The Main Chance (31 page)

Tweed was wearing his fur-lined overcoat with an astrakhan collar, which Paula had brought him from Bexford Street. Mounting the steps, he descended the escalator and the gleaming train extended down the platform. Passing through security, Tweed boarded the correct coach. Second class, it was occupied only by his scattered team.

Paula was seated in the rear aisle seat. Opposite her sat Newman, studying a book on radio technology. Marler was two seats ahead. Nield was halfway down the coach while Harry sat at the front, watching the door.

`No trouble with security?' Paula asked as Tweed settled in the window seat. 'What's in that bulging briefcase?'

`I simply said "business" and opened the briefcase. It's stuffed with files of useless papers Monica typed for me, plus pyjamas, shaving kit, a fresh suit. The things a businessman would carry for a trip abroad. How did you get on?'

`I told the miserable old officer I was going to meet my French boyfriend. Wedding ring on his finger. Probably nagged to death by his wife. Hence his scowling at me.'

The train was gliding out of the station when Newman got up, gave them a little salute as though being polite to strange passengers.

`Tweed, I'm sorry I forgot to tell you something. When I was scouting Shooter's Lodge early on I told you about the sophisticated wireless system perched by a chimney. I got up there and clipped two key wires, which would ruin his system.'

`Not to worry,' Tweed said with a smile as Newman began heading for the loo to cover his action.

`Now he tells me,' Tweed whispered to Paula. 'That's why we're here. I'd wondered about his communications. He'd need them to issue instructions to all the banks he owns on the Continent. He's hustled back to his HQ to sort out his communications system'

`A lot was happening then,' Paula said and put up a hand as she yawned. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his shoulder. In no time she was fast asleep. The train stopped briefly at Ashford and then raced on across Kent. There was a moon up and Tweed gazed at the orchards, their stark silhouettes beginning to show signs of life. He'd travelled a lot but he loved England best.

Another treat was moving through the tunnel He hated the sea. On any boat the damn thing was always wobbling and he suffered from sea-sickness, until Paula forced him to take a Dramamine. Then he'd be on deck, watching the rolling waves. He lost interest as the train emerged and they entered France.

The train was approaching Brussels Midi station when Paula woke. She went to the loo to splash water over her face, returned fully alert as she stretched arms and legs.

`Don't forget,' Tweed reminded her, 'Philip will be wearing a red peaked cap with an artificial carnation in his buttonhole. In other words, this is where the trouble starts. We are now in no-man's-land.'

As they alighted Philip appeared, his manner brisk and quick-moving.

`That's the exit. Outside get in the first of three Land Rovers. Get moving...'

Then he was gone. Tweed was relieved. The approach to Brussels was no better than to any other terminus. They had been hemmed in by endless tall cheap apartment blocks. It was bitterly cold and within minutes they were inside their Land Rover, which had a blue tail-light. Inside the second Land Rover, Newman sat behind the wheel with Marler. Harry was behind the wheel of the third vehicle with Pete beside him. They were ready to go.

Paula stared out at the galaxy of lights which were almost blinding. Restaurants were lit up and inside people were eating dinner, laughing, raising their glasses. Nightclubs with glaring lights. Outside them were huge pictures of semi-clad young girls. Several had queues as garishly dressed couples waited for tables. The whole city seemed like a blaze of neon.

`We're on the famous Boulevard de Waterloo,' Philip explained as he kept the Land Rover moving. 'I have booked a room, or I should say rooms, for all of you at this monster we are coming to.'

`We are not staying there,' Tweed said firmly.

`I have also booked a large dinner table for all of you at the best restaurant in town, in Grand Place.'

`We will not be dining there,' Tweed told him. 'In any case you are now driving east and that restaurant you mentioned is behind us.'

`Precisely. On both points,' Philip agreed. 'Inspector Benlier, who runs the most corrupt police unit in Belgium, has contacts everywhere. We are heading straight for the main HQ of Calouste which is also his communications centre. What I said earlier about the hotel and the dinner is throwing dust in Benlier's eyes!'

`Smart of you,' Paula commented.

She glanced at Philip, the best agent Tweed had in Europe. In his late thirties, he had a strong, clean- shaven face with trim brown hair and looked younger than his age. She had always liked him. He took one hand briefly off the wheel to squeeze her arm.

`There is nothing to worry about.'

`I'm not in the least bit worried,' she fibbed.

He took two small leather bags out of his pocket, gave one to her. She delved inside and brought out a small spike held firmly upright by a heavy curved rubber base. There were plenty more inside the bag.

`What is this?' she asked.

`Engineer pal of mine in Rotterdam made them for me.' He smiled. He was always smiling, she remembered. 'Clever little jigger. If a police car appears behind us you throw a few out of your window. However they land, because of the curved rubber base they always immediately stand upright with the steel spike vertical. Don't do tyres any good. I've given Marler his own bagful.'

The road was sloping now and they raced through an underpass. Emerging from the other side they met a glare of lighting from oncoming traffic from the opposite direction. Paula lowered the visor. Philip had put on tinted glasses.

`This is a wide road,' she remarked. 'Like an auto- balm or a motorway.'

`Main drag in and out of the city.'

`I don't like Brussels,' she mused. 'It's boring.'

