The Power (85 page)

'Yes. When I saw what was on it I realized my own life
was in danger
...'

'So, ethically,' Tweed rasped, 'you kept quiet. If those
are ethics I'll do without them. Amberg, from now on you
had better shut up - if you want to stay alive. . .
'

52

The man with long shaggy grey hair peered over his
half-moon glasses at the entrance to the Zurcher Kredit
Bank. Norton was too smart to sit in the car he'd used to
follow the Tweed group from the Château d'Ouchy. The
rush-hour traffic had helped to mask his presence behind Nield's station wagon following the familiar Espace. He was standing in front of a book-shop, pretending to study a volume he had bought at random.

Norton, staying at the Château d'Ouchy, had watched Tweed having breakfast from his corner table, seated by himself. He was confident that the transformation in his appearance would save him from recognition - and so it
had turned out.

Called to the phone, Norton had left his breakfast to
take the call in his room.

'Mencken here,' the urgent voice had begun.

'I told you not to call except in case of a major crisis.'

'Which is what I'm dropping in your lap. All our troops
have been rounded up, taken away in cars. Official...'

Which was Mencken's cautious way of saying 'police' over the phone.

'I'm glad everything is going so well. Thank you so
much for calling...'

For Norton it was a panic situation, but Norton,
ex-FBI, never panicked. He had created the core of Unit
One when Senator Bradford March had offered him a
large salary as his personal chief of security. It was Norton
who had organized the attempts to kill Barton Ives before
Ives had fled to Europe. Norton had proceeded
methodically.

He paid his hotel bill, put his bag in the hired Renault
and returned to the dining-room. Five minutes later he
watched Tweed and his companions leaving. Later he was
ready to follow them in his Renault to the Zurcher Kredit Bank. Now he waited patiently, then saw Marler coming out with the same equipment he'd taken inside earlier - a
long cylinder which could contain a viewing screen, a tape
recorder, a canvas hold-all which was more tightly
packed.

Pressed against the canvas was a circular shape about
the size of a film canister. Turning over a page of his
book, Norton shrewdly summed up the situation.

'If only I still had the troops...'

But he hadn't any troops left. They had all been taken
by the police. Standing with the book in his hands Norton
took a major decision. He couldn't report to March that
he had failed - that would be committing suicide. Time to change sides again, to survive.

'That film March was raving to get his hands on must
contain some deadly material. Otherwise why send such a
large body of Unit One to Europe?' March was losing a
battle - Norton's sixth sense, developed during his years
as a top FBI agent, told him this.

He recalled a certain powerful senator he had once
done a favour for, suppressing certain incriminating docu
ments which would have ruined his career on the hill. Yes, it was time to contact Senator Wingfield, to offer
him his services again. For a substantial fee ...

Norton followed the Espace and the station wagon and
was not surprised when the .two vehicles entered the car park at the Château d'Ouchy. Parking his car near where
the boats left for Evian in France, he walked back to
the hotel. He strolled into reception just in time to hear
Tweed giving instructions to the girl behind the counter.

'We shall be leaving today. Could you please make up
the bill for myself and Miss Grey. No hurry. We'll be here
for lunch . ..'

Which gave Norton time to clear up a loose end. Men
cken. Norton was very careful about clearing up loose
ends. He was not going to risk Mencken reaching
Washington first - maybe even telling March how all the
failures had been Norton's fault.

Returning to his car, he crammed a Swiss hat on his
head, pulled it well down over his forehead. On the seat
beside him, next to the mobile phone, rested a walking
stick he had also purchased. Picking up the mobile phone
he dialled Mencken's mobile phone number, hoping he
was within range.

'Yes, who is it?' Mencken's voice demanded after a
long wait.

'Norton. Where are you? We have to meet, urgently.
To make future plans.'

'I'm halfway between Ouchy and Vevey. Away from
the activity.'

'Very wise. Everything is quiet here now. But you are right - it would be wise to keep away from the town. As
you drive along the lakeside road towards Vevey there is a point where the road turns away from the lake. By the
edge of the lake there is a small wood near the path
continuing along the lakeside. You noticed this? Good. I
will meet you there in three-quarters of an hour. Best to make sure your car is hidden just off the path. And I did
say it was urgent.'

'Understood,' Mencken replied tersely.

In his room at the Château d'Ouchy Tweed was giving his
own urgent instructions to his whole team. Barton Ives
listened as he spoke briskly. Action this day, thought
Paula.

