Deadlock

'I know you, Tweed. I think you could be right. Although it could still be Antwerp. But can I convince my Minister? Like hell I can. The same problem – he wants ironclad evidence before he'll put Antwerp on siege alert. The most I could get is an order for the Antwerp port authority to reinforce security – which means no more than bringing another dozen men back on duty.'

'What about the SAS team?' asked Newman.

'They would be your first thought,' Tweed observed, 'considering you once served with them for a short time.'

'He did?' Benoit was surprised. 'When was that?'

'Oh when I was commissioned to do a series of articles on the organization. To get the proper flavour I asked to be put on one of their courses. It was sheer bloody murder, but I survived. Largely due to the prodding I got from the commander, Blade. Not his real name.'

'Blade,' Tweed informed him, 'is in charge of the team flying in to Schiphol tonight.'

'They are going in then?'

'The PM's decision. She's informing the Dutch Government as the team is in the air. They can always fly back if she can't persuade The Hague of the appalling danger they face. Which brings me to a further request I have to make,' he said, turning to Benoit. 'Would you loan us that Alouette again – to fly me to Rotterdam tonight with Newman and Butler? Another pilot is available, I hope?'

'You need the same chap, Georges Quintin. He took us down the hole in the clouds on the Meuse when you spotted that sunken barge. If Rotterdam gets hairy, he's your man. He ate a meal at the airport and went straight to sleep. He'll be fresher than any of us.'

'Us?'

'I think I'm coming with you. You know Van Gorp, chief of police in The Hague?'

'Yes. Very unorthodox in his methods. Nearly sacked twice for being too tough, for taking decisions on his own in emergencies.'

'A close friend of mine. Together we may be able to convince him. Then he'll act.'

'Talking about that sunken barge, the Gargantua, we still have to locate the other barge, the Erika, and its owner, Joseph Haber. I'm still convinced he's transporting those timer devices which detonate the explosives. Find Haber, we have definitely found the target.'

'No news yet, I fear. I checked by phone from the Minister's house. Last seen just south of Liege. Doesn't tell us much.'

Tweed took his charts of the canal system from the brief-case he carried everywhere. He studied them for a moment. 'Just south of Liege,' he commented. 'He could have continued north up the Meuse – to where it becomes the Maas in Holland. Or he could have moved into the Albert Canal

'Which would lead him direct to Antwerp,' Benoit pointed out.

'I still say Europort,' Tweed insisted. 'And talking about Haber, we've left Paula behind in Dinant trying to locate his kidnapped wife and child. I want her to be able to get in touch with me.'

'Easy,' replied Benoit. 'Leave it to me. She's searching with that competent-looking policeman, Pierre. I'll call Dinant police HQ, leave a message for her to phone here. You leave your own message.'

'Which will say?' Newman asked. 'She's had a pretty gruelling time already.'

'So,' Tweed responded, 'we'll see what she's really made of.' He looked at Benoit. 'Where shall we be staying in Rotterdam?'

'The Hilton. It's central.' He stood up. 'I'll go and get an assistant to deal with it, book us rooms there, including one for Paula. Also, I'll warn Chief of Police Van Gorp we're on our way.'

As he left the room Tweed scribbled a note for Paula. Newman was shaking his head when he glanced up. 'All right, Bob,' he said, 'you like the girl. So do I. She'll never forgive me if she isn't in at the death.'

'Depends whose death it is,' Newman snapped.

Klein left the night train at Antwerp Central. The car he had phoned the hire people for was waiting for him outside the station. A black BMW. He showed identification in the name Peter Conway in the form of a forged driving licence. He paid the fee for the special service involved, climbed behind the wheel and drove to the Plaza Hotel.

He parked a short distance back from but with a good view of the entrance. At Brussels Midi he'd seen Lara board a coach of the same express he'd travelled on. He sat waiting, knowing she would arrive soon. Taxis had been scarce at Antwerp station in the middle of the night. But sooner or later she would arrive. Then he would have to move quickly.

'One thing I forgot to tell you,' Benoit said when he returned to his office. "That French ferret who never lets go – The Parrot – reported Lara Seagrave left the Mayfair Hotel earlier this evening. She had dinner at the Hilton. A restaurant called the Maison de B?uf, he thinks. He nearly lost her. She was on foot and he had to park his motor-cycle. He walked into the lobby just in time to see her enter an elevator in the distance. It stopped at the first floor and came down again empty. That restaurant is on the first floor. He sat it out in the lobby until she reappeared and walked back to the Mayfair.'

'Doesn't he ever give up?' asked Tweed.

'Never. We've offered him relief, to put one of our own officers on the job. He agrees – for a few hours. Then he's back again. Highly irregular- a French detective operating here. But his sheer doggedness has impressed the hell out of us. Says that he followed her from Marseilles!'

'He did just that,' said Tweed. 'Ferret is the word. Now, I need to keep in close touch with Park Crescent.'

'All arranged. When that Monica of yours phones we'll give her your room number at the Hilton, Rotterdam. And we can take a message while we're airborne.'

'The Alouette is ready?'

'Quintin, the pilot, phoned me. He'll take off the moment we reach Brussels Airport.' Klein watched Lara get out of the cab in front of the Plaza. She took her time paying the fare and while she did this a second cab appeared in his rear view mirror and crawled to a stop about thirty yards behind him. Klein waited for someone to alight from the second cab. No one did.

He cursed inwardly as Lara disappeared inside the hotel. At the last moment she was being tracked. How the devil could that have happened? He waited several minutes and then a small man alighted from the cab and trudged along the sidewalk,

Hands in pockets, The Parrot walked past the BMW. Glancing inside he saw a man wearing a trilby hat slumped behind the wheel, head turned away, obviously fast asleep. Probably resting after an evening's hard drinking. The Parrot went inside the hotel, approached the receptionist behind the counter. He spoke in English.

'I have a message for a young lady I believe has just arrived. A Miss Smith.'

The sharp-eyed night clerk shook his head. 'No one of that name registered here.'

'I thought I saw her walk in just a few minutes ago,' The Parrot persisted.

'You must be mistaken. No one of that name here.'

The Parrot walked back to his cab. He'd hoped to extract the name Lara was using. He climbed inside the cab, settled down to wait. He must be losing his grip. He felt incredibly tired. Eyes pricking, every limb aching.

Klein, watching him in the mirror, cursed again. He took one of his quick decisions. Starting the engine, he revved it up several times as though he'd had trouble starting it. Which would explain his parking at the kerb in the middle of the night. Then he drove off.

Arriving at Boekstraat, he parked at the entrance, put on a pair of dark glasses and walked to the sleazy hotel where he'd met Lara during her earlier trip to Antwerp, the hotel where Chabot and Hipper were staying.

The same sordid woman was sitting behind her counter. He gave the names his men were using, obtained the room numbers and went up and woke them in turn. He handed Hipper an unmarked map of Delft, the ancient Dutch town a few miles north of Rotterdam. His index finger pin-pointed the location of a camp site.

'It's near Delft-Noord. Get dressed at once. Drive straight to this site. A man called Legaud will receive you. Did you deal with Haber's family at the mill?'