`It is,' Philip agreed. 'I much prefer Ghent and the Flemish area to the north-west. The Flems are much more friendly and welcoming. That area should be part of Holland. Down here it's French-speaking. Need I say more?'

There was silence for a while. They had left the city behind. On both sides the moon shone down on more open country. Less traffic was coming towards them heading for Brussels. Paula sighed with relief.

`Well, it's quieter now I'm glad—'

She never finished her sentence. The increasing wail of a police siren shrieked through the night behind them. Then another. And another. Their roof lights were flashing.

`Smart Inspector Benlier has caught on to my diversions, so get ready with the spikes,' Philip warned.

`Three police cars and they're all passing Harry and Bob Newman,' Paula warned after glancing at the rearview mirror. We're their target.

`Open your window,' he said, 'they're coming up offside.'

She did so and then stared at a uniformed policeman, also with his window down in the police car alongside. He was grinning, had something in his hand, was about to hurl it. She closed the window quickly. A second later the missile hit her window and a cloud of white vapour floated outside.

`Tear gas,' said Philip.

`Nice people,' Paula snapped.

He handed her a small instrument like a miniature fire extinguisher. It had a long slim nozzle. Philip was grinning as he rammed his foot down, accelerating well beyond the first police car.

`See that button on that thing? It's filled with oil, you place the body on the window edge, press the button and a jet sprays the road. You do that when I say "now" for the second time. When I first say "now" you hurl a load of spikes out. See that large black limo coming from the other way? It's wobbling all over the place. Driver's drunk. This is where we create chaos,' he said gleefully.

`Paula, give me that spray gun now,' Tweed called out from the back 'You have too much to time properly.'

`Good idea,' agreed Philip. 'Just look at that limo.'

It was swerving from left to right, then back again after crossing lanes. For some reason the driver had his interior light on. She caught a vague glimpse of a fat man togged up in evening dress.

`
Now!
' yelled Philip.

The lead police car had almost caught up with them, again approaching on the offside, its siren a hellish scream. Paula had her window down, threw out two handfuls of spiked caps.

`
Now!
' Philip yelled for the second time.

Tweed already had his window down. The spray gun was perched on the window's edge. An amazing amount of oil jetted out on to the road, creating a black lake in the moonlight.

There were a couple of loud bangs as the spikes destroyed two tyres on the lead police car. It swung round and smashed into the rear section of the limo, swivelling it round. The second police car skidded on the oil, rammed into the side of the first police car. The third police car tried to swerve too late, ploughed into the side of the second police car. The fat driver of the limo staggered out, unhurt, and shook his fist, his mouth moving.

`There you are. Chaos,' said Philip.

Leaning over to look through the rear-view mirror, Paula saw a mass of twisted metal which reminded her of a car-crusher yard. Skilfully, Newman swung in a wide arc, followed by Harry, avoiding the wreckage completely.

`Not bad timing,' Philip, 'it all depended on assessing the position of that limo.'

`Well, that's behind us,' said Paula. She had closed the window quickly. Arctic air had entered their Land Rover. Philip had the heating turned full up and soon she was comfortable again.

`We've beaten Inspector Benlier,' she remarked with relief.

`Oh, that was just the opening shots,' Philip replied. `What do you mean?' asked Tweed.

`I call that the prelude. Ahead we go up into the Ardennes to Calouste's HQ at the Château les Rochers to destroy him. Don't expect a Christmas party.'

34

The Ardennes.

`I'm turning off the main road in a minute, heading across the Ardennes,' Philip said. 'It's some of the bleakest land I've seen in Europe. Remote. Tourists never come here.'

Paula lowered her compact powerful binoculars. She had aimed them ahead while they were still on the main road.

`I think you ought to know I saw a lot of headlights coming this way from the direction of Liege.'

`That's good news,' Philip said ironically as he turned to the right off the main road. 'Benlier has a section of his corrupt unit temporarily stationed in Liege.'

`Where does this lead us to?' Tweed asked.

`It's the direct route to Namur and Marche, but I'll bypass both towns by using country roads. It may be a rough ride.'

`Rough ride?' Paula repeated. 'So what was that we've just experienced?'

`Calouste's HQ is high up in the Ardennes. Château les Rochers, an ancient castle perched on the border of Belgium and the toy state of Luxembourg. So he can say he's resident in either country, whichever suits him at any particular time.'

`This country we're driving through is like a flat desert,' Paula commented. 'It's like a moonscape, and rocky.'

`I turned off the main route across country without your realizing it. We might just elude those police cars.'

Moonscape? As he gazed out, Tweed thought Paula's description was perfect. The Land Rover had started to wobble from side to side. The flat so-called plain was desolate. Its surface was littered with small rocks, shale and pebbles.

`This whole area is unstable,' Philip remarked casually. Paula glanced once at him and realized he was looking grim. He was wondering how to get them out of this. She had never before seen him looking so serious. Her reaction steeled her nerve. She twisted round in her seat, pressed her binoculars to her eyes, focused on the three police cars. She could hear a distant whine. The fools still had their sirens shrieking out here in this totally deserted region. And their blue lights were still flashing. Idiots. Paula focused on the lead car. A policeman was standing, head and shoulders poked through the open roof.

`A slim man,' she said, 'in full uniform with gold braid and wide shoulders. Mouth open as though he's shouting.'

`That will be Benlier himself,' Philip told her, `shouting
en advance
.'