'After you have witnessed what?' Tweed prompted.
'I saw Miss Grey call at Drew Franklin's house after dark. Drew came to the door. I had the impression their conversation was short.'
'Gerald,' Tweed said suddenly. 'Enjoy the Bahamas?'
'Beautiful…' Warner stopped suddenly, his expression panicky.
'Meet Gerald Hanover, financier and master planner for al-Qa'eda. Please go on,' Tweed urged Billy Hogarth.
'She was leaving Drew's house,' Billy explained. 'I think she had decided to return to her car parked in Mrs Gobble's shed.'
Billy paused, as though recalling something which had scared him. Taking a deep breath he continued.
'As she started to walk off, the front door of this house opened. A huge man wearing a black turban appeared, crept up behind her, hit her on the back of her head. He carried her unconscious body back inside this house.'
'He's potty,' Warner burst out. 'Pecksniff chose some strange people to occupy rented houses. And you've lost your mind, Tweed. Gerald Hanover indeed. Who the hell is he?'
'You are. Master planner and financier of al-Qa'eda. We have witnesses in the Bahamas who identified you from photos airmailed there,' he fibbed. 'Better still, we have the evidence of Billy Hogarth about Paula's kidnapping. Billy, you are sure it was this house Paula was carried into?'
'Quite sure,' Billy replied emphatically. 'Garda is set apart from Drew's house. So the brute walked a short distance to get here, carrying Miss Grey's limp body to this house. Saw it clearly.'
'He's simple-minded,' Warner raved. 'A fairy-tale.'
'There is one way to prove it,' Buchanan said in a stern voice. 'You may have heard two cars pull up outside. Police cars with trained searchers and forensic experts. Miss Grey gave us a detailed description of the cellar where she was held before, showing great courage, she escaped. We will soon find that cellar if it is under our feet.'
'No, you won't!' Warner had jumped up behind his desk. 'You cannot search this property which is owned by a Minister of the Crown.'
'But we can,' Buchanan informed him. 'I have warrants in my pocket to search every property in this village. Including this one.'
He walked forward, dropped a long folded document on Warner's desk. Then he retreated to his original position at the back of the room. Warner opened the document, read it very swiftly. He looked up with a self- important smile.
'This is signed by a judge everyone knows is senile.'
'It is still a valid search warrant.'
'What the devil do you expect to find?' snapped Warner.
'Possibly the horrible cellar where Miss Grey was held. We are also interested in discovering the bodies of five people who have disappeared. Including that of your wife.'
'Then I have something here which will make you change your mind.'
He unlocked a drawer, ferreted among a collection of files. He then stood up. In his right hand he held a. 455 Colt automatic. He aimed it at Paula's chest. Newman withdrew his hand, empty, from inside his jacket where his Smith amp; Wesson was holstered.
'You will all leave this house immediately,' Warner ordered. 'All except Miss Paula Grey.'
'No, we won't,' an icy voice spoke.
Eva Brand was walking forward towards the desk, a Beretta automatic gripped in her right hand, steady as a rock, Paula observed. Eva paused within ten feet of the Minister.
The tone of her voice, her expression, were almost frightening.
'Attempt to shoot Paula,' she continued, 'and I'll put a bullet into that evil head of yours.'
54
A stand-off., Newman thought. Two guns, each aimed point-blank at a different target. Dangerous. Eva's 6.35mm Beretta. It was a light weapon, but fired at close range it would crush Warner's skull, kill him.
'Eva,' Warner said with the hint of a tremble. 'Why?'
As he spoke he was careful to keep his Colt aimed at Paula, a clever move to freeze everyone else in the room. With her left hand Eva reached inside her jacket, took out a newspaper cutting, dropped it on his desk. Tweed recognized it as the strange, much delayed obituary notice Newman had extracted from the Daily Nation.
'What is this?' Warner asked, his voice weaker.
He made no attempt to look down. He was too concerned with keeping Paula under his gun.
'An obituary of a man who died two years ago in Yemen,' Eva told him. 'Captain Charles Hobart. Remember him? Don't say you don't. I'll pull the trigger.'
'Vaguely.' He hastened to amplify. 'It's coming back to me. A… casualty. A… Special Forces… officer.'
'Yemen,' Eva repeated in the same disturbing monotone. 'A mission to kill an al-Qa'eda unit in the desert. One man volunteered to wipe it out. He could have done. Except he was betrayed. You were there when it happened. You'd just been appointed Minister of Security. You out-ranked the unit's commander. You secretly sent a message warning al-Qa'eda he was coming. Alone. So they killed him. An ambush. Killed my father…'
'Hobart… you are… Eva Brand.'
'No, I am Eva Hobart. Before leaving Medfords to get a job close to you I changed my name by deed poll. The Director of Medfords, a friend, agreed to keep quiet. I know you were the mastermind controlling the attack on London. I can prove it.'
'Im… poss… ible.'
Again Eva used her left hand to reach inside her jacket. She produced a folded sheet of paper, dropped it on his desk. Once more Warner dare not look down. Had to keep his eye on Paula, his Colt still aimed at her chest.
'That,' Eva told him, 'is the first coded message which I told you I had never received. So another was sent to you. It's in Arabic, but not from the Embassy – instead from an address in Cairo. I decoded it, then told you it had never arrived. Want to know what it says? Top Secret.'
'You had no right…'
'Shut your treacherous trap. It reads, 'Happy to hear attack on London is imminent. That it will be greater than September 11.''
'There must… be a… mistake.'
'No mistake. It was addressed to you. 'For your eyes only.''
'You decoded it… wrongly.'
'Victor, I was very fond of my father. He meant everything to me. When I flew with Drew to Cairo I talked to Sergeant Langford, retired now, but a key NCO with the unit in Yemen. He overheard you talking in Arabic in a tent on a phone – Langford is fluent in Arabic. He heard you say that one man only, a Captain Hobart, was coming to eliminate them the next day. Langford decided he couldn't report it because who would believe him? He's now flying to London to report to Drew, under oath, what he heard. Drew will publish. You are going down.'
'You bitch
'Superintendent Buchanan, could you come alongside me? But don't attempt to grab my pistol. I can fire instantly.' She used her left hand to extract something from a pocket. 'Mr Tweed, I would sooner you came to me.'
Tweed approached slowly, stood beside her while Warner kept his Colt aimed at Paula. She asked Tweed to hold out his hand, dropped a small key into it. Tweed went back to where he had been standing.
'Victor Warner is a master planner,' Eva went on. 'I will give him that. He also was the planner behind September 11. That key opens a secret drawer in the side of his desk. I managed to open it while Warner was in Cabinet. Medford training. In that drawer you will find a mass of material -a big airline timetable, American, listing all major flights. All those long distance, carrying a huge petrol load, are marked in blue. In red are marked the
