about her.'
`I'll get moving on that…' His visitor began to stand up.
`Remain seated, please. I will tell you when I have finished. During the break-in at Andover's house are you sure you found no reference to Gaston Delvaux?'
`Nothing, sir. We really turned that place over.'
`Are you absolutely certain you missed nothing? And I do mean certain. As you know, I am a positive person,' Wand concluded.
`I am certain there was nothing connecting him with this Gaston Delvaux,' the visitor replied.
`Then you may go.'
Dr Wand rose, padded round his desk in the shadows. He grasped his visitor by the arm as he led him to the door, his manner amiable.
`Now we're not going to let one silly little mistake – losing Tweed – undermine our self-confidence, are we? I want you to know you have my complete trust. Good day to you…'
Alone, he went back behind his desk. Settled in his chair, he pressed the intercom. Mrs Kramer answered his summons immediately.
`Yes, sir.'
`Our visitor is leaving after taking charge of the waiting team. Have him followed everywhere he goes day and night by Greaves. Have you got that?'
`Understood, sir.'
`Two more things. Phone Bournemouth International Airport, tell the pilot of the executive jet to bring the machine to London Airport. Warn him he will be taking me to Brussels in the near future. And one extra chore, if you would be so good – phone Vulcan and tell him Tweed could be a major menace to our operation, that we may have to take extreme measures, adding him to the target list.'
At Park Crescent Newman and Paula had just walked into Tweed's office. Newman had driven non-stop from Passford House. Tweed welcomed them back with a grave face, asked them to sit down while he listened to Monica.
Newman settled himself into the armchair, stretching the stiffness out of his arms and legs. Paula skipped behind her desk, which faced Monica's, produced a notepad and pen and listened.
Nield and Butler found a camper close to Prevent,' Tweed explained. 'They followed it when it moved to No. 185 The Boltons, with a Land-Rover guarding its rear. They saw the Land-Rover driver carry a pile of cartons – the kind containing tape reels – into this address. Monica has spent half the night checking the organization based there. Moonglow Refugee Aid Trust International. Go ahead, Monica.'
`I managed to contact our agent in Hong Kong, Philip Cardon. Just before he was flying back here. He's good, as you know – speaks Cantonese fluently and, rather like Lawrence of Arabia, who could pass for an Arab, Cardon can pass for a Chinese.'
`He's top flight,' Newman commented.
`He's heard of Moonglow. A rather mysterious organization. The odd thing is it has an outfit in Hong Kong
