out with the bodies on them showing no signs of life. Chaos and blood were everywhere. A woman staggered out of the ruined entrance. A paramedic appeared, took hold of her gently, removed her from camera range.
The scenes of carnage gave way to the reappearance of the newsreader, his voice solemn.
'There will now be a short broadcast by Superintendent Buchanan of the Metropolitan Police.'
Roy Buchanan's image appeared, a view of head and shoulders. He stared straight at the camera, his expression grim, his voice calm and determined.
'Ladies and gentlemen, the Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police has just appointed me as Head of the Anti-Terrorist Squad. I have also been given full powers to call on the help of any other unit I may deem to be necessary. We know that the atrocity you have just seen – together with the bombing of two other department stores in the capital – is not the work of the IRA. Nor is it the work of any ultra-extremist Muslim sect. I shall be working day and night to hunt down these vile murderers. I have given orders that when they are encountered by my men, if they open fire, we shall shoot to kill. Lot there be no doubt about that. Thank you for giving me your attention.'
'That was pretty tough,' Newman said as Marler switched off the TV. 'Thank God. He really means it.'
'So do I,' Tweed said very quietly. 'We will exterminate these vermin.'
Marler remained behind when the others had left, after a warning from Tweed that no one should contemplate going to bed. That they must be ready to leave at a moment's notice.
'After we got back from Beck's place,' Marler said, 'and you missed death by inches, I went up to my room. I immediately phoned Windermere's room. There was no reply. I then phoned Rupert's room. Again there was no reply. So both were out.'
'You think one of them is the Phantom?'
'Don't you?'
'It could be a third person who hasn't yet appeared on the scene,' Tweed mused.
'The Phantom is a crack shot, although twice he's just missed. Once with Paula at Irongates in Kent, the second time with you tonight.'
'You don't think they could have been deliberate misses, to unnerve me? And why has it to be a man. These days there are some women who are as expert shots as men,' Tweed speculated.
'I'll get him – or her – in my sights sooner or later. I still have my Armalite.'
'By the way,' Tweed said, 'when we drive to Freiburg, which I'm convinced 'Mill be the case, we'll be staying at the Colombi to begin with. I remember it – a first-class hotel not far from the railway station and fairly close to the outskirts. We have the Schwarzwalder Hof as an alternative base. It's deep inside the old city. We may even dodge backwards and forwards. And don't be surprised if, when we do arrive at the Colombi, we see Sharon. She told me at dinner she's going there.'
'What is that woman up to? I saw her when you came through the Brasserie on your way to the bar.'
'She's trying to decide whether to leave America for ever, to settle down in England.'
Someone tapped on the door. When Marler opened it Paula walked in. Without sitting down, she stopped uncertainly.
'Is this the wrong moment for me to turn up? I can always go back to my room. I was restless. The waiting.'
'Stay,' Tweed told her. 'Sit down.' He turned to Marler. 'I was wondering why you asked about Sharon.'
'I doubt if instructions to kill you were transmitted over the phone. Which suggests to me they were given by someone inside this hotel.'
'What are you talking about?' Paula demanded. 'Instructions to kill Tweed?'
'I was going to tell you later,' Tweed said quickly. 'On our way back from seeing Beck across the road someone took a pot-shot at me. Missed by a mile.
'A short mile,' Marler corrected.
'So why query Sharon?' Tweed asked him. 'There are other people in the hotel.'
'Who, for example?'
'Ed Osborne.'
It was in the middle of the night when Jake Ronstadt called the members of his outfit to his suite. As ordered, they were all fully dressed. Unusually he stood at the head of the table.
'Who the hell gave you permission to sit down?' he snarled when they had automatically occupied their chairs. 'Get on your feet.'
'Anyone gettin' old and tired?' he sneered as they jumped up.
'Sorry, Chief. We're OK,' said Vernon.
'You'd better be – otherwise you'll find yourself with a bullet in the head, dumped in a ditch.' His voice changed, became dangerously wheedling. 'Has everyone packed, like I said? If you ain't raise your right hand.'
No hands were raised. Ronstadt stared slowly round, his hard eyes glaring at each man. They waited, not daring to move a muscle. Ronstadt spoke again, this time in a calm voice.
'We're leaving – for Freiburg first, then the Black Forest. I've told you before. But in case you've got short memories I'm goin' to repeat myself. I'll drive the lead car. Vernon comes up behind me. When we're on the autobahn, Vernon, I'll signal where you turn off – with a wave of my arm. You go up the slip road, meet the two cars waiting, transfer the weapons into your car, then drive down to rejoin me. Is that too difficult for you?'
'Piece of cake.'
'Then ram it down your throat. The bill's paid, so why are you all hangin' around here?'
'So Denise never called you after leaving?' Tweed asked.
'No. Why would she?' Marler said. `I'm the last person she'll want to see again. She must have concocted that whole yarn about the Minotaur.'
'Seems she did.
Tweed was trying to think up things to say. In his room everyone was gathered, including Keith Kent, who seemed the most placid. In the middle of the night there was an air of unspoken tension. Everyone was waiting to get on with it, knowing that nothing might happen. Paula sat in an armchair, swinging her crossed legs. She reached for her pack in her shoulder bag, then decided she didn't want a cigarette. Newman, seated on a couch, kept checking his watch. Marler was leaning against a wall. The other two who were most patient were Butler and Nield, chatting quietly to each other.
'Anyone like some more coffee?' Tweed enquired. 'Helps to keep you alert.'
No one did. Newman was thinking he could have had a nap in his room. Paula got up, went over to the windows, carefully peeked through a gap she made in the closed curtains. On the opposite bank of the Rhine a few lights gleamed in the old houses, their reflections trembling in the river. Insomniacs, she thought. They existed all over the world.
The mobile phone on the table began buzzing. Tweed forced himself not to grab. Picking it up, he was aware of six pairs of eyes watching him intently.
'Hello?'
'They're on the move. Must be close to the border.' 'Thank you.'
Beck's distinctive voice had come clearly across. Tweed put the mobile into his pocket. He spoke offhandedly, as though they were going on a day trip to a resort.
'Time to go. I suspect we have very little time left.'
In the Atlantic, well clear of the American coastline, Crag – Rear Admiral Joseph Honeywood, in command of the huge naval task force – settled into his seat in the Island of the President. It was night and he liked to be at control after dark. That was when you could get an unpleasant surprise. He looked at his Operations Officer.
'We're making good time. We should be on station in the English Channel less than four days from now.'
'No doubt about it, sir.'
'And so far, Bill, we've been lucky. We haven't been spotted by any other ship or a commercial airliner.'
'I have a feeling that will go on. The Brits will wake up to find us off their shores.'
'The SEALs are ready for action?'
'They are. If they have to land they'll sweep over anything that gets in their way. They're rarin' to go.'
