The Power (66 page)

Norton had been standing patiently outside the entrance
to a small bar for over half an hour. He excelled in
patience. He had pushed up his fur hat so that it was
clear of his ears. His eyes showed no warmth, no par
ticular expression as he waited for the sound of the
explosion. He had stepped back from viewing the
bridge. It was a sizeable bomb his men had placed under
it during the ice-cold night when the streets were
deserted.

He stiffened as he heard a vehicle approaching, moved
back further out of sight into the entrance. The station
wagon, driven by Nield, crawled past him, bumping over
the cobbles. The Harley-Davidson, with Butler on the
saddle, appeared, overtook Nield, headed west out of
the village for the Vosges. Almost at once a grey Espace crawled past, also bumping over the old cobbles. It was
moving so slowly Norton had a clear view of Tweed in
one of the front passenger seats.

A second motorcycle ridden by Philip Cardon brought
up the rear of the convoy. Norton waited until the sound
of its engine had died away and the heavy silence of the
snowbound morning descended again. Taking out his
mobile phone, Norton contacted Mencken who was
located high up in the mountains.

'Norton here. Our competitors are leaving
Kaysersberg. Their director is a passenger in a grey
Espace which is driven by a man and also is carrying two
women. Two motorcycles and a station wagon are escor
ting them. So activate Phase Two. Immediately. Understood?'

'OK. Understood. So OK!' Mencken's rasping voice
acknowledged.

Norton slid back the aerial inside his instrument,
walked down to a side street where his hired blue
Renault was parked. The next stage was to drive towards
the Château Noir. Long before he reached it Tweed
would be eliminated. Norton didn't waste a moment's
thought as to why the bomb had not exploded. A faulty
detonator? It didn't matter. Mencken was waiting for his
target. Norton was indeed a man who excelled in
patience.

40

'There will be fresh attempts to ambush us,' Tweed
warned as they left Kaysersberg behind and the road
spiralled up.

'What made you really suspect that bridge?' Newman asked.

'Sixth sense. Reverse thinking, if you like.'

'What's that?' Paula asked.

'Knowing the route between Colmar and the Château
Noir the average man would assume the real danger
would lie high up in the remote regions of the
Vosges...'

'But you're not the average man,' Jennie remarked,
leaning her arms on the back of Tweed's seat. 'Do go
on.' -

That's right, dear, Paula was thinking cynically, lay on the flattery with a trowel.

'Reverse thinking,' Tweed explained, ignoring the interruption, 'is like looking through the wrong end of a telescope. Turn everything round, and learn from any precedent where you can. We have
one - demonstrating Norton's callousness when it comes to loss of innocent
human life. The attack on us in the Bahnhofstrasse -
where the second killer had a machine-pistol and was about to use it until Bob shot him. Spraying a weapon
like that in a crowded city street could easily have caused
fatal casualties to bystanders. So blowing up a bridge in
Kaysersberg which could have killed several locals both
ered Norton not one jot.'

'This is going to be a dangerous journey, then,' Jennie
suggested. .

'Well, you were warned before you joined us,' rapped out Paula.

'Oh, I'm not frightened. That man on top of that rock
was watching us through something,' she went on. 'I saw
the sun flashing off glass, maybe binoculars.'

'Are you sure it wasn't imagination?' queried Paula.

'Check it,' Tweed ordered Newman. 'Jennie may well
have seen something
...'

Despite its snow tyres, the Espace was rocking as it
passed over hardened ruts. Newman slowed to a stop on a steep incline, lowered his window. Arctic-like air flowed
into the vehicle. Paula could now see the massive bluffs and high knife-edge ridges of the Vosges very clearly in the glaring sunlight. Cardon appeared at Newman's window, paused astride his machine.

'Something suspicious ahead of us,' Newman began.

'On the top of that ridge,' Jennie said, leaning forward,
aiming her extended arm and index finger like a gun. 'I
know I
saw at least one man.'

'Keep the Espace parked here,' Cardon said as Butler returned and pulled up astride his own machine. 'We'll investigate.' He looked at Paula. 'Those dynamite sticks
we collected may come in useful. I've got them in my
panniers.' He pointed to the containers slung from either
side of his machine. 'See you ...'

'He's got grenades,' Tweed commented.

'Saving them for a rainy day,' Paula suggested.

After a brief conversation between Cardon and Butler
the two men sped off up the curving ascent, bouncing
over the ruts. Newman took out a pair of binoculars and
scanned the ridge Jennie had pointed at. No sign of
anyone, so maybe Paula had been right in suggesting it
was Jennie's imagination.

