Panko followed him, hoisting the two bags inside, climbing in after them, securing the two cases. He sat next to Barton. He guessed that his chief was glad to be rid of Oskar and have his independence again. Barton reached to turn on the machine. His hand froze in mid-air.
Glancing around, he had noticed a small black object tucked under the pedal, an object that shouldn't have been there. He took a small torch out of his pocket, bent down, examined the object with the aid of his torch beam. He straightened up, looked at his companion.
'Isn't it time we took off?' Panko grumbled impatiently.
'Oh, we'd take off all right when my foot pressed that pedal. Take off about a hundred feet into the air in small pieces. Someone during the night put a bomb on board…'
'A bomb!'
Panko had opened the door, dropped to the ground, fled at top speed until he was behind a wide tree trunk. Barton grinned without any mirth. It suited him that Panko had run like a scared rabbit. Now he could concentrate.
He had seen on the Internet how to make a bomb. So had someone else. It was a crude device but it would have detonated. Remembering the Internet programme which had also showed how to dismantle such a device, he looked for the switch. Behind the bomb a small red light was glowing. Taking a deep breath, he pressed the switch. The red light went out.
Several minutes later he climbed out carefully, holding the black box which had wires protruding at different angles. He carried it into the wood, hid it gently under a tangle of undergrowth, returned to the plane.
'You can come out now. Gutsy,' he called. 'The bomb is no longer on board.'
Panko slouched forward slowly, hesitantly. An ugly look came over Barton's tough face. He pulled out the Colt, aimed it as he shouted.
'Move faster or I'll shoot you.'
Panko ran. Barton was again behind the controls as Panko climbed aboard, shut the door. Barton glanced at him with an expression of disgust.
'You know something?' he began. 'There are people who would thank God I was the pilot.'
'You do great job. You great pilot. You best pilot flying in world. You great.'
'Don't overdo it,' Barton growled as he reached to switch on the engine. He paused. 'What I want to know is, who planted that bomb? When I find out whoever it was, he's going to die. Die very slowly.. .'
The propeller started whirring, built up power. The aircraft moved forward, left the ground well before it reached the end of the airstrip, gained height. Barton's plan was to fly a distance from Tender, keeping south until he observed Tweed's blue Mercedes on the move. He was convinced the car would leave Denmark, heading south into Germany. Then all they had to do was keep their distance, follow it to its destination. He wouldn't contact Thunder to tell him where it went to. They could do the job themselves, wipe out Tweed and his team and earn another load of money.
CHAPTER 35
Who was Mr Blue, as he was known in Britain and the States, or M. Bleu in France and Herr Blau in Germany? Tweed woke in the morning and blinked. He realized the questions had been surging through his mind while he slept.
He checked the time, forced himself out of bed, had a shower, shaved, got dressed. He packed in less than five minutes – he could pack faster than Paula. It came from years ago when he'd had to pack and leave in minutes to save his life.
Downstairs he found everyone else having breakfast in the dining room, except for Harry. He had just ordered full English when they all heard the gentle purring of a motorcycle pulling up outside. Harry, carrying a crash helmet and pulling off gloves, bounded into the room, sat down.
'I'll have the lot,' he told the waitress.
'Where on earth did you get hold of that machine?' Paula asked.
Harry told the story, making a joke of it. Then went on to explain how he'd just persuaded a garage proprietor to open up so he could get the tank filled with fuel.
'The Danes wake early,' he concluded.
'Not that early,' Nield objected. 'How did you persuade him? Half strangle the poor blighter? Knowing you, I guess you did.'
'And the crash helmet?' Tweed enquired.
'Bought that last night off the chap who sold me the bike.' He looked at Tweed. 'Hadn't you better explain the tactics?'
Tweed explained that Harry would be both advance guard and rearguard at a distance from the car. Then, for the benefit of the others, apart from Harry, he told them about the grim warning he'd received over his mobile in the night. He said he'd decided to take it very seriously.
'And I thought it was going to be a joyride,' Newman commented humorously. 'Instead it sounds as though the enemy is revving up.'
'Seems to me they always know where we are,' Lisa chimed in.
'Yes, they do,' Paula replied, giving her a look.
'We must be prepared for a really violent assault,' Tweed warned.
'Well,' Paula added on a more cheerful note, 'I arranged last night for cartons of food and fruit to be prepared for all of us. Plus umpteen litre bottles of water.'
'Maybe it will be a picnic after all,' Lisa suggested.
'It could be,' Tweed agreed. 'We mustn't let fear dominate our outlook. That could be our opponent's aim…'
Breakfast over, Tweed spread a map on the table. For Newman's sake he indicated the route they would follow to Traverminde. Even more important, he showed Harry, who said it seemed pretty straightforward.
'It's anything but that,' Tweed told him. 'A lot of country lanes – and we purposely cross over the autobahn at this point and continue on secondary roads…'
They could feel the heat starting to build up as they settled into the blue Mercedes. Everyone sat in the positions they'd occupied the previous day. Newman was behind the wheel with Marler alongside him. In the second row Tweed sat with Paula while behind them the rearmost seats were occupied by Nield and Lisa. It struck Paula that Nield was beginning to get very attached to Lisa.
Harry, astride his motorcycle, drove off first. Paula looked out of the window as they passed over the stream where a man was fishing. She'd like to have stayed longer and felt quite nostalgic about leaving Tender.
Then the town was behind them and Tweed carefully kept an eye on the map open on his lap, navigating for Newman. They were soon out in open undulating country with copses of trees here and there. Paula looked ahead as Harry disappeared over a rise.
'What has Harry got in that big pannier?' she wanted to know.
'An Uzi,' Tweed replied. 'Plenty of firepower. Nield has the second one and Lisa the third. Because they're in the back. Now, everyone, I want you to keep an eye open for a fortress.'
'I haven't seen a castle anywhere,' Lisa pointed out. 'What do we need one for?'
'They do seem a bit spare on the ground,' Tweed admitted. 'I want a topographical area where we can hold an enemy off and make him come at us so we can see him clearly.'
'You'll be lucky,' said Marler.
On the mainland, opposite Sylt, out of sight of the railway, three jeeps were drawn up, one behind the other. Seven men in camouflage jackets stood waiting, holding automatic rifles.
Gavin Thunder appeared, accompanied by Brig. Lord Barford who had reluctantly agreed to join him. Apart from anything else, he was worried that the two ex-SAS men might be soldiers he had had attached to his forces during the Gulf War.
'That's Ed Miller, the leader,' Thunder whispered to Barford.
The American he was referring to, wearing a camouflage jacket like his men, was six feet three tall, wide-
