Colin Forbes - Cell

'On my way,' Newman replied and left.

The phone rang. Monica took the call, gestured to Tweed.

'Buchanan's back, says he won't keep you a minute.'

'Get him up here…'.

'I forgot to show you something,' Buchanan said, the moment he was in the room. 'Only take a tick. I have a photo sent to me from New York after the first abortive attempt to bring down the World Trade Center which didn't work.'

'I remember that incident.'

Buchanan placed a photograph on Tweed's desk. Tweed stared. Then he beckoned Paula and Beaurain to come and look. Paula gasped.

'My God, it's the same thing.'

Tweed opened a drawer, took out the sketch Beaurain had drawn on Mrs Wharton's description of the machine she'd seen six men carry from van to motorized trolley. The photograph of the device was the exact replica of Beaurain's drawing.

'Giuliani sent a note with this,' Buchanan explained. 'He said this one didn't detonate. They took it to pieces. It was packed with Semtex and another explosive which would have increased its power. So now you know what you're up against. Must dash…'

'What's the target?' Paula asked.

'I remember this first attempt,' Tweed replied. 'They planned to destroy the ground struts holding up the buildings. It did not work when the other devices were detonated, but it made a helluva mess. I can use this photograph.'

'What's the target?' Paula repeated.

'Wait until the 3 a.m. meeting here.'

'I guessed you'd say that.'

Tweed suddenly frowned. 'I could have made a mistake. Try and delay Newman from leaving…'

He had hardly finished speaking when Paula flew out of the door and down the stairs. George saw her coming, had the front door unlocked and open. She ran down the steps, saw Newman just taking off in his car. She ran like mad, ran in front of him. He braked suddenly, swore, switched off, dived out.

'You idiot! I could have run you down…'

'Shut up! You're needed upstairs…'

'Sorry, Bob,' Tweed said as a flushed Newman dashed in, followed by Paula. 'But I may need you here before you go up to the village.'

'Anything I can do?' Beaurain asked with a smile.

'Yes. It would help me if you both went down to the waiting-room while I make a highly confidential call. Not my idea.'

'A chopper's landing in Regent's Park,' Paula reported, looking out of a window. 'That's odd. Looks like a Sikorsky.'

'Let me make this vital phone-call,' Tweed said after checking his watch. 'I'll call you all up when I've dealt with this.'

Paula left, followed by Monica, Beaurain and Newman. Now Tweed had the office to himself. He pressed the numbers from memory, the numbers which would put him through to SAS HQ at Hereford. A bored voice answered.

'Yes.'

'Tweed here. Able is expecting me to call now.'

'Never heard of the name. Hang on…'

'Who is this?' a crisp well-educated voice asked.

'Tweed, SIS.'

'Codeword?'

'Pagoda.'

'Fire away.'

'I need a contact from you here. I cannot discuss this on the phone.'

The phone made a strange noise. Tweed frowned, decided to check.

'There's a strange noise on the phone.'

'That's a system to ensure we cannot have the line tapped.'

'I can tell you now. Be on red alert.'

'I see,' Able replied calmly. 'As to the contact, we foresaw you'd need one. He'll arrive any moment. You will confer with him alone. Unless Robert Newman is available. He can sit in.'

'What about Beaurain?' Tweed spelt the name.

'Christian name, please.'

'Jules Beaurain…'

'His credentials, please.'

'Former chief of the Brussels anti-terrorist squad. Later he was Commissaire of Brussels police.'

'We know him. He can sit in with Newman. No one else.'

'Understood.'

'Target known?'

'Yes. Central London. Will be precise with contact. Zero hour is today. Probably after four in the afternoon.'

'Thank you, sir. Good luck, Mr Tweed…'

Switching off all the lights, Tweed went to the window and pulled a curtain aside a few inches. A tall man was walking out of the park from the direction where the Sikorsky had landed. Switching on the lights again, Tweed sat at his desk, called George.

'Ask Newman and Beaurain to come up immediately. Not Paula. Give her my apologies. Tell her I had no option.'

The door opened and Newman walked in, followed by Beaurain. Tweed asked them to sit down, then he gave them the news.

'A contact from the SAS is due to arrive any moment. The commander at Hereford gave permission for you both to be present while I outline the plan of attack. Ours, that is.'

'I'm surprised,' Newman replied. 'I know I did the course when I was writing an article on the SAS…'

He stopped as Monica called him on the phone. He listened as she spoke.

'George says a very suspicious character is asking for you. He's down here now.'

'Ask him to come up, Monica. Please join Paula in the visitors' room…'

The door was opened by George, who ushered in a very tall man. He was dressed in civilian clothes and a scarf concealed most of his face, leaving his mouth exposed. He stared quickly at everyone in the room.

'I guess you're Mr Tweed,' he said approaching the desk. 'You are expecting me.' He held out an identity folder.

'Sarge!' Newman had jumped up. 'Recognize your voice. You put me through hell on that training course.'

'Sarge also trained me,' said Beaurain, standing up, holding out his hand. 'Welcome.'

'Maybe we should start right away,' replied Sarge, occupying the armchair Tweed had gestured to.

Before beginning, Tweed apologized to Sarge, told him he had brief vital instructions to give, left the office. He ran down and entered the visitors' room. Paula, Marler and Monica were seated at the bare wooden table, drinking coffee. Tweed spoke rapidly.

'You both heard the orders I gave to Newman to drive to Carpford, to check who is there. Since Newman is occupied upstairs I want you, Marler, to take his place. Paula, go with him. Don't forget to check the rooftops for an elevated aerial or mast. Then get back to report to me. Urgently…'

He returned to his office, sat down behind his desk. He began explaining the situation. Sarge listened without saying a word. Tweed showed him a detailed map of the Thames area, pointed out the power station, St Jude's Hospital.

He showed Sarge Beaurain's drawing of the device, then the photo from Mayor Giuliani Buchanan had left with him, the photos Newman had taken from the hospital of the wharf. Mackie, the most brilliant boffin in the basement, had since provided blow-ups of Newman's photos. Sarge was most interested in the pic Newman had taken looking down inside the main hatch.

'Took that one,' Newman said, speaking for the first time, 'as the barge tilted towards me. A big police launch moving upriver had sent out a large bow wave, causing the tilt. The device you can now see clearly placed below the hatch is like the photo Giuliani sent from New York.'

Sarge nodded his agreement. Tweed explained the measures being taken by Buchanan along the Embankment later. He covered all the information they had obtained, his plan for eliminating the al-Qa'eda cell. Sarge nodded again. He had taken no notes.

When the time came for him to leave he asked for all the photos and Beaurain's drawing, together with Tweed's map. He put them inside the briefcase he'd been carrying – more cover as a businessman. He told them the SAS unit would number about thirty, got up to leave. 'We should meet here again. Midday? Good.' Then he left, after shaking hands.

Paula swore to herself as Marler drove over the crest into Carpford. A dense fog blotted out the village. She navigated as he drove very slowly, partly because of the fog and partly to make as little noise as possible.