stared for a moment down into the endless precipice falling well over a thousand feet, then switched his attention to the section of the road he could see.
Inside the car Brazil pointed at Jose with one finger of his gloved hand, leaned over to open the passenger door. In his mind he recalled the recording Gustav had played back to him of Jose's treacherous phone call. An informant, a traitor…
Igor left the car. It bounded forward at increasing speed, its paws making no sound on the snow. As it came close to Jose, still standing with his back to the car, Igor leapt high into the air, thudded into the exposed back, then dropped flat onto the plateau, as trained to do when it hit a target.
Jose, perched on the brink, lost his balance, raising his arms as he fell forward, plunging down into space, missing the mountain road by feet, his body cartwheeling as his yell of terror echoed into eternity. Then the silence of the Valais returned; an ominous silence.
38
Igor sat beside his master in the front passenger seat for the remainder of the journey up to the villa. He knew he had performed his 'trick' well.
Brazil drove up the final steep section, came out onto a large plateau. In the near distance, beyond a large concrete blockhouse which guarded the approaches, the white villa sat near the edge of the plateau. Immediately below it lay the chilling glacier, partially melting due to the sun shining on it with even feeble warmth.
'Why wasn't there anyone in the guardhouse?' Brazil wondered aloud. 'They need shaking up here.'
The chopper which had brought Marco rested on its helipad inside the twelve-foot-high perimeter fence of wire mesh. The protective fence was quite close to the villa. On the flat roof of the building was a tangle of aerial masts.
Pulling up, after passing through the gate which Marco had opened, Brazil left the limo, followed by Igor. He ran up the steps to the long terrace which fronted the villa. In the clear fresh mountain air he felt in the peak of fitness. Marco opened the heavy front door backed by steel.
'Marco, where the hell is everyone? There was no one in the guardhouse.'
'I found there was only the cook-housekeeper Elvira here when I arrived. The guards misunderstood the message you sent them while we were airborne.'
'Misunderstood! I said they were to send a section of the guards over to the laboratory to reinforce it.'
'I know, sir,' Marco agreed in a placatory tone, 'but the message must have been garbled. They thought you ordered all the guards to go to the Kellerhorn.'
'Their bloody commonsense should have told them I would never send such a message. Does that mean you are the only one here – except for Elvira?'
'Yes, sir, I'm afraid it does.'
'You know.' Brazil commented, looking back, 'we should have had that fence erected further away from the villa. It can't be helped.'
'There is a small problem,' Marco informed him as he followed his chief into a vast hall with a marble floor. 'You had better know about it now.'
'Well, get on with it. I have to go to the transmitter to send the first signal in the next thirty minutes. No, in less time,' he said, checking his watch. 'The satellite will be in orbit over Germany.'
'You were followed up the mountain,' Marco said quickly, expecting an outburst.
'You are sure?' Brazil asked quietly.
'Yes. A four-wheel-drive with one man inside it.'
'One man? Heavens, Marco, that should be no problem for you.'
'Oh, it won't be.' Marco said confidently. 'But I thought it best you should know. You may hear noise from outside.'
'Just get rid of him. Make sure he never drives back down the mountain again. There are plenty of places to hide a body easily. The glacier, for example.'
'I had already thought of that.'
'I must go to the transmitter…'
He paused as a short stocky woman, very fat, with a swarthy face, came into the entrance hall. She bowed.
'Good to see you back, sir. What would you like for your meal?'
'I must go to the transmitter!'
He had walked briskly to one of several doors leading off the hall, was taking out his keys, selecting the two which opened the double-locked heavy door, again backed by steel, when Marco followed him.
'What is it now?' snapped Brazil.
'Do you mind if Elvira gives the helicopter pilot his meal before you eat?'
'She can stuff him to the gills.'
Unlocking the door, he walked into a huge room with a large picture window of armoured glass. From the window he saw the distant Kellerhorn summit – below it, the buildings from which Luigi would send the first signal to the satellite. He could also see the huddle of old houses which accommodated the scientists and their wives or girl friends.
'The first signal will throw the world into panic.' he said to himself. 'But that will be nothing compared to what happens when the second signal is sent, probably tomorrow or the day after.'
Brazil had never felt more confident in his life as he sat in the padded secretarial chair in front of the transmitter, put on his headphones, took off his watch so he could time it perfectly, his hands hovering over the keys.
Leaving the airfield with Jose, he had seen in his rear-view mirror fat Luigi climbing aboard the other helicopter, on his way to the Kellerhorn. With Luigi in charge the system would operate perfectly. Once Luigi had received his signal he would operate the mobile conning tower to track the satellite, would lock on to it with the flexible directional mast, then press the button.
As the second hand on his watch reached the correct position he began tapping out the signal. All hell was about to break loose.
'What did Professor Grogarty tell you when you phoned him?' asked Monica.
Tweed smiled grimly. He had woken up earlier, had gone to the bathroom, taken a shower, and changed into clean clothes. When he had come back he had asked Monica to see if she could contact Grogarty.
'He's been studying those photographs again – the ones you sent by courier a second time. The photos taken secretly in French Guiana just before the satellite was launched, when its innards were exposed.'
'He's been brooding about them, worrying over them when he's thought some more about them?'
'You hit the nail on the head,' said Tweed. 'He's totally convinced that it's a highly sophisticated system designed to sabotage global communications. He hasn't worked out yet completely how it could be done. But he insists that somewhere there is a ground station controlling the whole system.'
'If only Newman would phone us,' Monica said wistfully.
'He will at the right time. What's that…?'
Returning from the bathroom, he had left the office door open because the room was stuffy. Suddenly a terrible screeching sound filled the office. Worse than that, brilliant lights, almost blinding, were flashing. The phenomenon, Tweed realized, was coming from the upper floor and down the stairs. Monica had her hands over her ears, an agonized expression on her face.
Tweed jumped up, ran to Paula's desk where he knew she kept several polythene bags containing earplugs. She used them when she was close to a large helicopter landing. Grabbing one of the bags, Tweed ripped it open, saw Paula's smoked glasses, grabbed them, too.
He rushed to Monica's desk, slipped a pair of the dark glasses over her eyes. When she opened them he pointed to the earplugs, gesturing to his own ears. She was inserting them as Tweed inserted a pair in his own ears. He snatched his own pair of smoked glasses from a drawer and put them on as he ran onto the landing outside. Looking down the stairs he saw Howard, obviously just woken up, stumbling into the hall.
