Colin Forbes - Cell

'Ah!' Very hawk-like, Warner stared at the ceiling. 'You are invoking your position as Supremo.' ,'I have never used that word. It is a fact, though, that I have been asked to coordinate the activities of all the security services.'

'The Supremo,' Warner repeated nastily.

'He's all over the place,' Tweed whispered to Eva.

'Situation normal,' she whispered back. She raised her voice. 'Maybe this is time for coffee to keep us alert.' Beckoning to Palfry at the far end of the table, she whispered again. 'It might cool him down if we have a break.'

Palfry came trotting up to her with a wide smile. 'Can I help?'

'You could organize coffee toute de suite, if you would.'

'My pleasure…'

Tweed leaned to his right as Paula plucked at his sleeve. She kept her voice very low. 'I think Palfry is sweet on Eva.'

'Won't get him anywhere.' Eva, who had more exceptional hearing than Paula had realized, spoke her riposte aloud.

'Sorry.' Paula clasped her hands in prayer to apologize.

'Why?' Eva asked with a smile. 'Proves you are an astute observer. And I could do a lot better than that if I wanted to.'

At the far end of the table a charade was taking place. To cover his confusion Warner was opening files, pretending to consult with Tolliver. The door opened and Palfry walked in holding a large tray with chinaware and a cafetiere. He distributed the cups and saucers while Mrs Carson carried another tray to the other end of the table. Palfry placed his last item close to Eva.

'The cafetiere,' he said.

'I do know what it is,' she replied without looking at him.

They drank coffee and then talked some more. After a while Warner called out in a far more civilized voice.

'So, we are agreed?'

'Agreed that we continue taking the precautions already put in train,' Tweed said firmly. 'Are Special Branch officers in their camel-hair coats patrolling prominently? Outside Buckingham Palace, St Paul's, Canary Wharf -and in force along the Thames Embankment?'

'Your general suggestions have been followed,' Warner replied. 'I think we have now covered everything.'

'We have.' Tweed jumped up. 'Thank you for your hospitality and now we will leave.'

Palfry hurried down the room to unlock the door. As Paula walked out with Eva, Beaurain and Newman followed, Warner strode down the room, plucked at Tweed's sleeve.

'A word with you in private, please, Mr Tweed.'

'You go down to the car,' Tweed called out to his team. 'I will follow in a minute.'

Warner, his expression grave, closed the door. His manner towards Tweed was now polite, even respectful.

'There is a most worrying problem you should know about. In my organization there is a traitor. A top secret file has been stolen. Contains names of al-Qa'eda suspects now held at Dover.'

'Any idea who it might be?'

'None at all. It's most disturbing. Better go now.'

Tweed opened the door and nearly bumped into Eva, who was just outside. She appeared to be studying a file. She looked up and smiled.

'I'll escort you to the elevator.'

'No need, thank you. I know the way by now.'

He shook hands with Warner then walked slowly to the elevator. Before pressing the button he glanced back down the corridor, sensing someone was there. Twenty yards away Eva stood, watching him. She tucked the file under her arm and waved. Tweed waved back, pressed the button, the doors opened.

Afterwards he could not remember stepping into the elevator or riding down in it. He stood by himself, his face fixed as though in stone. Could it be possible? Later he couldn't even remember stepping out of the elevator.

Could it be possible?

Arriving back at Park Crescent in drizzling rain, they were surprised to see Buchanan's unmarked police car parked near their entrance. Tweed hurried up to his office, followed by Paula, Beaurain and Newman. Buchanan stood up, smiling.

'Well, how did the great war conference go?'

'Waste of time,' Beaurain told him. 'If Warner is typical of your ministers, they're almost as bad as those in Brussels.'

'Don't agree with you, Jules,' Tweed said. 'I found it most illuminating. Provided more links in the chain I'm building up. Trouble is vital links are missing. Do sit everyone.'

Paula realized he wasn't going to enlighten them. Not to be cryptic but because he hadn't decided whether he was right yet.

'What brings you here, Roy?' Tweed asked.

'We have a witness. You remember calling me about those five missing milk tankers? I did take notice. A few days ago I told Warden to call all the radio stations in the Midlands to ask them if anyone who had information would get in touch – information about the missing tankers. One alert lady phoned one station and they informed the locals who, in turn called me. A Mrs Sharp had phoned. I got her number, called her and asked her if she'd come to London to the Yard. Expenses would be paid. Hearing from the Yard excited her and she arrived this morning. After listening to her I brought her over here. She's waiting in that room facing your guard.'

'Monica, ask her to come up,' Tweed ordered.

'Here we go,' said Marler, standing near Paula's desk.

The door was opened by George, the guard, who stood aside and ushered in Mrs Sharp. In her sixties, tall, slim and smartly dressed, her white hair was elegantly coiffeured. Tweed went to meet her, extending his hand.

'We do appreciate your making this journey. Have you come a long way?'

'I live in the village of Gifford, near Milton Keynes, but in the country.'

She saw Buchanan, also standing, walk over to a wall map of England. She joined him. Her firm index finger pointed to Gifford. Buchanan circled it with a red pen.

'Oldhurst Farm,' she went on, 'is here. It's been abandoned for years. The farmer went bankrupt. It has two huge barns, a smaller one, near the farmhouse, and is approached down a neglected lane.'

Buchanan made another red circle. Tweed then asked her to sit in one of the armchairs facing his desk.

'I think Mrs Sharp should tell you her story as she told it to me,' Buchanan suggested.

'Then we'll get it right,' she said with a wicked smile at Buchanan.

She struck Tweed as very well educated, her voice decisive and crisp. A woman of considerable intelligence. He gave her his full attention.

'It would be three nights ago,' she began. 'I hope I have got that right. I've been so busy. At three in the morning I was driving back home down the road past Oldhurst Farm. I had been to see my sister who was unwell. Now recovered. As I reached the corner just before the entrance to the farm – I was driving slowly – I was startled to see a large milk tanker turn down that lane…'

'Any name on it?' asked Tweed.

'If there was I didn't see it. You see I was just in time to see it turning in. I was worried. I immediately thought of the remote farm used years ago by the Great Train robbers. So I waited, kept my engine ticking over. Then a few minutes later a small white van drove out. I did see the wording on its side. Florist.'

'An old van?'

'No, brand new. Luckily it turned in the opposite direction from where I waited…'

'Direction south-east, towards London,' Buchanan interjected. 'And the Ml is not so far away. Would take the van into the heart of London. Sorry to interrupt, Mrs Sharp.'

'That's all right. I'm getting the impression this could be important. On the way down in the train I read Drew Franklin's gossip column. Always do. He's malicious about people, I know, but so entertaining. Now, I think I've told you all I can, so…'

'So,' said Tweed, standing up, 'have you ever had tea at Brown's Hotel? It is an experience you won't find elsewhere.'

'No, I haven't. Oh, one more thing. I mentioned the three, no, the two large barns at Oldhurst Farm. There is a third, smaller barn behind them. Think I mentioned it.'