Blood Storm (5 page)

'Good morning, Miss Grey,' he replied, glancing at her
briefly.

'Oh, it's Miss Grey now,' she said, her tone icy. 'Sorry if
I forgot to stand up and salute.'

'Roy, what is all this?' Tweed asked placidly.

'I need to know where you were between the hours of
eleven last night and three this morning.'

'No, we don't play it that way. Not after we've known
each other for umpteen years,' Tweed replied, still placid.
'What is all this about? Relax for Heaven's sake.'

Tweed's persuasive attitude had an effect on even the
strong-minded Buchanan. He grabbed his cap out of his
lap, dropped it on the floor as though he disliked the
damned thing. He took a deep breath.

'All right. There's been a horrific murder. A Miss Viola
Vander-Browne. Saafeld estimates the time of death as
roughly between eleven p.m. and one a.m. - probably closer
to eleven. The poor woman
has been cut to pieces. I had an
anonymous tip-off on the phone early this morning that I
should check where you were last night. Chief Inspector
Hammer is in charge of the case. Back at the Yard he's
nicknamed the Bulldozer. He was coming over but I
stopped him, came myself. Sergeant Warden, my assistant,
will be coming over tomorrow to take a statement from you.
You know - knew - Miss Vander-Browne?'

'I'm not making any statement at this stage,' Tweed
responded. 'But I think I'll investigate the case myself.'

'I wish you would. In your position you do have the
authority. Hammer won't like it, but I don't like him. I
hesitated to ask you - for certain reasons.' He stood up.

'Thanks for those reports from your agents abroad. Things
seem quiet at the moment. I'd better get back now.'

'You're forgetting your cap,' Paula called out as he
moved to the door.

'Oh, thank you.' He came back, picked up the cap. 'Lose my head if this pressure keeps up.' He walked over to her, his hand extended. 'I'm sorry about my attitude earlier, Paula. I was on edge when I arrived.'

She shook his hand, gave him a big smile. 'Aren't we all
at times.'

'Roy,' Tweed asked, 'what sort of voice was it, whoever
gave you the tip-off?'

'Unrecognizable. Hoarse. Coarse. Keep in touch.'

It was Harry, still crosslegged on the floor, who exploded
the moment Buchanan was gone.

'It's that bloody uniform. What does he think he is these days? Admiral of the Fleet? The fleet we haven't got!'

Fifteen minutes later Tweed was checking through
reports when the phone rang again. Monica answered, then
gazed at Tweed.

'You won't believe this one either. Another visitor.
Nelson Macomber, one of the notorious Cabal.'

5

'I think this gentleman would prefer to talk to me on our
own,' Tweed said before asking Monica to invite
Macomber up. 'Harry, put the recorder on - then you can
all listen afterwards. No, Paula, don't go. I want you to stay.
You're very good at getting an impression on a new player
in this deadly game.'

Monica left to go upstairs, followed by Nield and Butler.
Only then did he lift the phone and tell George, the guard
in the hall, to ask their visitor to come up.

Macomber came into the office. He wore an Armani suit,
and a tie Paula felt sure was Chanel. He moved easily and
was smiling. He bowed his head towards Paula, still
smiling. She rather liked the look of him.

'Good morning, Mr Macomber,' Tweed greeted him
quietly. 'Do please sit down.'

'My apologies,' Macomber said softly, looking at Paula,
'but I will be speaking to you, Mr Tweed, in great
confidence.'

'If I was away or out of action Miss Paula Grey would
take over from me,' Tweed explained.

Macomber's reaction was swift. He stood up, and smiling
pleasantly he walked over to Paula, held out his large hand to her.

'Miss Grey, my profound apologies. I am not familiar
with the ranking here. You are most welcome to hear all I have to say.'

She clasped his hand which squeezed hers, but did not
hold on too long. He returned to his chair. His movements were agile for a man she estimated was in his forties.

'Now, Mr Tweed,' Macomber began in his soft voice, 'I
have heard you are a man who does not beat about the
bush. So am I. I have come to discuss with you the
proposed merger of all the security forces under one
command. That is the CID, MI5, the police, the
coastguard, Special Branch - and the SIS, your own
organization. This single organization will be known as
State Security. We are thinking you would make an
excellent deputy commander.'

'Under whose control?' Tweed asked off-handedly.

He had listened to this revolutionary scheme with a
placid expression. Paula, who was appalled, gasped under
her breath. She felt sure Tweed would never agree.

