Colin Forbes - By Stealth

`Tweed speaking.'

`I owe you an apology,' Nielsen's distinctive voice began. 'I have been compelled to inform Danish Military Intelligence…'

`Yes?'

The line crackled, went dead. The operator took over and tried time and again to bring Nielsen back on the line. Eventually he stopped, spoke to Norlin again.

`This happens, Tweed,' Norlin explained. 'Something in the atmosphere. You find you can't get through.'

`Could that happen in the middle of the operation – between here and South Jutland?' Tweed asked anxiously.

`No. It's a question of range. Copenhagen is a far greater distance away. From here to the operational area in South Jutland is no more than thirty miles, or even less. We'll have contact with this base without any trouble at all.'

`That's a relief.'

Returning to the other section of the hut, Tweed sat down while Norlin poured more coffee. He was bothered by the reference Nielsen had made to Danish Military Intelligence. He simply couldn't imagine what Nielsen had been trying to warn him about. But he took grim satisfaction from the news that Dr Wand was at the scene of the coming operation. It also confirmed that something big and important was about to take place. Those furnished but unoccupied bungalows were a new Moor's Landing. The black dog which still sat on his shoulder was the fate of Paula.

Night had fallen on the military encampment. Tweed had compelled himself to eat some of the excellent meal laid before him. It has his duty to keep up his strength.

Outside the wind had vanished. In its place a sinister fog was rolling in across that part of Denmark. Tweed got up and paced backwards and forwards. Norlin remained perfectly motionless in his chair. Iron nerves, but he hadn't got on his mind the worry which was eating up Tweed.

The glass door opened from the communications section. The operator called out urgently in Danish. Norlin jumped up as Tweed ran for the door.

`It's a Commander Wilson calling,' Norlin reported as he caught up with Tweed.

Grim-faced, Tweed picked up the phone. Why the hell hadn't he heard from Newman?

`Tweed here.' He gave the code-word. 'Any development?'

`You are a genius,' Wilson's voice boomed. 'Two targets in sight. One large, one smaller. Like a mother ship bringing in baby. Not a flicker on our normal radar, but blips as clear as the nose on my face on your Christmas present. About twenty miles off shore. Coming in on a course which, if maintained, will make their landfall north of a place called Hojer. When do I challenge – then intercept if necessary?'

`Not until they're stationary very close to the coast – if that action is practical.'

`It is. Incredible – two Marie Celestes coming home. Will keep reporting their position.'

`Thank you, Tug. This is it…'

Again Tweed was leaving the communications room when he was called back. Among the Danish the operator spoke as he vacated the chair Tweed caught the words `Robert Newman'. He grabbed the phone.

`Tweed?' Newman's voice came over clear as a bell. `Hold on. I've got someone here who'd like a word with you.'

`This is Paula. I'm OK. Absolutely OK…' Tweed nearly choked when he heard her buoyant voice. 'Tweed, are you still there?'

`Yes, I'm here. How are you? Did they..

`No, they didn't. I'll say it again. I'm OK! OK! OK! Got it? Wonderful.-to hear your voice. This lot tried to send me to bed. Would you believe it? I won't repeat over this line what I told them to do. Any news about you know what?'

`Yes, Paula, there is. And it's wonderful to hear your voice. But we're short of time. Better put Bob back on the line.'

`Here is the mastermind…'

`Bob, keep everyone under cover. Friends are coming down to help. Professionals. Wait until we reach you. That is an order. We'll be proceeding by stealth.'

`Understood,' Newman said crisply. 'Get your skates on…'

`I'm in touch with the Mao,' Starmberg reported. 'Both of the ships are very close. Only about twenty miles off shore.'

`Tell them we are ready to offload their passengers, if you please,' Dr Wand ordered.

They were seated inside the spacious living-room of the bungalow equipped with an aerial which could be elevated and retracted automatically. Starmberg, wearing a headset, repeated his chiefs message. Wand sat behind a desk in an executive chair.

The curtains were closed over the one-way-glass windows. A few minutes earlier Wand had pulled aside a curtain, noted with satisfaction the fog drifting over a nearby dune. The weather was ideal for the operation. He gave his new order when Starmberg had completed contacting the Mao.

`No, be so kind as to go outside and rehearse our teams again in launching the dinghies.'

`We have already carried out a major rehearsal,' Starmberg reminded him.

`Dear me, you know how I dislike having to give an instruction twice. They must be ready to land our guests swiftly. Last time they were launching the dinghies into a stormy sea. Now it is like a millpond.'

`Of course, sir!' Starmberg jumped up out of his chair.

Before running out into the night he snatched one of the two Uzi machine-pistols looped from a hook on the wall. It was expected that there would be no interference, but Dr Wand always worked on the basis of preparing for trouble. He called out again as Starmberg grasped the door handle.

`I have decided I will personally travel out in the largest dinghy to congratulate the expedition commander on a new successful enterprise.'

`May I suggest that could be hazardous, sir?' Starmberg ventured.

`I am under the impression you just did. When I want your advice you may be sure I shall not hesitate to consult you.'

Starmberg flushed at the sarcastic rebuke. He must remember Wand was an autocrat, had the manners of a brusque military commander.

`I will have the largest dinghy ready for your departure. May I enquire – have we any idea when the ships will stand off shore?'

`About two o'clock tomorrow morning. As you know, at the moment they are now stationary out at sea. Two o'clock is the hour of my triumph.'

At the military encampment the assault teams aboard trucks had been put on stand-by. Tweed had received a new message from the Minotaur.

`Both targets are now stationary. About twenty miles off shore. Well outside the territorial water limit. Will continue to keep you informed…'

Tweed asked Norlin the question when they had once again returned to the Dane's desk in the other section.

`Should your men be moved closer south now?'

`Not necessary. We might be seen. The two ships are lying twenty miles off shore. Your frigate commander friend seems very efficient at keeping us in touch. I shall drive the first truck of the convoy when the time comes.'

`There is dense fog,' Tweed warned.

`Makes no difference. I know that road like the back of my hand. My truck – and those following me – will have their red tail-lights on. So each truck, keeping close, will be guided by the red lights on the truck in front. We wait for the ships to move in.'

`I think I'd like to join my people there as soon as it can be arranged.'

`Now, if you like. A car equipped with a transmitter and a driver who knows the road as well as I do.'

`Another favour, if possible. You seem to have an excellent canteen here. I'd like to take my people – six of them – some warm food and drink. Could your chef produce a large quantity of vegetable soup, some rolls, a thermos of coffee, and a large apple cake?'

`Consider it done. For six people.' Norlin picked up the phone, rattled off a stream of Danish, put the phone down. 'Ready in thirty minutes at the outside. The chef is now preparing a similar meal for the men aboard the trucks. Are you armed? No? Would it not be wiser to carry some weapon?'