Rhinoceros (54 page)

'Please?' Paula seemed confused. 'You say?'

'What language was he speaking?' The FBI man worked
his thick lips rapidly, as though speaking, pointing again at
Tweed.

'Ah!' Paula smiled. 'Speak? Him. He speak the Danish.'

'Jesus!' The FBI man took a step back. 'We could be
in Denmark. The border is just north of Sylt. The last
goddamn' thing we want is an international incident -considering what is happening on Sylt.'

He had looked up at the huge American soldier by his
side as he said this. The soldier stared at Paula with interest
and she had trouble maintaining her demure expression.
She could see he was aggressive, used to pushing his way
in anywhere he chose to.

'I say we search the dump. We gotta find that piece of
paper.'

'Yo', said Tweed.

'You've seen a piece of paper blowing round here?' the
FBI man asked.

Tweed started his non-stop jabbering again. He waved his arms in a friendly gesture, then opened the palms of
both hands and made a pushing motion in the friendliest
manner. He kept on jabbering.

'I think he's telling us we ought not to be here,' the FBI man said.

'I say we go in and rip the guts out of the place,' the
soldier snarled.

He took two steps forward and Tweed decided more
drastic action was needed to get rid of them. His head and
wide shoulders were three feet away from the tip of one of the sails. Tweed jabbered to Paula, disappeared inside the
mill. Paula didn't know what he was going to do but felt she must stop the soldier entering the mill. She was still
smiling when she spoke.

'He work. Work. You know work?'

'Yeah, baby,' the soldier told her. 'We work but we like
a little fun too.'

Inside the mill Tweed was crouched over the three
wooden levers, trying to remember from his short stay
in East Anglia which was the correct one. He couldn't
remember. Closing his eyes, he reached out with his hand,
grasped a lever, pulled it down.

The wheel began to turn with an aching grind. He
opened his eyes and saw the vertical column also revolving.
Outside the sails, caught by the wind, began moving. The sail close to the soldier hit his head. He yelled, automatically lifted both hands, felt the sail, grabbed hold of it. He
was lifted off his feet as the sail began its ascent, continued
to rise higher and higher. Peering through the window
Tweed saw what was happening.
Right, you asked for this,
he thought. He waited, then pushed up the lever he had
pulled down. The wheel and the vertical spindle stopped.
Outside he heard yelling, then laughter. He ran out.

The sail had stopped at its uppermost height. The soldier
was clinging to it, terrified, staring down. Below him the
other soldiers were roaring with laughter, prodding each
other, pointing up at the suspended soldier who was
shouting in fear.

'Get me down. Can't hold on much longer . . .'

Tweed stared up, looked at the FBI man who was
suppressing a smile. He began jabbering, waving his arms,
as though to say why has he gone up there? Tweed
looked amazed, ran back inside. Grasping the lever he
had operated earlier, he rammed it down as far as it would
go, then ran
outside.

The sail rocketed downward. The soldier hit the ground
with a hard thump, let go and the sail continued its swift
climb. Nobody helped him to get up. He was the bully of
the unit. He clambered painfully to his feet.

'Need first aid,' he gasped. 'Shoulder broken . . .'

'No, it isn't,' snapped the FBI man. 'For God's sake get
him out of here. He's caused enough trouble.'

Two soldiers grabbed hold of the injured man, practi
cally dragged him away towards the wood. As they did so, another man in civilian clothes appeared. He called out to
the FBI man.

'The fifth man hasn't come. Sent a message he can't
be here.'

'Then forget Number Five.' He turned to Tweed and
Paula and for the first time had the ghost of a smile on his hard face.

'OK. We're going. OK?'

'Yes,' said Paula.

They watched the FBI man until he'd disappeared inside
the wood. Paula gave a great sigh of relief.

'What was that incredible language you jabbered?'

'Incredible is the word. I've heard Finnish spoken and
so I mimicked that. The language of Finland is a trainload of k's - without that letter there is no Finnish. And you put
up a remarkable performance, backing me up. Couldn't have done it without you. Let's go inside.'

Tweed adjusted the levers until the sails stopped spin
ning round at frantic speed and moved normally. They
were met by Harry who didn't mince his words.

'We have to get out of here fast. Let me show you
something. This mill does have an occupant.'

He carefully opened a large wooden drawer, sliding it
open gently. They peered inside. There was a large black
box of metal with a muddle of wires protruding.

