The Janus Man (60 page)

`The
Seebeck
. Dr Berlin — Hugh Grey — did have a third boat hidden away. What are you going to do?'

`I've emptied several of the fuel drums — again, like the
Südwind
, it had plenty of spare fuel. I tumbled a couple down the companionway into the main cabin. It's drenched. And you see those two petrol cans perched on top of that locker? One is half-empty — I spilt it around. That is the trigger for my little atom bomb. Five hundred kilos. Regrettably, even in the Drug Squad there could be men who'd sell their souls for the money that lot would bring in. I do wish Gorbachev could see this. Keep your head well down, for God's sake.'

The
Seebeck
had been caught up in a strong current, was now drifting faster at least thirty feet from the shore. Newman took careful aim with the Verey pistol, his target the cans of petrol. He pulled the trigger.

Nothing much happened. There was a sizzle. Then Vesuvius erupted. A roar like thunder swept out across the Wash. The bow of the vessel headed skywards, trailing a tongue of flame like a Cape Canaveral rocket. It exploded into a thousand pieces. Followed by the main detonation. Tweed guessed the fire had reached the drums toppled into the cabin. Amidships the
Seebeck
came apart, blasting seawards, scores of fireballs. A plume of black smoke ascended vertically. The relic of the stern crackled. Flames spread round the rim. A third explosion. The stern soared out over the sea, ascending at an angle of about forty-five degrees. It blew up in mid-air. Fragments fell back into the water, hissed, disappeared. For a short time the sea had boiled where the
Seebeck
had drifted to, then it calmed down. There was a sudden silence. Gulls wheeled away inland. No trace remained of the cruiser.

`Grey went up with that,' Newman said. 'We saw him standing on deck just before the explosion. Technical hitch. They'll never find enough to work out what really happened. And I saw your tussle with Grey. I had my Luger ready. Just in case. You led him here deliberately.'

It was a statement. Tweed nodded, climbed slowly to his feet and brushed rubbish off his suit. 'That had better be what we tell them,' he agreed. 'And yes, I led him here on purpose. A mass murderer, a traitor. He had to disappear. The scandal would have destroyed the Service. We've done the job.'

`I do believe we have.'

'Except for driving back to the farm, making sure there are no traces of the beard he'd half-shaved off in the kitchen — things like that. His problem was he couldn't shave it off in Lübeck, and since he's had no chance until he reached the farm. Too busy steering that cruiser. Must have had stamina — the stamina of a madman. I suppose we'd also better call the police.'

Epilogue

Tweed was alone in his office when Harry Masterson came in. He gestured for his visitor to sit down in the chair opposite his desk and stared at him for a minute. It was Masterson, the irrepressible Harry, who broke the silence.

`I heard about the tragedy up in Norfolk. Poor old Hugh. I suppose it wasn't a time bomb?'

`That we'll never know. The Forensic people are going barmy. Can't find enough of the wreckage to tell what happened. The risk of the game. I wanted to ask you something. What were you doing in Lübeck — walking round all bandaged up and asking a lot of damn-fool questions?'

`I suppose I might as well own up. I had a hot tip — from one of my best informants inside the DDR — that Dr Berlin was also someone high up in London. So, I hared up there to check it out.'

`And what about the
Nocturne
? It was seen — by a highly reliable witness — berthed at Travemünde.'

`I am in the shit. Might as well own up to everything. A pal of mine brought it up to Lübeck from Chichester. You see, I needed somewhere I could hide out. I didn't trust a hotel. I sailed it from one marina to another along the Baltic while I went on checking out this Berlin character.'

`Must have cost a fortune — the
Nocturne
.'

`Oh, it did. Trouble was I never thought anyone would believe me. Remember that holiday I took in Monte Carlo? Walked into the Casino one night for a lark. Won a fortune — probably because I wasn't really trying. Pocketed the lot, bought myself the
Nocturne
— and a Porsche. Never been inside a casino since. Once in a lifetime. Don't push your luck.'

`You were in the wrong territory, Harry.'

`I know. But at that last meeting you did lay it on pretty thick that Dr Berlin was what you wanted to know about. Ask for something, you're liable to get it. Sorry — if that helps.'

`You always wanted Germany, didn't you?'

`Truth is, I can't stand the Roumanians and Bulgars.'

`I'll think about it. And I have Bob Newman waiting to see me.

Tweed was standing by the window when Newman came in. He had a wan expression when he turned round and ushered his guest into a chair. Newman studied him as he lit a cigarette.

`Diana has found herself a flat. She has also found herself a job. She doesn't waste much time.'

`Give her my congratulations when you see her.'

`Not a good idea.' Newman paused. `She doesn't want to see you again. I argued, got nowhere. I'm taking her out to Waltons for dinner tonight. And I made my statement to the police about the Norfolk business. They weren't too happy. As you suggested, I told them to contact you and that shut them up. Case closed.'

`Don't worry about Diana. She needs a new start in life. I am also very grateful to you...'

'Nonsense. My experience inside the DDR may come in useful one day. And I'm sorry about Diana. I thought maybe you and she...'

`Forget it. I'm very tired.'

`And Kuhlmann might like this back.' Newman laid a Luger on the desk. 'I've got rid of the ammo. What about Dr Berlin — the German end?'

`Kuhlmann is handling that. I had a long talk on the phone with him. He's spreading the rumour Berlin has returned to Leipzig. End of story.'

`See you, then...'

Monica came into the office after Newman had left. She found Tweed sitting at his desk, writing out a letter. Placing a file on his desk, she caught sight of a sentence.

`My God! What are you doing?'

`Writing out my letter of resignation. I committed a major error of judgement — when I chose Hugh Grey.'

`But that's buried...' She paused. 'Sorry, that was not a very well phrased comment. You solved the problem brilliantly.' `And I created it.'

`I phoned Paula Grey as you asked, and she's at my place. I told her you were holding an important meeting out at Hawkswood Farm. She seemed glad to come. Last night — over a pot of tea — she broke down. Told me she saw Hugh drive off after his birthday party two years ago. Later she found drops of blood on his shirt. That's why she put Portman, that private investigator, on his track. Did you suspect it was Grey?'

'He was my prime suspect, yes. Little things. We all live by habit. I noticed the countryside close to Travemünde was very like East Anglia — I think that was why Grey chose the port as his base. Nostalgia for home surroundings. Later — after Newman told me about the huge drug cargo — I recalled the reinforced landing stage at the edge of the Wash. The clincher was the absence of something. Grey knew he was being followed by Portman and never reported it to me, which would have been his normal reaction — in case it was the opposition. He didn't dare do that — it could have led to Grey himself being put under close surveillance.'

`And what about that weird episode when Diana caught him unawares at the mansion on Priwall Island? When she saw him before he'd grown his beard and he had a catlick over his forehead. Rather like Hitler I think you said?'

'My guess is he only had seconds to act — but he had fast reflexes. He combed his hair down over his forehead — so if she ever passed on his description to the wrong person they would think it sounded like Guy Dalby — which it did. Hugh had to be a very clever villain to achieve what he did.'

He finished writing, read through the letter, then placed it on his desk and leant back in his chair. Monica reached forward, picked up the sheet, folded it and put it inside her handbag.

'I haven't signed it yet. What are you doing?'

`Sleep on it,' Monica advised.

'I was going to.'

'For a week. If, at the end of a week, you still feel the same way, I'll give this letter back to you.'

'I won't change my mind...'

'Of course not,' she replied. 'And now, just for once, I'm going home early.'

Tweed was left alone, sitting at his desk, staring at the wall map which showed the border between two worlds — East and West.

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