'You have to hold the front page for tomorrow,' he ordered. 'It will be fully occupied by a major story I shall be writing. Do make sure those clots downstairs understand.'
Saying which, he left the room before the editor could reply. The editor rubbed his eyes, picked up the phone and passed the news downstairs. He refused to explain the reason for this unprecedented decision. He felt better when he'd put down the phone. Had to be careful. Drew could be back asking if he had carried out the instruction.
The Cabinet meeting was coming to an end. Victor Warner was looking pleased, self-satisfied. They had approved the new mandate the PM had personally composed. No option really. The PM was presiding at the meeting. A copy of the mandate was already on its way to Park Crescent by motor-cycle courier.
A spanner in the works at a critical moment. He only wished he could be present when Tweed received his copy.
Inside the Minister's penthouse, Mrs Carson was irritated beyond endurance. Eva Brand, seated at her desk in Warner's study, was checking her watch yet again. She must have checked the time five times in the last hour.
'Mrs Carson,' Eva snapped. 'First, you have no right to be in here without permission. Second, if you had to deal with this heap of papers by a deadline you would worry about time.'
'But you keep on checking your watch,' Mrs Carson complained, repeating what she had said when she'd entered.
'The needle has got stuck in the track,' Eva retorted. 'You have said that once already. Now, tomorrow morning the Minister is holding a special meeting at Carpford. I have a lot to accomplish. May I, therefore, suggest you leave this room?'
'I am the housekeeper,' Mrs Carson replied, drawing herself up.
'Then go and keep house in the kitchen. Or the toilet for all I care. But get out of this study and stay out.' Her voice was hard. So was her expression. 'And close the door behind you. Quietly, please.'
'Well, I never
'No, you probably never did. Just go. Now!'
At this stage in her life the last thing Eva was prepared to put up with was impertinence from a housekeeper. As the door closed quietly she checked her watch once more.
It was a blockbuster. Tweed, together with Paula, Beaurain and Newman, had just settled in the office when Howard walked in. Moving slowly, he looked very unhappy. In his right hand he held a sheet of paper. Paula stared. Never before had she seen the Director look embarrassed.
'Sorry to intrude,' Howard began. 'I thought you ought to know right away, Tweed. The PM has revoked his previous order placing you in supreme command of the operation. This has just arrived by courier.'
For a short time there was silence. Then there were groans. Someone, under their breath, but clear enough for all to hear, questioned the legitimacy of the PM's birth.
Only Tweed remained undisturbed, his face without expression. He held out his hand to Howard who handed him the document. Tweed scanned it swiftly, then read it out aloud.
From now on I would appreciate dose collaboration between the SIS and the Ministry of Security. Whenever this may be necessary to facilitate the success of the operation. As and when Mr Tweed may consider it will ensure success.
Tweed looked up. It was signed by the PM himself. Below it detailed copies to the Home Secretary, the Deputy Commissioner of Scotland Yard, Superintendent Buchanan of Scotland Yard. Nothing more.
'It will be a disaster,' Newman burst out. 'A complete and terrible disaster.'
'I don't think so at all,' Tweed told him. 'You haven't noticed something is missing.',
'What is that?' Howard asked.
'No copy to me, listed at the foot of the document. This is a photocopy, doubtless sent by Victor Warner. The PM is simply soothing fevered brows. In no way does it change my original status.'
'Thank God,' said Howard. 'Sorry, I missed that omission.'
The phone rang. Monica called over to Tweed.
'Victor Warner is on the line to speak to you.'
Tweed switched on the new speak-box Monica had installed. He disliked it but had thanked her fulsomely. Now everyone would hear the ensuing conversation. He also pressed the record button.
'Yes, Minister.'
'That's Tweed, isn't it? I recognize the dulcet tones,' the voice sneered.
'What is it?'
'I have heard rumours – which I believe to be accurate -that a meeting was held in your office to which I was not invited.'
'That's right. You were not invited,' Tweed replied.
'Do you realize the Prime Minister has ordered the closest collaboration between all security services on the dreadful situation facing us?'
'Read the communication again, Warner. It does say, 'As and when Mr Tweed may consider it will ensure success.' So any decision is for me to take, as in the original mandate. You really should read communications from the PM more carefully.'
'Tweed! I consider you are exceeding your powers…'
'Then go on considering it. I am fully occupied dealing with the crisis…'
He switched off. Hand-clapping and cheers broke out. Tweed glared.
'That will be enough of that. We have wasted four minutes over nothing at all.' He turned to Howard. 'Thank you for keeping me up to date. I fear Warner is losing his nerve.'
'Thank you, Tweed.' Howard came forward and gripped him on the shoulder. 'You know I have the fullest confidence in you.' He turned to the others. 'In all of you.' Then he left.
Paula had often admired the way Tweed in a crisis never forgot a detail. He demonstrated this quality now. Handing the photocopy of the PM's latest communication to Monica, he spoke quickly.
'Better keep that. File it under junk mail. Now I'd like to know what has happened to Billy Hogarth. I imagine Harry and Pete brought him back here before we left for the Embankment.'
'Yes, they did. He's downstairs.'
'Not in the basement, I hope?'
'Of course not. He's in the visitors' room. The door locked and George just outside.'
'Not a very comfortable.'place for him to be.'
'It is now!' Monica was indignant. 'I got some of the men in the basement to carry up the bed. I made it up with new sheets and blankets and pillows. I covered that bleak table with a thick tablecloth so he can eat there. He has a whole crop of paperback thrillers. I popped in to see him after I'd given him breakfast just before you got back. He was in bed, perched up against a pillow. He had a paperback in his lap and had fallen asleep. I think he needs a lot of sleep. Satisfied?'
'Bless you!' Tweed threw up his hands in apology. 'You are an angel. I should have guessed.'
'Yes, you should have,' she retorted, still irked.
'I'll go down and see him when I can. When he's awake. He can use the shower upstairs when he wants to.'
'I should hope so,' she replied, staring at her word-processor.
'What happened to Pete and Harry when we got back?' Tweed wondered.
'Went down to the basement to get some kip on camp beds,' Marler told him.
'Anyone else who needs sleep?' Tweed enquired quietly. He pointed to Newman who had sagged in the armchair, eyes shut.
'Not me,' Beaurain said also quietly when Tweed looked at him. 'I can go a long time without it. If I close my
