been made to remove him from this world if necessary…'
This terse conversation took place several hours before Paula made her abortive phone calls.
Tweed continued reading from the Andover file:
'But in the thirteenth century far more momentous events were afoot upon the larger stage of Asia. A Tartar people from the country to the north of China rose suddenly to prominence in the world's affairs, and achieved such a series of conquests as has no parallel in history. These were the Mongols…
– In 1214 Genghis Khan, the leader of the Mongol confederation, made war on the Kin Empire and captured Pekin (1214 AD). He then turned westward, conquered Western Turkestan, Persia, Armenia, India down to Lahore, and south Russia as far as Hungary and Silesia..' '
`I don't see the point of this history lesson,' Newman protested.
`Patience. Let me read a little more…
'His successor, Ogdai Khan… continued this astonishing career of conquest… He completed the conquest of the Kin Empire and then swept his hosts across Asia to Russia (1235 AD), an altogether amazing march. Kieff was destroyed in 1240 AD, and nearly all Russia became tributary to the Mongols. Poland was ravaged, and a mixed army of the Poles and Germans was annihilated at the battle of Liegnitz in Lower Silesia in 1241…''
`That's getting near to home,' Paula observed as Tweed paused.
`Most intuitive of you. Andover underlined the passage beginning with Poland.'
`You might let me in on what this is all about,' Newman complained.
`Shshh!' said Paula. 'Read on,' she prodded Tweed. .. It should be noticed that the Mongols embarked upon the enterprise with full knowledge of the situation of Hungary and the condition of Poland – they had taken care to inform themselves by a well-organized system of spies…'
`Andover has underlined that last passage where I raised my voice,' Tweed commented.
`Still don't get it,' Newman persisted. 'The only Mongols left are a handful of nomadic tribesmen in Central Asia. So what? Andover was a student of history.'
`Andover,' Tweed emphasized, 'is a student of present- day global menaces, trying to foresee the future from past history. Yes, the Mongols are mere nomads of no particular size today. But massive forces exist close to them – forces which Andover believe studied history.'
`Liegnitz is not far from the Atlantic,' Paula said thoughtfully. 'How close, I wonder?'
`You are beginning to detect the shadowy outline of the enormous menace Andover identified,' Tweed told her. `Andover has written a comment on exactly that point…'
– Liegnitz is little more than a hundred and fifty miles from present-day Berlin – and no more than two hundred and fifty miles from Hamburg and its opening to the sea. The Mongols came within a hair's breadth of reaching the Atlantic – and Britain.'
The last two words have been also underlined by Andover,' Tweed explained. 'Apart from his comments, what I have read you are extracts from H. G. Wells' A Short History of the World.'
`So now we've had our history lesson,' Newman remarked, stretching himself, 'what is the next move?'
`The next move is for us to hurry to Belgium to have a talk with Professor Gaston Delvaux of Liege. A fresh link in the chain, I hope. Monica has tickets for the three of us. But first I must speak to my old friend, Chief Inspector Benoit of the Brussels police. A man who knows everything going on inside his country.'
`Let's hope he doesn't give us a shock,' Paula said. `Why should he?' Newman demanded.
`I just have a feeling.'
`More intuition?' Newman asked ironically.
Monica phoned the Brussels number and requested the call to be put on a scrambler phone. She was told they would call back. Several minutes later the phone rang.
`Benoit?' Tweed enquired. 'Tweed here.'
`Ah, my old friend has at long last remembered me,' a warm voice greeted him in English. 'How are you? Good. So you must have a problem. Always a problem when you contact me. Shoot, as the vulgar Americans say.'
`I am coming over very shortly..
`Tell Monica to phone me the flight details. I will meet you with a car at Zaventem Airport.'
`A more pleasant welcome to Belgium I can't imagine.
Thank you. I need to visit a M. Gaston Delvaux..
`Are you also on scrambler?' Benoit interjected quickly. `Yes.' Tweed's grip tightened on the phone. 'Why?' `Delvaux the armaments genius in Herstal outside Liege?'
`That's the man,' Tweed confirmed.
`You may have difficulty seeing him, I fear. There is a mystery there. Very strange.'
'What kind of mystery?'
`I don't know. Yes,' Benoit stated, 'I agree that sounds a peculiar thing to say but it is the truth. We are banned from going anywhere near his chateau.'
`What on earth is going on?' Tweed pressed.
`I am not making myself clear. Let me try. But it will not be easy to describe the indescribable.'
The cold facts would help.'
A sigh. 'Gaston Delvaux, so active all his life, and in his fifties still, has withdrawn from all public and commercial activities. He has become a recluse. Possibly a nervous breakdown? Why then has no doctor been to see him as far as I know?'
`How much of a recluse?' Tweed probed. 'And for how long?'
Paula had leaned forward. At the mention of the word `recluse' her eyes gleamed. She watched Tweed closely. Newman, previously drumming his fingers quietly, had stopped and sat upright, also staring at Tweed's expression, which gave nothing away.
`For three to four months. Apparently his wife has left him, ran off with an American millionaire. I find that a little hard to believe.'
Tweed had a jab of memory. His own wife had left him for a Greek shipping magnate. So far as he knew they were living somewhere in South America. He was surprised how little the reminder affected him. It had happened, after all, quite a few years ago. All this flashed through his mind as he immediately responded to Benoit.
`I also find it hard to believe that about Lucie,' Tweed said grimly. 'Gaston brought her to London once for a meeting of INCOMSIN. I had dinner with them. His wife struck me as a very stable woman, very attached to Gaston.'
`My impression also,' Benoit agreed. 'Of course, you cannot always tell with women. But it still does not sound like Lucie. Not at all. But that's what Delvaux has told people.'
`That's the extent of the mystery then?'
`By no means. There is more. I said he had become a recluse. He suddenly resigned all his posts – Scientific Adviser to NATO, Defence Consultant to the EC, etc. All thrown up overnight.'
'How long ago?'
`Three to four months.'
`Which must have just about coincided with the disappearance of his wife, Lucie?'
`That is so. It was assumed here that caused him to withdraw from public life. Myself, I think the psychology is wrong. To cushion the shock of losing his wife he would have immersed himself in his work. I repeat, a mystery.'
`Monica will let you know when we are coming, Benoit.'
'We? Is the delightful Paula coming with you?'
`She is.' Tweed smiled to himself. Benoit had a soft spot for Paula. 'We'll see you soon…'
The phone rang on Dr Wand's desk. He picked it up, glanced at his Rolex watch.
`Yes?'
`I'm phoning from a call box,' a woman's voice informed him. 'I have completed the assignment at London Airport. The job is done.'
`Did anyone see you?'
`Of course not. Conditions were perfect. A large jostling crowd. Ideal atmosphere for the operation.'
`Excellent, my dear,' Wand purred. His pursed mouth smiled with satisfaction. His eyes gleamed behind the pince-nez. 'We shall soon be leaving for Brussels, where I may have another assignment for you. Come here in your
