Deadlock

'No.' Tweed lowered his voice. The Dutch Chief of Police is waiting in my room when you've finished your meal…'

'Finished now, old chap. Duty calls.' Bellenger stood up, wiping his mouth with a napkin, leaving his half-eaten meal. 'Get used to sudden calls to action in the Navy,' he continued as they made their way to the elevator. 'Snatch a bite to eat between watches – and before you've swallowed two mouthfuls there's an emergency. There's one here, isn't there?'

'Let's talk with everyone present. And thank you for flying over so quickly. I want you to impress on these people what we're facing. That armoury of explosives -Triton Three – is now hidden somewhere near here, I'm convinced. Target – Europort.'

'Oh God,' Bellenger said as they stepped out of the elevator. 'They could shut down a continent…'

In his room Van Gorp waited with Newman, Benoit and Butler. Tweed made quick introductions, then poured another cup of coffee for the bluff, ruddy-faced Bellenger who perched on the arm of a chair.

'Tell them,' said Tweed. He looked at Van Gorp, standing with his back to the window. 'But first you should know a huge quantity of new type of explosive was stolen from a depot inside Soviet Russia…'

He phrased the next bit carefully, embroidering to keep his promise of secrecy to Lysenko not to mention Igor Zarov.

'Klein organized the theft of thirty sea-mines and twenty-five bombs of a very advanced type. He used the so-called Free Armenian Movement and others he bribed. That armoury was transported aboard a Greek ship, the Lesbos, which vanished into thin air. Only very recently did we realize it is now a wrecked hulk which has lain off the Norfolk coast for months. The armoury was smuggled ashore, hidden inside a hundred-year-old crypt. The whole operation was brilliantly organized – because in Klein we are up against one of the most ruthless men I've ever encountered. I've lost count of the people he's murdered personally to cover his tracks.' Tweed addressed Bellenger. 'I've just returned from viewing his latest victim – Joseph Haber, a bargee from Dinant. He's lying in his own load of gravel aboard a barge in Waalhaven near here, his throat slashed from ear to ear. That was how the timers and control boxes – designed by a Swiss – came to be smuggled into Holland. We've reached today.'

'Very bad news,' Bellenger commented, 'that bit about Swiss-made timers and control boxes.' He looked at Van Gorp. 'I can't tell you how, but I do know the one crude element used in the Soviet mines and bombs is the detonating device.'

'These mines and bombs,' Van Gorp commented, 'must be pretty large – difficult to hide so many.'

'Not at all. It's a great technical breakthrough-achieved, I suspect, with East German scientists. Both bombs and mines will be very light in weight, exceptionally small in size.' He cupped his hands. 'One no larger than a pineapple could entirely destroy a small ship.'

'What about a seven hundred ton coaster?' Newman enquired.

'Wipe it off the face of the earth. You'd have trouble finding any bits left.' He glanced at Tweed. 'I've heard reports there was a mysterious and huge explosion in the North Sea off the Dutch coast last night.'

'That was the coaster – bringing across the armoury. We're sure the armoury was off-loaded on to smaller vessels in the middle of the sea passage from Norfolk to here. Then a bomb was used to eliminate the coaster.'

'Entirely possible,' Bellenger agreed. He looked at Van Gorp. 'And a frightening prospect for you.'

'Just how powerful are these miniaturized mines and bombs?' the Dutchman asked. 'I mean I'd like some idea of the explosive power of this new stuff.'

'Very crudely put, midway between conventional high-explosive and an atom bomb.'

'I see.' Van Gorp's expression was unusually grim. 'As you say, I might have a problem. Where do we start?' he asked Tweed. 'You've been in on this business from the start. You know more than any of us about this Klein. Incidentally, I've informed the Minister of your status with the Anti-Terrorist Squad. You know what he replied? "Well, that regularizes the situation." Just that…'

He broke off as the phone rang, picked it up, spoke a few words in English, then handed it to Tweed. 'For you. A Paula Grey, speaking from Dinant.'

'How is it going, Paula?'

'Fine. Marvellous news!' She sounded jubilant. 'We've found Martine and her son, Lucien.' Her voice became guarded. 'I'm speaking from Dinant police HQ – over an open line.'

'Understood.'

'They're both OK. A bit stressed after their experience – we found them locked up in an old mill tower. I'll be catching a train to Namur, then another from there to Brussels. I'll catch the first flight to Rotterdam. See you at the Hilton.' Her voice changed again. 'Any news of Joseph Haber?'

Tweed braced himself. 'Are Martine and Lucien in the room with you?'

'No, I'm alone, but they're here. Why did you ask that?'

'Bad news, Paula…'

'Oh, no. He's not…?'

'Dead. Yes. Found by the Dutch in the middle of the night aboard the Erika in a docking basin here. His throat was cut. More of Klein's work.'

'I'll have to tell them – Martine and Lucien…'

'Get that policeman, Pierre, to break the news. Police are used to it.'

'I'll leave out the part about his cut throat.' Her tone was firm. 'But I'm going to tell them. Don't try and argue me out of it. See you at the Hilton. I'm going now.'

There was a click at the other end. Tweed replaced the receiver. Gutsy, very gutsy. He told the others the news. It was Newman who reacted first.

'She shouldn't come to Rotterdam. She's had enough. Hell is going to break loose here.'

'It goes with the territory,' Tweed said tersely. He opened his brief-case, took out the Identikit sketch of Igor Zarov and handed it to Van Gorp.

'That's Klein. You might want to make copies and distribute them to your men. And you asked where do we start before I took that call. If you can supply transport I'd like to go out to Europort with Newman – and maybe you, too, Benoit?'

The Belgian nodded agreement as Tweed continued.

'I'm getting to know how Klein's mind works. I might just see something useful. In any case…'He gave a grim smile. '… it always helps to survey the battlefield before the war starts. Incidentally,' he asked Van Gorp, 'what about the SAS team my PM was flying to Schiphol?'

'I was going to tell you. They've arrived. I offered to provide a room at the airport where they could all kip down while they waited. Their commander, chap called Blade, had other ideas. Insisted they should be scattered in two's and three's. They've left their kit in the chartered plane which flew them in. They're dressed like tourists. Some are sleeping in chairs in the departure lounge.'

That sounds like Blade,' Newman observed. 'Just as I remember him. Security comes before God with him.'

'Blade is anxious to see you, Tweed, when he can,' Van Gorp went on. 'It's about twenty kilometres to Europort, thirty to the North Sea if you want to go all the way.'

'All the way.'

"Then you could meet Blade here in about three hours' time.'

'Fix it for me.'

'Mind you…' Van Gorp hesitated as if embarrassed. The Minister was grateful to your PM for SAS support -but he pointed out if we face an emergency it will be up to our own Marines to make any assault on their own. They've already been confined to their barracks. Just in case, he said.'

'Still not convinced?'

'By no means. I doubt if he'll put a strong case before the Cabinet which is now in session. I did my best.' He shrugged, looked down at the Identikit sketch he was still holding. 'At least I can get copies made of this and they'll be distributed within the hour. Excuse me while I attend to it.'

He phoned the desk and shortly afterwards a plainclothes man joined them. Van Gorp gave him the Identikit, speaking in rapid Dutch. When the man had left the room he picked up his trilby.