The Power (24 page)

'It would be exactly that,' Tweed agreed. 'Which is why
we're flying on to the one safe haven.'

'I suppose I shouldn't ask where?' Paula remarked.

'Switzerland. Where we have a powerful friend.'

15

'Norton is on the private line, Brad,' said Sara Maranoff.

'OK. Put him through. Time that street bum got
results.'

'Brad, Norton is the best we've got. Hold yourself in.
I also have Ms Hamilton waiting to see you.'

Sara knew what Ms Hamilton was about. She glanced round the Oval Office, checked that there were plenty of cushions on the large couch stood against one wall. She
waved her index finger at him, warning him to cool it
with Norton.

The President often omitted to shave until the end of
the morning. His jaw and upper lip would be covered
with a black stubble. But this morning he was freshly
shaved, wore a smart blue suit with a crisp clean shirt
and a tie. Ms Hamilton, Sara thought. Had to be at his
best for
her.

'I'll leave you to take your call,' she said.

Alone, March pushed back his chair, planted his feet on the desk top, crossed his ankles. He picked up the
phone kept in a drawer.

'That you?' he barked.

'Norton here. I need those reinforcements ...'

'They're aboard United flight 918 flying non-stop to
London. Over the Atlantic as I speak with you. That's
all the rest of Unit One we had in reserve here. Marvin Mencken is in charge.'

'That barracuda

'He's the best...' March remembered Sara's warning.

'I mean the best next to you. Now where are we with this
goddamn problem? Where is Joel Dyson? Where is
Special
Agent' -
his tone was savagely sarcastic - 'Barton Ives?
Give.'

In Zurich

'You've traced those bastards? Well, well. Miracles still
happen. They're six feet under the ground now?'

'Not exactly. Not yet...'

'Don't give me no smoke, Norton. You sittin' on your
thumbs out there? What the hell is the position?'

'We know both men are in Zurich. They've been seen but they disappeared again. Temporarily
...

Temporarily is too long. What about the CIA shyster -
Cord Dillon?'

'No sign of him yet, but we'll track him. An operation
like this doesn't happen overnight.'

'I want all three of them put away for good. Norton, your
head is on the block. There's always Mencken ...'

March slammed down the phone, inserted a thick finger
inside his neckband, loosened it. The phone rang again as
he stood up to go to the door. He snatched it up.

'Yes?'

'Norton here. We got disconnected. I'm handling this
my way. I'll be meeting Mencken's flight at London Air
port. I'm flying to Zurich to take personal charge. How
many reinforcements are aboard that flight? I need specific
information.' A brief pause. 'Mr President.'

'Forty men. With what you've got you should be able to check everyone in Switzerland.'

'I said I'd handle this my way
...

The line went dead. March stared at the phone. Norton
had had the balls to hang up on him. He remembered what
Sara had said. Norton is the best. So maybe he was.

He checked his appearance in a mirror, went to the
door, opened it, beaming his famous smile. The elegant
blonde woman waiting on a seat outside returned the
smile, walked in, he closed and locked the door. Taking
her by the arm he led her to the couch, turned her round,
lowered her gently.

'You've got too many clothes on, Glen. I'll start by
undoing this top button ...'

Swissair flight SR 803 had departed from London on
schedule, taking off for Zurich at 13.50 hours. Tweed and
his team were aboard in first class and had that section to
themselves. One of the advantages of flying in February.

The Brymon Airways flight from Newquay Airport had
arrived on time at London at 12.15 p.m. Tweed had collec
ted and paid for the tickets by calling on Jim Corcoran. He
had then had a tough conversation with Chief Inspector Roy Buchanan when he phoned him at the Yard.

'Where are you?' Buchanan had snapped.

'My whereabouts are not important. I see there has been
not a single report of the massacre at Tresillian Manor in
the press. Nine corpses and the press isn't interested? I
suspect a "D" notice has been issued to the press. What
excuse was used this time? A matter of national security?'

'This is a major anti-terrorist operation, Tweed. Which
is all you're getting out of me. And there were ten
corpses. A Tresillian Manor servant girl called Celia Yeo was found at the foot of High Tor. An anonymous caller
alerted me. You wouldn't know anything about it, I
suppose?'

Buchanan's tone dripped sarcasm. Tweed made him
stick to the point.

