'So tell me how you knew, really knew that al-Qa'eda were, at Dick's wharf? Positively and without doubt. You assumed they were there. You made a really dangerous assumption…'
'The white vans dumped in the river,' Tweed retorted.
'Those vans could have been dumped in the place least likely to be found. But al-Qa'eda could have been based miles away. The damned vans proved nothing…'
'You're forgetting,' Tweed fumed, 'Mrs Wharton saw them transferring a device on to their motorized trolley…'
'And what the hell did that prove?' Newman roared. 'Simply the movement of the device towards the river. There's a ramp at the end of that track. They could just as easily have been putting it aboard a vessel to transport it either further upriver – or downriver. Up to this moment there has been no absolute proof that al-Qa'eda was based on Dick's wharf. So every detail of your counter-operation was based on an unproven assumption. Right?'
Paula, seated behind her desk, was fascinated by the explosive confrontation between the two men. She had only once in the past seen Tweed and Newman at each other's throats. And what an audience they had. Buchanan had returned, was seated in front of her. Beaurain, perched calmly on a hard chair, was watching the two men with keen eyes. Nield, keeping quiet, was seated on a hard chair near Monica's desk. And at that moment Marler walked in. Sensing the atmosphere, he strolled over to lean against a wall. Now only Harry Butler was absent.
Newman was leaning forward over Tweed's desk, almost over his chief. Tweed, gazing up at Newman, sat back in his chair. He folded his arms. When he spoke his voice was normal, almost quiet.
'Based on an unproven assumption, you said. Actually, you could be right. I can see that now. Maybe you'd like to sit down and tell me what happened from the moment you left here with Pete Nield. I'll just listen.'
Newman sat down. He drank the glass of water Monica brought him, thanked her. In a controlled voice he explained where he had been with Nield, this time starting in the right sequence with their confrontation with Mrs Proctor's captor in Balham.
Tersely, he painted a vivid picture of their encounter with the al-Qa'eda killer. The aftermath when they had left Mrs Proctor calmed down. The body still in the boot of the car.
'It's downstairs,' he explained. 'Maybe Superintendent Buchanan should send an ambulance to collect it. Take it to the best pathologist, Professor Saafeld, if I may suggest that.'
'Saafeld is a good idea,' agreed Buchanan. 'I'm using my mobile to call Warden to deal with it at once…'
Newman then explained their trip to St Jude's Hospital, his idea. His venturing inside the hospital, the taking of the photographs when the screen aboard the barge was moved. He took out of his pocket the self-developed prints, laid them out on Tweed's desk.
Everyone got up to gather round and study them. Tweed picked up one, the picture taken when the barge heeled over and gave a view down the main hatch. Taking out a magnifying glass, he studied it for several minutes. He then handed it to Buchanan and Beaurain with the glass.
'Think you ought to see this. We can get it enlarged downstairs in minutes, get a clearer pic of the object below the hatch.' He looked at Newman. 'I think you showed extraordinary initiative and courage collecting this vital data. Thank God you disobeyed my orders. Now we are sure where the al-Qa'eda cell is.'
He looked across to Marler.
'Marler,' he explained to the others, 'has just returned from following Eva Brand. Anything to report, Marler?'
'Yes and no…'
Marler, drawing on his remarkable memory, proceeded to recall every word of the conversation he had heard between Palfry and Eva. Tweed sat very still, his eyes fixed on Marler until he had concluded.
'Intriguing,' he began. 'And valuable. Sounds as though Mr Victor Warner is feeling the pressure. Maybe why he's glad to hide behind me. But two items could be significant. The Minister's trips off without any guards. And the fact that Palfry's tub-house, as Eva called it, can house up to twenty guests. I wonder. No signs of intimacy between the two of them?' he asked.
'The reverse,' Marler told him. 'Eva dominated Palfry from the word go. Wasn't exactly polite.'
'Another piece of the jigsaw slotted in.'
'I read Paula's report on her ordeal at Carpford,' Buchanan interjected. 'Am I right,' he asked, turning to Paula, 'that when you escaped out of that horrible tunnel you saw a huge abandoned quarry? More to the point, you saw one big boulder tumble down from the crest, joining a whole shambles of fallen rocks?'
'Yes, I did. The shambles, as you called it, was at least ten feet deep and covered a large area. A lot looked as though it had collapsed recently.'
'At the moment,' Buchanan went on, 'we have four bodies which have disappeared in that area. Mrs Warner, Mrs Gobble, Jasper Buller of Special Branch and Pecksniff, the crooked solicitor. I say bodies because at this stage I fear none of them are still alive.'
'You think they're buried under the quarry rock-fall?' suggested Paula. 'Then send a team to search there.'
'I'd like to but there are obstacles. My enquiries show that a large area of that land, including the quarry, are the joint property of Victor Warner and Drew Franklin. Since I can't yet show probable cause for the search no legal figure will sign a search warrant.'
'That's a curious arrangement,' said Tweed. 'I thought Drew rented his cube house. Yet you say he owns land.'
'I know.' Buchanan shrugged. 'The transfer document drawn up by the New Age Development Corp must be complex. If we could ask Pecksniff we'd find out its terms. But Pecksniff is no longer available, to put it mildly.'
'You know, Bob,' Paula said, staring hard at Newman, 'really we do need those aerial photos Airsight are supposed to be taking one day.'
'Tomorrow,' Newman said with a grin. 'The outfit's owner, whom I've told you is the best man, flies over there shortly after dawn tomorrow, takes his pics and rushes them to us here.'
'I hope,' Tweed intervened, 'he doesn't make a great song and dance when he flies over. I don't want suspicions aroused up there.'
'I've already talked to him about that,' Newman assured him. 'He's clever. He'll take his shots when he first flies over, then he'll do a loop-the-loop manoeuvre before he pushes off. Anyone seeing him will assume he's a macho young pilot showing off.'
'That should cover it,' Tweed agreed.
'When I study those pics,' Paula remarked, 'I should be able to spot which house has the cellar where I was imprisoned.'
Tweed stood up, began pacing the limited space left in his office. He talked as he paced.
'We are so close to the moment when al-Qa'eda will launch its attack on our city. Tomorrow, I'm sure.'
'Today,' Newman corrected. 'It's just after midnight.'
Tweed was pacing when Buchanan stood up to leave. He kissed Paula on the cheek, said he must get back to the Yard.
'I'll come down with you,' Tweed said. 'Don't argue…'
At the bottom of the stairs he asked George to unlock the door to the visitors' room. Taking Buchanan by the arm, he ushered him inside, closed the door.
'Secrecy is vital,' he said.
'You have a plan to destroy al-Qa'eda, haven't you?' Buchanan suggested.
'Yes. It will involve a lot of cooperation and perfect timing.'
'Then I might as well tell you I have alerted the police anti-terrorist squad for an imminent operation. No details.'
'I'd like you to station them on the right bank of the Thames. Between Albert Bridge and Waterloo Bridge. As many marksmen as you can muster. They can go there now in plain clothes and pick spots where they'll be concealed, but with a clear view of the river. Give you more later. Also, at 4 p.m. when it's nearly dark I want all the street lights on both sides of the river switched off…'
'There'll be a riot. People will want to get home.'
'You haven't heard the worst yet. Well before 4 p.m. I want all traffic diverted away from the river, the Embankment. I want traffic banned from crossing those bridges. You'll have to get cracking. They can drive down
