Colin Forbes - Double Jeopardy

He was watching Loomis closely. The American had swung his legs off the bunk and was opening another can of beer. Tweed shook his head, his eyes fixed on Loomis who was staring into the distance.

'Maybe that was when the bastard first started to dislike me,' he said eventually.

Tweed sat quite still. He had experienced this before with interrogations – you sensed when pure chance had played into your lap. There was a time to speak, a time to preserve silence.

Loomis stood up and stared through a porthole across the peaceful waters. The craft rocked gently, scarcely moving. Tweed looked round the neat cabin. The American kept a tidy ship. He had kept a tidy desk at Langley, Tweed recalled – which was where he should still be. Loomis started talking.

'This particular unit in West Berlin was just these two guys – keeping tabs on the East German espionage set-up. It was one time Carlos was reported as being in East Berlin…'

'Really?'

'We had a system of identification codes,' Loomis continued, 'so I always knew when a signal came from O'Meara and when it was from Lou Carson – without either man knowing the other had his personal call-sign. We started playing it pretty close to the chest after the debacle…'

'Let me get this clear. Each man had his own identification signal so you knew who was sending a report. But both O'Meara arid Carson thought the system applied only to them – not to the other?'

'You've got it. You know, Tweed, you get a feeling when something is wrong. Signals were coming through from O'Meara but the wording didn't sound like O'Meara – although they carried his sign. So I hopped on a plane and arrived in West Berlin unannounced. Lou Carson was pretty embarrassed. I'd caught him with his pants down. He was on his own…'

'And where was O'Meara?'

'He surfaced two days later. Swore he had gone underground to another base for a couple of months because our normal one had been blown to the East German security people…'

'You believed him?' Tweed pressed.

'No, but that was only a gut feeling. You don't go to the Director with gut feelings. He likes solid evidence…'

'How had O'Meara got round the identification system?'

'Simple – he'd handed Lou Carson his identification log book so Lou could send messages and it would look as though they came from O'Meara. Carson cooperated because O'Meara told him to…'

'What happened next?' Tweed asked while Loomis was still wound up.

'Both men were recalled to Washington and others took their place. O'Meara had done a good job in West Berlin, he knew the right people, he can charm the birds out of the trees. Before I know it, he's promoted over my head and he's sending me to Bahrain with two hundred thousand dollars in a case aboard a special flight…'

'You said he embezzled the money.'

'Let me finish, for Christ's sake! When the people with the guns for Afghanistan checked the money I handed over they said it was counterfeit. They had a bright Indian who had worked for currency printers…'

'The counterfeit was good enough to deceive you?'

'I'd have accepted it without question. O'Meara had the case locked in his office safe, he took it out and handed it to me. He levered me out of the Company over that incident,' Loomis blazed. 'They let me go quietly because there had been too many scandals and they were worried about their image…'

'O'Meara just cleaned you out? No one else?'

'Lou Carson went. There were others. He was bringing in his own people. When he'd wrecked half-a-dozen lives he joins the Secret Service and walks away from the wreckage. There are guys like that everywhere…'

'It happens – but it's not pleasant,' Tweed murmured, then he changed the subject. Best to leave a pleasant atmosphere behind when he boarded Concorde for London the following day.

The second long-distance call to Manfred came duly at the agreed hour the following day while Tweed was aboard the Oasis. It was Manfred who opened the conversation.

'You have nothing to worry about. Tweed is in Washington.'

'The devil he is! How do you know that?'

'Because I have people everywhere. The problem is a small one. Measures have already been taken to deal with it…'

'You mean you're going to have Tweed…'

'Enough! And the answer to your question is no. It would be bad policy. Crocodile will proceed on schedule. Now I must go – I have matters to attend to…'

It would be bad policy… Manfred stood quite still, staring into space. He had not been quite frank with his caller, but Manfred was often anything but frank. He was' certainly not going to admit that the killing of Tweed would be an extremely difficult operation. The Englishman was equipped with a sixth sense where danger was concerned.

Instead there was a better way; of dealing with the problem. He picked up the phone again to call a Washington number.

It was Sunday May 31. Tweed had spent the night aboard Oasis – which the American had moved to a fresh mooring. This action confirmed the nervousness Tweed had detected on his arrival.

'Never stay in the same place for long,' Loomis remarked as he tied up the cruiser to a fresh buoy. 'And always move after dark without lights.'

'Illegal, isn't it?' Tweed enquired. 'To sail without navigation lights?'

'Bet your sweet life it is

Over a meal which the American cooked in the galley they talked about old times. Loomis remarked he had heard Tweed was being held in reserve for 'the time when Howard trips over his big feet. Then they bring you back to clean up the mess. No, don't protest,' he admonished, waving his spatula, 'my grapevine is good.'

Just prior to his departure for Dulles, it was Tweed who noticed two incidents which disturbed him. He was on deck with his suitcase, waiting for Loomis to climb down the ladder into the dinghy, when he observed movement onshore.

'Loan me your field-glasses, Clint,' he called out.

Something in his guest's tone made Loomis react quickly. Tweed raised the glasses to his eyes, adjusted the focus and studied the shoreline briefly. Then he handed them back, his lips compressed.

'Bird-watching?' Loomis enquired.

'There were two men in the trees over there. One of them had a camera with a telephoto lens – bloody great piece of equipment. I think he was photographing the Oasis..

'Probably just a camera nut. They shoot anything.'

They had climbed down into the dinghy and the dog, Waldo, stood at the top of the ladder keening, when a helicopter appeared, flying from the Chesapeake Bay direction down the. centre of the channel. As they left the cruiser Tweed craned his neck to get a look at the machine. 'That's the third time that chopper has over-flown us since I arrived,' Tweed commented.

`You see them all the time in this part of the world. Coastguard machines, private jobs…'

Loomis was concentrating on steering the dinghy to where they had parked his car. Tweed, hunched in the stern, continued staring up at the helicopter. The sun was reflecting off the plexiglas, making it impossible to see inside the pilot's cabin.

'I think it was the same machine each time,' he insisted. Loomis was unconcerned. 'It's O.K. – we left Waldo on board.'

At Dulles they repeated their performance of the previous day – wasting no time. Tweed got out of the car and walked rapidly into the building without a glance back. Behind him he heard Loomis already driving away.

Aboard Concorde after lift-off it seemed to Tweed he might never have visited America – it had all happened so quickly. He was so absorbed in his thoughts he never noticed when they passed through the sound barrier. Fragments of conversation with Loomis drifted back into his mind.

… O'Meara… surfaced two days later… he had gone underground to another base… a couple of months.., he'd handed Lou Carson his identification logbook…