Colin Forbes - By Stealth

He drove on over as bleak a heathland as he had seen so far. Braking, he stepped out. The boom of the sea became a roar. Surf caught by the ferocious wind landed a few feet away from his car. He half closed his eyes to protect them against the fine sand as the wind threatened to blow him over.

I've had enough of this, he thought, as he climbed back behind the wheel. It took all his strength to pull the heavy door shut. Back to 'fonder and a warm bed. Tomorrow was another day. The real search for Paula would begin then.

`Tweed has already cracked up, as I predicted.'

Inside the large villa, set back from Jaegersborg Alle with a large front garden screened by a hedge, Dr Wand rubbed his hands with satisfaction. He sat behind a Regency desk in a room at the back of the building. The curtains were shut over the windows and again the desk lamp was the only illumination.

The villa was located at Jaegersborg Al16 988 in the Gentofte district north of Copenhagen. The only other occupant was the gaunt Mrs Kramer, dressed as always in black, a tall, thin woman whose face might have been carved out of stone.

Wand had phoned her from Hamburg, telling her to fly direct to Copenhagen, to prepare the villa for his arrival. His instructions had been precise. 'The villa, as you know, dear lady, has an unoccupied appearance. I would be most grateful if you would preserve that illusion. Leave The Boltons, please, at the earliest possible moment, to catch a Copenhagen flight.'

`You are sure this Tweed has been broken?' Mrs Kramer now enquired.

`I had the news this morning. He has resigned. Retired. I took the precaution of phoning the Four Seasons Hotel. They informed me he had checked out. He is now, I am sure, on his way back to London. He will no longer be present to interfere with my very important activities. A cup of black coffee would be most welcome…'

Left alone, Wand checked his watch. 11.30 am. Earlier he had phoned a senior civil servant in London who always knew what was going on. He had confirmed positively that he had heard Tweed had resigned from public life.

Wand knew he could rely on his informant – after all, he had loaned the man a large sum of money for a mortgage on a property in the English countryside. And he had no intention of letting Mrs Kramer know his source. Keep everyone in watertight compartments.

Wand operated a cell system. In Jutland he had twenty men awaiting the arrival of the Mao III and the Yenan. None of them knew the two Stealth ships were due to land their human cargo on the remote South Jutland shore. They would be given their instructions by Starmberg at the last moment.

`Goodbye, Mr Tweed,' Wand said to himself.

It was a relief to hear he had permanently immobilized the Englishman. The cargo of trained men who would be put ashore was the most important consignment of agents Wand had ever handled. They would be the leaders of the entire underground apparatus Wand was planting strategically in Europe – including Britain, the most important objective.

Thoughts of Tweed reminded him he must phone Dr Hyde. He dialled the number of the old house in Jutland, prepared for a long wait. To his surprise Hyde answered at once.

`My dear sir,' Wand began, 'I trust your new patient has been delivered to you and is in your competent hands?'

`She is here, yes. Everything is ready,' the oily voice assured him.

`I said we would wait three days before you carried out the operation. It is possible you may decide to complete the treatment earlier. If you would be so kind, please wait for my next call.'

`Everything is ready,' Hyde repeated. 'I can carry out the operation at any time-'

Hyde realized the connection had been broken, that Dr Wand had replaced the receiver. 'Arrogant swine,' he muttered.

A short distance away from the villa a large white van was parked on the opposite side of the road in Jaegersborg Alle. Painted on the outside was the name of an interior decoration firm: just the sort of vehicle which might be parked in this wealthy district while a team refurbished one of the elegant rooms inside a villa.

A rather different team occupied the interior of the van. Equipped with large windows made of one-way glass, very unusual equipment for an interior decorator was arranged inside. Long-distance video cameras were aimed at the entrance to No. 988.

They had already recorded the arrival of Dr Wand earlier, driving his own limo. One camera had taken close-up pictures as Wand's heavily built figure had climbed out to open the gate, prior to driving the limo down the short distance into a garage with electronic doors operated by remote control.

Ulf Kilde, leader of the three-man Police Intelligence undercover team, used a high-powered transmitter to report back to Inspector Nielsen at intervals. In case Wand left the villa to drive to a fresh destination Kilde had a back-up vehicle parked in a nearby side street.

This vehicle was quite a contrast to the gleaming white van. It was battered old Fiat with a souped-up engine. Kilde was in touch with the waiting driver by radio.

`Still no sign of activity,' Kilde reported to HQ. 'The villa looks unoccupied – all the shutters are closed. But our friend is definitely inside…'

During the early morning of that day Newman, behind the wheel of a black Mercedes supplied by Kuhlmann, had driven north from Hamburg through pleasant countryside towards the ancient Hanseatic town of Lubeck. His ultimate objective was to board one of the huge car ferries at the Puttgarden terminal on the edge of the Baltic.

`Tweed has fallen asleep,' remarked Cardon, referring to their passenger in the back.

`Thank God for that,' Newman replied. 'He's exhausted with worrying about Paula. I can understand that.'

Both men could not have been more wrong. Tweed had his eyes closed but his brain was racing. Mentally he checked over what he must do when he reached Nielsen's HQ in Copenhagen.

Nielsen would have a scrambler. The first priority was to contact Commander Noble at the Admiralty in London. Tweed hoped to heaven Noble had managed to dispatch one of Delvaux's advanced radar systems to Tug Wilson, commander of the missile-armed frigate Minotaur patrolling the North Sea.

Perhaps an equal priority was to try and call Marler at the Tonder phone number he'd transmitted to them at Berliner Tor. What were the chances that Marler's team could trace the unspeakable Dr Hyde in time? He coughed so as not to startle Newman.

`Bob, did you say Helen Claybourne told you the Burgoyne Quartet, as Paula nicknamed them, might be moving on to Copenhagen?'

`Yes. And, I told her we'd be staying at the d'Angleterre. I hope I did the right thing?'

`You did. If those four turn up again I will be pleased beyond expression.'

`Why? They're a peculiar crowd.'

`Why?' Tweed repeated. 'Because among other targets I want to get my hands on Vulcan.'

`And you think either Fanshawe or Burgoyne is Vulcan?'

`I don't think. I'm convinced of it. And that devil is a key figure in Wand's plans – according to what you told us, Philip.'

`He is,' Cardon confirmed. 'My source was a mint one.' `Wake me when we're coming into Lubeck for breakfast,' requested Tweed.

He closed his eyes again but sleep wouldn't come. He kept recalling what Fieldway, the MOD officer, had told him about Burgoyne. The Brigadier had disappeared for some four months while fighting on the battlefield in Korea. Vanished off the face of the earth, was the phrase Fieldway had used. Then Burgoyne had suddenly reappeared. An odd business, that.

Tweed's mind changed gear. He was also convinced that either Helen Claybourne or Lee Holmes was a professional assassin. He had witnessed the first killing of Hilary Vane, coming off the Washington flight at London Airport. Cyanosis.