Blood Storm (3 page)

Newman was already backing away from the dark car at
speed. He switched to 'drive', rammed his foot down, shot
forward. The ram on his vehicle was special steel. It hit the
dark car, still stopped partly sideways. The collision was
ferocious as the ram smashed into the other car's bonnet,
destroying the engine. In his rear-view mirror Newman saw
another dark car approaching from behind. He reversed at high speed.

His rear ram, also reinforced steel, hit the new target
when it was half-turning into Bexford Street out of a side
street. He had more space to do the job this time, therefore
more speed. The impact was so violent the second black car
was spun round in a half-circle, clearing the entrance to the
side street. Newman turned the wheel, sped off.

'I have to get out of London before traffic builds,' he said
to himself.

He had already decided where he would head for.

3

The Cabal was assembled in an obscure building down a
side street off Whitehall. It comprised three junior ministers
with great influence higher up the power chain. The three
men worked well together - most of the time. The fact that
they were brothers, the offspring of the brilliant and
notorious General Macomber, hero of the Gulf War,
helped.

'By now Tweed should be out of the picture, reputation
smeared forever. It is a first major step in the merger,'
remarked Nelson Macomber.

'We should have a report on the operation,' reported
Noel Macomber, known as the Planner. 'The scandal will
destroy our major opponent.' His lean grim face expressed
his satisfaction at the prospect.

The three brothers were a contrast. Nelson was six feet
five tall, heavily built, in his forties, his shoulders wide, his
striking head large, clean shaven. His eyes were ice blue
beneath thick black hair and thick brows. His strong nose
was well shaped and below it his wide mouth and jaw
suggested energy and determination.

'We should damned well have had confirmation by now,'
said Benton, his voice quiet, his thick fingers tapping the
table.

The third brother was also well built but shorter than
Nelson. He spoke only occasionally, but his reserved
manner appealed to women. He was the most cautious of
the brothers, taking nothing for granted until it was
achieved.

The three men were seated in tapestry-covered chairs at
the peculiar table. It was triangular, to stress that none of
the three was in charge. The phone rang. Noel's slim-
fingered hand grabbed it, listened.

'Are you sure?' he demanded. 'A slip-up? You mean you
botched the job. Get back here immediately, you clumsy fool.' He ended the call, gently replacing the phone.

'You spoke too quickly, Nelson,' he said with malicious
satisfaction on his spade-shaped face. There was a certain competitiveness between the three brothers. 'Whatever
compromising item was delivered to Tweed has been
snatched away from his house.'

'Snatched away?' Nelson rumbled. 'Don't take all year to
report what happened.'

'Newman arrived and grabbed a briefcase from the Paula
Grey woman.'

'Newman again!' Nelson leaned forward. 'That man has
become as dangerous as Tweed. What about the troops you sent in two cars?'

'Newman was in a four-wheel-drive built like a tank. He
smashed up both cars then took off. . .'

'They should have pursued him,' Nelson rasped. 'That's what they have been trained for.'

'How could they?' Noel asked with a sneering smile.
'Both cars were put out of action.'

'The war has started, then,' Benton said calmly. 'So what is the next move?'

'When the stick hasn't worked we try the carrot,' Nelson
suggested, now as calm as Benton. 'I will visit Tweed and
explain the position. I shall ask him to join us in the
merger.'

'He'll never agree,' snapped Noel.

'It's all a question of persuasion. I'll explain to him the
inevitable and offer him the post of deputy-in-chief. I shall
make a point of going to see him this morning. So, you
agree, gentlemen?'

'It would be the best tactic at this stage,' Benton
commented.

'I do not like moves made on the spur of the moment,' said Noel, the Planner.

'You're not observant either,' Nelson whispered.

He put a finger to his lips, stood up without making a
sound, padded towards the closed door leading to the inner
offices. The door wasn't completely shut. Open a few
inches. He knew he had closed the door before the meeting
had started.

Opening the door slowly, he slipped into the next room,
a very large space without any of the comfort of the Cabal's
HQ. A slim girl, at least five feet nine tall, was crouched
over a computer, neatly dressed in black, as if in uniform. Nelson closed the door behind him silently, padded across
to her. She spoke without turning round.

'I don't like men who creep up on me. What's the
beef?'

'Did you open the door to our sanctum?'

