Colin Forbes - By Stealth

`Hurricane,' Noble repeated as he prepared to leave. 'It sounds as though you're expecting one. We'll expect one, too. I think I'll contact Tug Wilson as soon as I get back. Good hunting…'

After he had gone Tweed had asked Monica to arrange for a meal of sandwiches to be brought in. He was eating the last one when he began pacing round his office.

`What do you think about what Cardon told us about the mysterious Dr Wand?' Monica asked.

Tweed didn't reply for a while. He was playing back in his mind what Cardon had told them.

`I stress these are only rumours,' Cardon had begun, tut they come from three very different contacts – and all three said the same thing. Wand is thought to be General Chang, a top member of the Chinese High Command. He appeared out of nowhere in Hong Kong after spending months in the United States. There he is believed to have been treated by an American plastic surgeon – who died in a car accident soon afterwards. He established his trading company… seemed to have unlimited funds. His company prospered in two years, then he expressed an interest in the world-wide refugee problem. So, he came to Europe and organized his Trust for aiding refugees-'

`Just a moment,' Tweed had interrupted. 'Any idea where these huge funds came from?'

`Let me tell it in sequence. He cultivated men of influence in all the key European countries – men also concerned with the refugee problem. He's on dining-out terms with several EC Commissioners – they like his lavish hospitality. Most of them think he was born in Hong Kong – a Chinese mother and an English father. When I said he was suspected of being General Chang I referred to underground contacts. None of the taipans he mixed with in Hong Kong have even heard the rumour…'

Cardon had stopped speaking to swallow a whole tumbler of water. Tweed watched him carefully, seeing signs that he was running out of steam.

`Now we come to the money,' Cardon had continued. `Which is why I spent three days in Chengmai in North Thailand, close to the so-called Golden Triangle – the great centre for illegal drug distribution on a colossal scale.' He had paused to make his next point.

`The Chinese Government is controlling the vast drug industry spreading havoc in the West…'

`But they shoot drug traffickers inside China,' Monica had objected.

`Of course they do,' Cardon had told her. 'They don't want their own people weakened by the scourge. Just the West. It is a classic case of the Chinese liking for the double-edged sword – they sell the drugs to the West via second parties. The drugs break down the moral and physical fibre of the West – and provide Beijing with vast sums of hard currency. So, without knowing it, drug users over here, in Europe, and the States, are financing Operation Long Reach, and ultimately their own destruction…'

Later Tweed had put to him the question which was intriguing him.

`Philip, how on earth did you get out of Lop Nor alive?'

`Oh, it was quite easy. I'd realized by then I was wearing the uniform of a high-ranking Security Service officer. I went back to the airfield, found another of their old crates was just leaving for Chungking. The steward made one of the passengers get out of his seat and crouch down in the aisle at the rear. Didn't ask him – he just did it. It was almost night when we landed at Chungking. I beat a hasty from the airport, walked out into the countryside, took off the uniform and burnt it. Which left me in my original rags. I then smuggled myself aboard a hovercraft going down the Yangtze River as a crewman-'

`Hovercraft!' Monica had interjected. 'You're joking.'

`No, I'm not. A bit of a rocky ride but the engines were almost silent. Make a dangerous war vessel. I got off at Hankow and took the long train ride to Canton. From there it's no distance at all to slip across the frontier into Hong Kong. A piece of cake…'

At that point Cardon had closed his eyes and fallen fast asleep until Butler had escorted him to his car.

Tweed answered the question Monica had asked earlier, pacing back to his desk and sitting in his chair.

`I think Cardon could be right about Dr Wand. During the brief moment when I saw Wand clearly by the flare of Bob's lighter it struck me there was something Oriental about his features. I suspect I wouldn't have noticed it in broad daylight.'

`What I couldn't get over was the way Philip kept saying it was easy, a piece of cake, phrases like that.'

`I don't think for a moment it was easy. That is just Philip's throwaway confidence. And remember, the British have been good in the past at disguising themselves as another race, infiltrating all sorts of dangerous places. Lawrence of Arabia – passing himself off as an Arab. In India, during the Raj, a clever soldier would dress himself up as a native and move around in hostile territory on the north-west frontier to spy on some rebellious khan. Cardon belongs to that age.'

`What did Philip mean when he said the great anchorage at Cam Ranh Bay in Vietnam has been closed to all shipping?'

`Look at the map.' Tweed jumped up, walked over to the wall map of the world. 'I think that's where Stealth vessels are sailing to Europe from. The logical secret route, avoiding the major shipping lanes, is via the Timor Sea – where ships have disappeared. Then via the Cape – where more ships disappear. And Vietnam is the other major power where the Communists are firmly in the saddle. They've secretly linked up with China, I suspect.'

`It really is frightening. And just when we thought we could relax …'

`Which is just what we're not going to do,' Tweed said grimly, returning to his desk. need the strongest team I can muster when I reach Brussels tonight. Book a seat on my plane – and through to Hamburg later – for Butler.'

The phone rang. Monica answered it, placed a hand over the mouthpiece.

Guess who. It's Philip Cardon…'

`You are supposed to be sleeping,' Tweed snapped. `Why are you calling? Before you answer tell me just where you are calling from.'

`To talk to you briefly, from a public phone box,' Cardon said laconically.

`You didn't go to bed?' Tweed demanded.

`Yes. Couldn't sleep. I'm wearing a heavy overcoat and a pair of trousers over pyjamas. Look, I got the feeling something big is breaking. After a bit of kip I want to be included in on it.'

`You need a holiday…'

`I said I wanted to be included in it. Are you deaf?'

`All right,' Tweed said in a resigned tone. 'Phone Monica but only after a long sleep.'

`Agreed. And don't forget what I said about Chengmai…'

Tweed told Monica the gist of the conversation after he put down the phone. He drummed his fingers on the desk.

`We could use every man. Book Philip an open ticket to Brussels and on to Hamburg. Then another one on a direct flight to Hamburg.'

`You really are mustering the troops,' she commented.

`I'm sure Dr Wand will be doing the same thing.'

`Do you think he's right about this character, Vulcan? A top mole who is one of Wand's chief associates. And English, too.'

`Not a mole,' Tweed corrected her. 'Philip emphasized his contacts in Hong Kong said he existed. That he'd spent time in the colony. Yes, I think he does exist. Interesting that he's an Englishman…'

Benoit, accompanied by plain-clothes officers, followed Newman into the dank wilderness of the Parc d'Egmont. Behind him walked Paula and Nield.

On Benoit's order to the General Manager of the Hilton the windows of the Cafe d'Egmont overlooking the park had been masked. It was night and the only illumination came from torches held by the police and Newman.

It was Newman who had phoned Benoit. He had received a strange call in his room. The muffled voice sounded like a man's, and the message had been delivered in English.