'A major anti-terrorist operation? You really swallowed
that? So they've got at you too ...'

'My patience has run out with you, Tweed. I want you
here at the Yard yesterday.'

'You're a man of integrity,' Tweed said quietly. 'You know you should be investigating a case of mass murder.

And not by terrorists. Don't take it out on me because
they've fenced you in.'

'I said I expect you here at the Yard at the earliest
possible moment. Needless to say, you don't leave the
country.'

'You're still evading the main issue. Check up on the mass murder in Cornwall. Check on who set up fake roadblocks one night recently. Get a description from
anyone who was stopped by them. Make sure you ask what
nationality they were
...'

'Are you telling me how to do my job?'

'I'm simply suggesting you actually
do
your job. Have to
go. Goodbye

Sitting next to Paula in mid-air he had relayed his conversation with Buchanan to her. He made his com
ments after he told her how he had ended the call.

'The significance of that verbal duel was what Buchanan
didn't say.'

'What was that?'

'He didn't deny he'd been told to pigeon-hole the case. I
expect he was ordered to by the Commissioner. After the
Commissioner had taken a call from Downing Street. They
have thrown a tight net round the whole horrific business.'

'But why? I'm getting scared the way Howard can't contact the PM.'

'Someone with immense power has thrown out a smoke
screen. By labelling these violent events as the work of a major terrorist organization it gives the people at the top a
perfect excuse for their inexcusable actions. I know I've
just contradicted myself, but you grasp what I'm getting
at.'

'Except I can't grasp who could have such an evil
influence over our Prime Minister.'

'Read the papers - the international news. That's where
one of the keys lies. Now I want to give a message to the
pilot to be radioed ahead of us.'

'Can I see it?' Paula asked, her curiosity aroused.

While Tweed was writing on a small pad he'd taken from
his pocket Paula glanced beyond him from her window seat
at Newman and Cardon who were seated opposite across
the aisle. Newman grinned at her, gave a thumbs-up signal.
Tweed and Paula occupied the front seats where there was
plenty of leg room. Immediately behind them sat Butler
and Nield who had refused drinks and remained very alert.

Tweed finished writing, showed her the message, put it in an envelope, sealed it and called to the stewardess.

'Could you please hand this to the wireless operator? It's
very urgent.'

'Certainly, sir

Paula sat frowning. She asked her question as the plane
flew on over dense clouds which looked just like the Alps,
shining in the brilliant sun. At that moment the aircraft was
barely midway between London and Zurich.

'I thought you said Switzerland would be a haven of
safety?'

'It won't be,' Tweed said with a face like stone. 'Not for
the opposition once I locate them.'

The radio message, addressed to Tweed's old friend,
Arthur Beck, Chief of Federal Police, had been terse and to the point.

Urgently request full protection six people aboard flight SR
803. ETA Kloten Airport, Zurich, 1625 hours your time.
Tweed.

The plane had begun its descent to Kloten when Paula saw
out of the opposite window a breathtaking panorama of a
great range of snowbound mountains. Massive in their
continuity, she realized she was staring at the Bernese
Oberland, the most spectacular mountains in all Europe.
She continued gazing at them. They reminded her of
some enormous tidal wave about to engulf the entire
continent. The descent increased in angle, the view van
ished. Beyond her own window there was nothing to see
but a curtain of clouds drifting past, growing denser as they
dropped lower and lower.

Suddenly the clouds cleared and the lights of Switzer
land were coming up to meet her. The stewardess returned
again, whispered to Tweed.

'We've had instructions from Zurich Control that you
and your party will leave the plane first after landing.'

'I'm glad you added "after landing," Tweed joked.

Paula sensed his sudden change of mood - Tweed was looking forward to the opportunity to take action. She felt
her own spirits rise. For days she had lived in a state of suppressed terror. She stared eagerly out of the window
again.

They were landing - she could see the forest of evergreens which surrounded Kloten Airport. The Swiss pilot
brought the machine down so smoothly the wheels barely kissed the concrete runway. As they emerged Paula saw a
familiar figure waiting just beyond the metal platform
leading from plane to airport building. The Chief of the
Federal Police. He took hold of her in both arms and
hugged her.

'Welcome to Switzerland, Paula.'

'I'm here too,' said Tweed, amused because he knew
Beck was very fond of Paula.