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'What does this Hanover look like?'

'I have no idea. Always gave instructions on the phone.'

'What did he sound like?'

'Very odd. The voice was so distorted I couldn't decide whether it was a man or a woman. Victor Warner infuriated Hanover when he slipped in and bought a large piece of land they'd overlooked. I didn't handle that transaction. I suppose Warner has some big solicitor in the City.'

The dam had broken. It had all come tumbling out because he was frightened. The whisky had probably helped.

'Ever try to trace Hanover?' Harry asked casually.

'Well… once. I used the four numbers which provide the number that calls you. Turned out it was a call-box in Berkeley Square. I rang a long time and a passer-by eventually answered, told me the number and where this phone-box was.'

'Nothing but the best for Mr Hanover. Berkeley Square. How was the money delivered to you?'

'By one of those big international transport firms who want a signature. That really is all I know about New Age.' He paused, his voice shook. 'I won't hear any more about those two murders, will I? I cooperated.'

'I can't promise, but I very much doubt it. Providing you never tell Mr Hanover about my visit. If you do we shall know.'

20

Tweed and Paula stepped inside the luxurious lift with its gilded mirrors and red leather seats. Tweed had decided Victor Warner must be working away from the Ministry and inside his flat in Belgravia. As the elevator ascended, Paula glanced round.

'Some people live in style.'

'He has money,' Tweed told her.

'I know. From some brand of laxative.'

Mrs Carson, the forbidding grey-haired housekeeper, opened the apartment door. She was polite but distant.

'Good afternoon, Mr Tweed. I didn't know you were expected.'

'I'm not. This is an emergency…'

The Minister looked up from a desk in the palatial living-room, hastily scooped up a pile of papers, put them inside a Cabinet red box, closed it. He stood up, tall, agile and bad-tempered. His hawk-like face was grim, his eyes glittered behind the pince-nez, his voice was crisply upper crust.

'People call for an appointment, they don't come barging in without notice.'

'Yes, I know. I recall your summons via him.'

He pointed to Palfry, seated on a sofa when they arrived. He had now stood up with an unctuous smile. The small neat man tried to pour oil on the troubled waters.

'Either of you…' he gave Paula a beaming smile 'could have contacted me but I sense an urgency about you. Is there a problem?'

'Of course there is. I imagine you both know a very major attack is expected on London soon. Or doesn't that bother you?' he suggested, staring straight at the Minister.

'Please do sit down, make yourselves comfortable.' Palfry said quickly, ushering them to a sofa facing Warner's chair sideways on. 'We are all on the same side.'

'Most reassuring,' Tweed responded in an unconvinced tone.

As they sat on the sofa Warner was still standing, glaring. With obvious reluctance he swung his chair round to face them, slowly sat down. Even seated he appeared tall, lean.

'Have you ever heard of Gerald Hanover?' Tweed snapped.

'Who?' Warner polished his pince-nez, perched them back on the bridge of his prominent nose.

'Gerald Hanover,' Tweed repeated.

'Can't say that I have. Who is he?'

'Oh, probably the key piece in this deadly game of chess we are playing with the invisible enemy… So far that's all we know.' He paused. 'Could be a man or a woman…'

The door opened and Eva Brand walked in, carrying a tray with tea for three. Paula stared as Eva placed the tray where they could reach it. She blew a kiss at Paula. Again Palfry spoke up quickly, smiling amiably.

'This is Eva Brand. I think you know her, Miss Grey. Eva, her companion is Tweed of the SIS.'

'Happy to meet you,' Eva said, as though she had never met Tweed in his office. 'How do you like your tea? It's Earl Grey. I hope that is acceptable.'

'It is most acceptable and very kind of you,' said Paula, who had taken over Palfry's role of covering for her host. Tweed was sitting in grim silence.

'Eva,' Palfry went on explaining, 'is a close friend of mine. An exceptionally intelligent lady.'

'Does a bit of work for us,' growled Warner, annoyed at others taking over the conversation. 'Nothing secret, of course.'

'Then that may make some of what I have to say awkward,' Tweed snapped.

'Don't worry, my dear chap,' Warner said, smiling acidly. 'Miss Brand was with Medfords Security. She is the epitome of discretion.'

'I suppose you've heard,' Tweed plunged forward, 'that the head of Special Branch, Jasper Buller, has disappeared. In very similar circumstances to those of your wife – and Mrs Gobble.'

'It's distressing, disturbing.' Warner gazed at the ceiling.

'It's more than that. It could be mass murder,' Tweed went on brutally. 'And it centres on that weird village, Carpford. We need to tear the place to pieces.'

'Already happening,' Warner said harshly. 'I've been to Carpford -I have a home there – and Buchanan has dragged Carp Lake. His team worked with searchlights through the night…'

'And found what?'

'No need to be so aggressive, Tweed. We have to keep our heads. He discovered nothing – except tadpoles. And that with a very large team of divers. I told Buchanan he had to clear the place up before they left…'

'And how did he respond to that?'

'Said he had already ordered his men to do just that. So, a complete waste of time.'

'News is beginning to get into the papers,' Tweed stormed, 'that there is a major threat to London. And Buller's disappearance, linked to the other two, will appear in the Daily Nation tomorrow. Newman has written a large article on these sinister events.'

'We could put a D notice on that,' warned the Minister.

'What on earth for? The public must be warned. It's not a state secret.'

'I just hope…' Warner paused to clean his pince-nez, a trick Paula suspected he used to emphasize what was coming next. He replaced the pince-nez, smiled unpleasantly.

'… As I was saying, I hope Newman hasn't gone wild and produced something that will panic London!'

'He hasn't mentioned where the danger is coming from. If that is what is unnerving you.'

'Nothing wrong with my nerves.' Again the twisted smile. 'I do know we have to be on our guard against the Real IRA.'

'We're going.' Tweed stood up with a face like thunder. 'I don't think we have anything more to say to each other.' He paused near the door, Paula by his side, his tone gentle. 'I just hope you will soon hear better news about your wife.'

'Thank you. Most kind of you.'

Eva had joined them. 'I'll see them out,' she called back.

She closed the door and Mrs Carson, tight-lipped, appeared. Eva smiled at her. 'I'm showing our visitors out. I know you have so much to do.'

Mrs Carson glared, not pleased at what she considered was her position being usurped. Without a word she walked away, slammed a door behind her.

'She's a bit touchy,' Eva said with a smile. 'Since Victor isn't often here she feels she has control here.' They had stepped into the lift. Eva spoke rapidly as it descended. 'Mr Tweed, could I come to see you again at Park Crescent? I'd phone first, of course.'

'Come at any time, please do.' Tweed was now his amiable self. 'We can have lunch or dinner, if you like.'

'I would like.' She gave him a flashing smile.

'You were pretty tough,' Paula observed as Tweed got behind the wheel of the car and Paula sat beside him.