Cell (62 page)

He stopped in mid-sentence. He had just noticed the
yellow flag waving on Tweed's bonnet. He swallowed,
saluted.

'Sorry, sir. We've been told to watch out for you. Hold on just a tick . . .'

He turned round, began ushering pedestrians to move
back. He was not popular but he was firm. He gradu
ally cleared the pavement back to the entrance to the
Crescent. Tweed thanked him. The policeman saluted
again.

'Who's that?' a cockney voice called out. 'I don't
think . . .'.

'He's probably the most important man in Great Britain
at the moment,' the policeman shouted.

'Come through on the grapevine,' Newman suggested.

'From Buchanan,' Tweed corrected.

'Anyone else except Warner expected to be at Carpford?'
Paula enquired.

'Yes,' he told her. 'The apparently clownish Palfry. Also
Eva Brand.'

'I predict I'm going to be bored stiff,' she replied.

'Odd you should say that. Your predictions are normally
so accurate.'

53

It was a brilliantly sunny morning when they reached
Carpford. An icy nip in the air. No fog. Not a trace of mist. Carp Lake was a blue still sheet, like glass. Paula sat beside
Tweed, driving the four-wheel-drive. In the back Newman
sat beside Billy Hogarth, as though guarding him.

In the vehicle close behind them Nield was driving
with Harry next to him. In the back sat Buchanan with Margesson next to him. Again like a guard.

The rear vehicle was driven by Marler. Travelling alone.
A characteristic arrangement. Paula experienced a pang as
Tweed drove round the curve with a rock outcrop. This was
where Linda Warner had mysteriously disappeared, never
to be seen again.

Tweed alighted as they reached Garda. He walked up to the heavy studded door, was about to press the bell when the door was opened. Eva Brand, clad in black
trousers and a long loose black jacket, smiled, gave a
small bow.

'Please come in. He is waiting for you. I see you have company. Maybe everyone would like to join you. Hello,
Paula. You are looking very serious.'

'I suppose it's after what happened yesterday.'

'Yesterday. Of course . . .'

She waited by the door as everyone followed Tweed and
Paula, like a crocodile. She smiled at Beaurain, closed the
door when they were all inside. Paula was struck by the
luxury of the interior - the furnishing, the gilt-framed
portraits on the wall. She recognized Wellington.

Arriving at the door to Warner's spacious study, Eva gave
him a warning. 'Your guests have arrived.'

'Guests?'

The Minister was seated behind a large Georgian desk
in an imposing throne-like chair covered with tapestry. He
sat close to the panelled wall behind him. Clad in a formal
dark business suit, he stared as everyone entered. Peering
over his pince-nez, he gazed at two of his visitors.

'I fail to see why Mr Hogarth and Mr Margesson have
come with you.'

'They are your neighbours,' Tweed said easily. 'I have
brought them back from London.' He looked across at
Palfry, standing a distance away from the desk, also for
mally clad. 'You did not tell me your assistant would be
here. So we have both taken liberties. Can we proceed with
the - was it inquest you called this?'

'It was.'

Buchanan had taken up a position, standing, near the
leaded light windows. From here he could see everyone.
Beaurain stood alongside him. Eva had positioned her
self in a far corner, hands in the pockets of her jacket.
She had guided Hogarth and Margesson close to her. Everyone was standing. They had not been asked to sit
down. Paula was perched against the back of a couch
which faced the windows, so she also could see most of the occupants.

The large study was cheerful with the sun shining outside.
So Paula wondered why she sensed a sinister atmosphere.
Her right hand was close to her shoulder-bag, within inches
of her Browning.

'You lost Albert Bridge,' Warner said acidly.

'True,' agreed Tweed. 'But we saved five other bridges,
key bridges. With support from the SAS.'

'Why wasn't I informed of their presence?'

'Presumably their commander thought it unnecessary.
The SAS work in great secrecy.'

'The Cabinet won't like that, won't like it at all.'

'So why did I receive a note of congratulations and thanks
sent by courier this morning from the PM himself?'

'That would be purely a political communication,' sneered
Palfry.

'I don't recall asking your opinion,' Tweed said quietly,
staring hard at the speaker.

Palfry looked uncertain how to reply. He turned to look
at Warner for help. At that moment the door opened and
a servant appeared. She was looking nervous.

'Sir, we have another visitor. Mr Drew Franklin.'

She had hardly finished speaking before Franklin practi
cally pushed her aside. He told her she could go now, that
this was a private meeting. As she left he walked further in,
looked round, went over to stand near Eva.

