Blood Storm (41 page)

Nield sat smiling. He ordered another sandwich. He had
broken through the wall of bland innocence the Cabal presented to the world.

36

Paula, returned from her visit outside the capital, parked
her car in a spot just vacated by a businessman wearing a
dull black suit, the 'uniform' these days of men who worked
in the City.

She walked into the side street, trotted behind Benton, who seemed in a great hurry. He said something into the
speakphone, the great door slid upwards, she followed him
on to the escalator. He was so absorbed by something on his
mind he never noticed her. Clasped under her arm she had
two carefully folded copies of different editions of the Daily
Nation.

She walked into the Cabal's private room behind Benton.
Two people were sitting at the triangular table. Nelson and
Noel. Nelson jumped up when he saw her.

'You can't come in here,' he snapped.

'I've come to congratulate you,' she said merrily, waving
the huge headline on the special edition.

NELSON MACOMBER MINISTER OF
INTERNAL SECURITY

'And,' she continued, still walking towards the door into the
next room, 'Miss Partridge has something to tell me.'

She had entered the next room, closed the door behind
her, before Nelson, who had jumped up, could reach her.
Inside, Coral Flenton was standing up, a wide smile on her
face as she waved her hands in the air, then did a little
dance.

'It's a wonderful world,' she sang, mimicking Louis Armstrong as she went on dancing.

The Parrot stood a distance away from her, strong arms
folded under her chest. Her expression was murderous. She
suddenly became aware of Paula and her expression
became grimmer. She swung back towards Coral.

'Shut your face!' she screamed. 'Stop that awful row or
I'll shut it for you!'

'There's a witness if you attack me.' Coral nodded
towards Paula and picked up a heavy ruler. On her desk was
the Daily Nation, folded to the headline announcing the new Cabinet appointment.

'I'll throttle you!' the Parrot screamed again at Coral.

'No, you won't,' a quiet commanding voice said.

Nelson had appeared from the next room. Obviously he
had heard the Parrot screaming. The large man walked
quickly across the room. The Parrot froze. Nelson gave the
order as he passed her.

'You wait exactly where you are until I get back.'

He continued walking until he reached Paula, who had
moved to the other side of Coral's desk. His manner was calm but determined. He gripped Paula's right arm, kept
walking.

'This is no place for you, Miss Grey. I'm asking you to
leave by the back entrance. Don't come here again.'

Still gripping her arm tightly he walked her towards a door
in the rear wall. He used his other hand to press down a safety
lever. He was opening the steel door when Paula reacted.

'Take your hand off me. You're hurting me.'

He kept hold of her as the door swung open. She used the
tip of her left shoe to kick him hard on the shin. He
grimaced, gave a grunt of pain, let go of her arm and she walked out on to
I
platform at the top of a flight of metal
steps leading down into the street.

'Miss Grey,' Nelson called down, his tone now friendly.

'What is it?' she called back, glaring.

'In my anxiety to calm things down I gripped the wrong
woman's arm. I apologize if I hurt you. Unintentional.'

He was smiling warmly. He even saluted her to
emphasize his change of mood. Still pausing, she glared at
him again, refusing to let him off the hook.

'Maybe you'd better learn to control your temper before
you park your seat in your Cabinet chair.'

She continued descending the steps, did not look back
again. So she missed the blaze of annoyance which
appeared in his large blue eyes. She did hear the slam of the
metal door shutting as she leaned against a wall to adjust her shoes. She had chosen the wrong footwear and had
walked a lot when she'd reached her destination well
outside London.

More comfortable now, she walked left along the alley,
her sense of direction taking her to the end of the side street
which led to Whitehall. She stopped for a moment when
she saw who was walking towards the entrance to the HQ.
Tweed.

37

'What are you doing here?' Paula asked.

'I told you earlier. I want a word with Nelson Macomber.'

He stopped speaking as the steel door swung upwards
and out of sight. Wearing a dark suit with a flower in the
buttonhole, Nelson stepped into the street. At the top of the
escalator Paula saw a crowd of staff, all clapping their
hands. Beaming, Nelson turned to wave to them, then
turned to Tweed.

'Heard your voice on the speakphone. I was just coming
down. I'm on my way there.'

He gestured to the end of the alley. Parked by a Whitehall
kerb was a long black limousine. A uniformed chauffeur
stood at attention.

'So congratulations are in order,' Tweed said.

'My dear Tweed ...' Nelson threw both arms round him,
hugged. 'I am so looking forward to working with you.' He
beamed at Paula. 'And, of course, with your attractive and hyper-efficient Paula.'

