Colin Forbes - Deadlock

They left the park, crossed a wide street by a church, made their way round a complex and deserted intersection of streets, then Jansen led them to the back of a building. A uniformed policeman stood on guard. They went inside.

They were climbing a stone staircase when Tweed asked Jansen the question.

'Was a girl seen among the intruders?'

'Yes, quite young. Early twenties. Had her face masked with a coloured handkerchief. Again, descriptions varied to the point of futility.'

'Was she also carrying a gun?'

'No one asked that question. I think one of the guests who were thrown out would have mentioned it. They mentioned a girl – as though surprised. These days!'

'Could she have been taken in under duress?'

'I don't think so. One witness – a woman, of course -said she matched in as though she owned the place.'

'Why are you so interested in this girl?' Newman asked.

He had caught up with Tweed on one side while Paula joined them on the other. Jansen was climbing nimbly higher to yet another floor.

'I am thinking of Lara Seagrave, the girl I cross-examined in Smiths' tea-room in Paris, the girl whose bitch of a step-mother-Lady Windermere -I visited in London. The girl The Parrot was following all the way from Marseilles, watching her take photos of different ports. The girl whom, I'm convinced, set out on this thinking it was all an adventure. Why Klein still needs her I can't imagine.'

They had at rived. Jansen paused before a metal fire door which was guarded by a uniformed policeman. He waited until they had reached him before he issued his warning.

'We're going out on to the roof. Crouch low, move slowly. We don't want those people inside Euromast to spot us – someone may be scanning the whole area with binoculars…'

The roof was a flat concrete surface surrounded by waist-high walls. Stooping low, Tweed followed Jansen. The silhouettes of a large number of men were scattered in different positions. The majority close to the wall nearest Parkhaven.

Jansen led him to where a tripod had been erected. A telescope was mounted on the tripod. Further along the wall stood a second tripod supporting a cine-camera with a zoom lens. A man crouched behind the camera.

'This observation point is the nearest we can get,' Jansen explained. 'The telescope gives us a clear view of the platform.'

'But hasn't there been any communication from them?' Tweed asked, squatting on his haunches. 'And how would you respond?'

'No communication at all.' Jansen sounded depressed. 'Except when a couple of my men approached the tower and they reacted with a machine-gun burst. As a warning to keep away. Since then an awful silence.'

'Klein tactics,' Tweed repeated, turning to Van Gorp who was crouched beside him. 'It's the prelude – to unnerve us.'

'Answering your second question,' Jansen went on, 'we have brought in a police van with an amplified speaker. Parked behind an empty truck to shield it from the tower. No reaction to that – except for a call to speak to someone in high authority.'

Tweed looked at Van Gorp who flexed his hands before he spoke. 'I'd better go out there and try to get Klein talking – if he is up there.'

'Oh, he's up there, all right.' Tweed's tone was brisk. 'But I think I'm the one to attempt it. I'm beginning to know how his mind works. I've had secret reports on his background and character. Before I go I'd like to call my colleague, Blade, at the airport, arrange for the SAS team to be brought near here. They'll need quarters on their own – with no contacts with the police.'

'We may have just what you need,' said Jansen. Til show you…'

He waited while Tweed took a quick look through the telescope. The platform appeared deserted. He swung the lens a few degrees and the restaurant came into view. All the lights were still on but over a number of windows there were hangings obscuring the interior. Either curtains had been drawn or they'd used table cloths. Figures moved beyond the clear windows and vanished.

'Don't go,' said Paula. 'It's too dangerous, Klein is crazy.'

'Maybe a little, but I'm going.'

'And I'm coming with you,' Newman said, still holding the rifle. He gave Paula a wink of reassurance.

The quarters Jansen suggested for use by the SAS team were one floor down, at the back of the building. Four rooms – with a bathroom – separated from the rest of the building. Over the windows blinds were drawn down. Tweed agreed they were suitable, Jansen produced a street plan, marked the route the team should follow, said he would send a motor-cycle outrider to escort them and then left Tweed alone to use the phone perched on a rough wooden table.

'Blade,' he said when he got through, 'situation here at Euromast serious. An armed group has taken possession. No, they didn't take hostages – just threw everyone out. A motor-cycle outrider is coming to guide you here with your team. I'll give him a note signed by me. It will include the word Olympus.'

'I'll get the lads geared up ready now. Somewhere we can wait? Discreetly?'

'Attended to.'

'Be with you shortly…'

Tweed sat motionless at the table for a few moments, thinking of his approach when he reached the tower. Then he dismissed the idea. Always best not to rehearse m advance. Play it off the cuff. He went outside where Newman was waiting tor him.

Tweed walked with a steady tread beyond the barrier cordoning off Parkhaven. He couldn't remember when he'd last slept but now the moment of crisis had arrived fresh adrenalin was pumping through his veins.

Hatless, he wore an overcoat, both hands in view, arms swinging gently. He was damned if he was going out there with his hands in the air. As he headed towards the police radio car parked behind the truck he slowed his pace, studying everything in sight at ground level.

Below Euromast the four rows of barges berthed alongside each other were still there, the barges he'd noticed looking down from the platform. The atmosphere was weirdly silent and deserted. No traffic movement on the Maas. He glanced at the three police launches moored at the end of the basin. From inside motionless figures watched him as he kept up his pace. He reached the police van.

Through the open window he saw a man behind the wheel on the side furthest from the tower. He leant his forearms on the edge of the window.

'Let me have the mike. I'm here with the authority of Inspector Jansen…'

'I know. You're Tweed. He's called through over the radio.' He handed over the microphone and Tweed saw it had a long cord. That was helpful. He gripped the mike, turned, walked to the foot of the steps and looked up. Two figures peered at him over the rail from the platform, one aiming a rifle, both masked.

Newman braced himself against the wall of the building where he had stayed when Tweed went into the open. His rifle was aimed at the waiting figures three hundred feet above.

Klein stood by the rail alongside Marler who held his rifle aimed at the figure below. Klein had a pair of night-glasses trained on the tiny figure at the base of the tower. The face was clear in the lenses and Klein sucked in his breath.

'God! What's he doing down there? How could he have got here so fast?'

'Who is it?' Marler enquired in a languid tone.

Tweed. The last man on God's earth I expected to confront.'

'Who is Tweed?'

'Deputy Director of the British Secret Service. One of the most wily and dangerous men in Europe. Time to scare the guts out of the bastard.' Klein switched on the throat microphone linked to Legaud's command vehicle and its amplifiers.

'Who are you?' Klein demanded in English.

His voice blasted out of the amplifiers on the roof of Legaud's van. Distorted, it had the weird echo of a ghost as it carried to Newman, to the watching police on top of the HQ building.