Paula crept after him. This was the dangerous moment. Again Marler found the switch panel, turned everything on. A corridor curved off in both directions, a corridor with closed doors at regular intervals.
'You go that way, I'll go this way and we'll eventually meet. Check every room…'
None of the doors were locked. She had her Browning ready as she opened doors. Each room had a bed made up and in a corner a shower room. The beds were made up neatly. She felt the sheets but they were cold. She made her discovery in the last room. Neatly piled up in several stacks were piles of sleeping-bags. She counted. Twenty of them.
Emerging from the room, she met Marler coming from the other direction. He took her by the arm.
'Time we got out of this Ideal Home place.'
'I don't think they'd allow it to be shown at the exhibition,' she whispered back.
She even welcomed the cold when they were outside. Marler used his pick to relock the door, turned to her.
'What do you think?'
'I could never live in a place like that. I'd go mad.'
'Find anything?'
'Only in one bedroom. All the others had the beds made up with new sheets. In this particular bedroom stacks of sleeping-bags. Twenty of them.'
'Twenty sleeping-bags. Twenty members of al-Qa'eda en route. So where to next?'
Paula insisted on checking Mrs Gobble's cottage. It had the feel of any empty house. She even peered behind the folding screen. No telescope. She found it strange that the front door had been closed but not locked. She felt a sadness for Mrs Gobble. Was she gone for ever? Buchanan thought so.
'Now for Drew Franklin,' she said to Marler after closing the door on the cottage. 'Brace yourself…'
They kept close together because, if possible, the fog was now denser. It even muffled the sound of their footsteps on the road. Paula felt they were ghosts in a dream.
'Lights on Drew's first-floor window in that cube,' Marler said. 'Think this time I'd better ring the bell.'
'If you can find it.'
After trying several paved pathways they found the entrance. Marler pressed the bell, folded his arms. Very quickly the door was thrown open. Drew stood framed by the hall light behind him, fully dressed in a business suit. He glared.
'Yes?'
'We'd like a word with you…' Marler began.
'Then make an appointment to see me at my office in town,' he rasped at them.
The door was slammed shut in their faces. Marler shrugged.
There were no lights in the palatial Garda, home of Victor Warner. Marler shrugged again, said they'd better not push it this time. They were walking back to where he had parked the car when a figure loomed up in the fog. Marler had his Walther in his hand instantly. A familiar voice called out. Buchanan's.
'Don't shoot the postman, he's doing his best.'
'You've found Martin Hogarth's corpse?' Paula asked him.
'No. That first bungalow you come to is – was – his? Right?'
'Yes.'
'No body inside that place. No sign there ever was one. We've checked the next bungalow – Billy Hogarth's, isn't it? Nothing in there. Somebody, an amateur, had forced open the front door of Billy's place. Nothing. No body.'
'That's Number Five,' Paula said slowly. 'Disappeared up here. Or am I losing count?'
42
The battle meeting, as Tweed called it, began at Park Crescent at 6 a.m., from the original timing of 3 a.m. This was to give time for Paula and Newman to return from the journey to Carpford.
They had arrived earlier and Tweed had met them in the visitors' room. He listened in silence while they described what had happened, what certain people they'd encountered had said to them. He showed no reaction as Marler described the suicide of Martin Hogarth, the subsequent disappearance of his corpse. When Marler concluded his story Tweed merely nodded as he stood up. He said only one thing.
'It all fits with the suspicions I sensed a long time ago. You did say there was no sign of Palfry?'
'I did,' Marler confirmed.
'Then it is time now for us to attend the meeting. They are all waiting in my office. Everyone who will play a key part in the plan to destroy al-Qa'eda…'
Entering his office, Paula was surprised to find the furniture had been changed and a number of people present. Rows of chairs faced Tweed's desk, which he went to sit at. With Newman she had a seat in a fold-up chair in front of his desk.
Next to Newman sat Buchanan. On her left side sat Jules Beaurain, very upright. He smiled, squeezed her hand. On the seat beyond the Belgian Howard sat back with folded arms. In rows behind them she saw Marler, Harry Butler, Pete Nield and Monica. Tweed stood up. He spoke in a quiet voice, his eyes constantly switching from one member of his audience to another.
'This battle meeting is to brief you on how we shall defeat the al-Qa'eda cell based at Dick's wharf on the far side of the Thames.' He paused. 'The target is six key bridges spanning the Thames. In this order of expected attack. First Waterloo Bridge, then Westminster, followed by Lambeth, Vauxhall, Chelsea and Albert Bridges. Anyone may ask questions as I brief you. The attack will be launched by six huge barges, at present stationed at Dick's wharf.'
'Excuse me.' Newman held up a hand. 'How can you be so confident the bridges will be attacked in the sequence you suggested?'
'Because I have spent many hours visualizing, as the mastermind, how I would conduct the operation. The six barges will proceed downriver in a convoy, each barge spaced well behind the one in front. If they attacked, say, Albert Bridge first that would give warning of what was coming. By blowing up Waterloo Bridge first they proceed in logical sequence.'
'And the method of attacks?' Paula enquired for the benefit of the others.
'I was coming to that. Each barge has a roll-over metal cover. All these covers will be shielding the interiors. In the centre of each cover is a large hatch which will be open when the convoy sails. Below this open hatch will be a device of great explosive power. As a barge passes under a bridge this device will be fired. It will travel vertically, pass through the open hatch, detonate when it strikes roughly the centre of the bridge above it. It will be a projectile of enormous explosive power, a mixture of Semtex and another explosive. The entire bridge will lose its stability, will collapse into the river, shattered.'
'And how do we prevent this happening?' Beaurain asked with a smile. Again for the benefit of everyone present.
'I can now tell you the SAS will be present on the Embankment. They may already be here, knowing them. They have perfected a new sophisticated mortar, very accurate. Practised on a remote lake in Scotland. First, a large rubber ball is fired, to gauge range and target position. Followed almost immediately by the firing of a powerful bomb, aimed to drop down the hatch. This will detonate the al-Qa'eda device inside the barge, blow it to smithereens.'
'Supposing the mortar bomb misses descending into the hatch?' Beaurain suggested.
'The SAS have a back-up team. Each barge is controlled and steered by the control room at the stern. In case of such an emergency another SAS unit will aim a long-distance rocket at the deckhouse. The barge will then be out of control. Impossible to continue steering it towards its target.' – 'This has been well thought out,' Beaurain commented., Tweed swivelled his gaze across his audience. He sensed rising tension. His next words would intensify that atmosphere.
'I am surprised no one has questioned the timing of the crisis. As yet, I'm sure you have not realized the catastrophe, the horror we seek to prevent. A catastrophe to make the terrible World Trade Center attack in New