'Under the control of a Cabinet Minister heading a new
post in the Cabinet, as yet to be created:
the Ministry of
State Security.'

'Earlier,' Tweed remarked, 'you used the word
"proposed". I am interested in what that means.'

'Well . . .' Still smiling, Macomber paused. 'At the
moment a bill to establish this organization has been
drafted, but not yet presented to Parliament.'

'All the Cabinet agree?' There was a sharper edge in
Tweed's voice.

'Well. . .' Another pause. 'At the moment almost half the
Cabinet do agree. It's only a matter of time before the slow
coaches come on board.'

'Mr Macomber . . .' Tweed leaned forward over his desk.

'Please call me Nelson.'

'I have heard there are three junior ministers involved.
You are one of them. Who are the others?'

'You may find this curious. The other two are brothers of
mine. We are offspring of the famous General Lucius Macomber, known for his brilliance in the Gulf War.'

'Tell me about your brothers - and their roles.'

Tweed had folded his arms, leaning over them. His eyes
had never left Nelson Macomber's, penetrating and the
colour of lapis lazuli, which was rare.

'There is Noel, the youngest. We call him the Planner.
Then there is Benton, a year younger than me. He acts as
arbiter in the rare cases when there is disagreement on
policy.'

'The three of you,' Tweed said thoughtfully.

'We do work closely together in the same room . . .'

'Communications?' Tweed interjected.

'Ah!' Macomber beamed. 'We have the most advanced
system in the country. State Security will need to know
what is going on everywhere. Phone-tapping, a CCTV
system covering the entire country . . .'

'Already installed?' Tweed interjected again.

'In the process of being installed,' Macomber assured
him. 'Should be completed within weeks.'

'On whose authority?'

Macomber laughed, glanced over at Paula. 'This is
getting to be an interrogation.'

'Which is my job,' Tweed reminded him. 'On whose
authority?' he repeated. 'Since the bill you spoke of has not
gone anywhere near Parliament.'

'We must be prepared.' Macomber's tone became
defensive. 'So, what is your reaction? I have hidden no
secrets from you.'

'I'll have to think it over, won't I? All this comes as a
surprise.'

No, it doesn't, you wily thing, Paula thought. You knew
all about it before Nelson Macomber ever arrived.

'Tell you what,' Tweed continued. 'In the near future I'd like to visit your HQ, meet your brothers. I'd bring Paula
with me.'

'Great!' Macomber jumped up. 'I appreciate the time
you've given me. Do come and see us soon.
Time is
breathing down our necks. Needless to say all this is highly
confidential.'

'Uniforms,' Tweed said suddenly. Macomber paused on his way to say goodbye to Paula. He looked taken aback.
Tweed explained.

'I just wondered whether you proposed that after the
merger of all these diverse organizations everyone would
wear the same uniform?'

'Well. . .' He was close enough to Paula for her to notice he was clenching and unclenching the fingers of his right
hand. 'Bit early to think of that,' he went on cheerfully. 'We
had thought of a long black coat, black cap, an armlet identifying the wearer as State Security. But a bit early to
decide,' he repeated.

'I see.'

'May I call you Paula?' Macomber asked, holding out a
hand. 'I am Nelson.'

'If you wish,' she said quietly, clasping his hand which, again, he withdrew quickly.

'What do you think?' Tweed asked after Macomber had
left.

Paula was peering out of the window. 'He does well for
himself. He turned up in a whacking great Merc with chauffeur.' She sat down again. 'I'm flabbergasted,' she
began. 'I'd expected you to roar at him, tell him you
thought the whole idea was wrong, mad - that you'd have
nothing to do with it!'

'He's a skilled politician,' Tweed told her. 'I can handle
any of them. When he reports back to his two brothers they
won't be at all sure what I'm going to do.'

'So what are you going to do?'

'Everything in my power, however unscrupulous, to
smash them - to destroy the whole plan.' His voice was a
muted growl, his eyes were fierce. 'Strange that he came to
see me a few hours after someone tried to frame me for
committing a horrific murder. And they're already in
uniform. So he lied.'

'So he probably lied about a lot of other things.'

'Undoubtedly. Bring down Monica, Pete and Harry.
When I tell you, play back the recording of the whole con
versation. I don't think it occurred to him it was all going down on tape.' He looked up at the cornice in the ceiling
above Paula's desk. Harry had done a marvellous job of con
cealing the listening device. 'And you took photos of him?'

'Several. He didn't see me doing it.' She produced a tiny camera with a long lens which retracted out of sight when
she pressed a button.