The Cauldron (35 page)

He never had a chance to speak. Men from the dredger had dropped into the powerboat. Its engine started with a roar and it headed towards them at increasing speed. Paula recognized the large man behind the wheel. Joel Brand. This was going to be a repeat performance of the attempt to run down the dinghy on the faraway Helford River in Cornwall.

The powerboat soared towards them with increasing momentum, its prow lifted out of the water. It was big enough to slice the launch in two. Alvarez swung the wheel, but so did Brand, heading straight for them at terrifying speed. Newman took out the explosive grenade, removed the pin, counted seconds, hurled it. The grenade landed inside the powerboat towards its stern.

Paula saw Brand, wearing a woolly cap, which concealed his hair, dive overboard, abandoning the wheel, abandoning the other men aboard. He began to swim towards the shore with the ease and strength of a practised swimmer. The grenade exploded.

There was a dull crump! followed almost immediately by a shattering roar as the fuel tank went up. Flames engulfed the powerboat in seconds. A section of the stern rocketed skywards, trailing a flame like a meteor, then fell back into the Pacific where it hissed before vanishing below the surface.

'Proceed with the mission.' Alvarez ordered.

He guided the launch round the wreckage floating on the surface. They were close to the Baja when he ordered the frogmen overboard. They disappeared below the sea, heading for the underwater section of the hull. Paula had taken out her small pair of field glasses, was scanning the deck of the dredger.

"That's funny,' she reported. 'Doesn't seem to be anyone aboard.'

"They're all staying below deck.' Alvarez told her.

'Looks like a ghost ship.' she commented.

'More than ghosts aboard that hulk.' he replied. He looked at his watch. 'Should take them a maximum of five minutes to complete the check...'

They cruised slowly up and down along the starboard side and still no one appeared. Worse still, after ten minutes the frogmen had not surfaced. Alvarez looked worried, guided the launch away from the dredger's prow and round to its port side. He was just in time to catch a glimpse of a figure in a wetsuit disappearing up a ladder and onto the deck.

'Was that one of your men?' Paula asked. 'He was carrying what seemed like a farmer's prong.'

'Not one of mine.' Alvarez said with a grimace.

'And I think he carried one of those electric prongs divers use to ward off marauding underwater life,' warned Newman.

Paula was leaning over the side, grabbing hold of a floating object. It was the camera one of the frogmen had carried. She handed it to Alvarez. He looked at it, then at Newman.

'More and more sinister. These special cameras are expensive. If a frogman loses its grip on one it floats to the surface. So what happened to the man holding it?'

'He was electrocuted - like the others,' Newman said quietly. 'Like the other two. They have an underwater defence team, which means there's something under the hull they don't want us to see. The bodies should float to the surface.'

'No, they won't,' said Alvarez. "There's a strong current here below the surface. The bodies could be carried miles away, maybe never recovered.'

'Let's board the ship,' Marler suggested. 'We're armed.'

'Can't do that,' Alvarez told him. 'We have no authority. No evidence.'

'What about that powerboat that tried to run us down?' Paula insisted.

'What about it? I noticed all the wreckage had vanished. No evidence,' he repeated.

"There's the camera,' Paula went on. 'Could Tweed look at copies of any pictures it took?'

'Have them delivered to him today.'

It was a depressed group which headed back for the hidden cove and no one spoke until it had landed. Alvarez acted at once. He handed the camera, which he had placed inside a strong plastic bag, now sealed, to a police officer standing by a patrol car.

'Get this to the photographic laboratory in Monterey fast. I want original prints and three copies last night...'

Paula watched the patrol car take off at high speed, siren shrieking, lights flashing. It reminded her of the nightmare drive from the airport to San Francisco when they had arrived.

'That was Joel Brand who swam ashore.' she said, refusing to give up.

'You could swear to that in court?' Alvarez asked. 'A positive identification?'

'Well, no. He was wearing that woolly cap which concealed his hair. I recognized his movements.'

'His movements?' Alvarez shook his head. 'Any shyster attorney could cut you to ribbons in the witness box.'

'Well, didn't anyone see him coming out of the sea?' demanded Paula, turning to a policeman standing by his patrol car. 'He must have crossed the highway to reach Black Ridge. He'd be soaked to the skin.'

'Sorry,' the policeman answered, 'but our attention was focused on waiting,for you folks to come back.'

'No evidence,' Alvarez repeated for the third time. 'All in a day's ...' He stopped. 'No it isn't. I hate losing one man. Now we've lost three. Newman, you'd better get back to Spanish Bay. I'll get those photos - if any - to Tweed.'

24

At Black Ridge in Moloch's office Vanity had heard the sound of the explosion. She jumped up, ran to the window, was just in time to see the powerboat going up in flames. She told Moloch, seated behind his desk, what she had seen.

'Defective engine, I suppose.' Moloch was absorbed in his work. 'Come back, I want to talk to you.'

'What about?' she asked as she sat facing him.

'I'm thinking of handing over some of the key accounts for you to check. You know about figures, don't you?'

'I worked in an accountant's office in London before you hired me. I think I could cope. But won't Byron be resentful?'

"These are key accounts handled by Joel.'

'Doesn't the same objection apply? I don't want to make an enemy of him.'

