The transporters referred to were milk wagons, each driving south on a different road, the route they used every day at this time. Innocent enough cargoes, on this occasion they carried more than milk.
At the bottom of each load was a larger container, swathed thickly in waterproof cloth. There was also a thick cable wrapped round the container very securely. The end of the cable had a handle attached to a strong hook concealed just below the surface of the milk at the rear of the vehicle.
Later, arriving at a farm with a large barn, purchased weeks before, they would drive in. Once inside the barn the wagon would be opened, a gloved hand would feel for the handle, grasp it, hauling the metal container to the surface. Inside the barn it would be transferred to a small van with the words Fresh Fruit inscribed on its outer bodywork. All five vans, refrigerated, had also been purchased weeks before. To bolster the supplier's confidence, a cheque on a London bank had been paid in advance. It was the supplier's understanding that a new company was entering the business of providing fruit to larger supermarkets at highly competitive prices.
The organizer of the operation, who used the name Abdullah, was confident that if the milk wagons were found, eventually, it would be too late. The spectacular and catastrophic attack would have occurred. Abdullah had no doubt the casualties would run into thousands, the dead casualties.
Inside each concealed container was a new weapon, the warhead armed with an explosive of devastating power.
8
When Beaurain left Park Crescent both Tweed and Paula escorted him downstairs. At the bottom he paused, spoke very quietly to them so George, the guard, could not hear what he was saying.
'Is there somewhere I could have a private word with both of you?'
'Visitors' room,' said Tweed, crossing the hall and opening a door into a barely furnished room. He closed the door as Beaurain looked round with a cynical smile.
'Don't make your visitors very comfortable, do you? Wooden table, hard-backed chairs, nothing to read.'
'There are visitors I feel I should see but don't want them to linger. What is it, Jules?'
'I want you to know that I'm flying to Brussels – there and back in a day. I have made an appointment to see the top Director of the Banque de Bruxelles et Liege. The place where you told me a dubious lawyer in London sends the rent money collected from Carpford. I want him to tell me where it is forwarded to – I'm convinced it doesn't just sit in Brussels.'
'But,' Paula objected, 'you did say Belgian banks are even more security-conscious than Swiss banks.'
'True,' said Beaurain. 'Clever girl. Luckily I know this man and I don't think he is aware I am no longer Commissioner of Police. It was kept quiet, my resignation – maybe because I am popular with the people for putting certain corrupt fat cats behind bars. I know certain illegalities the man I am going to see has engaged in. Blackmail is a powerful weapon.'
'You're wicked,' Paula said with a smile. 'One more thing. I was going to ask you if you know what lies behind that tall brick wall extending from Victor Warner's property. It's pure curiosity, I admit.'
'I imagine it's security,' Beaurain replied. 'Remember what his position is. As for behind it, the ground slopes down steeply and there's a lime pit and an old abandoned quarry.'
'How are you for time?' Tweed enquired.
'I must leave at once or I'll miss my flight. The bad news is I'll be back.'
He hugged Paula, shook Tweed's hand, opened the door and before they could leave the room he was gone.
'I'm going back to Carpford when I can,' Paula said as they climbed the stairs. 'I want to talk to those brothers -Billy and Martin. Something odd about them.'
'Then you won't go on your own. If I'm tied up, Newman can come with you.'
Newman looked up as they came in. He was grinning sardonically. He spoke to Paula.
'I think you've made a conquest. Jules has really taken a fancy to you.'
'Don't be so stupid,' she snapped. Sitting at her desk she glared at him. 'Instead of making foolish remarks you might as well help me. When I can I'm going back to Carpford. To see those two brothers, Martin and Billy. While I'm up there I'd also like to call on Drew Franklin, your favourite columnist. But when is he there?'
'My favourite creep,' Newman told her. 'He'll be there tomorrow evening. I know he likes to hide himself away when he's typing his column. You'd better watch it. He has a reputation for being a professional ladies' man.'
'That might help me to get him talking,' she teased Newman. 'You think I'm his type?'
'He'll either tell you to go to hell or flatter the life out of you. So you won't know whether you're coming or going.'
'In case you didn't realize it, I have had experience fending off numerous predatory males. I'll cope.'
'If I can, could I come with you? Unless you have Tweed by your side.'
'Thanks. I'll bear it in mind.'
'And,' Newman warned, 'those Hogarth brothers -strange name – don't sound like the sort you'd ask to dinner. Especially Billy.'
Tweed jumped up, began pacing as he gave orders to Monica. 'I've a load of work for you. I want dossiers compiling on all those people who live up at Carpford. Where they came from, their associates, as far as possible. Also a dossier on Victor Warner, the Minister. That will have to be dealt with delicately. Finally, one on Eva Brand. You've got her address, Paula.'
'Yes, she lives not far away from me in Fulham. Surely you don't suspect her of something?'
'I'm not trusting anyone. Eva came charging in here with her drawing of St Paul's. Can't imagine what that has to do with Warner's apparent interest in a Colombian drug cartel. Check her out. I'm also intrigued about the circle of relationships in that village. The Hogarths are brothers, but they're also cousins of Drew Franklin. On top of that Eva Brand is a niece of Franklin's. Too much coincidence. You know I don't believe in coincidences.' He extracted from a drawer his detailed plan of Carpford and its inhabitants, handed it to Paula. 'I'd like you to check that and show the position of Black Wood. I'm not sure how far away it was.'
'Pretty close. I'll draw it in for you.'
'Tweed,' Monica called out after answering the phone. 'I have Pete Nield on the line for you…'
'Pete, how are you getting on. Haven't lost her, have you?' he joked.
'As if we would. It's a bit odd. She first took a cab to the Ministry of Security. Was inside fifteen minutes. Then she comes out, catches another cab and goes into the maze of streets near Covent Garden. The cab waits while she walks out of sight of it and enters Monk's Alley, crouching to slip under the crime scene tape. She uses a torch – it's dark by now – and appears to be looking for something on the ground. When she comes out she's holding a Beretta automatic in her right hand which she slips inside her coat presumably so the cab driver waiting for her a distance back won't see it…'
'Hang on, Pete. How could you know it was a Beretta? You wouldn't be just behind her, I assume.'
'I used my monocular with the night glass lens attached to it. She gets inside the cab and it drops her at an address in Fulham…'
'Wait a second.' Tweed gestured for Monica to give him the slip of paper with Eva's address Paula had taken to her earlier. 'Now, what address?'
It was the same address Eva had written, plus her phone number, on the piece of paper she had handed to Paula before leaving.
'That's where she lives,' Tweed told Pete. 'What on earth is she up to now?'
'Getting ready to go out tonight would be my guess. The bathroom window is all steamed up.'
'Right. This is what you do. Stay there out of sight. I say that because I'm getting the impression she's pretty smart. She's having dinner with Paula at the Ivy. Follow her, then wait outside the restaurant. One of you had best grab some sandwiches and get that flask you always carry filled with tea. When she goes inside with Paula wait outside for them to come out. Something might happen.'
'Understood. We'll be ready for a fracas.'
Tweed began pacing up and down his office again, a sign Paula recognized that the momentum was building up. He was about to issue another order when Marler strolled in, wearing a camel-hair coat as he went to lean
