Colin Forbes - Deadlock

'They have a girl with them, Lara Seagrave,' Tweed said.

' With them?' rapped out Blade. 'What does that mean? One of them?'

'I don't think she knew any of this was going to happen. She is the step-daughter of Lady Windermere, the queen of bitches. I met Lady W in London. She drove her step-daughter out of the family home. So Lara goes out to prove she can make it on her own, looking for adventure. I think she's a pawn in Klein's deadly game.'

'Which is it?' Blade demanded. 'We treat her as a hostage?'

'Yes.'

'But if you're wrong,' Eddie whispered, 'if she has a gun in her hand, we shoot. It's the only way we operate. And would you excuse me a second? I want to check with the lads – see if they've any questions. Be back shortly…'

'Blade, I have one special instruction to give you for when you go in. You pass it on to everyone in the troop just before the assault. ..'

He whispered for less than a minute and in that time Eddie was back, crouching beside Blade.

'It's OK,' he reported. 'Everyone is happy.'

Happy? Tweed thought only Newman, who had trained with this troop, would understand the use of that word in these circumstances. He led the way back across the roof and down the staircase.

Tweed sensed the tension inside the windowless room as soon as the last SAS man closed the anteroom door behind him. The waiting was getting to them. Van Gorp sat very stiffly. Jansen was doodling meaningless shapes on his notepad and he threw down the pen as Tweed entered. Paula gave him a watery smile.

'The fishing boats – Utrecht and Drenthe – have been found,' Van Gorp announced. 'Their crews were tied up. They confirm what Klein told you. Scuba divers went overboard from them carrying the mines inside nets. So now we know definitely.'

'I never doubted it for a moment. Thank you,' he said when Paula poured him a fresh cup of coffee, shoved a plate of ham sandwiches in front of him.

'Eat,' she commanded.

'And,' Van Gorp went on, 'the news is leaking to the outside world. Reuters have sent out a report there is some sort of emergency at Europort. It was inevitable, of course. Some of those people thrown out of the Euromast restaurant have been released. We kept them for questioning as long as we could but there was a limit. They were told not to talk – that lives were at stake. But still some have obviously not resisted the temptation to open their mouths.'

'What about Commander Bellenger?'

'Arrived while you were on the roof. He's now in the anteroom, using the scrambler to have a bomb disposal squad sent here at once.' He tapped his pencil irritably on the table. 'And I have tried to counter the Reuter report by spreading a rumour we've spotted an old sea-mine from World War Two floating near the entrance to the Maas. Might work. For a short while.'

'Clever,' Tweed commented. 'Very clever, that…'

He waited as the phone rang and the Dutchman took another call. 'Klein,' he said, putting down the phone. 'He wants to talk to you again.'

'It's only two o'clock. He's an hour early.' Tweed shrugged as he stood up. 'Of course it's deliberate – to keep us off balance.'

'You can tell him the German Chancellor is holding a cabinet meeting at this moment. And the cabinet at The Hague is in all night session.'

'I'll keep that up my sleeve. He's up to something. Let me find out what first.'

'You've hardly eaten anything,' Paula protested. 'Let the bastard wait. Van Gorp can tell him you're on the phone to London.'

'Daren't risk it. Klein isn't normal.' Tweed paused. 'Has anyone noticed the absence of something vital?'

Three blank faces stared back at him. Van Gorp shook his head. 'Nothing I can think of.'

The bombs. He has twenty-four powerful bombs at his disposal. We've heard from him about the sea-mines. Why nothing about those bombs? I'd better go and perform my act.'

Tweed stood at the foot of the tower, microphone in one hand, the other thrust inside his coat pocket. Above him at platform level Klein looked down. Marler strolled out, wrapping a large red silk scarf round his neck.

'Bit nippy out here. Mind you don't catch cold,' he warned Klein amiably.

'Cover Tweed, for God's sake. That's what you're here for.'

'Anything you say.'

Staring up, Tweed saw the tiny figure beside Klein raise his. rifle. In the shadows of the building behind him two Dutch marksmen had taken Newman's place.

'Is the bullion on its way to Frankfurt Airport?' Klein called out through the amplifier on top of Legaud's vehicle. 'If not, I can provide you with a further demonstration.'

The British, German and Dutch governments are considering your demands. And you are one hour early. Our appointment was for three o'clock.'

'I'm advancing the schedule…'

'Say what you like, you know such a decision can't be taken in five minutes.'

'Considering are they?' Klein's voice was icy. 'I believe that was the word you used. They need something to encourage them to decide now. I'm holding the control box, Tweed.'

'I assumed you would be…'

'I'm going to press button number eight…'

Fifteen odd miles away down the Maas a detective called Beets, wearing a dark suit and holding an automatic, was treading very cautiously inside Shell-Mex Number Two. His companion was close behind him. Sent in by Van Gorp – with orders that they must not be seen – they made their way in the dark silence close to the river.

Above them a grid of pipes stretched away; close to them to their left loomed the shadow of a futuristic-looking cat-cracker. In the near distance Beets could see oil storage tanks which had reminded Tweed of giant white cakes. The only sound was the lapping of water against the wharves on the Maas.

Probably Beets' first warning of danger was the hammer blow of the shock wave, but this would have coincided with the deep rumble of the explosion.

Within seconds the complex was a sea of flame and fire as it engulfed everything. An incandescent sheet must have swallowed up Beet and his companion -later their charred and cindered corpses were found, impossible to distinguish one man from another. A deafening boom thundered upriver as the complex became an inferno of high temperature, a red beacon in the night.

Tweed heard the distant boom. He froze. Resisting the impulse to turn round he continued staring up at the platform. Klein was leaning forward, left hand on the rail, right hand out of sight.

'And that was the first oil complex to go up. Would you say that might encourage your so-called governments to consider a little faster. Do look downriver. A spectacular sight. The sun is coming up early today – but from the west.'

Tweed turned round slowly. In the distance the sky was illuminated with a fiery red glow. They would see that aboard the ships offshore was his first thought. He turned back to the tower.

'Which one, if I might enquire?'

'Shell-Mex Two. Totally destroyed. Go away, Tweed!

Come back at three o'clock. With news that the bullion has been loaded.'

A new arrival greeted Tweed when he entered the HO room. Commander Bellenger was standing, wearing a duffel coat. Van Gorp and Jansen, seated at the table, looked grim and Paula watched Tweed intently. Bellenger, bluff and calm, was the first to speak.

'Happened to be taking a shufti on the roof when that little lot went up. Heard every word our Mr Klein said. I'd guess he had two of the larger bombs planted inside the oil complex. Judging from the volume of sound, the intensity of the fire glare. He's prodding us, I take it.'

'Something like that.'

Tweed sank into his chair, drank some coffee, ate a ham sandwich. He was surprised to find he was ravenous. Bellenger joined them at the table as he went on reporting.