She straightened up, swivelled round, her brown eyes
blazing. She had dark hair, well coiffeured, an attractive
face with full lips. She was not smiling.

'Are you accusing me of eavesdropping, you absent
swine?'

'No, of course not.'

'When are you taking me out again, while we're on the
subject?'

Saying which, she flung her arms round his neck, pulled him close. They began kissing passionately until she pushed
him away.

'Well, answer the friggin' question. My patience is
running out.'

'Soon . . .'

'Soon? It had better be . . .'

'Miss Partridge,' a voice called from the open door to the
room beyond. She called back that she was coming when
she'd finished with the computer.

Changing her mind, she closed down the machine. She
strode off into the next room without giving Nelson another
look. It was then he noticed a small girl seated in a corner looking over some files. Coral Flenton, also in the Civil
Service and Partridge's assistant, a red-haired girl with
hazel eyes and a nice smile. He decided he'd better have a
word and walked over.

'You didn't notice anything happening a moment ago,
did you?'

'Mr Macomber . . .' She swung round on her swivel
seat. 'Nothing has happened here for hours. Except
Freaky-Deaky has been throwing her weight around as
usual.'

Freaky-Deaky. Nelson knew that was one of the universal
nicknames for Zena Partridge even in the sanctum. She was a control-freak, hence her nickname, and also known as the
Parrot. He flapped his hands and smiled back.

'She does come down a bit heavy at times. She does
have a ton of responsibility. Especially to us. Keep your chin up . . .'

Returning to his HQ, he closed the door carefully, sat
down and stared round the table. Neither of
his brothers
said a word. They couldn't possibly have heard any of his conversation with Partridge. The slightly open door still
bothered him.

'We've heard a lot of confidential data while that door wasn't completely closed. Refresh my memory.'

'Very confidential,' Noel agreed, his voice high-pitched.
'The water-cannon delivery at Harber's Yard near
Tolhaven. The tough training by the team at Harber's
Yard. We went into it in some detail. All the details, in fact.
You came through that door last. You'll have to be a damn
sight more careful in future, brother.'

'Don't call me brother,' Nelson warned with menacing
quietness.

'Time to change the subject,' Benton said gently.

'I have decided positively on my next move,' Nelson said
firmly. 'In fact, within the hour.'

'Which is?' asked Noel, his V-shaped features com
pressing into a frown.

'To go over on to the attack,' Nelson said off-handedly,
knowing his brother was desperate to keep his fingers on
every development. 'You're not the only one who can plan,
dear boy.'

'Don't ever call me that again.' In his fury Noel leapt to his feet. 'Did you hear me?' he shouted as Nelson left the
room by the outer door as though he hadn't heard.

'No point in getting in a rage,' Benton said quietly. He
spent half his time keeping the peace and he was getting
tired of his role as peacemaker.

'I'm checking next door,' Noel snapped.

He opened the door which led into the civil servants'
area. No sign of the Parrot. In her corner, diminutive Coral
Flenton was bent over her word-processor. She could see
who was coming in the mirror artfully placed on her desk.
She made a point of pretending not to notice as Noel
hurried over to her.

'Flenton, how long have you been seated at your
desk?'

'Ever since I came in. Sir,' she added after a pause.

'Are you sure about that statement?' he asked with a
sneer. 'Not been to the loo or any of the other things women
take it into their tiny heads to do?'

'I have just answered your question. Sir.'

'All right, then. Get up for a change and bring us some
coffee and cakes. Two of us. Get cracking, girl.'

He swung round and headed back for the sanctum. Since
he hadn't eyes in the back of his head he missed the look of
pure hatred on Coral's face as she left her desk.

I'll go home and change first, Nelson said to himself. And
I'll go to see Tweed afterwards in the Merc. Important to
display a show of power to Tweed in his hideaway in Park
Crescent.

'Home first,' he ordered his chauffeur, Jeff, seated with the guard in the alcove close to the front door. When they arrived at his apartment in Mayfair he leapt out of the car
almost before it had pulled up, a habit which always worried
Jeff. Couldn't say a word to Nelson Macomber, who went
his own way and ignored servants.

Entering the apartment on the first floor after skipping up
the stairs like a ten-year-old, Nelson was annoyed to find his
wife, Loelia, daughter of an earl, dressed in her velvet suit
on the verge of
leaving.