Cell (48 page)

Martin Hogarth.'

'You've left out Margesson,' Newman commented.

'If you say so.' He added Margesson's name.

'And Eva Brand,' Newman told him.

'She doesn't live up at Carpford,' Tweed objected.

'No, but I'll bet she visits Warner at his house up there
with work.'

'All right, if you insist.'

He then called Jim Corcoran, Chief Security Officer at
Heathrow. While he was doing so Buchanan was calling
someone on his mobile, seated at Paula's desk.

'Jim? Good. Tweed here. I've got a tricky one for you.
I'm not going to be your pin-up of the month. In fact, I'm
not sure you can do this . . .'

'Do get to it, Tweed.'

'I have a list of people here and it's important for me
to know if they've flown to the States during the past five
months.' He read out his list, spelling some names. 'If I
had dates that would be helpful. Shall I call you back?'

'No. Hold on. For security reasons, after September 11,
and even before then, we have all the passenger manifests
on the computer . . .'

He came back quicker than Tweed had expected. He
chuckled.

'Bet you thought I couldn't do it. Sharpen your pencil.
Here we go. Warner - flew to New York August 20, then
back to New York October 12, back to NY November 16.
On that trip he flew back from Boston. Palfry - flew to NY
September 3 and September 9. Drew Franklin - to NY
September 8, back to NY September 18. Nothing on Billy
or Martin Hogarth. Nothing on Margesson. Eva Brand -
to NY September 9, back to NY January 24, 2002. All the
previous ones were 2001. OK?'

'A miracle. Now could you carry out the same exercise for the same names flying to the Middle East up to now?'

'Hang on . . .'

Again he was back more swiftly than Tweed could ever
have expected.

'Computer was warmed up, which helps. These people do travel. Victor Warner - flew to Cairo January 4, 2002. All these flights are 2002. Warner flew again to Cairo January 29. Palfry, oddly enough, flew to Cairo each day after Warner had done. Drew Franklin made one flight - they're all to Cairo - on January 30, then on to Tel Aviv, back to Cairo, returned here February 2. Again, oddly enough, Eva Brand flew to both the cities on the same dates. That locks it up. I'll send you my fee. Better still, give me dinner at the Ritz.'

'Will do. You really are a miracle man . . .'

'The computer is. Got to go . . .'

Tweed handed the careful notes he'd made to Newman.
Looking up, Newman pulled a face.

'This is going to take some sorting out.'

'Bob,' Tweed played with his pen, 'I suggest you look for anything that strikes you as odd.'

'Which means you've found something and you need me
as a back-up check.'

'Something like that.'

He looked across at Buchanan, who was obviously wait
ing for a chance to speak after his long phone-call.

'Tweed, they have found two of those white vans.
Dumped into the river. A fisherman saw vague figures
shoving in one van. It was dark, so he huddled down the bank until the men had gone. Probably saved his
life. Then, further upriver, he heard a second one being
shoved in. When it was quiet he went to the first one.
The rear was still protruding from the water, so he took the number plate. I've sent Warden with teams equipped
with lifting equipment to haul them out. We should have news soon.'

'Another piece of luck. Now I'm holding nothing back. My next call is to Hereford, the SAS base. I want them
alerted.'

Half an hour later Newman reported to Tweed after
Buchanan had left for the Yard. Tweed could tell from
his expression that he had been struck by something.

'What's the verdict, Bob?'

'The oddest thing is Eva Brand appears to have flown to Cairo, on to Tel Aviv, and back again with Drew Franklin.
I don't get that.'

As he spoke Marler walked in, stared at both of them.

'What's up? I can tell something is.'

'I know you've just come in,' Tweed told him, 'but now
I have another job for you. I want you to trace the present
whereabouts of Eva Brand, then follow her.'

'She could be either at the Ministry in Whitehall or at
the Minister's penthouse in Belgravia,' Newman objected.

'So,' Marler told him, 'I phone both places, ask for her
and don't say who is calling. Then I'll track her. If I think
it's a good idea can I take her out to dinner at the Ivy?'

'Typical,' Newman said sarcastically. 'Probably she won't
like you.'

'I'll make her like me, Uncle.' Marler quipped, patting Newman's shoulder.

He then skipped quickly out of the door as Newman,
furious, got up to hit him. Newman was only five years
older than Marler but if the latter wanted to rattle Newman
he called him 'Uncle'.

The door reopened and Buchanan appeared again. He remained standing as he spoke to Tweed.

