Cell (52 page)

'Same formation?'

'I'd say the distance between one vessel and the next is
greater. Two hundred yards. Another guess.'

'Close enough, thank you. Now, Nield, drive to where
Harry is looking after Billy Hogarth. Between you, get him
out of bed, bring him back here. Monica, he can sleep in
the camp bed I use in that cupboard. When you've settled
him lock this office door, keep the key. Any trouble with
him - unlikely - call on George for help. Give him coffee or tea to drink. No alcohol. I don't think he'll want any -he pretends to be drunk according to Paula, to get rid of
his brother, Martin. Send out to the deli for breakfast and
lunch. The official line for Billy is he's being moved to a
safer place . . .'

'Anything when we get back?' asked Nield, putting on
his windcheater.

'Yes. Both of you go to the basement, assemble an
armoury. Sub-machine guns, tons of ammo, explosive
grenades, plenty of night-glasses, personal water canisters,
hand-guns to your choice, dark clothing with large SIS patches on the backs and tear-gas bombs. If I think of anything else I'll let you know.'

'I'm off,' said Nield and disappeared.

'Forget sleep,' Tweed continued. 'There won't be any. Newman, drive up to Carpford, knock on all the doors,
wake them up if necessary. I want to know who is up
there. And while you're there, check every rooftop. You're
looking for elevated radio masts. Then report back to me
here. Urgent.'

'On my way,' Newman replied and left.

The phone rang. Monica took the call, gestured to
Tweed.

'Buchanan's back, says he won't keep you a minute.'

'Get him up here . . .' .

'I forgot to show you something,' Buchanan said, the moment he was in the room. 'Only take a tick. I have a
photo sent to me from New York after the first abortive
attempt to bring down the World Trade Center which didn't work.'

'I remember that incident.'

Buchanan placed a photograph on Tweed's desk. Tweed stared. Then he beckoned Paula and Beaurain to come and look. Paula gasped.

'My God, it's the same thing.'

Tweed opened a drawer, took out the sketch Beaurain had drawn on Mrs Wharton's description of the machine
she'd seen six men carry from van to motorized trolley. The
photograph of the device was the exact replica of Beaurain's
drawing.

'Giuliani sent a note with this,' Buchanan explained. 'He said this one didn't detonate. They took it to pieces. It was
packed with Semtex and another explosive which would
have increased its power. So now you know what you're
up against. Must dash . . .'

'What's the target?' Paula asked.

'I remember this first attempt,' Tweed replied. 'They
planned to destroy the ground struts holding up the build
ings. It did not work when the other devices were detonated,
but it made a helluva mess. I can use this photograph.'

'What's the target?' Paula repeated.

'Wait until the 3 a.m. meeting here.'

'I guessed you'd say that.'

Tweed suddenly frowned. 'I could have made a mistake.
Try and delay Newman from leaving . . .'

He had hardly finished speaking when Paula flew out of the door and down the stairs. George saw her coming, had the front door unlocked and open. She ran down the steps,
saw Newman just taking off in his car. She ran like mad, ran in front of him. He braked suddenly, swore, switched
off, dived out.

'You idiot! I could have run you down . . .'

'Shut up! You're needed upstairs . . .'

'Sorry, Bob,' Tweed said as a flushed Newman dashed
in, followed by Paula. 'But I may need you here before you
go up to the village.'

'Anything I can do?' Beaurain asked with a smile.

'Yes. It would help me if you both went down to the waiting-room while I make a highly confidential call. Not my idea.'

'A chopper's landing in Regent's Park,' Paula reported,
looking out of a window. 'That's odd. Looks like a Sikorsky.'

'Let me make this vital phone-call,' Tweed said after
checking his watch. 'I'll call you all up when I've dealt
with this.'

Paula left, followed by Monica, Beaurain and Newman.
Now Tweed had the office to himself. He pressed the
numbers from memory, the numbers which would put
him through to SAS HQ at Hereford. A bored voice
answered.

'Yes.'

'Tweed here. Able is expecting me to call now.'

'Never heard of the name. Hang on . . .'

'Who is this?' a crisp well-educated voice asked.

'Tweed, SIS.'

'Codeword?'

'Pagoda.'

'Fire away.'

'I need a contact from you here. I cannot discuss this on
the phone.'

The phone made a strange noise. Tweed frowned,
decided to check.

'There's a strange noise on the phone.'

'That's a system to ensure we cannot have the line
tapped.'

'I can tell you now. Be on red alert.'