'All of us - except Philip Cardon, who is guarding Joel Dyson in his room - are driving direct to Cointrin Airport,
Geneva. From there we catch a flight to London. Which puts us on the spot to catch the afternoon Concorde flight
to Washington non-stop.' Tweed looked at Ives. 'I do
know Senator Wingfield, met him while attending a
security conference in Washington, but are you certain you
can trust him?'

'Wingfield,' Ives assured him, 'was born and raised a
patriot. Not many of them about. That doesn't mean to say
he has the track record of a saint - how else would he get to
the position of great power he occupies?'

'You mean he can be ruthless?' Paula suggested.

'Maybe that's exactly what I do mean. But this horrific situation kinda suggests ruthless measures. I have phoned
him,' he told Tweed. 'He's expecting me, with the evidence, but I omitted to tell him you'd be along too.'

'Thank God for that,' Newman said vehemently.
'Before we land at Dulles I want to radio ahead, hire
several cars. I strongly urge that along with Butler, Nield
and Marler, I go aboard Concorde as though I've nothing to do with you.'

'What danger could there be to you guys?' queried Ives.

'We have all seen that diabolical film which could wreck
the entire government of the United States. I foresee that very strong measures will be taken to see that does not
happen.' Newman looked at Tweed. 'This trip is going to
take some organization .. .'

'All dealt with,' Paula interjected. 'Tweed told me some
time ago to prepare for this contingency. Flights are
booked, tickets waiting to be collected at airports. I'm
wearing my skates, Bob.' She turned to Tweed. 'We take the film and the tape with us, then?'

'We do - to show Wingfield. Marler brings his equip
ment with him to save time. I want a quick in-and-out
trip.'

'Preferably coming out alive,' Newman warned.

'What about Joel Dyson?' Paula interjected again. 'I've
booked tickets on a separate flight from Geneva to
London for Cardon and Dyson.'

'Where, after arriving, he will escort Dyson to a safe
house. Where Howard is,'Tweed added.

'And what do I do with this?' enquired Marler, lifting
up a second hold-all. 'With the weapons you've taken off us it's jolly heavy.'

As though on cue, there was a knock on the door.
Newman jumped up, unlocked and opened it cautiously.
He said, 'Wait a minute,' closed and relocked the door
before he handed an envelope to Tweed.

'A Swiss in a business suit,' he reported.

Tweed opened the envelope, scanned the letter,
nodded.

'It's from Arthur Beck. Among the men picked up was
one with a suitcase containing twenty million dollars. He
had experts open it and they defused a thermite bomb
inside. That detective outside is to collect the weapons.
We can hardly try to board an aircraft carrying them ...'

'What about Gaunt, Eve and Jennie?' Newman asked
when he had handed the hold-all to the Swiss and closed
the door.

'I had a word with Gaunt before we came up,' Tweed went on. 'He's changed his mind about trying to identify
who assassinated Amberg in Cornwall. Maintains it's now
a hopeless task - at least that's what he said. He's driving
back to Basle with Eve and Jennie. Remember, he
berthed his yacht, cabin cruiser- call it what you will - the
Mayflower III
on the Rhine at Basle. He's sailing back to
Padstow.'

'With Eve as well as Jennie?' Paula queried.

'So he said.'

'I find that curious, very strange,' she commented.

'So do I. But as soon as we get back from Washington that's where we're off to. Padstow. We still have to track down who committed mass murder at Tresillian Manor
and why. To say nothing of who pushed that poor servant
girl, Celia Yeo, off the top of High Tor...'

Marvin Mencken was excited as he sat behind the wheel of his Renault with the window open. As instructed, he
had parked the car off the road inside a copse. Invisible to
traffic passing along the road, it was close to the footpath running by the lakeside.

Mencken was excited because for the first time he was
going to meet the mysterious Norton face to face. He had
never liked taking orders from someone he'd not even
recognize if he sat next to him in a diner.

Despite the sunshine it was a raw cold day. Mencken
kept the engine ticking over so he could turn up the
heaters full blast. When it became stuffy he had lowered
the automatic window. He also took precautions - pro
truding from under a cushion on the passenger seat was the butt of a 9-mm. Luger.

He stiffened as he heard the click-clack of heels
approaching, then relaxed when he realized it had to be a girl. He caught a glimpse of her as she passed along the footpath towards Vevey. A tall good-looking blonde. Mencken sighed. He had been so busy he hadn't had time
to indulge in his favourite form of relaxation with a girl.

The elderly Swiss man with one of their funny hats trudged slowly along the promenade towards him. From under the hat a lot of untidy shaggy grey hair protruded. Perched on his nose was a pair of those weird glasses
looking like a couple of half-moons.