Colin Forbes - The Power

'What about the Uzi Bob is carrying?' Paula pressed.

'All the weapons will be hidden, attached under the chassis of the station wagon and the Espace – including the Uzi. That is the sort of trouble Newman may run into. We shall need those weapons for a final showdown, I'm convinced of that.'

'And we stay in Basle overnight?' Paula asked.

'No! We keep on moving. We arrange to meet Newman and Marler with their transport at Basle Bahnhof. From there we drive on non-stop south-west into French-speaking Switzerland. From Basle to Neuchatel, on past the lake to Yverdon, then due south to Ouchy on the shores of Lake Geneva. Amberg, you did say that is where you have hidden the items I want to see and hear?'

'I did,' the banker replied tersely. 'But we have to stop at my branch in Basle for a few minutes – so I can collect a safe deposit key.'

'Make sure it is only a few minutes. Two of my men will accompany you into the bank. Paula, when we reach the main station in Basle phone up two hotels in Ouchy – the Hotel d'Angleterre to book rooms for Butler and Nield, then the Hotel Chateau d'Ouchy to book rooms for the rest of us, including Amberg.'

'I prefer to stay at-' Amberg began.

'Your preferences went out of the window when we watched a blank screen at the Chateau Noir,' Tweed snapped. 'You stay with us – all the way.'

'So,' Paula mused, 'we'll be ahead of the opposition for once, may never see them again.'

'That,' commented Eve, stretching her arms above her head,'will be a dream.'

'And if you believe that,' Tweed warned, 'considering the huge organization we're up against, you are dreaming…'

On the heights of the Vosges Norton, just managing to stop himself from freezing into a block of ice by keeping the engine running, the heaters turned full up, had earlier received a static-ridden report on progress from Mencken.

Progress! Norton would probably have strangled Mencken had his subordinate been close enough. Bleakly and bluntly Mencken had told his chief about the failure of the major ambush planned on D417.

'You say the Nestle truck was crushed, sent over when the cliff came down?' Norton asked incredulously.

'It was lousy luck…' Mencken began, glad that he was miles away from Norton and close to Munster.

'Luck? Crap! ' Norton shouted. 'Don't give me no smoke. What happened to Phase Two?'

'The huge log pile we were going to roll down on them was frozen solid. So was the earth-moving machine we'd planned to use…'

'And Tweed's convoy is where now?' Norton rarely lost his iron self-control and now had a tight grip on himself as he planned the next move. 'Also where are the cars Yellow, Orange and Brown – the vital reserve? I am assuming you know,' he added sarcastically.

'Cars Orange and Brown got frozen up. I had to call back Yellow to jump-start them. It all took time. I sent the three of them back down route N415 and through Kaysersberg. I hoped to intercept Tweed, but my guess is they were too late. They couldn't go back down the other route – we'd have been caught by the cliff fall.'

'We were,' Norton reminded him. 'Stay where you are until I contact you again. I've got a job to do – since I want it done OK, I'm handling it myself. Keep the reserve in Colmar until I get back to you

…'

Norton, due to arrive at Lac Noir at 6 p.m. to keep the appointment with Growly Voice, deliberately reached the rendezvous early at 5.45p.m. Switching off his headlights, he left the engine running to avoid freezing to death.

Night had fallen and the temperature had fallen with it – to below zero. He lowered the window a few inches, his right hand gripping an HP35 Browning automatic in his lap. His headlights had illuminated a low stone wall with the black waters of the silent lake beyond it.

Very little rattled Norton's nerve but the total lack of sound, the incredible silence and tomb-like atmosphere was unsettling. Where the hell was Growly Voice?

There was no sign of another vehicle, of any human habitation, of any human being. Using his left hand he switched on a powerful torch beam, used it to slowly scan the top of the wall. It was then he saw the wooden box perched on the parapet.

He slid out of the car fast, closing the door quickly so he wasn't illuminated by the courtesy light. For a long minute he stood listening. The icy cold seeped through his astrakhan coat. He approached the box slowly. About a foot long and a foot deep, it was old and the lid was closed. He had an unpleasant suspicion this was a booby-trap. No, that didn't make sense. Growly Voice wanted the big bucks.

The huge sum of money was still under guard in the care of Louis Sheen at a room inside the Hotel Bristol. Earlier Norton had been amused at the thought of Sheen staying tied with handcuffs to the suitcase. The only time he released himself from his burden was when he went to the bathroom or took a shower. Even then he took the suitcase with him.

Norton studied the old box. He was still suspicious. No sign of wires in the torch-light beam. Using the tip of his Browning, he gently lifted the lid until he could see inside. It appeared to be empty. Sucking in a deep breath of icy air, he raised the lid wide open, stared, swore in Marine Corps language.

A sheet of paper was lying at the bottom. Words had been crudely written on it by someone using a felt-tip pen. The infuriating message was clear enough.

Mr Norton. Welcome. If you really want the two items you are interested in bring the money. Proceed now to Ouchy, Switzerland, Lake Geneva. A room has been reserved for you at the Chateau d'Ouchy. Occupy it this evening. You will hear from me. Do not delay a minute. This time, do bring the money. This is your last chance.

Norton hurled the box into the still black waters of the lake. By the light of his torch beam he watched it sink. He returned to his car, closed the door, the window, and pulled out from the glove compartment a collection of maps until he found one of Switzerland.

It took him a while to trace his finger along the shore of Lake Geneva until he located Ouchy. He picked up his mobile phone. By some miracle Mencken answered at once and the connection was loud and clear.

'Ouchy, Switzerland…' Norton spelt the name of the port. 'Move the entire reserve to this goddamned hick place tonight. Spread them out among as many little hotels as you can find. Call me at eleven tonight but don't come near the Chateau d'Ouchy. OK? What the hell do I care how you make it? Get on it, street bum…'

For the moment Norton was no longer concerned with Tweed. His mind was concentrated on getting hold of the film and the tape – and that meant reaching Ouchy fast. Disinclined to linger by the sinister lake – he had glanced up once and in the moonlight had seen the fateful chateau perched like a menace above him.

He drove on as fast as he dared until he reached the N415 which would take him back to Kaysersberg. There he'd make a brief call at the Green Tree, collect his few things, pay the bill. At a lonely spot he pulled in off the road on to a snow-covered verge, kept the engine running.

Taking out his collection of maps, he studied them and decided to take the autoroute to Basle. From there he'd drive on through the night until he reached Ouchy. As he put away the maps he decided he'd better later call in at the Hotel Bristol to check that all his remaining team had left. A careful man with detail, Norton was a fanatic for checking out everything.

Marvin Mencken had taken a few decisions of his own. After receiving orders from Norton, he used his mobile phone to contact car Yellow and arranged to meet the men in that car in Munster.

The leader of this team was Jason, a professional gunman from New Jersey. With a face like a bulldog and the determination of the animal, he was probably the most ruthless American below the ranks of Norton and Mencken.