'That,' Harry told them, 'is a very powerful bomb with
magnetic strips to attach it to something. Like a car bomb
but much bigger. Then there's something else.' He closed the drawer with the same delicate care, opened a second
deep drawer.

'What on earth is that?' Paula wondered.

'It's a mechanic's boiler suit, American model. Plus a
baseball cap. I won't take it out again. I had to fold it back
the way I'd found it. I also found a pretty fresh half-eaten
croissant under that table. Don't you think we ought to
move now?'

'If not sooner,' agreed Tweed.

They took trouble leaving the place just as they had found it. The front door to the mill was closed. When Newman had backed the car out of the shed they closed the double doors.

Harry had returned from checking the track through the
wood. He reported they couldn't go that way.

'Maintenance men in boiler suits are swarming round
the big chopper.'

Inside the car Tweed had been studying the map.
Newman looked over his shoulder.

'Any other way out?'

'Yes. Drive ahead and we'll find a little country road
which will take us direct to Tender.'

'And where is Tender?' asked Lisa.

'Across the border in Denmark. I stayed the night there quite a while ago. It's one of the most attractive villages
I've ever seen. The people are nice, too. It's the essence of peace and quiet.'

'Famous last words,' said Newman.

CHAPTER 32

The light aircraft with a blue insignia on its tail swooped
down to the landing strip at Tender airfield. Outside a
small building Oskar Vernon stood, arms folded, as he
watched it land perfectly. Skimming along the ground it came to a halt, propeller slowing, then stopping.

'Barton is a good pilot,' Oskar said to himself, 'but then,
he does belong to a flying club in Britain . . .'

Barton, clad in flying gear, carrying his case and helmet,
walked across as Panko followed him after dropping agilely
from the cabin, also carrying a case. In his usual rough
manner Barton said nothing to Vernon as he walked inside
the building and checked that it was unoccupied. Panko went straight up to Oskar.

'We arrive good time,' he greeted Oskar.

'You're expected to.'

'We lose Tweed team in Flensburg. Delgado gone.'

'Do keep your trap shut,' snarled Barton who had come out of the small building in time to hear what he'd said. 'I
do the reporting.'

'Then report,' Oskar ordered. 'What's all this about
"Delgado gone"?'

'He insisted on searching Flensburg on his own. He
was hoping to find one of Tweed's women on her own. He planned to torture her to get information. He never
came back.'

'Strange. Well, we can't waste time over him. Did you
see Tweed in Flensburg?'

'Yes,' Barton replied hesitantly. 'Walking on a street
with some of his men. We slipped inside an alley so we
wouldn't be seen. When we came out they had all gone. We never saw them again.'

'You were supposed to kill them all on the way to
Flensburg. I take it from what you've just said you didn't?'

'They outnumbered us heavily,' Barton said quickly.
'We were ambushed and they killed all our men. Only
Delgado and the two of us escaped.'

'Really?' Oskar's tone was skeptical. 'Outnumbered. Now
you're here, well out of the way as a reserve.' He tapped his
mobile phone. 'I expect to hear tomorrow where to send you.
I have booked rooms for you at the Hotel Tonderhus. That is my Audi in the road. I'll take you to your hotel.'

'You'll be staying with us?' asked Barton.

'I will not. I'm staying with a Danish friend who knows
nothing about my activities. After a meal
you can walk
round the little town. It's quite pleasant. But get to bed
early. Tomorrow will be a day of activity and you will need
all your energy. Come on, let's get moving so I can drop
you off at the Tonderhus.'

Newman was driving inland and they had a panoramic
view over vast flatlands. A short distance from the sea
Paula saw a very large concrete structure like a long dyke
close to the water.

'What's that?' she asked.

'Tender,' Tweed explained, 'is known as Capital of the
Marshlands, although actually we'd call it a large village.
Many years ago there was a great storm and the sea flooded
inland. The Danes took measures - they built that dyke
to prevent another catastrophe. Like the Dutch, they are
good engineers.'

'Looks like the biggest billiard table in the world. It just
stretches away to the north as far as the eye can see.'

As they drove on, Tweed took out the typed sheet of
paper which had flown out of Gavin Thunder's case.
Paula was watching him as he read it. His expression
became very grim as he folded it and returned it to his
pocket.

'Trouble?' she enquired.

'Catastrophe would be a better word. We're facing the
most dangerous problem we've ever tackled, plus the fact
we're up against incredibly powerful opponents.'