Carrying out the plan they had improvised, Butler and
Cardon each played a separate role. Butler continued
riding at reduced speed up the road, acting as bait.
Behind him Cardon had turned his machine off the road
and sped under the lee of the ridge which made him
invisible to any watcher on the heights. Before leaving the Espace he had tucked one stick of dynamite, folded inside
his scarf, behind his belt. The ground was rough,
treacherous, the snow concealing rocks and dips, and he
prayed the vibration would not disturb the dynamite.
Should have used a grenade instead. Too late to worry
about that now.

Cardon was aiming to mount the ridge at its northern
extremity where he was likely to have a sweeping view
over the entire terrain. He just hoped he'd reach that position before Butler rode up the section of the spiral
road which passed under the ridge. He gritted his teeth as the machine bucked like a wild bronco, kept his balance,
saw he was close to the end of the ridge. Then up, up, up!

Newman sat very erect in his seat, binoculars screwed
close to his eyes. Butler was now approaching the point where he'd be most vulnerable -
if
Jennie had seen someone up on the ridge.

Cardon had vanished from sight. Newman guessed he
was driving his machine to the limit over very rough
terrain. He wished to Heaven he was with them, helping out.

Tweed had steeled himself to remain calm, passive.
Every instinct made him want to snatch the binoculars
from Newman.
To see for himself!
Beside him he felt
Paula shift her position and guessed the tension was mounting for everyone inside the Espace. Then he felt
Jennie's gloved
knuckles pressing into his shoulder. His
tone of voice was off-hand when he spoke.

'Not much going on up there, Bob?'

'I'm not sure. I thought I saw something.'

Tell us what you think your something was,' Tweed
requested, his manner still deliberately low-key.

'Movement on the ridge,' Newman said tersely.

'Can you be a little more specific?'

'Thought I saw two men, but it was only a quick
glimpse.'

'Keep looking. Let us know if there are any fresh developments, please.'

Newman had closed his window earlier and now the
heaters were beginning to build up a more bearable
atmosphere inside the Espace. The two men and the two
women sat like waxwork figures; not moving as they
stared up the ascent to the ridge which reminded Tweed
of the back of some prehistoric beast. But the growing warmth did nothing to reduce the rising tension inside the
vehicle.

'Harry Butler is nearly at the real danger point,' Paula
observed quietly.

She was right, Tweed thought grimly. Butler was approaching a location where to his left the road stood at
the edge of a sheer abyss. Worse still, to his right the
eastern tip of the ridge was a gradual and shallow slope from the summit to the road - exposing him fully to any
firepower which might be aimed at him from above.

'Oh, God!' Paula exclaimed. 'No . ..!'

'Two men, both armed with machine^pistols, point-
blank range,' Newman reported in a dull tone.

Butler must have sensed danger. Through his glasses Newman saw him bring his machine to a sudden halt. He
was staring up to the summit of the slope as both men
took aim with their weapons. Cardon appeared out of nowhere from behind the ridge, stopped his machine so
suddenly the back wheel jumped off the ground. He was
about thirty feet from the American killers. Distracted for
a moment, they turned round as Cardon hoisted his arm
like a cricket bowler about to throw the ball. A missile
sped through the air, landed almost at the feet of the two
potential assassins.

The dynamite exploded with a thumping roar they
heard inside the closed Espace. A fountain of rock hurtled skywards, mingled with the blood-stained remnants
of his targets. The mangled debris moved in an arc, fell
straight down on to the road a few yards in front of where
Butler had paused. The upper half of one American,
severed at the trunk, littered the road. Butler walked his
machine forward, used the wheel to nose the relic over
the edge into the abyss.

On the ridge Cardon had ridden his machine the short distance to where he could look down on the road. Butler
gazed at him, gave the thumbs-up sign, which Cardon
returned. Perched on the summit Cardon couldn't resist
the gesture. Staring towards where the Espace waited, he
beckoned them on with a grand wave.
Advance!

'Let's get moving,' Tweed said in a businesslike man
ner. 'I want to be at the Château Noir as close to eleven as
we can. And Pete Nield behind us is champing at the bit
in his station wagon. I
must
talk to Amberg.'

Higher up amid the snows of the Vosges there was
another more distant watcher who had observed every
thing. Seated in a green Renault - the colour merging well
with surrounding evergreens — Mencken had positioned himself on a platform which provided an almost unin
terrupted view of route N415. He now had the undesirable obligation to report to Norton.

'Don't apologize to the creep,' he told himself.

He dialled Norton on his mobile phone, watching the
progress of the convoy towards him far below. They were
well organized - he'd give them that, the bloody Brits.