highly trained men nominally attached to the Secret Service which guarded the President. But they had a lot of independence. He'd heard they were used to liquidate awkward men – or women – whose activities were inconvenient to the US government. He'd even heard they had been responsible for a fatal 'accident' which had ended in the death of a Senator. And they would not be under his control.
'A bit drastic,' he suggested. 'I've heard about the methods they use. They don't even waste time getting rid of the bodies.'
'I have decided.' Thunder stood up again after draining his glass. 'I'll have a quiet word with the Secretary of State. I'm sure he'll agree to loan them to us.'
'If you're sure this is a good idea.'
'Damnit!' Thunder smashed his glass on the table. 'Tweed has to be eliminated. The Secret Reserve – seven of them – will do the job. They are utterly ruthless. They can travel in jeeps from the motor pool on the mainland. Tweed will be no match for men like that.'
CHAPTER 34
Tweed was still up, studying the complex route from Tender to distant Travemiinde. Some instinct was making him look for alternative routes in case they ran into something. Someone tapped on his door and when he opened it Paula, fully dressed, walked in.
'Am I a nuisance?' she asked.
'You're never a nuisance. Sit down. Like some coffee?'
'No, thank you. I'll never sleep. It looks from the pot as though you've been drinking it by the litre.'
'Helps me to concentrate. What brought you here?' Tweed asked.
'I've been thinking about this journey to Travemiinde. Could it be a trap?'
'Yes, it could. But to clean up this business we have to take the risk.'
'It isn't that I mistrust Gina,' Paula commented. 'I've come to the conclusion that you're right.'
'It's my old cocoon theory.'
'Cocoon?' she asked, puzzled.
'Well, everyone lives inside a cocoon. Their daily life, the way they think, react. Many live in a small cocoon. They go to work by the same train each day, sit at the same desk, their only thoughts concerned with their job -and their family, if they have one. They're not interested in what goes on in the wider world. Fair enough, if that rather enclosed life – cocoon – satisfies them. Others live inside a larger cocoon – men or women running big businesses, generals who command large forces, who need to know many parts of the world because they may find themselves sent anywhere there is a crisis. When I'm talking to somebody – like Mrs France – I'm trying to gauge the size of their cocoon.'
'And Mrs France's is?'
'A very large cocoon indeed. The world is her oyster. She has a wide outlook – searching for huge missing sums of money in the biggest bank in the world, tracking and recording secret coded instructions being sent via the Internet, dealing with two remarkable men. And she has ethics, is trustworthy. If our trip to Travemunde is a trap it is so because someone else has set the trap.'
'That's a thought.'
'Incidentally, I've decided everyone must be up and ready to leave by 6.30 a.m. Don't ask me why – I could only say sixth sense. I've called everyone else and luckily didn't wake anyone up. I think it could be quite a day.'
'I'd better go…' Paula yawned. 'I need the shut-eye. Is Lisa coming with us?'
'Yes. We can hardly leave her here.'
She told him about the incident when Lisa had mentioned a man with gold-rimmed glasses as one of the partners.
'How could she know that?' she concluded.
'That fits in too with the picture I am forming of the two massive forces ranged against each other. I won't explain now. You get off to bed.'
Paula turned at the door before opening it, waved her finger at him. 'You need sleep too, so I expect you to get to bed as soon as I've left.'
She threw him a kiss and was gone. Tweed took off his glasses, rubbed his eyes. She had a point, he decided.
At Inseknde Barford had eaten dinner with the FBI section guarding the house. He had sat next to the head man whom he had found intelligent and interesting. They were alone now, drinking coffee. Cordell, the FBI chief, seemed in no hurry to leave.
'I find it a strain,' he admitted, 'protecting the Secretary of State and the other three VTPs. I wish the meeting had taken place back home in familiar surroundings.'
Cordell was a man of medium height, well built and very fit. He had a tough face but a warm smile which appeared occasionally. He seemed to have taken to the Brig. He showed no sign of being in a hurry to leave the table.
'It will soon be over,' Barford told him. 'How many more days?'
'They're vague about that. For security reasons. Three or four more days is the official version. My bet is we'll be out of here in one or two days.' He paused, lit a cigarette. 'I hear they're using the Special Reserve to go after some poor bastards.'
'They are. You don't sound enthusiastic.'
'I'm not. That bunch of thugs. They do things we'd never dream of doing. I heard of one case where their target was a banker who wasn't cooperating. Two men did the job. They had checked his routine and he never varied from it. Came out to lunch at exactly the same time. So one thug goes into the bank wearing dark glasses – they always wear dark glasses. He hung around for a few minutes. His pal waited outside. The banker appears, starts to walk out of the bank, reaches the door. The Special Reserve man inside shoots him in the back. At the same moment the thug outside shoots him in the head. They go down to the sidewalk, step into the waiting getaway car and they're gone. We would never use methods like that. It's cold-blooded murder.' Cordell paused. 'I'm sure you won't pass on to anyone what I've just said – for obvious reasons.'
'Not to a soul on earth. I promise you.'
'I'd better go outside now and check the situation…'
The Brig lingered for a few minutes, then walked out of the dining room. Outside in the corridor he almost collided with Gavin Thunder.
'Dinner's over. We talked a lot. Everyone in agreement. Very satisfactory.'
'Could we have another private word?'
'Why not? We'll go back to the room where we talked before.'
Once inside the room Thunder headed for the drinks cabinet, came back with two glasses and a bottle of brandy. Barfbrd thanked him but refused a further drink. Thunder poured himself a large tot, was in a jubilant mood.
'Here's to the success of our great enterprise.' He raised his glass, then noticed the Brig's expression. 'You don't look too happy.'
'I'm not happy at all about using the Special Reserve. I don't approve of it.'
'Don't approve of it!' Thunder had raised his voice. 'You know something? I wasn't aware that your approval was a factor we have to consider. The decision is taken. I want you to accompany them in the boat which will take them to the mainland tomorrow, to see them off in the three jeeps they will travel in, wish them luck, for God's sake.'
'I will accompany them in the boat. But I stress that I do not approve. I'm asking you to cancel the operation.'
