Colin Forbes - Cell

'Thank you, Tweed.' Howard came forward and gripped him on the shoulder. 'You know I have the fullest confidence in you.' He turned to the others. 'In all of you.' Then he left.

Paula had often admired the way Tweed in a crisis never forgot a detail. He demonstrated this quality now. Handing the photocopy of the PM's latest communication to Monica, he spoke quickly.

'Better keep that. File it under junk mail. Now I'd like to know what has happened to Billy Hogarth. I imagine Harry and Pete brought him back here before we left for the Embankment.'

'Yes, they did. He's downstairs.'

'Not in the basement, I hope?'

'Of course not. He's in the visitors' room. The door locked and George just outside.'

'Not a very comfortable.'place for him to be.'

'It is now!' Monica was indignant. 'I got some of the men in the basement to carry up the bed. I made it up with new sheets and blankets and pillows. I covered that bleak table with a thick tablecloth so he can eat there. He has a whole crop of paperback thrillers. I popped in to see him after I'd given him breakfast just before you got back. He was in bed, perched up against a pillow. He had a paperback in his lap and had fallen asleep. I think he needs a lot of sleep. Satisfied?'

'Bless you!' Tweed threw up his hands in apology. 'You are an angel. I should have guessed.'

'Yes, you should have,' she retorted, still irked.

'I'll go down and see him when I can. When he's awake. He can use the shower upstairs when he wants to.'

'I should hope so,' she replied, staring at her word-processor.

'What happened to Pete and Harry when we got back?' Tweed wondered.

'Went down to the basement to get some kip on camp beds,' Marler told him.

'Anyone else who needs sleep?' Tweed enquired quietly. He pointed to Newman who had sagged in the armchair, eyes shut.

'Not me,' Beaurain said also quietly when Tweed looked at him. 'I can go a long time without it. If I close my eyes now it will just fog my brain.'

'Give me something to do,' Marler suggested.

'What you did before. Track down Eva Brand anonymously as you did last time. Then watch her and track her if she goes somewhere. I need to know who, if anyone, she contacts.'

'I'm on my way…'

When he had left, Paula came across to Tweed's desk, sat in the armchair opposite Newman. She began whispering when Newman opened his eyes.

'You can talk normally. A few minutes' kip and I'm a new man.'

'You do seem interested in keeping an eye on Eva,' Paula said. 'Could I see that photo Nield took when he went to the Finsbury Park mosque? Seems a year ago.'

She studied the photo inside a plastic evidence' envelope Tweed handed her. She turned the photo this way and that, examining the picture of a tallish figure tilted sideways as it walked. Wearing Arab clothes.

'I do know who this is.' She pursed her lips in annoyance. I just can't put my finger on it. Maddening.'

She gave him back the envelope as the phone rang again. Monica said a visitor alleging Tweed knew him was waiting. Tweed checked his watch. Midday. As usual Sarge was on time. Tweed asked Monica and Paula if they would mind leaving them alone. Newman could stay, along with Beaurain.

The meeting with Sarge did not take long. Neither Tweed nor the SAS man believed in wasting words or time. Sarge listened while Tweed outlined the defence plan as he understood it. He had only one comment to make when Tweed concluded.

'I think we both know that no battle ever goes according to plan.'

'I anticipate the unexpected,' Tweed agreed.

As Tweed stood up, escorted him to the door, Sarge turned and shook hands. His grip was firm and above the scarf his eyes stared into his host's. Tweed knew what he was doing. He was shaking hands for what might be the last time – in case either one or both did not survive.

'Now,' remarked Tweed when Sarge had gone, 'I wish I knew the identity of the leader. Who really is Abdullah?'

'Abdullah?' Paula queried.

'I had a brief phone call a while ago. Informing me the head of al-Qa'eda was Abdullah. The voice of the caller was using a distorter so I couldn't tell whether it was a man or a woman.'

'And you believed the caller?'

'Yes. Now I must go down and see how Billy Hogarth is getting on. Later we all leave here on motor-bikes. Harry has hired several extra. We must take up our first firing position at dusk, being in place by dark.

'One more sad aspect.' He turned before opening the door. 'I took up the fate of Proctor, the guard at Dick's wharf, held prisoner. As you heard me do so. Sarge was emphatic, was he not, that we cannot risk alerting the al-Qa'eda cell before they attack. I had already come to the same decision.'

'That really is awful,' Paula said. 'His wife has been saved but he will die.'

'Finally,' Tweed told them before leaving, 'the Minister has invited me to meet him at his house in Carpford tomorrow morning at ten o'clock for what he ghoulishly describes as an inquest.' He extracted an envelope from his pocket. 'This, sent by courier, is what Monica handed me before she left the office. I shall accept and be there.'

'By yourself, you mean?' Paula asked.

'No. The invitation names only me, but I'm sure others will be there. Palfry for one. Also Superintendent Buchanan. So my whole team will come with me, whether they are welcome or not. You'd better get dressed hadn't you, for what is to come…'

The phone rang. Tweed paused, then picked it up. He listened, ended the call, looked at Paula and Beaurain.

'Something unexpected. A Mr Margesson has arrived downstairs. From the description it is our Margesson from Carpford…'

He gave them a little salute and went downstairs. Paula stared at Newman.

'What on earth is going on?'

Marler, Harry and Pete arrived in the office, loaded down with clothing. Black outfits with the large white SIS on the backs. Marler had even found an outfit which perfectly fitted the tall Beaurain.

Paula had donned hers before the others. She stood in front of a tall mirror attached to the wall, pulled down the jacket, studied the result quickly. The outfit was black leather. It had a psychological effect on her. Now she couldn't wait to reach the Embankment. She then slipped on one of the green oilskins which concealed what she wore underneath.

'You looked very come-hitherish in black leather,' Newman teased her.

'More than I can say for you.'

'Well, you'll be travelling on my motor-cycle, riding pillion, so you'll just have to put up with it. Mind you clasp me firmly round the waist.'

'The things I do for England.'

It had taken them a while for everyone to put on the kit. Pete Nield had trouble getting himself comfortable. They were all completely dressed when Tweed walked in. He immediately began to put on his own outfit without saying a word. Paula thought he looked exceptionally grim.

'It was our Margesson,' he announced when he had dressed. 'He is staying here the night. Monica is making the room Howard's secretary works in comfortable. With George downstairs, like Billy Hogarth he will be safe.'

'You really are looking very grim,' Paula remarked.

'Time to go,' he replied. 'Look out of the window. It will soon be dusk. We will soon know the outcome.'

Paula knew she would never forget the motor-cycle cavalcade ride which took them down on to the Embankment. It was still daylight, on the edge of dusk. Newman led the way after being given the exact route to follow by Buchanan on the phone.

Each machine carried a yellow flag fluttering in the wind which had sprung up. The moment a police checkpoint in the distance saw them coming they cleared the way, forcing irate motorists to drive up on to pavements.