'I decide who handles what. There are people here who seem to forget I built up AMBECO with my own sweat and energy. Incidentally, I'm going to Grenville's party at the Anglo-Pacific Club tonight. I'd be happy for you to join me. I can take you in the Lincoln Continental.'

'Travelling in luxury,' she teased him. 'But why are you going to this party? Not like you at all. To appear in public.'

'Grenville told me among the guests will be a man called Tweed. I'd like to get to know him.' He smiled drily. 'If I'm escorting you the whole place will be abuzz. The idea amuses me.'

'I'll have to change, have a shower. What time do you want me to be ready?'

'How long do you need?'

"Thirty minutes.'

'Most women would need a couple of hours. The party starts at eight o'clock. Allow three-quarters of an hour to reach Spanish Bay. Half an hour for you to get ready. We'll leave 7.15 p.m. precisely.'

Inwardly Vanity smiled to herself. VB was always so precise about timing. Which was probably one of the secrets of his amazing success. He never wasted a minute.

'I'll be happy to come with you.' she said. 'Time you got out more into the outside world. You lock yourself away too much.'

His pale eyes looked at her. Besides her ability at her work, one of her great attractions to Moloch was the way she never hesitated to talk back to him. He hated staff who fawned. He smiled cynically.

"The outside world? California is a sewer. But I'm sure we'll have an enjoyable evening.'

Newman had just parked the car back at Spanish Bay when a red light started flashing. After making sure no one was in sight, he pressed the button which elevated the aerial. He knew it was Washington. He reached for the microphone. 'Newman here.'

'Cord speaking. How is life in California?' 'Sunny,' Newman replied quickly. He wasn't sure whether Tweed would want him to report the tragedy near Big Sur. 'Can I help?'

'If Tweed is available I need to speak to him urgently.'

'Hold on. He'll be here in a couple of minutes ...'

He asked Paula to fetch Tweed. The moment he had elevated the aerial Marler had left the car, gesturing to Butler and Nield to fan out. The three men took up observation positions. The car was hidden from the hotel by a high wall and was parked in a rarely used section.

More quickly than he'd expected he saw in his mirror Tweed running to the car with Paula close behind. She took up a position a distance from the car indicated by Marler. Newman handed the microphone to Tweed, left the car.

Tweed here.'

"This is a very secure line.' Dillon began. 'I assume no one else can hear us at your end ...'

'Correct.'

'What I have to tell you is top secret. We managed to insert an agent inside VB's armaments factory in Des Moines. A most delicate operation. He's still there.'

'Understood.' Tweed assured him.

'The agent has reported Moloch has perfected an explosive of enormous power. Ten times the power of a hydrogen bomb - as I mentioned earlier. He smuggled out a small sample.'

'Raid the plant.' Tweed said immediately.

'We can't. VB's under government contract to produce the most powerful explosive he can. He hasn't told us he has succeeded. The explosive is called Xenobium. He tested it at that old silo in the Nevada desert.'

'How do you know that?'

'We compared traces of the Nevada explosive with the sample smuggled out of the Des Moines plant. They match.'

'I still don't see why you can't check Des Moines.'

'Because Moloch's accumulated so much political power on the Hill. If we did raid he'd say he'd just perfected it. He would then retaliate by using his political muscle to make sure the existing President lost the coming election. Our hands are tied behind our backs.'

'Xenobium, you said?'

'That's what the stuff's called. Sends shivers down my spine.'

'Doesn't exactly make my day, to paraphrase Clint Eastwood.'

Tweed, are you getting anywhere?'

For the first time in their long relationship Tweed detected a note of desperation in the American's voice. He replied carefully.

'Pieces of the jigsaw fall into my lap every day. I think I am close to the whole picture. I need to meet Vincent Bernard Moloch. I have to be sure of his motive. We'll keep in touch...'

He had a cheerful expression when he left the car. More cheerful, Paula thought, than she'd seen him look for several days.

Moloch chatted away amusingly to Vanity as he drove his cream limo along the highway towards Carmel. He wore a smart dinner jacket and his manner was animated.

'When you met Tweed what was your impression of him?' he asked suddenly.

'Formidable,' she replied promptly.

'I think he must be to hold down the job he does. I want you to introduce me to him. Not as soon as we arrive but later in the evening.'

'I'll do that,' she promised.

'The idea is not for me to go round chatting to other guests,' he warned. 'I'd like a table to myself - just for the two of us.'

'I'll arrange that with Grenville as soon as we arrive.'

"The point is,' he explained, driving expertly, his headlights flashing round the curves, 'I want to observe who is there. I can't rely on anyone else to spot what I'm looking for.'

'Understood.' said Vanity.

What's he up to now? she was wondering. He's got some idea in that complex brain of his. Maybe I'll detect what it is after we've been there awhile.

Tweed was late leaving for the party. The photographs from Alvarez had been delivered by a plainclothes detective who showed him identity.

A handwritten note from Alvarez informed him that the scuba diver with the camera had obviously reached the seabed before disappearing. The photos showed, he had assumed, the sealed core hole the dredger had made when penetrating the floor of the Pacific.

'Make anything of these pics?' Tweed asked Paula.

She examined them using a magnifying glass. Shaking her head, she returned the photos.

'I can't make it out. It looks as though a giant round plate of some material has been used to close the hole.'