The Power (60 page)

Paula had accompanied Tweed and Jennie to his room. It
had plenty of space, was like a small suite with the sitting
area just inside the door and sleeping quarters beyond. After consulting Jennie, Paula had nipped down to the
Brasserie and asked for a mug of milky coffee with plenty
of sugar.

There was no sign of Eve or Gaunt. He was pretty
bloody hopeless at looking after a woman, Paula thought
as she carried the mug to the room. She'd tell him so when
she next met him.

'Hold the mug in both hands,' she coaxed Jennie.

It was a wise precaution. Jennie's hands were shaking but with a little help from Paula she drank some of the
liquid. She looked up gratefully.

'Thank you so much. I felt so damned cold.'

'That's shock,' said Tweed quietly. He was standing as he watched her. 'It will wear off. Drink it all if you can.'

'The
bastards!'
Jennie burst out after she had emptied
the mug.

Tweed knew then she was recovering rapidly. He had the impression she had not only considerable physical powers but also great mental resilience. He waited while
Paula sat beside her on a chair she'd pulled close.

'I'm feeling much better,' Jennie announced suddenly. 'Thanks to both of you. I suppose I shouldn't have done what I did to that punk, Eddie.'

'I'd have scratched his eyes out,' Paula assured her.

'Feel up to my asking a few questions?' Tweed enquired.

'Fire away!'

'What information were they trying to extract from you?'

They wanted to know about a film and a tape. Seemed to think I knew where they were after my visit to the Château
Noir. I told them I didn't know what the hell they
were talking about, that kidnapping was a capital offence in France if anything happened to the victim. I made that
last bit up - but as they were Americans I didn't think they'd know much about Europe. When I kept that up -
which is true - that I didn't know what they were talking
about, they turned very nasty. I was so lucky you got there
just in time.'

'Did they know you'd driven with Gaunt to the château
?' Tweed asked gently.

'Oh, they knew all right. I didn't tell them.'

'Did they mention Amberg?'

'Not a word. Just kept on about their flaming film and
tape.'

'I
see...'

Tweed saw more than she realized. To know of Gaunt's
visit to Amberg the opposition had to have the Château
Noir under close surveillance. It was valuable informa
tion, but disturbing. It meant the American apparatus
had had no trouble tracking Amberg from Zurich to Basle
and then to the
Vosges.

'Any more questions?' Jennie asked. 'Anything I could
help you with?'

'I don't think so,' Tweed replied. 'But you have been
very helpful.'

'You're the ones who've been helpful. I'm more grateful than I can tell you. And now, I'm feeling a bit tired. I
think a lie-down for a while would help.'

'Flop on the left-hand bed,' Tweed suggested. 'I'll see
there's always someone in this room to guard you. If you could take oyer for a start, Paula? Thank you. The bathroom is through that door.'

'Do you think they'll try something else?' whispered
Paula as she accompanied him to the door into the
corridor.

'Bound to,' he whispered back. 'And next time it's
likely to be something pretty diabolical - worse than what
they were going to do to Jennie. These aren't just bar
baric thugs. They're top professionals.'

'So you two made a real balls-up,' Mencken commented.

It was a deliberately cruel remark in view of the fact
that Eddie sat on a bed in Mencken's room, still nursing the injured part of his anatomy. He glared at Mencken,
then looked quickly away. Mencken's eyes had all the
soul of a python's.

Hank stretched his lanky frame, standing against a
wall. He didn't like the remark, he didn't like Mencken.
Who did?

'We'd have got it out of her if Tweed's troops hadn't
burst in on us,' he protested.

Troops?' Mencken sneered. 'I could strangle Tweed
with two fingers. What else had you to deal with? New
man, a tabloid gossip gone to seed. Some broad. And another amateur.' He took out a cigar, lit it slowly, blew
smoke in Hank's face. 'You two are straight out of
Mickey Mouse. My old mom could have done a better
job.'

'Didn't know you ever had one,' blazed Hank.

He regretted the insult the moment the words had left
his mouth. Mencken had leapt out of his chair as though propelled by a spring. His skeletal head was inches from
Hank's as he held the burning cigar end so close Hank
could feel its heat on his face. Mencken projected two
long talon-like fingers into Hank's painful Adam's apple.

'You said what?' Mencken asked.

'Sorry, boss.' Hank gulped. 'Sure we made a balls-up.
Sure we did. Next time we'll do better,' he croaked.

'If there is a next .time.' Mencken removed his hand,
puffed at his cigar as he stood back a couple of feet, the
smoke getting into Hank's eyes. The lanky American
licked his lips.