'I see,' Able replied calmly. 'As to the contact, we foresaw
you'd need one. He'll arrive any moment. You will confer
with him alone. Unless Robert Newman is available. He can sit in.'

'What about Beaurain?' Tweed spelt the name.

'Christian name, please.'

'Jules Beaurain . . .'

'His credentials, please.'

'Former chief of the Brussels anti-terrorist squad. Later
he was Commissaire of Brussels police.'

'We know him. He can sit in with Newman. No one
else.'

'Understood.'

'Target known?'

'Yes. Central London. Will be precise with contact. Zero
hour is today. Probably after four in the afternoon.'

'Thank you, sir. Good luck, Mr Tweed . . .'

Switching off all the lights, Tweed went to the window and pulled a curtain aside a few inches. A tall man was
walking out of the park from the direction where the
Sikorsky had landed. Switching on the lights again, Tweed
sat at his desk, called George.

'Ask Newman and Beaurain to come up immediately.
Not Paula. Give her my apologies. Tell her I had no
option.'

The door opened and Newman walked in, followed by
Beaurain. Tweed asked them to sit down, then he gave
them the news.

'A contact from the SAS is due to arrive any moment.
The commander at Hereford gave permission for you both
to be present while I outline the plan of attack. Ours,
that is.'

'I'm surprised,' Newman replied. 'I know I did the course when I was writing an article on the SAS . . .'

He stopped as Monica called him on the phone. He
listened as she spoke.

'George says a very suspicious character is asking for you.
He's down here now.'

'Ask him to come up, Monica. Please join Paula in the
visitors' room . . .'

The door was opened by George, who ushered in a very tall man. He was dressed in civilian clothes and a scarf
concealed most of his face, leaving his mouth exposed. He
stared quickly at everyone in the room.

'I guess you're Mr Tweed,' he said approaching the desk.
'You are expecting me.' He held out an identity folder.

'Sarge!' Newman had jumped up. 'Recognize your voice.
You put me through hell on that training course.'

'Sarge also trained me,' said Beaurain, standing up, holding out his hand. 'Welcome.'

'Maybe we should start right away,' replied Sarge, occupy
ing the armchair Tweed had gestured to.

40

Before beginning, Tweed
apologized
to Sarge, told him he
had brief vital instructions to give, left the office. He ran
down and entered the visitors' room. Paula, Marler and Monica were seated at the bare wooden table, drinking
coffee. Tweed spoke rapidly.

'You both heard the orders I gave to Newman to drive to
Carpford, to check who is there. Since Newman is occupied upstairs I want you, Marler, to take his place. Paula, go with
him. Don't forget to check the rooftops for an elevated aerial
or mast. Then get back to report to me. Urgently . . .'

He returned to his office, sat down behind his desk.
He began explaining the situation. Sarge listened without
saying a word. Tweed showed him a detailed map of the
Thames area, pointed out the power station, St Jude's
Hospital.

He showed Sarge Beaurain's drawing of the device, then
the photo from Mayor Giuliani Buchanan had left with
him, the photos Newman had taken from the hospital of the
wharf. Mackie, the most brilliant boffin in the basement, had since provided blow-ups of Newman's photos. Sarge was most interested in the pic Newman had taken looking
down inside the main hatch.

'Took that one,' Newman said, speaking for the first
time, 'as the barge tilted towards me. A big police launch
moving upriver had sent out a large bow wave, caus
ing the tilt. The device you can now see clearly placed
below the hatch is like the photo Giuliani sent from New York.'

Sarge nodded his agreement. Tweed explained the measures being taken by Buchanan along the Embankment later.
He covered all the information they had obtained, his plan for eliminating the al-Qa'eda cell. Sarge nodded again. He
had taken no notes.

When the time came for him to leave he asked for all
the photos and Beaurain's drawing, together with Tweed's
map. He put them inside the briefcase he'd been carrying
- more cover as a businessman. He told them the SAS unit would number about thirty, got up to leave. 'We should meet here again. Midday? Good.' Then he left,
after shaking hands.

41

Paula swore to herself as Marler drove over the crest into
Carpford. A dense fog blotted out the village. She navigated as he drove very slowly, partly because of the fog and partly
to make as little noise as possible.

'You see the lake?' she began.

'I do. Driving any faster and we'd have been in it.'

'Follow the road to the left. We'll start with Martin
Hogarth's bungalow. I'm sure he'll be so glad to see us . . .'

Marler drove the car off the road on to the open field
when he saw the dim outline of the bungalow. Switching everything off, he followed her towards the entrance. He
gripped her by the arm, stopped her, whispered.