`It is, as always, a pleasure to hear from you, Joseph. Is there some unforeseen problem I may be able to help with?'
`There is.' He heard Joseph swallow as though gearing himself up to continue. 'I'm asking to be relieved of the assignment you asked me to carry out.'
`Really, Joseph. Now that I find a most intriguing request. Would it be possible for you to give me your reason for this unique attitude?'
`Certainly. It is quite simple. I doubt whether I am capable of carrying out the assignment. I wouldn't like to let you down.'
`Quite simple?' Wand repeated softly. 'I think that I understand. And, as always, Joseph, you are right. I would not wish you to let me down as you put it. May I express my appreciation for your being so honest with me. Under the circumstances, our mutual trust remains unbroken. Now, I have a quite different instruction for you. Behind the Hilton is a large garden area, the Parc d'Egmont. You know it? Good. This is what I wish you to do…'
When he had ended the call Wand leaned forward to replace the receiver. For a moment his face was reflected in the desk lamp. To Jules it seemed the Devil incarnate. Wand leaned back out of the light, steepled his large hand under his chin.
Jules Starmberg was from Luxemburg. He had undergone intensive training at a camp in the countryside outside Hankow,, deep in the interior of China. Stocky, powerfully built, he possessed great physical strength and part of his training – to test his nerve – had been for him to break a man's neck, a man like a bull. Starmberg had passed that test with flying colours.
Officially the butler, Starmberg was really Wand's right-hand man. Reflecting his profession, Wand sometimes called the Luxemburger his Chief of Staff. There were two men in the West completely trusted by Wand – Jules Starmberg and Vulcan.
`Jules, we are faced with one of those little problems, I fear.'
`Of course there will be a solution, sir,' Starmberg responded.
`The problem is Joseph.' Wand sighed regretfully. 'Oh dear, human nature can be a problem. Who would have foreseen Joseph would fall madly for the charms of Miss Grey?'
`He refuses to carry out your order?'
`Not expressed in the most subtle way – but in your blunt manner I am afraid you have summed up the problem. Could you be so good as to phone Vulcan? Please tell him to go to a public phone and call me. I have to give him some instructions to pass on to Anne-Marie. The groundwork is already laid. Joseph will be waiting in the Parc d'Egmont at an agreed hour. And, Jules, this solution has also the advantage of rattling Miss Grey and Newman. Tweed, too, if he returns to Brussels.'
`We have to crush the weak sisters as we would a cockroach,' Jules agreed.
`Not quite how I would have phrased it,' Wand commented. 'I have just been studying the map. I calculate the Mao III and the Yenan – bearing in mind the considerable speed at which they move – should by now be well north off the west coast of Africa. The news in the paper rather confirms this since it gives the date when the Dutch vessel Texel left behind the woes of this world.'
`And that is the really important team those ships are carrying to Denmark,' Jules remarked, standing by Wand's side to look at the map.
`We are still at an early stage of Operation Long Reach,' Wand pointed out. 'At least I think so. And you are quite correct – the trained men aboard those ships are the elite leaders trained to take command. On the other hand, events may be moving faster than was anticipated. Europe is throwing away its defences. I have had a signal warning me that the operation may be launched much earlier than originally planned.'
`You said you wished me to contact Vulcan,' Jules reminded his chief.
`I was just about to ask you to call him. The Parc d'Egmont will be famous by nightfall.'
The sky was a sea of grey storm clouds as Mordaunt walked up to the narrow entrance to the Parc d'Egmont. He checked his watch by the illuminated hands – it was so damned dark it might have been night. He wore a trench coat, collar turned up against the cold, and a trilby hat. No one else about and he was on time.
He felt relieved about the outcome of his phone call to Dr Wand. Before lifting the receiver and dialling the number he'd had to assert all his will power. He had never disobeyed an order before. Looking back, he wondered how he'd had the nerve to do it. His mind had been half on Paula. She had given him the impetus to refuse the order.
Mordaunt's brain was still reeling with the impact the girl had made on him. For the first time he had become infatuated with a woman whose personality had – over one lunch – captured him body and soul. He smiled at himself for thinking in such terms.
He was walking now quietly along the the soggy path into the area of grass and trees. As he'd expected, no one else was in the park. It had rained heavily for a short time in the afternoon. He stopped and listened. The only sound was the steady dripping of water off the trees, a noise which for some reason got on his nerves. Like the Chinese water torture.
Get a hold on yourself. You're only a few yards from the back of the Hilton. At times he could see the lights inside the Cafe d'Egmont, the matrons of Brussels in their expensive clothes taking tea. He was in the middle of civilization.
He wandered deeper into the park – away from the Hilton and towards the distant walls of villas at the bottom of the sloping grass. Who was he supposed to meet? And where the devil were they?
He stopped again in the small neglected wilderness. The drip-drip-drip of water dropping off the trees was getting on his nerves. Apart from that unsettling sound it was so silent. He could be miles from any city…'
`Joseph! Over here…'
A woman's muffled voice. A vague shadow slipped out from behind the trunk of a tree, waited for him to approach. She was muffled too – in a long raincoat, the hood pulled well down over her head. He walked towards her. She held something in her hand.
`Joseph, put on these dark glasses. You must not risk being recognized when we meet someone to give them the package.'
He guessed now what his role was: to act as bodyguard during some transaction. He reached out his right hand, took the dark glasses, raised his arm to put them on. The woman's right arm jerked up, plunged down. He felt something sharp rip the cloth of his raincoat, penetrate his suit and shirt, stab painfully into his upraised arm.
There was a brief flash of pain, then a ferocious attack of white-hot burning inside his body. He gurgled horribly, waved his hands futilely for a millisecond, sagged to the soaked grass, lay very still.
33
In London it was afternoon as Tweed slowly paced round his office while Monica watched him. Philip Cardon had completed his report, then had been overwhelmed by fatigue.
He had phoned his girl friend's flat to tell her he was coming home. She'd told him her flat was no longer home for him: in his long absence she had acquired a substitute boy friend. Tweed had immediately called in Butler, who had agreed to take Cardon by car to his own pad. When he came back he said Cardon was sleeping like a babe
…'
Tweed had told him to stay in the office he shared with Pete Nield.
`I may need you at a moment's notice. Be ready to travel abroad. Monica will supply you with Belgian and German currency…'
`You're getting geared up for a big push,' Monica had suggested late in the morning.
`We may have to move very fast. I'm trying to out-think Dr Wand – as I'm sure he's trying to out-think me. It all depends on which of us successfully deceives his opponent…'
There had then been a flurry of phone calls – some of which had surprised Monica. First, Tweed had phoned the PM, asking permission to take a certain course of action. He had then waited to give the PM time to make his own phone call. Later Tweed had called SAS HQ at Hereford, speaking to the officer in charge of the stand-by
