Rhinoceros (65 page)

'What you are experiencing is a reaction to the terrible
business at the quarry. I'm getting a reaction too, but I
mustn't show it to the others. They depend on me to
sustain their morale.'

He was dabbing her face dry where tears had run down
it and reached her chin. She stood quite still, her eyes on his, but the trembling had stopped. As he handed her the
handkerchief to complete the job she leaned forward, gave
him a kiss on his cheek, then backed away.

'Thank you,' she said in a normal voice. 'Thank you for
being so understanding.'

At that moment Tweed's mobile began buzzing nonstop. He pulled a face, took it out of his pocket.

'Hello, who is this?'

'Monica. Thank heavens I've at long last got through
to you. I've been trying for ages. I have important news.

I've been decoding messages sent over the Internet. They come from Seattle on the Pacific coast. Someone called Ponytail. I gather all the forces spread across the West,
which are going to wreck everything, are in place. I don't
know where. The important thing is they're expecting
more coded messages telling them the exact local times to
erupt. It's within the next two days at the latest. The new
riots will be frightful. You have to stop Ponytail sending
more messages.'

'How do you know he's in Seattle?'

'He slipped up once. He signs off a coded order "Pony-tail". But in one message he was probably tired. He signed
off "Seattle" instead.'

'You seem to have become an expert.'

'I just keep plugging away, surfing the net. I'm getting the hang of how he uses it. Someone else has taken over
the phone so I can spend all my time on it. Howard is
giving me all his support, running the place well during
your absence.'

Howard was the SIS Director.

'When did you last eat?'

'Who needs to eat?'

'You do . . .'

Then the connection broke down. He put his mobile
away and repeated what Monica had said to Paula. She
now had complete control of herself.

'We can't do anything about Seattle, can we?'

'Not a thing. What we can do is to reach Traveműnde
as fast as we can. Let's get back to the car.'

Paula began to run. Tweed caught her up, gripped her by her arm.

'No running. Not in this heat. In case you haven't
noticed it's getting hotter. We walk back. Don't say any
thing about Monica's news in the car.'

'You're right.'

* * *

At
Inselende,
on the island of Sylt, a fresh meeting of the
four powerful men was taking place in a soundproof room.
Thunder was chairing this meeting and his voice was fresh
and dominant.

'I've been in touch with Seattle. Gentlemen, we're close
to the climax of all our planning and endeavours.' He rather liked the way he had phrased that. 'I've been in
touch with Seattle, as I've just said. Twelve hours from
now the coded messages giving the times - local, of course
- will be dispatched . . .'

'It was going to be later,' the Deputy Chancellor objected.
'We all need time to get home before the world goes up in flames.'

'Not quite correct,' Thunder said with a conciliatory
smile. 'We need to be on our way home when everything
blows up - that way it will give time for panic to take hold in the populations. But, more important, time for
our respective governments to panic, to be desperate for
strong leadership.
Our
leadership.'

'Makes sense,' the American Secretary of State agreed.

'So when do we leave this prison?' demanded the French
Prime Minister.

'Within hours we fly from here in the helicopter to
Hamburg. We are then on the spot to fly in our executive
jets back to our home capitals when the moment is ripe.'

'You seem to have worked out this timetable rather well,'
conceded the Deputy Chancellor. 'From Hamburg I can be back in Berlin in no time.'

'But not too early,' Thunder insisted. 'No one can
predict how quickly the populations will become demoralized. And on that depends the cracking of the nerve of
our governments.'

'It all depends on Seattle,' the American pointed out.
'So are you sure the vital messages will be sent out on
time?'

'Seattle is secure,' Thunder said firmly. 'That is why I
have refused to disclose the location of the building from
where the messages will be dispatched. Now, if there are
no more questions I suggest we adjourn to the living room
and drink to success.'

He stood up as soon as he had said this. The last thing
he wanted was any more discussion.

From the light aircraft Barton had suddenly seen the blue
Merc driving steadily much further along the same road
he had last seen it on. He had earlier kept his distance and
hadn't seen it enter the quarry or the two jeeps which had
arrived soon afterwards.

'There it is,' he burst out. 'Where the hell has it been?'

'We have it. Great,' replied Panko. 'Where it go now?'

'He's bypassing Lűbeck.' Barton studied the map he
had purchased in Flensburg. 'He's heading for Trave
műnde. Only place the road he's on leads to now.'