'I've changed my mind about going back to the Yard. I
think we should drive down to the river, take a look at those
two white vans dumped into the Thames . . .'

He stopped speaking as the door opened again, admitting
both Paula and Beaurain.

'I'm glad you're here,' Paula said to Buchanan. 'We have data you ought to see . . .'

Beaurain pulled out the notepad with the diagrams he had drawn in Mrs Wharton's house. He placed them on
Tweed's desk while Buchanan and Newman joined them.
In as few words as possible he explained the drawings. When
he had finished Tweed looked at Buchanan.

'What do you think of this?'

'Don't like it one little bit. Still think we should all go
down to the river, check those vans. Is the location easy to find? It was tricky before.'

'No,' said Beaurain, 'so I'll drive us down there.'

37

'Lord, it's a heavy mist,' Paula exclaimed.

With Beaurain behind the wheel, they were driving down
the bumpy track after turning off the main road. Paula sat
beside the Belgian while Buchanan and Tweed occupied
the rear seats. The Superintendent was peering out of the
window.

'Worse than mist,' he commented. 'It's fog.'

During their drive there Tweed had produced his map
of the district. He pointed out how close the power station
was to St Jude's Hospital. Buchanan's mouth compressed. He shook his head.

'If al-Qa'eda are inside that power station we can't launch
an attack to check out the place. They'll have a ton of high
explosives. If they set them off that hospital
-
and all of
its patients - would end up obliterated. Beaurain, can I
suggest you dim your fog-lights? In case they have someone
watching on this side of the river.'

'Yes, I can. Then I won't see where we're going . . .'

'Hold it,' Buchanan went on. 'Turn over the ground to
your right. I've just seen a figure waving a torch. Could be
Warden.'

Earlier, while in the car, he had used his mobile to contact
Warden. He had warned him they would be coming.
Beaurain had manoeuvred the car off the track on to
the sterile ground to their right. At Buchanan's request
he stopped.

Paula was on edge about the situation. The fog was like
a dense murky blanket. She could just make out the torch
being waved. Buchanan spoke as he opened the door on
his side.

'Wait here. I'll check. Don't follow me if you hear shots
fired,' he warned, a Walther in his hand as he left the car.

'Take care,' Paula called out.

'My motto . . .'

The torch was still shining but had stopped waving as
Buchanan stealthily approached the vague silhouette. He
crouched low.

'Who is it?' a familiar voice called out.

'Me, Warden,' Buchanan replied as he recognized the
voice. As he came close to Warden he saw he was now
holding the small torch in his mouth. This had enabled
him to use both hands to grip the sub-machine gun aimed
at Buchanan. 'And I appreciate it if you'd lower that
weapon.'

'Sorry, sir. You always say it's better to be safe than
sorry.'

'How far away is the first van you've hauled out?'

'A few hundred yards. The winch boys have really
worked. The second van has also been hauled up on to
the bank. Further on.'

'We want to see both. Come back with me to the car and
guide the driver to the first vehicle . . .'

With Warden ahead of him, showing the way with his
torch pointed at the ground, Beaurain drove slowly forward. The ground was even rougher. Paula thought it was her idea
of a nightmare. Drifts of fog, like ghostly hands, swirled over the windscreen. She felt better when Warden held up
a hand, illuminated it with his torch. Beaurain stopped,
switched off the dimmed headlights and the engine. They all got out, following Warden in a crocodile.

Policemen with automatic weapons stood near the van.
There were also two frogmen, still in their kit. Through
their goggles they stared at Paula. They hadn't expected
a woman. She gave them a cheery wave and walked with
Tweed to the rear of the van. Both rear doors were open.

She put on latex gloves and leapt up inside the van.
Tweed hauled himself after her, his hands also protected
with latex gloves. Warden followed, switched on his power
ful torch.

'Douse that!' Buchanan snapped. 'It could be seen across
the river.'

Paula switched on her smaller torch. She was slowly
checking the floor of the van, which seemed strangely clean. Then she stopped, aiming her torch.

'Look at this.'

She was kneeling, with Tweed crouched beside her.
In the light from her torch they could make out four
screw-holes, well apart from each other. She hauled out
from her satchel the fold-up ruler, measured the distance
between the screw-holes.

'Just under two feet from one hole to the next one.' She
looked up at Beaurain, who had joined them with Buchanan
behind him. 'Jules, at Mrs Wharton's we decided the base
plate was about two feet wide.'

'So,' Beaurain replied, 'while the van was transporting
the devilish device here it was held firm, kept still by the
base plate held firmly to the floor.'