'I knew you'd not want to discuss this without me,' he
told Warner in his most arrogant voice.

'Of course not.' Warner was obviously taken aback by
this new arrival. He recovered quickly. 'You know, Drew, you are always welcome.'

'Very diplomatic of you, Victor. You can think fast on
your feet, I'll give you that. You can even do it sitting down.
What is the purpose of this meeting?' Drew demanded.

'From my point of view it is to identify the master
mind who planned this damnable al-Qa'eda attack,' Tweed
plunged in. He glanced at Palfry and Eva. 'Master criminal might be a better description. That person is in this room now.'

'What the devil do you mean?' rasped Warner, looking
at Palfry and Eva, where he had noticed Tweed star
ing.

'At an early stage,' Tweed explained, 'I developed the
suspicion that Carpford was the original base for a number
of al-Qa'eda killers. So strategic. They would be landed
from small ships at a remote beach where transport would
be waiting for them. Then along the A268 passing close
to Northiam and across a series of country roads which
eventually brought them here to Carpford. These move
ments always at night. But where could they install each group in comfort and secrecy - prior to their moving-on to Oldhurst Farm near Milton Keynes? Why - in Mr Palfry's
very large house which has many bedrooms on the upper floor. Where in one room we found twenty sleeping-bags
piled up . . .'

'This is outrageous!' Palfry burst out. 'I do not see why I should listen to any more of this nonsense . . .'

'Those sleeping-bags will be examined by forensic experts,'
Tweed continued remorselessly, 'and I have little doubt they will find fibres, hairs which never came from a European.'

'I'm leaving . . .' Palfry began, his faced twisted in fury.

'I don't think so.' said Buchanan.

He grasped Palfry, who had started to walk, twisted his arms behind him, produced a pair of handcuffs. In
the silence Paula clearly heard the click of the handcuffs
locking.

'You don't have to say a word . . .' Buchanan began, continuing to read him his rights and informing him he
could make one phone call for a lawyer.

'I don't want a friggin' lawyer,' Palfry screamed.

'I think a period of calm would help this situation no
end,' Warner suggested, staring at Palfry. 'From what
I gather, Superintendent, you have no actual proof yet
for this extraordinary accusation. I was a lawyer before I
entered politics.'

'We have probable cause to treat Mr Palfry as a suspect
in a crime almost without precedent,' Buchanan retorted.

'Don't you need a warrant?' Warner enquired.

'It does help,' Buchanan agreed. He produced a docu
ment from his pocket. 'So I obtained one. It gives me
permission to search Peregrine Palfry's house. I can under
stand your reluctance, Minister, to accept your assistant
would be involved with al-Qa'eda, but he certainly provided
accommodation for at least twenty of them, maybe more
over a period. He acted as halfway house from the coast to
Oldhurst Farm.'

'And where, may I ask,' Warner demanded caustically, 'is this place?'

'I told you,' Buchanan continued, 'it is near Milton
Keynes. It is where five stolen milk wagons were used
to transport the shell-like bombs destined to destroy six
major bridges over the Thames. At the farm the bombs
were transferred inside small white vans which would take
them to the banks of the Thames.'

'Sounds a most ingenious plan,' Warner commented,
staring over his pince-nez with
:
cold eyes at Palfry.

'But then,' Tweed broke in, standing with his hands in
his overcoat pockets, 'there is the mysterious flight which
Drew took to Cairo quite a while ago. And on that flight he had a companion
-
Miss Brand. They flew on to Tel
Aviv before returning via Cairo. Who, I wonder, were they
going to meet?'

As he spoke, Tweed swung round. His grim gaze swept
over Franklin and Eva. Drew, compact and neatly dressed
as always, stared back at him with a hostile expression. By
his side Eva stood very erect, her beautiful face showing
nothing of her reaction.

'Now this is getting interesting,' remarked Warner.

'Very interesting indeed,' Tweed agreed. He now held the attention of everyone in-the room. He turned round
again. 'Mr Margesson, I think it is time we gave you the
opportunity to tell us what you know.'

Margesson, looking very different wearing a business suit, stepped forward. When he spoke his voice was no longer that of a lofty preacher. He looked alternately at
Tweed and Warner as he began.

'Victor Warner paid frequent visits to my house at night.
We have had many long conversations. When I use the word
"conversations" I mean he talked, I listened. He has a most
forceful manner. I realize now, after my night in London
away from here, that living alone I was susceptible to what
he said. So much so I came to believe him.'

'So what did he say?' Tweed asked, encouraging him.