'Pipped you at the post?' Marler suggested.
'Actually, no. Paula has already agreed to join me for dinner at Daphne's this evening.'
Marler had left Tweed alone when Monica came into the office. She sat at her desk, began tidying files, then asked the question.
'One thing I can't understand. Klein must have been amazingly greedy. He already had twelve million Swiss francs from the bullion stolen in Basle. More than enough to set him up for life. Why go on and risk mounting that huge operation to grab even more money? I know it was a huge amount…'
Tweed paused, glanced at the door to make sure it was closed. Again he hesitated before he began speaking.
'This is strictly between the two of us. Forever. The PM did tell me what was really at stake when it was all over. Came out in her conversation with the General Secretary. Inside Russia there is a powerful faction which doesn't like Gorbachev and his reforms, a hard-line group which wants to bring him down, take over power. Partly Red Army, partly KGB. Identities unknown – even to Gorbachev. Zarov was their agent.'
'Still don't understand.'
The conspiracy was diabolically clever. This group realized they couldn't safely organize a coup inside Russia. They decided to set up a secret base outside the Soviet Union – South America. From there they would organize the coup – probably through sympathizers inside various Soviet embassies. A plan like that takes money, a great deal of money. Hence the assault on Europort. When the coup succeeded, I suspect Zarov had been promised the top KGB job, probably a seat on the Politburo. I think he saw a quick route to become General Secretary in due course. Imagine a man like that ruling Russia. A lust for power was the driving force. None of this was revealed to me until last night. I think the PM decided to tell me because I was lucky enough to foil the attempt. And anyone who succeeded Gorbachev was bound to be a menace to the West. Which is why she decided to help him.'
'What a terrifying thought. A man like Zarov running Russia.'
'Don't let it keep you awake. It's all over now. I hope.'
Time passed. The authorities had boarded up the entrance from the highway to Cockley Ford. No one ever went near the place. Nature – Breckland – began to take over in its slow relentless way.
Ivy and other creepers invaded the abandoned village. Spreading up the cottage walls, they penetrated the windows, crept into the rooms. The gardens became a jungle, merging with the encroaching forest. The footbridge alongside the ford collapsed. The road through the village disappeared as undergrowth took root.
A small boy vanished and was never seen again. A searching helicopter had great difficulty locating Cockley Ford. Eventually it found the place. From the air humpbacked mounds engulfed in vegetation were all the pilot could see of the scorched village. As though Nature had buried forever the cottages where so much evil had originated.