Colin Forbes: The Power

Returning to his car, he crammed a Swiss hat on his head, pulled it well down over his forehead. On the seat beside him, next to the mobile phone, rested a walking stick he had also purchased. Picking up the mobile phone he dialled Mencken's mobile phone number, hoping he was within range.

'Yes, who is it?' Mencken's voice demanded after a long wait.

'Norton. Where are you? We have to meet, urgently. To make future plans.'

'I'm halfway between Ouchy and Vevey. Away from the activity.'

'Very wise. Everything is quiet here now. But you are right – it would be wise to keep away from the town. As you drive along the lakeside road towards Vevey there is a point where the road turns away from the lake. By the edge of the lake there is a small wood near the path continuing along the lakeside. You noticed this? Good. I will meet you there in three-quarters of an hour. Best to make sure your car is hidden just off the path. And I did say it was urgent.'

'Understood,' Mencken replied tersely.

In his room at the Chateau d'Ouchy Tweed was giving his own urgent instructions to his whole team. Barton Ives listened as he spoke briskly. Action this day, thought Paula.

'All of us – except Philip Cardon, who is guarding Joel Dyson in his room – are driving direct to Cointrin Airport, Geneva. From there we catch a flight to London. Which puts us on the spot to catch the afternoon Concorde flight to Washington non-stop.' Tweed looked at Ives. 'I do know Senator Wingfield, met him while attending a security conference in Washington, but are you certain you can trust him?'

'Wingfield,' Ives assured him, 'was born and raised a patriot. Not many of them about. That doesn't mean to say he has the track record of a saint – how else would he get to the position of great power he occupies?'

'You mean he can be ruthless?' Paula suggested.

'Maybe that's exactly what I do mean. But this horrific situation kinda suggests ruthless measures. I have phoned him,' he told Tweed. 'He's expecting me, with the evidence, but I omitted to tell him you'd be along too.'

'Thank God for that,' Newman said vehemently. 'Before we land at Dulles I want to radio ahead, hire several cars. I strongly urge that along with Butler, Nield and Marler, I go aboard Concorde as though I've nothing to do with you.'

'What danger could there be to you guys?' queried Ives.

'We have all seen that diabolical film which could wreck the entire government of the United States. I foresee that very strong measures will be taken to see that does not happen.' Newman looked at Tweed. 'This trip is going to take some organization…'

'All dealt with,' Paula interjected. 'Tweed told me some time ago to prepare for this contingency. Flights are booked, tickets waiting to be collected at airports. I'm wearing my skates, Bob.' She turned to Tweed. 'We take the film and the tape with us, then?'

'We do – to show Wingfield. Marler brings his equip ment with him to save time. I want a quick in-and-out trip.'

'Preferably coming out alive,' Newman warned.

'What about Joel Dyson?' Paula interjected again. 'I've booked tickets on a separate flight from Geneva to London for Cardon and Dyson.'

'Where, after arriving, he will escort Dyson to a safe house. Where Howard is,'Tweed added.

'And what do I do with this?' enquired Marler, lifting up a second hold-all. 'With the weapons you've taken off us it's jolly heavy.'

As though on cue, there was a knock on the door. Newman jumped up, unlocked and opened it cautiously. He said, 'Wait a minute,' closed and relocked the door before he handed an envelope to Tweed.

'A Swiss in a business suit,' he reported.

Tweed opened the envelope, scanned the letter, nodded.

'It's from Arthur Beck. Among the men picked up was one with a suitcase containing twenty million dollars. He had experts open it and they defused a thermite bomb inside. That detective outside is to collect the weapons. We can hardly try to board an aircraft carrying them…'

'What about Gaunt, Eve and Jennie?' Newman asked when he had handed the hold-all to the Swiss and closed the door.

'I had a word with Gaunt before we came up,' Tweed went on. 'He's changed his mind about trying to identify who assassinated Amberg in Cornwall. Maintains it's now a hopeless task – at least that's what he said. He's driving back to Basle with Eve and Jennie. Remember, he berthed his yacht, cabin cruiser- call it what you will – the Mayflower III on the Rhine at Basle. He's sailing back to Padstow.'

'With Eve as well as Jennie?' Paula queried.

'So he said.'

'I find that curious, very strange,' she commented.

'So do I. But as soon as we get back from Washington that's where we're off to. Padstow. We still have to track down who committed mass murder at Tresillian Manor and why. To say nothing of who pushed that poor servant girl, Celia Yeo, off the top of High Tor…'

Marvin Mencken was excited as he sat behind the wheel of his Renault with the window open. As instructed, he had parked the car off the road inside a copse. Invisible to traffic passing along the road, it was close to the footpath running by the lakeside.

Mencken was excited because for the first time he was going to meet the mysterious Norton face to face. He had never liked taking orders from someone he'd not even recognize if he sat next to him in a diner.

Despite the sunshine it was a raw cold day. Mencken kept the engine ticking over so he could turn up the heaters full blast. When it became stuffy he had lowered the automatic window. He also took precautions – protruding from under a cushion on the passenger seat was the butt of a 9-mm. Luger.

He stiffened as he heard the click-clack of heels approaching, then relaxed when he realized it had to be a girl. He caught a glimpse of her as she passed along the footpath towards Vevey. A tall good-looking blonde. Mencken sighed. He had been so busy he hadn't had time to indulge in his favourite form of relaxation with a girl.

The elderly Swiss man with one of their funny hats trudged slowly along the promenade towards him. From under the hat a lot of untidy shaggy grey hair protruded. Perched on his nose was a pair of those weird glasses looking like a couple of half-moons.

The old character walked leaning on a stick, staring out at the lake. Probably came this same walk every day if the weather was OK. Bored as hell with life. Mencken promised himself a lot of fun before he ever got into that state. He put a cigarette in his mouth as the old man was turning on to the footpath. In the next second Norton rammed the muzzle of an HP3S Browning automatic against Mencken's chest through the open window, pulled the trigger. The sound of the shot was muffled by the thick scarf round Mencken's neck which fell over his chest. His head dropped forward.

Norton's gloved hand reached in through the window. He extracted the portion of the unlit cigarette Mencken's teeth had bitten through, dropped it into undergrowth. Opening the door, a wave of foetid heat swept into his face. He quickly shoved the body over sideways on to the floor, grabbed hold of the Luger, pressed the button to shut the automatic window, closed the door.

There was no one about, no traffic in sight when he first hurled the Luger way out into the lake and followed it by throwing the Browning in the same direction. A glance at the car before he left showed him that the windows were already steaming up, masking the view of the corpse even if someone peered in. He had already phoned Senator Wingfield and, with luck, he'd be aboard a flight for Washington before Mencken's body was even discovered. Yes, you must tie up loose ends.

Senator Wingfield had operated the projector screening the film himself. When he'd seen who starred in the horror of the burning log cabin he was glad he'd taken this precaution. His audience in the Chevy Chase study -the banker and the elder statesman – had sat in stunned silence through the viewing, listening to the girl's agonized screaming.