Blood Storm

'Fireworks?'

'That diabolical prison must go. I have also cancelled the monthly allowance to my three evil offspring. Are you ready, sir?'

'Ready for what?'

'The fireworks.'

Saying which, the General took out a cigarette lighter, bent down, lit it, and with a quick movement let the flame touch the edge of the pipe which disappeared towards the prison. The flame flared along the outside of the pipe into the distance. The General stood up, stepped back close to Tweed, put the lighter in his pocket.

'When it reaches the prison the pipe is full of petrol inside,' he explained. 'I once served a short spell with the Royal Engineers.'

Tweed was almost hypnotized, watching the low line of fire sweeping towards the prison. The General checked his watch.

'You have five minutes to catch the ferry. Wait just a little longer.'

'The Slovaks don't have explosives, do they?'

'I did notice they are careless about storing grenades.'

'In which case…'

'They will explode.'

'I suppose the Slovaks who built this place will be away at lunch?'

'They have taken to eating lunch inside the prison. About now.'

'So…'

'They will be on the premises.'

'You don't like the Slovaks?'

'Not the ones from the Tatra mountains. In Bratislava I once met several I liked.'

Tweed was watching the progress of the flaring pipe. It was getting close to the prison buildings. No sign of guards. They were getting careless.

'The grenades may injure a few,' Tweed remarked.

'Oh, there's something else,' the General said casually. 'I've explored the place in the night. The Slovaks sleep inside an encampment some distance away. I found a store of bricks of Semtex.'

'My God!'

'I think you should catch that ferry now. You were never here. I was taking a nap in my house. Good luck with finding that murdering animal. I'm sure you will. The fire has reached the section of pipe filled with petrol. Go now.'

Tweed saw the distant pipe flare up into a huge column of flame. It had reached the inside of the prison complex. He hurried back to the ferry. The barge was just leaving. Scrambling aboard the stern, Tweed went to the prow so he could get off quickly. Soon they were in mid-channel.

He looked back. Well beyond the oil-refinery complex the world was on fire. Great tongues of flames shot skywards. Black Island became Red Island. The ferryman, at the stern, stared in disbelief as the inferno increased in intensity. Then the devastating explosion roared and Tweed knew the fire had reached the Semtex.

Large sheets of steel were hurled upwards as the explosion destroyed the hideous prison. And the Slovaks who had erected it, Tweed thought. Was it his imagination – or did he see half a body tossed up, a burning body, before it fell back out of sight?

'Stupid foreigners!' the ferryman shouted.

Tweed shrugged, gave no reply as the barge slid in to the mainland dock. He stepped down and hurried towards Tolhaven. Since he'd taken the precaution of buying a return ticket he was able to leave the ferry immediately.

Tolhaven's main street was, as usual, deserted. When he had reached his car parked outside the town he took off the beret he had worn. Amazing how such a simple article changed the appearance of a man who never normally wore any kind of hat.

He paused at the crest of a hill, looked back. The western tip of Black Island beyond the refinery was a curtain of flame.

As he headed back for Park Crescent Tweed mentally crossed off General Macomber from his list of murder suspects.

34

While Tweed was on his way to Tolhaven, Newman was obeying his order to interview Noel Macomber. He phoned Noel first.

'Robert Newman, SIS, here. I think we should meet urgently.'

'Why?' the soft voice whispered.

'To discuss a peaceful solution.'

'I see,' after a long pause. He'd consulted his colleagues. 'Where? When?' he enquired.

'Now. I could arrive at your building at twelve. You know a discreet bar near you?'

'Yes. I'll leave our HQ at twelve.'

So it came about that Newman found himself seated with Noel in the leather-walled alcove of an exclusive bar in Victoria Street. They faced each other. Noel had occupied the seat inside the alcove, his back to the wall as he swirled his second glass of Scotch.

When he first saw him descend the steps of the HQ building Newman was startled. Noel wore a smart white suit, a pink shirt, a colourful cravat and two-toned shoes. Now, in the quiet bar each was waiting for the other to speak first.

Newman had studied the face of his opponent. It was peculiar. Triangular in shape with the apex the pointed jaw. Yet there was a certain handsomeness many women would find attractive. The almost lidless eyes were yellow and rarely moved. Newman decided it was time to move in for the kill.

'Where were you on these nights?' he asked, pushing forward a sheet of paper with the two murder dates. 'Between the hours of 11 p.m. and 3 a.m.?'

'Funny way to start discussing a peaceful solution.'

'Tweed has a long list of suspects. We eliminate you and move on to the next name. Logical.'

'You really expect me to recall where I was on two out-of-the-blue dates?'

'Yes. Because in both cases – Viola and Marina – the crimes were splashed all over the following morning's papers.'

'Point,' Noel agreed. 'On each night I was drunk and went to my flat at ten o'clock to sleep it off.'

'Anyone to confirm that?'

'Not those nights.' Noel grinned wolfishly. 'I didn't have a girl with me in bed. Too drunk.'

'Did you know either woman?'

'I visited Marina about a month ago at midnight.' A second wolfish grin. 'She only worked in the early hours, if you catch my meaning.'

'And Viola?'

'Didn't know she existed until I read the paper about her unfortunate experience.'

'It was more than unfortunate for her.'

'I suppose it was.' Noel emptied his glass, called for a refill, raised his thin eyebrows at Newman, who shook his head. He was on his first Scotch still. 'Newman, can you keep a secret until late this afternoon?'

'I suppose so.'

'Nelson is being appointed to the Cabinet. As Minister for Internal Security. A new post.' Noel raised his thin brows which exposed all his yellowish eyes. Disconcerting. 'You won't, then, be rushing to phone your chum, Drew Franklin?'

'Hardly, since he isn't my chum. Regarding a peaceful solution. Wouldn't the first step be to dismantle the awful prison system being erected on Black Island?'

'Damn it!' Noel exploded, his face turning red. 'You're conspiring to wreck a system it has taken us months to plan.'

He jumped up to leave, but not before he had swallowed his third full glass of Scotch. 'Now Nelson will be in the Cabinet this afternoon I'll be able to have you as the first one thrown into the prison on Black Island. As a social saboteur.'

He dived out of the alcove, rushed for the door, very fleet of foot, Newman noticed. Then he rushed back, threw a twenty-pound note on the table, rushed again through the bar and in doing so nearly knocked over a waiter before disappearing full tilt into the street.

'He must be annoyed at something,' Newman said with a smile to the stunned waiter as he also walked slowly out of the bar.

It was a very thoughtful Newman who made his way back up Whitehall to where he had parked his car.

35

Nield, waiting in Whitehall near the Cabal's HQ, was taken aback at Benton Macomber's reaction to his approach. He had expected hostility initially. He walked up to Benton as he descended the steps into the side street.