The Power

'The cool bags are still in the Land-Rover,' Jennie reminded him. 'Shouldn't they be put aboard? And I'm not carting them.'

Gaunt's expression changed. He looked furious. 'Haven't you realized it's like the Arctic out there? They'll be all right for the moment.'

'Aboard?' Paula chipped in. 'You mean aboard your super cabin cruiser, Mayflower III?. Going somewhere in her?'

Gaunt looked ready to explode. 'Who told you that?' he barked at her. 'About my vessel?'

'One of the locals.' Paula gazed steadily back at him. 'I couldn't even identify him now.'

'That's the trouble with a place like Padstow.' Gaunt had lowered his voice. 'So parochial, so incestuous – they know all your business. I couldn't afford to own a vessel like that,' he went on more breezily. 'I just lease her for short trips. Down to Plymouth or up to Watchet.'

Paula nodded, not believing him. She stared at a shelf above the front of the bar. It was crammed with old suitcases, attache cases and several ancient trunks. All pre-Second World War. She glanced towards the door.

Tweed was standing there. He gestured for her to join him.

'Excuse me,' said Paula. 'Back in a minute…'

'I'm going to phone Howard again,' Tweed told Paula as she joined him outside in the bitter cold. 'I'd like you to hear how he reacts. And there's someone else I want to try and contact afterwards… Later, tell me how you got on at Five Lanes. Too much happening at the moment…'

Squeezed up against Tweed inside the phone box Paula waited while he dialled the Surrey mansion. She had one ear close to the receiver. The operator put Tweed straight through to Howard. His first words were not reassuring.

Tweed, I've never known a situation like this. I just don't know what the hell is going on.'

Tell me why you say that,' Tweed suggested quietly.

'I've been trying to get through to the PM ever since we last talked. No dice. Always before he's taken my calls immediately – even in the middle of a Cabinet meeting.'

'Exactly what happens when you call Downing Street?'

'I get that bloody private secretary. Excuse my swearing, but this is crazy. The secretary always says he's busy, in the House or away. Anywhere except at

Downing Street. He said I should cease all operations until I do hear from the PM. Ruddy sauce!'

'And have you – ceased all operations with our people abroad?'

'I damned well have done nothing of the sort. Tweed, I feel like a prisoner, shut up here in this mansion.'

'You are a prisoner – but a safe one so long as you do not venture out,' Tweed warned.

'Have you any leads?' Howard asked desperately. 'You and your team are the only ones on the outside.'

^! I might have. Just leave everything to me. Soon I'll be very active. Stay calm

Tweed stared at Paula after he'd put down the receiver. 'What do you think?'

'Scared. Who has the power to manipulate the PM to this extent?'

'I'm going to make that other call. To Jim Corcoran, our friendly Chief of Security at London Airport. That is, if he is still friendly. I have his private number at the airport.'

He dialled a number and it rang and rang. When it was answered the speaker sounded irritable.

'Corcoran. Who is it?'

'Hello, Jim, this is Tweed. I need your help.'

'That could be difficult. Under the circumstances.' He sounded cautious. 'What is it?'

'What circumstances? Come on, you owe me more than a few.'

True, Tweed, true.' Corcoran sounded warmer. He paused. 'What can I do for you?'

'Three days ago someone called Joel Dyson – I'll spell out that name.., may have flown to Zurich. I need confirmation if he did. You could find out by checking the passenger manifests. I can be-'

'Check the passenger manifests! Have you any idea just how long that would take?'

'I was going on to say I can be precise. Three days ago, I said. Sometime in the evening. By Swissair.'

That's better. I'm not promising anything. I have to use another phone…

'I'll hold on,' Tweed repeated. 'I'm a long way off and it would be difficult to call you back.'

'Hang on, then…'

Paula, who had listened in, looked at Tweed, puzzled. He shook his head so she wouldn't speak. He put more coins in the slot. Corcoran was back within minutes.

'I've got it. A Joel Dyson travelled first class to Zurich three days ago. Aboard Flight SR 805. Departed Heathrow 2350 hours, ETA Zurich 0225 hours, local time.'

'I'm grateful. One more favour. This call was never made. You haven't heard from me – whoever puts pressure on you.'

'You know, I have a terrible memory sometimes. Tweed, are you OK?'

'No bones broken, not a scratch on me. I was born lucky.'

'Just make sure you stay lucky,' Corcoran said in a grave voice.

10

'I don't understand,' Paula said after they had left the phone box. 'Why these enquiries about Joel Dyson?'

'Let's walk about for a few minutes. There are things I should have told you.'

'Bob and Philip will start wondering what's happened to me…'

The words were hardly out of her mouth when Newman came out of the bar, staring round. Paula waved to him, gave a thumbs-up signal. Newman grinned, relieved to find she was with Tweed. He waved to them and went back into the bar.

Paula led Tweed to the brink of the inner harbour. She pointed to the Mayflower III.

'Believe it or not, that belongs to Gaunt. When I mentioned the fact to him in the bar he looked annoyed that I knew, then said he only leased it. I didn't believe him.'

'Interesting. That's a millionaire's vessel.'

'Could Gaunt be a millionaire? He's always talking as though he's at the end of his tether financially.'

'Millionaires often do that. Talk as though they can't afford to spend a penny or a cent. Which gives me an idea I should have thought of. I'll call Monica down at the Surrey mansion and get her to run a check on our Squire Gaunt. Now, Joel Dyson…'

Paula led him across the car park as Tweed told her what Newman had reported over the phone from Baker Street Station after the explosion. He gave her all the details of Dyson's rushed visit to Park Crescent, about the film and the tape he had left.

As they walked over the white metal bridge above the barrier holding back the level of the water inside the inner harbour, she realized it wasn't really a lock gate. More like a mobile dam which could be opened and closed.

'I once met Joel Dyson,' she said when Tweed had completed his explanation. 'Bob took me into a pub in London for a drink and Dyson was there. A small man with pouched lips and shifty eyes which didn't miss a thing. He speaks with a well-educated English accent – Bob said afterwards he is British. But then he can suddenly mimic being an American and you'd really think he was a Yank.'

'Nasty piece of work, from what I hear,' Tweed remarked.

'Why did you think Dyson might have flown to Zurich?'

'Because Newman told me about Dyson taking compromising photos of Julius Amberg with another woman -Julius was married – and the fact that he persuaded Dyson Amberg could one day be a powerful friend. Dyson then handed the pics to Amberg. I imagine Dyson sacrificed a big fee from Der Spiegel or an American tabloid.'

'So?'

'Dyson made a big song-and-dance to Newman and Monica that he was handing them copies of the film and the tape, keeping the originals for himself. What safer place to hide those originals than in a Swiss bank vault? Specially, at Amberg's Zurcher Kredit Bank.'

'Why narrow his flight to Swissair? Other airlines fly to Zurich.'

'Dyson is an experienced globe-trotter. He'd feel safer aboard a Swiss plane. Especially travelling first class. And their security is first rate.'