Colin Forbes - Cell

'Good Lord no,' Martin replied after a few moments. 'Africa and Asia are full of savages. Trouble is we're letting the blighters in here. They should beat them up when they crawl in here and send them straight back…'

'How did you come to buy this bungalow?'

'What? Oh, saw an ad in The Times. Rented it, wasn't for purchase. Got it for five years. Rent's extortionate…'

'You were vetted by Pecksniff then?'

'Vetted! Don't like that word at all. I did pay one visit to the Dickensian old clot's office in the sewers…'

'Your Dickensian old clot has disappeared, probably murdered. Why?'

'Hold on, Sweetie.' Martin got up, fetched the Scotch, poured himself another stiff one. 'Cheers!' he said, raising the glass.

Marler ignored the insult as Martin emptied the glass. He sat very still while Martin sprawled again in his armchair, clutching his glass. The silence continued and Martin felt compelled to speak.

'Was there anything else?'

'Yes, I'm wondering why you chose this quiet isolated spot to live in. Not that it's quiet any more – not with four murders to its credit.'

The shifty eyes again began scanning the room. Almost as though its occupant was checking up to make sure nothing was missing since his visitor's arrival. Martin was clutching his glass tightly.

'Four murders?' he enquired eventually. 'You've lost me.'

'Let me help you.' Marler began counting on his fingers. 'We have Mrs Warner, gone missing. Mrs Gobble, ditto. Jasper Buller, Chief of Special Branch, ditto. Now Pecksniff, ditto. Chief Superintendent Buchanan of the Yard, a most experienced officer, now thinks all four were murdered. Why? They knew too much. Maybe about the New Age Development organization?'

Marler's barrage of interrogation was getting to Martin. He shifted restlessly in his chair. Withdrawing his sprawled legs, he sat up straight.

'I never knew any of these people.'

'You knew Pecksniff. You've just told me you met him. And maybe,' Marler went on, remembering what Paula had told him, 'you were worried about Mrs Gobble's high-powered telescope observing what you did, who came here.'

'Telescope? Sweetie, you've lost me again.'

'I think,' Marler decided, standing up, 'I have obtained the information I came for. I'll leave now if you'll kindly go through unlocking all those Banhams again.'

'Information?'

Marler made no reply as Martin went to the door, unlocked it. Opening it, he glared at Marler. 'Information? What information?'

'People never seem to know when they've talked too much.' Marler turned on the doorstep outside and smiled. 'I don't think we'll be calling on you again. Unless, of course, we come with an arrest warrant.'

His last view of Martin was of all the colour draining from his face. Soon as he's barred and bolted the place he'll run for the whisky bottle, he said to himself. A really well-worthwhile interrogation.

The entire team – except for Marler – was assembled in Tweed's office. There was a tense atmosphere as Beaurain walked in. Outside it was a clear, cold night. Beaurain rubbed his finger across his moustache as he sat down, then spoke, his manner grim.

'I think we have very little time left…'

'My sentiments also,' agreed Tweed.

'So,' Beaurain continued, 'I am now convinced the brain base of al-Qa'eda is located in Carpford. You disagree, Tweed?'

'No. I have come to that conclusion. Some very suspect people in that strange village.'

'So we must establish our own base there for surveillance of the inhabitants. I have just returned from there – bringing with me Billy Hogarth. I have persuaded him to loan me his bungalow. I've settled him in a small hotel in Bloomsbury and I am going to drive up to his bungalow tonight where I shall settle myself in secretly and watch.'

'I agree,' said Tweed. 'We must go over on to the offensive now. The key is in Carpford…'

'I'll come with you,' called out Paula. 'It needs at least two people to mount the death watch.'

'Death watch?' queried Harry.

'Yes. Four people have now disappeared and I don't think any of them are alive.'

The door opened and Marler, just returned from Carpford, walked in. His expression was bleak. He told them of his experience with Martin Hogarth. His tone was more clipped than usual as he concluded.

'Something not right about Martin Hogarth. In fact, something very wrong about him.'

He listened while Tweed explained Beaurain's decision. He had only one question.

'Can we trust Billy Hogarth?'

'Yes, we can,' Paula assured him. 'I had a long talk with him and he's not involved, I'm certain. As Marler said, the rotten apple in the barrel could be his brother, Martin.'

'I think there is more than one rotten apple,' Beaurain rasped.

'We must still keep an eye on Billy,' Tweed decided. 'Make sure he stays in the hotel. Pete, Paula will describe Billy to you. Your mission is to watch the hotel, make sure he stays there.'

'He could still use the phone to call someone,' Newman warned.

'No, he couldn't,' Beaurain to him. 'When I left the hotel I cut the main phone wire outside.'

Paula was describing Billy's appearance to Pete while Beaurain stood up. He began striding up and down the office.

'Think better when I'm moving.'

Picking up a blank pad off Paula's desk, he wrote down the address of the hotel. He added brief instructions how to find it. As Paula ended her description he handed the sheet to Pete.

'Marler,' Tweed ordered, 'I want you to contact every informant you can tonight to spread a rumour. Within days the army is moving into London. Whoever the mastermind may be, I want to rattle his cage.'

Pete had already left the office. He was followed by Marler. Newman frowned. The atmosphere in the office was growing more electric by the minute. This was what they all wanted. Action.

'During the night will Marler be able to find his informants?' Newman wondered.

'Best time,' Harry assured him, grinning. 'He has a string of call girls who make a powerful grapevine. They operate at night, if you didn't know.'

Paula was opening her case, which she had hauled from a cupboard, its contents ready for instant departure. Monica had dashed out of the office earlier. She returned later with a large canvas satchel, handed it to Beaurain.

'You'll find a flask of coffee to keep you both going. Plus a batch of sandwiches. Hope you like ham or cheese. Too bad if you don't. Also plenty of fruit.'

'When I was in Billy's place,' Paula piped up, 'I peeped into his kitchen through the open door. He has a cafetiere, cans of coffee, cans of beans, bread, butter – all spread out on a shelf under cupboards. We won't starve.'

Harry had also left the office earlier. He came back holding two large violin cases. He opened one, stood aside so Beaurain could see the contents. Beaurain smiled again. He had just called Monica 'the most wonderful woman in the world^, had hugged her, the satchel slung over his shoulder.

'Might come in useful,' Harry remarked. 'The other case has the same. You never know.'

Beaurain stared at the Uzi sub-machine gun resting in the violin case. Stacked alongside it were spare magazines. He lifted the weapon out, made certain adjustments, aimed it at the ceiling, pulled the trigger.

'Feels good.' He slapped Harry on the back. 'Thanks.'

'Time to get moving,' Paula said impatiently. 'We've got what we need – enough for a small war. I'll carry the second violin case. You've got your own case you brought with you, your violin which you play so well, I'm sure, and your satchel. So, what are we waiting for?'

'Keep me in touch,' Tweed called out as they rushed from his office.

'That leaves me,' Harry said, disgruntled.

'No, it doesn't,' Tweed rapped back. 'Your informants are different from Marler's. Prowl London, spread the rumour Marler is circulating.'