Colin Forbes - Cell

Before checking the artery she had hauled out the empty mag, had inserted a fresh one. Behind her she heard a clatter of pans.

She jumped up, her weapon aimed at the entrance into the kitchen. Beaurain's voice shouted.

'Don't shoot. It's Jules…'

She smiled wearily, lowered her gun. He came forward and stared, first at the smashed door, then down at the body. He whistled.

'What a giant.'

'It was like something out of Psycho. He came in like an express train, waving that knife. My training saved me. He's dead as a dodo, thank God. What a brute.'

Beaurain looped his Uzi over his shoulder, put both hands on her shoulders, pulled her close. She was trembling. He held her like that until the trembling stopped and she released herself.

'I'm OK now. What's the situation?' she asked briskly.

'There were four of them. Newman must have been guarding us, hidden in Black Wood. He got two of them.

I got one. You brought down this bull, who was probably the leader. They're al-Qa'eda. Look at the turban…'

He whipped his weapon off his shoulder as he heard someone outside the back door. A voice called in, cautiously. Newman's.

'Are you both all right? Heard you talking.'

'I think we'll let you in,' Paula called out impishly.

Newman appeared. He paused to look down at the intact door lying on the floor. Its heaviness had saved it from any real damage. It had simply given way in one piece under the massive onslaught.

'Tell you about that later,' Paula said with a smile. 'So good to see you. Thanks for the back-up. Now, can we fix the door before we freeze to death…'

Between them, Beaurain and Newman lifted the door, slotted it back into place. Newman opened drawers, found a collection of spatulas and large knives. They used these to ram them into the edges of the door, which held it firmly in place. It was a makeshift job but served the purpose.

Paula, who didn't fancy staying in the kitchen with the body on the floor, said she'd clear up her bedroom while they worked. She'd jumped out of bed so quickly the sheets and duvet were strewn over the floor. When she came back Newman was having a long conversation with Tweed on his mobile, reporting what had happened. He paused for a short time, then resumed the conversation briefly.

'That's organized,' he told Beaurain.

'What is?' asked Paula, prodding him. 'I'm still here, you know.'

'Tweed phoned Buchanan while I waited. Roy is rushing ambulances up here to collect the bodies. He also wants to know who up here has reacted – which is something Roy and I have decided to check.'

'We'd better get outside now then…'

The mist was thinning when they all left the bungalow.

The lights were on in every house. Martin was already outside, using a flashlight to examine the killer Newman had shot down. He looked up.

'What the devil happened? Who is this guy? He looks dead.'

'He is,' Newman told him. 'We had a gang of burglars who came armed.'

'How long have you been out here?' Beaurain asked. 'And I see you're fully dressed at 3 a.m.'

'How observant of you,' Martin sneered as he stood up. 'I don't think we've met before.' He looked back at Paula. 'And what are you doing inside Billy's bungalow? Where is Billy?'

'He decided to take a holiday,' Paula said, smiling acidly. 'Loaned us his place – I don't think he wanted to leave it empty.'

'Didn't say a word to me.'

'Maybe he doesn't always tell you about his plans,' Paula suggested sweetly.

'The police will have to be informed,' Martin snapped. 'I'll call them

'Don't bother,' the Belgian told him. 'We have already done that. And I'm Commissioner Beaurain.'

'I see. And I dress quickly. Heard the gunshots.'

'Very quickly,' Beaurain commented. 'Down to inserting a clip in your tie.'

Tin going back to bed,' Martin snapped and walked back to his bungalow. He slammed the door shut once he was inside.

A tall figure came striding round the end of the lake. His eyes glared from behind his pince-nez. The Minister wore a heavy overcoat with an astrakhan collar and a silk scarf round his long bony neck. He stopped close to them, as tall as Beaurain. His hands were inside his coat pockets and his manner was regal.

'Will someone be so kind as to inform me what has happened? I heard gunfire. I also saw you come out of Billy Hogath's bungalow. So what is going on?'

'The police are on the way,' Newman told him. 'Al-Qa'eda sent four killers to attack us. They are all dead.'

'So,' Paula said pointedly, 'al-Qa'eda have arrived in Britain.. .'

'What proof have you that the men belong to that Organization? You'd better be careful before you spread that sort of speculation.'

'They have brown skins and were wearing black turbans,' Newman snapped. 'Didn't you know that is their favoured uniform?'

'Must have slipped through our net at Dover,' Warner asserted. 'I repeat, this must be kept very quiet. We don't want to start a panic in London. Incidentally, I have arranged a full security meeting for the morning. Ten o'clock at my place.'

'Penthouse or Whitehall guardhouse?' enquired Newman.

'I find your sense of humour rather crude.' He turned to Paula. 'As Tweed is coming I suppose you'll be there too,' he went on in a tone lacking enthusiasm. 'Then you can tell me what you were doing in Billy Hogarth's bungalow. I shall require a complete explanation of your presence here.'

He turned his back on them and strode off to Garda before anyone could reply. Newman looked furious, while Beaurain was smiling as though amused.

'I presume that is your Minister of Security. Not in the best of tempers.'

'Well, I really am not all that surprised,' a smarmy voice said behind Beaurain.

'Jules,' Paula said quickly, 'this is Peregrine Palfry, the Minister's personal assistant.'

'I was going on to say,' Palfry continued, annoyed at her intervention, 'that the Minister works all hours and gets very little sleep. On my way here I passed a nasty body. I was also woken by gunfire. What on earth has been going on?'

'Armed robbers, dear boy,' said Beaurain, who had taken an instant dislike to Palfry. 'It doesn't just happen in London. And before you ask, the police are on their way.'

'But what exactly happened?' Palfry insisted. 'You have told me nothing.'

'That burglar tried to shoot me. I shot him first,' Beaurain said in a bored tone.

'How absolutely frightful. How extremely mind-boggling. We thought we were safe here. The people who live in this village, I mean.'

Palfry was dressed as though he'd just got up. Below his overcoat, buttoned to the neck, protruded a pair of pink striped pyjamas. But Paula noticed that below them were were the cuffs of a dark suit. Did he really sleep in his suit under pyjamas? Palfry was lying.

'The gunfire woke you then?' she enquired.

'I'll say it did. Pretty awful way to start the day if you ask me.' He turned to Paula. 'I heard the Minister inviting you to come with Tweed to the meeting tomorrow morning at his Belgravia apartment. You'll be hungry when it's all over. Maybe you would join me for a little lunch afterwards?'

'Kind of you. Let's see how it goes.'

Palfry walked back towards his 'tub' house. Paula noticed he took a route which kept him well clear of the body lying outside the bungalow.

'I wonder whether he will come over to see us?' Beaurain said.

He pointed across the lake to the cube house. A red MG was emerging from a garage under one of the cubes. In the moonlight she could see the distinctive figure of Drew Franklin behind the wheel. The car sped round the end of the lake and drove at speed towards them. Drew braked feet before he reached them. As he alighted from the car he took off his hat and bowed to Paula.

'So, gentlemen, the war has started.'