'The more the merrier,' Tweed replied.
'Seats all booked for Hamburg,' Monica called out. 'You're to be at Heathrow at noon tomorrow. I've sent a courier to collect the tickets – I'll hand them out this afternoon. I did book return.'
'Yes, we do hope to return,' Tweed told her grimly.
Paula thought Tweed had never been more vigorous -and doom-laden. This is going to be no picnic, she told herself.
'Seating. How do we travel?' Harry asked, the first time he had spoken.
'Good point,' Tweed agreed. 'I sit with Paula. Away from us, Newman sits with Mark. Near the back of the plane Harry will be with Pete – to keep an eye on us. Marler behind all of us.'
'Weapons?' drawled Marler, propping up a wall.
'You ask that question?' Tweed rasped, leaning forward. 'We know three top government men have been murdered. Paula told me she'd heard from Buchanan that one of the two thugs he's arrested admitted their job was to kill Lisa. Somebody tried to kill me on our way back from Alfriston a century ago. And you ask that question?'
'So I gather the answer is yes,' replied Marler, quite unperturbed. 'Lucky I have a contact in Hamburg. Nice little chap. In a not-so-nice little street off the Reeperbahn.
For that I'll have to take ninety thousand deutschmarks.'
'So you're buying an artillery piece?' Harry joked.
'Thought it might come in handy,' Marler joked back.
Paula did a quick mental calculation. Ninety thousand DM – about thirty thousand pounds. But she knew obtaining illegal weapons – with the serial- numbers filed off and that had never been used by anyone else – came expensive.
'Oh, Tweed, I didn't tell you the full story about Louis Lospin's murder. That's London's version. The French papers are calling it suicide. Gave a graphic description of how he waited until his chauffeur had raced off- probably to see his latest girlfriend, which is my bit – and then blew his head off and slumped down the front door of his apartment, still holding the gun.'
'Echoes of Jason Schulz,' Mark commented. 'Found slumped down at the bottom of a tree trunk, the gun clasped in his hand. He should have toppled sideways.'
'Echoes of Jeremy Mordaunt,' Tweed said. 'And I saw the body. I've just decided – after what Bob told us – that I'll call in at the Ministry of Armaments on the off chance Gavin Thunder is behind his desk.'
'Want me to come with you?' Paula suggested.
'No. From what I've heard of Gavin, a married man, no less, he'll ask you for your home phone number. I'm going now.'
Lord Barford was sitting in his study in the manor. From the windows he could see the sweep of the rolling Downs, the sun reflecting off a quarry face. He had unlocked a drawer in his desk and was studying a ticket he had bought at Heathrow the previous evening. Yet another journey into Europe loomed. He shoved it quickly inside a large leather wallet as his younger son, Aubrey, came in. 'Well, Pater, I was early to meet you at Heathrow last night,' Aubrey remarked as he sat down and languidly crossed his legs.
'What's that red mark round your forehead?' Barford growled. 'You haven't been tearing around on that motorcycle with a filly on the pillion, I hope.'
'Given up the old motorbike. That red mark is a riding cap I wore which was too small for me.'
'So you say. How can I believe one bloody word you say? Incidentally, I'm off again on business tomorrow. An early start. Not sure how long I'll be away.'
'Can I drive you up to Heathrow, Pater?'
'No. The chopper will get me there.' Barford made sure the drawer containing the leather wallet was locked. 'I'm off to bathe…'
When Lord Barford had gone, Aubrey began poking round the study. For the second time he picked up the French newspaper which had arrived a week ago. His father had several foreign papers delivered to him by air mail.
Settling himself comfortably, after raiding his father's cocktail cabinet and helping himself to a double Scotch, he reread the item. It reported the return of Louis Lospin to Paris after conferring with the police in Corsica about the bandit problem on the island.
Inside the control room of his house, Eagle's Nest, below the quarry on the Downs, Rondel pressed the lever that elevated the apparatus up the chimney-like tower. Then he went outside into the warm night and watched and listened.
The device rose smoothly, noiselessly appeared out of the chimney's mouth, continued to rise until its targeting apparatus focused above the rim of the Downs. Satisfied, Rondel returned to the control room, pressed another lever which withdrew the system down and inside the chimney.
'Is you ready for dinner, sir?' Mrs Grimwood asked when he walked into the spacious dining room. 'Cook has roasted a nice chicken for you. She left you to choose the wine, as usual.'
'Good. I shall be going abroad tomorrow. May be absent for quite a while. Phone you when I'm returning.'
'My. You do travel, sir. I'd be tired out if I had to travel as much as you do. All those trips by airplane.'
'That's modern business. And I think I'm ready for a meal.'
When he was away Mrs Grimwood often used one of his older cars in the evening to drive to a pub in Alfriston. She loved the gossip. 'Was it true Mildred was expectin'? And 'er not married…'
There were times when a friend would ask her where Rondel had gone to this time. Always seemed to be gallivantin' off, the friend would comment hopefully. Then Mrs Grimwood, after taking another sip at her strong gin, would look mysterious.
'Now, Elsie, you know I can't talk about me employer. Not right 'an 'e 'as secrets. Mum's the word.'
The truth was that Mrs Grimwood hadn't an idea on earth where Rondel disappeared to.
CHAPTER 14
The junior civil servant seated behind his desk in the entrance hall of the Ministry of Armaments stared stiffly at Tweed. His attitude suggested some sacred protocol had been abused.
'The Minister cannot possibly see anyone who has not made an appointment.'
'Tell him my name. He will see me.'
'I have to tell you that is impossible. Without an-'
'Look at this.' Tweed produced his SIS folder, opened and closed it before it was possible to see what was inside. 'Now, if you want to keep your job, stop wasting my time and get on with it. You will find yourself in a most difficult position if I report your obstruction.'
Tweed's manner was autocratic, a pose he rarely adopted. He did, however, know how to deal with government officials full of their own self-importance. He twirled the rolled umbrella he rarely carried. His whole aura suggested someone who was a high-ranking member of the Establishment.
I'll see what I can do,' the arrogant young man said, getting up slowly from behind his desk. 'Tweed, you said the name was?'
'Didn't you hear me the first time?' Tweed snapped.
Thoroughly cowed now and uneasy, the young man hurried up the large staircase Tweed had mounted on his earlier visit. When he glanced down from the first floor, Tweed was making a ceremony of checking his watch.
A minute later, Tweed was ushered into the Minister's large office. He came forward from behind his massive desk, hand extended.
'My dear Tweed, how good to see you. Do sit down. Coffee – or something stronger?'
'No, thank you, Gavin.'
'You're here, I'm sure,' Thunder said, sitting on a couch facing his visitor, 'to tell me whether you're still investigating the case of the unfortunate Jeremy Mordaunt. I know you asked Superintendent Buchanan to attend the coroner's inquest.'
