Colin Forbes - Deadlock

'The bomb disposal team is on its way. Flying in. A Captain Nicholls is in charge. Says he met you, Tweed. In Norfolk.'

Tweed glanced at Paula. 'Remember him? His squad defused the bomb on your doorstep.' He looked at Bellenger. 'He has experience of underwater work?'

'Bit of an all-rounder, our Nicholls. Answer is yes. He's an expert scuba diver, has defused mines before. Only chap I know who works on land and sea. Bringing in a mixed team – some of his lot, some of my naval chaps. Bit of a sticky situation we've got ourselves into, I gather.'

Two of my men were probably inside the Shell complex when it was wiped out,' Van Gorp said sombrely. 'And an observer on the opposite bank has confirmed to me the place is a ruin.'

'Sorry to hear that,' Bellenger said. 'Casualties of war.' He turned to Tweed. 'Is there nothing more we can do?'

He looked up as Blade appeared in the doorway to the anteroom. The SAS commander wants one of his men stationed on that roof. Is that all right?'

'Of course,' agreed Van Gorp. Tweed had best accompany him. Otherwise his appearance will scare the wits out of my men.'

Tweed went ahead of the masked SAS man who appeared, recognized that this was Blade's deputy, Eddie. He came back after a few minutes and took his seat at the table, then he explained to Bellenger.

'I know who Klein really is. He has a background of highly professional military training. He's a master planner, probably one of the most brilliant in Europe. He foresees every contingency…'

'A ruddy genius,' Bellenger growled.

'Look at the way he's planned this vast operation,' Tweed persisted. 'He made sure the bullion was easily available. He's got a transport plane standing by at Frankfurt large enough to shift that bullion. He has several thousand lives at his mercy as a bargaining counter for the gold. He's chosen the most strategic target in Europe and laced it with bombs, I'm sure – Europort.'

'And he won't allow us to move the bodies of my two men thrown down from the platform,' Van Gorp commented. 'I requested permission while you were on the phone. Answer? No.'

'Hideous,' Tweed agreed. 'But that's a deliberate display of his total ruthlessness…'

'One thing which puzzles me is his escape route,' Paula said. 'How does he hope to get away? He can't even use that beastly box as a threat once he's out of range. And we can't be sure of what the range is.'

'Twenty-five to thirty miles,' Bellenger informed her. 'In London we studied blueprints supplied by Tweed…'

'The ones they found in the Swiss research director's safe which Beck gave me in Geneva,' Tweed explained.

'… and those blueprints were detailed drawings of the radio mechanism,' Bellenger continued. 'We were able to work out the range.'

'Which gives him control from Euromast of all those vessels he's mined,' Van Gorp confirmed.

'His escape route,' Tweed commented, 'which Paula raised. I was coming to that. I doubt it will be a number of cars – as Paula pointed out, once he's beyond the range of detonating those sea-mines we'd have him. I also doubt it's the river – for the same reasons. I've been thinking of the air…'

'So have I,' said Van Gorp. 'I've had my men check Rotterdam Airport. There's a Sikorsky waiting there, a big job. Pilot is an Austrian, a Victor Saur. Says he's waiting to collect a number of oil executives – on instructions from a Royal-Dutch senior director called Bouwman. I happen to know him. I've put in a call to his home address to check…' The phone began ringing. '… and this could be him.' He picked up the receiver.

'Chief of police, Van Gorp, here. Sorry to call at this hour. We met once at a reception. I have an important question to ask you.. .'

Inside his apartment, Bouwman, a stockily built man of forty with a fuzz of thick dark hair, was still fully dressed. His wife sat stiffly in an armchair while the masked man held a Luger to the side of her skull.

'This could be the police checking those Sikorksys,' he warned. 'You know what to say. Get it right first time. Make any attempt to warn them and your wife loses her head.'

The phone went on ringing. Bouwman took a deep breath, lifted the receiver, announced his identity. He listened for a moment while the masked man used his left hand to listen in on the extension phone by the armchair.

'Yes, I remember you, Van Gorp. For God's sake why have you disturbed my sleep. My wife's too, for that matter…'

He listened, his eyes glued to the gunman's. 'Yes, that is correct,' he replied. Those two choppers are waiting to pick up a certain delegation for a conference. I will tell you the conference is very secret so please don't broadcast the fact. Some of the individuals involved don't want any publicity. And one machine may have to fly off to pick up some important papers needed urgently. Is that all? Maybe on another occasion you'd call at a more civilized hour.'

Bouwman put down the receiver. The gunman carefully replaced the extension at the same moment. The oil executive used his display handkerchief to wipe his moist forehead.

'For God's sake remove that pistol from my wife's head. The job's done now.'

Van Gorp put down his own phone. 'False alarm. Bouwman confirmed the machines are being held at his disposal. He also bit my ear off for waking him. Normal reaction.'

'Then how will Klein escape?' Paula demanded. 'He'll have a plan. You can bet your life on that.'

The trouble is we are betting so many lives on this business. Now who is it?' Van Gorp growled.

He picked up the phone again as it began ringing, listened and said yes, he'd pass the message on.

'Tweed. London wants you to call back. Some woman called Monica. She says you have the number.'

'I'll use the scrambler.'

Tweed went into the anteroom, closed the door, sat down and dialled. Monica came on the line immediately. The PM had asked her to inform him that the German Chancellor was on the verge of issuing the order to release the bullion. There had been an emergency meeting of the EEC Commissioners in Brussels. And could he call Moscow at the special number? Tweed said he understood, broke the connection and ran to the door which he opened, speaking briefly.

'Bonn is about to release the bullion. Van Gorp, could you get on to Bonn. Tell them to take as long as possible over loading the trucks. Warn them they may be watched. Pretend one of the truck doors is jammed, won't lock. Anything for a short delay. I've another call to make. And could you find me a green Verey pistol? Must be green. The Coastguard or someone must have one.'

'The police launches are two hundred yards from here,' Van Gorp replied. 'The ones at the end of Parkhaven basin. They will have one. We'll sneak one out for you.'

'And what on earth does he want a green Verey pistol for?' asked Bellenger.

'It's going to be all action soon,' Paula told him. 'I have heard about this change in Tweed from Butler. A long period of waiting, then he moves.'

'He has moved,' said Jansen with a rare flash of humour. 'He has gone back into the anteroom.'

Seated again at the table, Tweed dialled the special Moscow number Lysenko had given him during their clandestine meeting outside Zurich. A girl operator came on the line, he spoke to her in Russian and within seconds a familiar voice began talking.

'Where are you calling me from, Tweed?' demanded Lysenko.

'Somewhere in Europe. By scrambler. What is it?'

'We are getting reports of a big crisis building up in Rotterdam, Holland. I am also getting reports that American mavericks are involved – men with CIA training.'

'You mean you are spreading those reports. If you don't at once stifle those reports I'll reveal the whole story of Igor Zarov…'

'But we have an agreement…'