'Something we never got time to tell you, boss. There
was a third man came into that room. Thought you should
know.'

'So now I know.' Mencken continued staring at him,
puffing the cigar. 'For Chrissakes, you mishandled it from
the start. One of you should have been enough to deal with
the twist...' Which was his flattering reference to Jennie
Blade. 'If the other had stood guard with the Uzi you could
have cut down the lot - including Tweed. Then taken the
twist to your car, driven into the foothills, screwed the information out of her, then phoned me. That is how I'd have handled it.'

'The noise that sub-machine-gun would have made—'
Hank began.

'Would have woken up the hotel,' Mencken interrupted.
'So you moved straight out of the hotel as I
suggested. You
blow a lot of smoke, Hank. You and Eddie never sat with us in the diner. We'd have been OK. No more crap.'

Mencken had decided Eddie and Hank were expend
able. They were known now to Tweed and his team. He'd
terminate that problem once they got up into the moun
tains. The phone rang. Mencken walked towards it with a
slow deliberate pace, picked up the receiver. It was
Norton.

The shaggy grey-haired man with half-moon glasses
perched on his nose had to use the phone from his room.
He had registered at the small hotel, L'Arbre Vert - the
Green Tree - in Kaysersberg, as Harvey Cheney. There
were no public phone boxes in this village.

'Norton here. Time you gave me a progress report.
Watch any confidential information about our competitors
- we're on open lines.'

'I visited that place you noticed where the product is stored, obtained sufficient samples. Get me?' Mencken rasped.

Norton got him - he had broken into the explosives
shed near the stone quarry, had walked off with an ample supply. Mencken had moved fast, but Norton had no
intention of congratulating him.

'What about the construction of the bridge? Have you surveyed it?'

For 'construction' Mencken understood 'destruction' of
the hump-backed bridge in the centre of Kaysersberg.

'A team has examined it. Some blasting operation will
be necessary. Long-distance work. Everything is pre
pared. Goddamnit! I know my job.'

Norton ignored the irritable outburst. Explosives had
been placed under the bridge, waiting for Tweed's team to drive over it. The explosion would be detonated by
someone who needed a good view of the target.

'Since it's a remote-control operation we need to have an
observer at a distance but close enough to see the result.'

Mencken sighed audibly. 'That also has been worked out. All that we planned is arranged. OK? OK?'

Norton sensed resentment about his authority. That
had to be stamped on immediately. Mencken must be in
no doubt as to who was running the show.

'Then,' Norton went on remorselessly, 'there's the section of rock which has to be cleared. Have you attende
d
to
that?'

'Jesus! Why don't you come and hold my hand,' snarled
Mencken. 'Yes, the rock is ready to come down. Now, if
that's everything...'

There was silence at the other end of the line. Mencken had just confirmed that the rock above the cliff looming
over the road had been drilled, explosives inserted. He
had sent up two men per team on a roster basis.

He had hired plenty of transport in Basle, had drawn
up a roster of men, giving them their objectives as soon as
he had returned from the cafe in Little Venice after
talking with Norton through the lace curtain.

'You'll have to do something about your manners,' Norton said eventually, very abrasive. Talk to me like
that just once more and you're on the first plane back to
the States. I'll take over the operation myself. Imagine
what will be waiting for you when you leave the aircraft. I
trust, Marvin,' the voice continued softly, 'you do have
some imagination?'

Mencken froze. Fury gave way to fear. Yes, he knew
what would be waiting for him. A limo with an open
window and the muzzle of a gun aimed point blank.

'I'm trying to do my best for you. No one is going to let
you down. Maybe I was a little bitchy. Everything is
under control. It will be a breeze .. .'

'No, it won't, sonny boy. Get that into your thick skull.
Our competitor, Tweed, is a barracuda. Don't
you ever
forget that. Sonny boy . . .'

The phone went dead. Mencken kept his face to the
wall so his men couldn't see his expression, a mixture of
fright and rage. He was careful not to slam down the
phone. Glancing down at his cigar, he saw that a length of
ash had dropped on to the floor. He ground it savagely
into the new carpet. When Tweed was blown into a
thousand pieces he'd be top gun. And when Joel Dyson
and Special Agent Barton Ives raised their heads above the parapet he'd personally put the bullets into both of
them. Then
he'd take out Cord Dillon.

Norton wandered out of the small hotel into the dark and
paused. Snow had begun to fall. He adjusted his fur hat,
pulled up the collar of his astrakhan coat. It was bitingly
cold, well below zero, he reckoned. He began to stroll
back into Kaysersberg - the Green Tree was located on
the northern outskirts. No one else was in sight.