She stepped back, worried that he was going to hug her.
He was a big man and the thought of those strong arms squeezing the breath out of her did not appeal.

'Well,' Tweed said amiably, 'you've got one of the two sensational headlines all to yourself.'

He produced a folded newspaper from under his arm,
still gripping a second newspaper under the same arm. He
opened it to show the headline announcing the Cabinet
appointment. Nelson took it and studied it as though seeing it for the first time.

'Overdone it a bit, haven't they?' he said with a
complacent smile.

'Oh, I don't know,' Tweed remarked. 'Pity it's swamped
by the next edition they rushed out at breakneck speed.'

He took the second newspaper from under his arm.
Again it was folded to the even larger glaring headline with
the story below written by Drew Franklin.

BLACK ISLAND TORTURE PRISON EXPLODES
IN FLAMES

Paula peeked over Tweed's shoulder as he handed it to
Nelson, then studied the newly appointed minister's
expression. All the joy in Nelson's face vanished like a mark
wiped off a window. He stood motionless as he read the
detailed text. One sentence referred to 'the body parts of the
Slovak builders flying into the air . . .' Another referred to
'the hideous KGB-like torture chamber ready for so-called
"social saboteurs". That is, ready for anyone speaking out against the government . . .'

'This is blatant nonsense,' Nelson squeaked.

'He has printed photos to illustrate his text,' Tweed
remarked.

'This is your work,' Nelson snarled.

'Don't be silly . . . Minister. Drew Franklin has contacts
everywhere.'

'My car awaits,' Nelson said, drawing himself up. 'You
can keep that filthy rag.'

He still kept under his arm the 'filthy rag' of the Daily Nation reporting his accession to the Cabinet. Before he
reached the limousine they heard him swearing at the
chauffeur.

'In future I'll expect the damned rear door open as soon
as you see me coming . . .'

'And we'll get back to Park Crescent,' Tweed said
quietly, 'so I can hear how everyone got on with their
interviews.'

'And I've been to Walkhampton in the Midlands where
the Parrot spent her childhood and teenage years,' Paula
told him.

'Tell me when we're all together to listen.'

They were driving back to Park Crescent slowly -
through all the traffic in the world, so it seemed to Paula.
She kept quiet. She could almost hear Tweed thinking
intensively.

'I'm hoping,' he said eventually, 'that someone who has been interviewed slipped up. But don't bet on it.' He sighed. 'If Saafeld is right there is so little time left.'

The whole team was waiting when they arrived. Marler had
decided to give Tweed a brief verbal version of his flight
with Harry to Peckham Mallet. Monica looked annoyed
since she had already typed the report of what had
happened. Tweed looked relieved when Marler concluded.

'So the bomb detonated in the field. Good work, Harry.
I am glad one problem has been solved. Now, I'll listen to
the interviews you had with different members of the
Cabal.'

He appeared to be listening intently, his eyes never
leaving those of the person speaking. Yet Paula had the
impression half his mind was elsewhere. The interview he
showed the greatest interest in was Nield's.

'Benton is a strange man,' he commented.

'Something else on your mind?' asked Paula.

'Yes. Everyone has done well. But I'm no nearer to
pinpointing who might be the murderer. I'm now going to suggest a quite different approach, since time is getting
desperately short.' He paused. 'Forget the identity of the murderer. Instead, who is likely to be the next victim?'

He had startled everyone. They looked at each other,
then stared at Tweed. Even Paula couldn't see where he
was going.

'Before we get involved in something else,' Paula spoke
up, 'I forgot to tell you what I found out about the Parrot in
Walkhampton. She wasn't popular even as a small girl. The
reason? She was so bright, and knew it, that she tended to
dominate everyone. After prep school she went to a
grammar - and was always top of the class. Oh, and her father had a shop. He was a butcher.'

'A butcher!' Newman exclaimed.

'The next victim,' Tweed repeated emphatically. 'If we
know who the next victim is, we can stake out her home and
wait for the murderer to appear with all his - or her -
equipment in a large carrier or briefcase . . .'

'I see your point,' said Paula. 'A different approach. I just
wonder who the next victim is.'

'The Parrot, of course,' Tweed affirmed. 'She works
next to the room where the Cabal meets. She is the one
person most likely to have overheard their plans. She is
dangerous to the Cabal. If killed in the same way as Viola
and Marina no one will connect it with her knowledge of
the Cabal.'