Barton pondered whether to call Thunder. He had given
up Oskar as unobtainable. He decided he would call the
Minister.

Thunder was relaxing in his suite. He was recovering
from the arguing, coaxing, wearing down tactics he'd had to employ at the long meeting to bring the others round to
his way of thinking. His mobile started buzzing. He swore,
picked it up.

'Yes?'

'Barton here, sir. We are still in the air, tailing the Merc.
Tweed is inside . . .'

'You are!'

Thunder was taken aback. He had enquired several times whether Miller's convoy had returned, which it
should have done hours ago. He had been disturbed
when told it had not been seen. Now Barton was telling
him Tweed was still on the move. The news disturbed
him greatly. They were so close to victory. Was there any chance of Tweed upsetting everything?

'Where is his car now?' Thunder barked.

'Bypassing Lűbeck. He can only be heading for Traveműnde
.'

Lűbeck? Traveműnde? Thunder was appalled. It was
amazing for Tweed to have travelled so far. Obviously heading for Traveműnde for a reason. His voice was tense
as he gave the order.

'You must eliminate Tweed and his team in Traveműnde.
You understand? Wipe them off the face of the earth.'

'Understood. But we have a problem. There is no
airfield at Traveműnde. I've checked on the map. We
have to land at Lűbeck and he'll be ahead of us . . .'

'Use your brain,' Thunder shouted. 'Contact the Lűbeck control tower - you have to, anyway, before you can land.
Tell them to have a car waiting for you. A VIP is aboard.
Do it
now\
And keep in touch with me . . .'

He switched off, flung the mobile to the other end of the
couch he was seated on. He emptied his glass of brandy,
poured another large tot. Should he tell the others? No, he decided. They got upset so easily. He took another drink.
He had a premonition. Something was going to upset the
whole apple cart. Something called Tweed.

CHAPTER 39

They had reached Travem
ű
nde, parking the car near
the rail station. There were signs warning 'No parking', but Tweed had extracted from his wallet an old notice
Kuhlmann had once given him. In German was printed the word 'Doctor'. It was used for undercover detectives who
wanted to make sure their transport wouldn't be hauled
away. He stuck it on the inside of the windscreen. Harry
left his motorcycle chained to the rear bumper.

It was very quiet as they walked down a footpath and then they were in the riverside town. They passed an old
and small red-brick police station which looked as though
it had stood there since the Flood. The whole atmosphere
of loneliness they had experienced driving along country
roads changed as they reached the river front.

It was early holiday time. The rich people came at this
time of the year, Tweed explained, before the masses
swarmed in.

'Mustn't mix with the proles,' Newman said impishly.

Paula revelled in the animated activity as she walked
with Tweed and Lisa. The river Trave was
about half
the width of the Thames at Westminster. Powerboats and larger luxury craft were moored beyond landing stages,
ships costing a fortune. Tweed paused and divided up
his team.

'Too many of us together would be conspicuous,' he
explained. 'Harry and Pete, you check upriver until you
come to where the fishing boats are moored. We'll be in the
cafe-restaurant I described to you in the car. Newman, you
just float around, keeping your eyes open. I'll take Paula
and Lisa to find the rendezvous, if we ever do.'

'I'm coming with you,' Marler said firmly. 'Hanging
back a bit. . .'

The town wasn't packed but there were plenty of Germans wandering along in summer attire or sitting with
drinks at tables. There was an air of jollification, of people
enjoying themselves. The main street running parallel to the river was narrow and lined on both sides with shops
and cafes and restaurants.

The buildings were small and mostly ancient, three or
four storeys high. Several had white-painted picket fences and canopies over the area behind them where people sat
drinking at tables. Tweed pointed across the river to a
forested shore where two ferries carrying cars hustled back
and forth.

'That's Priwall Island. I read once how during the end
of the Second World War a British tank unit landed there
and halfway across the island met a Soviet tank force
coming from the opposite direction. The Russians tried
to claim the whole island but the British tank commander
was firm with his opposite Soviet commander. Ended in a compromise - we held this half of the island, the Russians
the other. It's been developed a lot, as you can see - with
those white blocks of flats.'

'I loved Tender,' said Paula, 'but this is a lovely contrast.
So much bustle and fun.'

'I think this is the place Mrs France described,' Tweed
said. 'Where we should wait.'