Leatherbrother, accompanied by a uniformed chauffeur, paid the deposit and an extra amount in banknotes. The chauffeur has returned the car.'
'A dead end,' Tweed commented. 'What I expected.'
'There was something I should have told you earlier,' Harry said. 'Probably not important, but when I biked up to the summit of the Down overlooking that weird house…'
'Eagle's Nest?' Paula prompted.
'That's it. At the summit, about twenty feet back from the edge of the quarry, were a lot of rabbit holes, or so I thought. Shoved my arm down one and couldn't touch the bottom. It's like a rift circling the Down about twenty feet from the edge. Unstable, I'd say.'
'I'm sure a man who could afford a house like that had the area properly surveyed,' Tweed replied dismissively.
'What I was going to say was I think my first instincts were right. This scenario which is unfolding mysteriously has to be something very big, very dangerous. With international implications. Don't ask me what it's about because I have no idea.'
The phone rang. Monica answered, put the caller on hold, told Paula an Aubrey Barford was wanting to have a word. Paula looked puzzled, shrugged, took the phone and in a cool voice asked how she could help. The call was brief and when she handed the phone back she shrugged again as she went back to her desk.
'For some reason Aubrey Barford has invited me to have lunch with him at Martino's. One o'clock. I accepted -maybe I'll get some information out of him. At least he's the nice one. Couldn't abide his brother, that stuck-up ponce Lance.'
'See whether he'll talk about his father's way of life these days,' Tweed suggested.
'I'll do that…'
The phone rang again. This time Adonica pulled a wry face when she looked at Tweed.
'The Minister is on the line for you. Gavin Thunder. By now those reports on Jeremy's death will have reached him…'
'Tweed here
'Thank you so much for sending the reports. I have a favour to ask you. Could you meet me for a quick chat? I'm a member of Marlows, rather an unfashionable club in Pall Mall.'
'I'd like to bring my assistant, Paula Grey.'
'She would be most welcome. Marlows has no apartheid where women are concerned, thank heaven.'
'When would you like us to come?'
'You couldn't make it in about half an hour's time? Or is that an imposition?'
'Just a second.' Tweed checked his watch. There was time to agree and Paula could still make her appointment at Martino's. 'Yes, we can be there.'
'I'll look forward to seeing you both. Thank you again…'
Paula lifted her eyes to the ceiling. 'I bet he nearly blasted your head off after getting the reports.'
'On the contrary, he was very polite, most cordial. We'll get a taxi.'
Monica was surfing the Internet when the most hellish screeching filled the room. She stared in disbelief at her screen, her hands clapped over her ears. She used her head to gesture for them to come and look.
The terrible noise was so violent they all had hands protecting their ears as they joined her. Paula frowned. She had never seen anything like it. Thick lines, like missiles aimed from different directions, were shooting non- stop all over the screen. Newman used one hand to click the mouse. Made no difference. He hastily re-covered his ear.
Paula had glanced at her watch the moment the Internet went crazy. The diabolical racket continued, the eye-boggling lines never stopped skidding across the screen. When the noise ceased and the screen returned to normal Paula checked her watch again.
'That glitch lasted for exactly sixty seconds,' she announced.
'Let's go,' Tweed suggested. 'This new technology hasn't settled down yet.'
'But I've never experienced anything like that before,' Monica protested. 'Something very strange has just happened,' she insisted. But they were on their way out.
CHAPTER 4
It was 11.30 a.m. Lisa had eaten the breakfast Herb had brought to her room. Her body was tingling with the second shower she had enjoyed and she'd decided she would go out. She was dressed to merge with the area outside The Hangman's Noose. A shabby old pair of jeans, an ancient blouse, a windcheater that had seen better days and an old pair of shoes with metal rims. She slung a well-worn shoulder bag over her shoulder and her hair was covered with a ragged shawl.
Going downstairs into the bar she was looking forward to wandering round the market. She loved the atmosphere. As she headed towards the door Herb called out to her from behind the bar.
'Wait a tick, I'm comin' with you.' He turned to a formidable fat woman also behind the bar. 'Millie, dear. Look after the place. I fancies a breath of fresh air
They had just stepped into the street when the sun came out. Wandering among the market stalls Lisa revelled in the aroma of fresh fruit and vegetables. The cobbled street was littered with discarded cabbage leaves, and inhabitants of the old houses, attracted by the brilliant sunlight, leaned out of first-floor windows. Lisa stopped suddenly for a second, then resumed her slow walk.
'You've seen 'im,' said Herb.
'Yes.' She grabbed a pair of tinted glasses from her bag, put them on. 'Delgado. What's he doing here? He's a long way from Bulgaria or wherever he comes from.'
'That's why I came with you.'
Delgado, holding a large brown paper bag in his left hand, was standing on the far pavement, his dark eyes sweeping the area slowly. A giant, over six feet tall, he had a body to match his height. His greasy black fringe needed trimming and below it was a vicious face. A large nose broken in several places loomed above a wide cruel mouth, an aggressive jaw. He wore a long dark coat that almost reached his ankles.
'And he's brought a small gang of thugs with 'im,' Herb remarked. 'All foreigners. There's one.'
A small, powerfully built man, wearing a dirty baseball cap back to front, had stopped at a stall, grabbed hold of a banana, was eating it. The stallholder asked him to pay for it. The small man turned round slowly, finished his banana, threw the skin in the other man's face, waited. The stallholder decided not to make an issue of it when he looked at the culprit closely.
'I saw Delgado grab a leg of lamb off a stall, shove it into that bag he's holding. When payment was demanded Delgado produced a knife from somewhere. Blade must have bin eight inches long. He didn't pay.'
'What's going on?' Lisa asked.
'They're scanning the area. 'Ad a good look at my pub. They check out alleys, anywhere they could 'ide. That squat thug pinched the cap off Bert.'
'When?'
'They first appeared a couple of hours ago, got out of cars, scanned this area quickly, then drove off. I sent Bert after them on his motorbike. They drove to the West End, parked, then checked out expensive restaurants, discotheques. You name it. Now they're back 'ere.'
'You think they're getting ready for a riot?'
'Not yet,' Herb told her. 'Not if I read the signs aright. They're choosin' targets for somethin' later. Here come six more of the tykes. Foreigners again. Walkin' separate as though they don't know each other.'
Selecting an apple from a stall, Lisa asked how much. The stallholder grinned, shook his head. He exchanged banter with Herb, who explained as they continued walking while she munched the apple.
'That was because you was with me. See that villainous lot that's just arrived? They're passin' Delgado as though he didn't exist. That's deliberate. Ever seen that brute before?'
'Yes. Once in a bar in Brussels. He caught me looking at him and I think he's a man who remembers people. Shouldn't you have some protection, with Delgado's mob casing the area?'
