22
'So,' Nield concluded his narrative, 'I escaped without being compromised. Coral looked furious.'
'I don't believe one word of what that woman says,' decided Paula. 'Why is she twisting and turning the situation in that building?'
'It's possible that she's acting on instructions from one of the Cabal,' Tweed mused. 'But I doubt it.'
'Which one?' Paula asked.
'I have no idea. I rather doubt my theory. Can't think of what she's up to.'
'Maybe she's barmy,' Nield suggested. 'It was someone out of their mind who committed that horrible Viola murder.'
'She's too small to have done it,' Nield said.
'It's like a mosaic,' Tweed ruminated. 'Every piece fits in somewhere. But we're missing the main picture.'
'Oh Lord!' Newman burst out. 'I'm missing one expensive present. I've left the scarf for Roma on the rack on the Eurostar.'
'No you haven't,' Paula told him. She opened her holdall on the floor beside her, produced the wrapped scarf, handed it to Newman. 'I always check nothing's been left when I leave a plane or a train.'
'I can't thank you enough,' Newman responded, the relief showing in his face. 'I do feel better now.'
'Romance for Roma,' Paula chaffed him.
'And while you two are blathering,' Tweed said grimly, 'I'm wondering what Marler and Harry are up to.'
Wearing masks over their faces, Marler and Harry were showing infinite patience as they waited. Harry was leaning against the wall on one side of the metal door guarding the entrance to Special Branch HQ. Marler had adopted the same position on the other side.
They had positioned themselves so they were invisible to the slow swivel of the security cameras on the wall above them. Every now and again Harry stretched his legs up and down to fight off cramp. Marler remained still as a statue. He checked his watch. They'd kept up their vigil for over an hour. Patience was a virtue.
The side street was so dark, so ill-lit, that anyone passing down Whitehall who glanced their way would not see their faces, let alone their masks. Marler raised a hand holding one of the grenades. He had heard something. Harry pulled a face. He didn't believe Marler had heard a thing.
The steel door rose slowly without warning, sliding up and over into its slot. Marler risked peering inside. The slow escalator was on the move. Nelson was standing still, letting the escalator do the work.
A few steps behind him Benton, clad in a shaggy coat, was studying a report. Behind him Noel was standing quite still. So Noel was back from France. Which meant Radek was in town.
As the step Nelson stood on neared the bottom Marler nodded to Harry. They acted as one. Marler's first tear-gas grenade landed on Nelson's step, burst, sending up a great cloud of the gas. At the same moment Harry had thrown another higher up, a perfect throw, hitting Benton's tread. Another great cloud of gas erupted.
Nelson was choking, his eyes hurting as he wobbled, not sure what to do next. Marler lobbed his second grenade high up, actually hitting Noel on the knee, where it burst.
All three men were choking, coughing, wobbling all over the place. The Parrot appeared at the top, stared in disbelief, caught a whiff of the gas, ran back into the office to call an ambulance. Marler and Harry, masks off, were gone.
Tweed was talking to Nield when Marler and Harry returned to the office. He thought Harry looked pleased with himself while Marler's expression was his normal blank.
'Pete,' Tweed continued, 'what game do you think Coral Flenton is playing?'
'No idea. Except she is playing some game. I'd sooner not go near her again.'
'Then I'll go tomorrow,' Paula piped up. 'I got on well with her and we agreed to meet again soon. Because I'm a woman she'll find it harder to manipulate me.'
'Good idea,' agreed Tweed. 'Now Marler, Harry, what have you been up to?'
Marler, in a few words, explained what they had done at the Cabal's HQ. 'Teach them to send a fake TV van to try and photograph this place.'
'Think I'll have a bit of fun,' Tweed said. 'Monica, can you get their number? I'll take over immediately.'
'May I speak to Miss Partridge?' Tweed asked when he took over the line. 'That is Miss Partridge speaking? Good. Tweed here. I gather Benton Macomber wanted me to contact him.'
'They're ill,' she blurted out. 'In hospital.'
'Nothing serious, I hope? Expected back maybe tomorrow? I know there have been a lot of cases of food poisoning.'
'Yes, there have,' she said, having recovered her wits.
'Well, give them all my regards and wishes for a speedy recovery. Don't eat in any strange restaurants.'
'I cook my own meals at home,' she responded sharply.
'I don't think I know where you live.'
'Hammersmith. In a big flat I bought ages ago.' A pause. 'Maybe you'd come over and see me for supper one day. My address is…'
Tweed scribbled down her address, phone number, mobile number.
'I shall look forward to that,' he told her. 'Maybe we could meet soon.'
'Soon as you like,' she replied in a seductive tone he didn't know she was capable of. 'Thanks for calling. See you…'
'You must be smitten,' Paula joked.
'I'd like to smite her. But she's a piece of the mosaic we are assembling. Away from the Cabal she may let her guard down.'
'She'll tell them.'
'You know, I don't think she will,' Tweed replied. 'Now it's time Newman took you home. I saw you yawn. You must be exhausted.'
'Bed would be nice.'
Newman drove off first and Paula followed him. The traffic was lighter and as he moved up Brompton Road he slowed almost to a crawl. She wondered why. Then he parked, turned and gestured for her to join him.
'Something wrong?' she enquired as she settled beside him.
'Couldn't be more wrong.'
'What is it?'
'See that battered old Ford outside the entrance to your yard? Two men in front, the driver gesturing towards your place to his companion. Recognize anyone?'
'Oh God! Not the driver, but his passenger is Radek.'
'And the driver is Fitch. Inside that car is the most deadly killing machine in town. They're checking your place. Aren't you glad Tweed told me to look after you? I could kill them both,' he went on. On his lap was a Smith amp; Wesson. 'Perfect opportunity.'
'Don't.' She placed her hand on his. 'It would be murder. I don't think the police would take into account what they are.'
'This isn't my normal revolver,' he argued. 'It's one Harry gave me. Never been used before. Serial number filed off. No check on the bullets would be found in the records…'
'Don't!' she repeated more emphatically. 'I'd like to kill them myself but it's too dangerous. And it's just outside my flat. I'd be the first one the police grill.'
The argument was settled as the Ford drove off down the Fulham Road. Newman waited to give them time to get well clear, then drove on, crossed the road into the yard, parked the car out of sight at the back of the building. Paula, who had returned to her car, followed him.
'I won't use the spare bedroom tonight,' Newman decided as she fiddled with her door keys. 'I'll sleep on the couch in the living room, then I can see and hear anyone coming.'
'I'll make up the couch into a bed,' she promised him. 'It has one of these pull-out beds underneath it. I'll
