This United state

'I'm worried, sir, that the Brits may know we're coming. That commercial airliner which flew above us just when there was the only break so far in the overcast.'

'I wouldn't worry.' Crag stretched his long arms, suppressed a yawn. 'Passengers on those flights soon get tired of looking out of the windows. They'd either be tired or drunk – or both. And it was at pretty high altitude. We estimated thirty-five thousand feet.'

'I'd better report to the Chairman that we've received the signal and the maps.'

'Aerial photos, Bill. Hold on sending a report. Let's first get the reaction of the SEALs' commander aboard the warship he's travelling on.'

Crag sat thinking. In his mind he was checking over the sections of the task force he'd contacted recently. Some admirals in his position, he knew, had a written list they ticked off. Crag carried the list in his head.

Fifteen minutes later – ten of which had been taken up lowering the fast boat over the side which had taken the data and its racing to the warship – his Operations Officer returned with a signal in his hand.

'May I read this to you, sir? I emphasize I'm using the words used by the SEALs' commander.'

'Let's hear it, Bill.'

"To hell and high water in fifteen minutes." That must mean the time he estimates to complete the whole operation.'

'It must.' Crag allowed himself one of his rare smiles 'I always thought that commander was a top gun.'

49

It was the middle of the night. Tweed was asleep in his office. Monica had hauled out his camp bed from a cupboard, had then made it up for him. Tireless, she watched over him from behind her desk. The door opened and Marler walked in. Monica put a finger to her lips.

'Progress to report, Marler?' enquired Tweed.

He had lifted his head off the pillow, was now sitting up in his dressing gown, with the vivid Oriental design. Marler hesitated, worried that he had woken Tweed.

'Well?' prodded Tweed, who had put his glasses on. 'I'm only taking catnaps. I like to be kept informed.'

'Progress, yes,' Marler replied. 'First, the van from the Surrey mansion reached the Bunker two hours ago. They now have a large collection of searchlights and star shells. I gather Alf and his mob have been practising with them.'

'So Alf is down there already?'

'He's been down there with his chums for at least three hours.'

'I find that very satisfactory,' said Tweed, stretching himself higher up. He checked his watch. 'I was, going to wake up now, anyway. As you know, I have an alarm clock in my head. Monica, get me Philip at the MoD. I'd like a word with him.'

Tying the belt round his dressing gown, he padded over to his desk. He smiled grimly as he addressed Marler.

'At times likes this the essential thing is to stay calm. Did I detect a note of subdued excitement in your voice?' 'You might have done,' Marler admitted.

'Wait until I've taken this call and then go to your office and bed down on your couch.'

'Don't feel sleepy.'

'Irrelevant. We all need a little sleep to keep us on our toes.'

`If you insist,' grumbled Marler.

'I'm giving you a direct order.'

He picked up the phone as Monica gestured to him madly. He was still using Beck's mobile. He asked Monica to tell Philip he'd call him back immediately, which he did.

'Tweed here. Yes, Philip, again on a very safe line. What news?'

'The task force continues to head straight for the English Channel. We've sent special high-flying planes out with the latest radar. So the Yanks don't catch on, as soon as the planes have located its present position they fly back here.'

'Time of arrival in the Channel?'

'No change. Between 2200 hours and midnight tonight. They are getting pretty close.'

'No rumours of their presence?'

'None that have reached me. And any would. I'll go on keeping you in touch. Or tell Monica. Do you ever sleep?'

'I've just had forty winks.'

'Some people have all the luck.'

Tweed pushed the mobile across his desk. He was wide awake and looked very fresh. He spoke to Marler.

'I've been thinking – probably in my sleep. I do that. Before you get some kip – which you must do – could you call Paula, Newman, Nield and Butler from your office? Tell them we leave from here ten o'clock sharp in the morning – to drive down to the Bunker. At that time the traffic may be quieter, as far as it ever is quieter.'

'I'll do that right away.' Marler smiled. 'I'm going to be so popular, waking them up in the middle of the night.'

'I wouldn't worry. As soon as you've called they'll swear at you, then they'll fall fast asleep again. They've had a really exhausting time of it recently. So have you, Marler, so don't forget my order.'

'There's one thing I've forgotten,' he said when Marler had gone. 'Food. Down at the Bunker.'

'Two cooks went with the staff when they moved down there from here,' Monica informed him. 'I hope you don't mind, but it occurred to me the arrival of Alf and his men might strain the situation to the limit. I phoned the mansion. Their best cook, Mrs Payne, travelled to the Bunker in the truck when the driver took the star shells and searchlights. She makes giant shepherd's pies. She's taken ingredients and cooking utensils with her.'

'You're an angel. Shepherds pie? You're making my mouth water.'

'I can probably get you one now. There's a place that stays open all night not far from here.'

'Wait until I've had a shower and got dressed,' he said, collecting his clothes.

'For when you drive down there your warm coat's on that hanger. I got it out for you. It will be chilly on the coast – after dark it could be freezing.'

'Again, you're an angel. Shepherd's pie.'

Tweed had a dreamy look at he left his office.

When Tweed returned, fully dressed, he had a shock. Sitting at her desk was Paula, also fully dressed, wearing the same outfit, complete with leggings and boots, she'd worn in the Black Forest. Her jacket hung from the back of her chair. She gave him a great big smile.

'Good morning, Tweed. You're up early.'

'So are you. And you look fresh as a daisy, a very fresh daisy. Couldn't you sleep after Marler called you?'

'I was awake when he did call. Have you forgotten? I'm like you. I can get by with a few hours' sleep. Monica's gone out to fetch the goodies. I told her I'd look after the phone while she was gone. Trust Monica to know probably the only food shop round here open all night.'

She had just finished speaking when the door opened and Monica walked in carrying a tray. Arranged on it were two large plastic cartons with covers. She placed the tray end on, so one end was in front of Tweed's chair, the other facing it.

'Now how did I know, Paula, you'd be here? Fancy shepherd's pie?'

'I'm so hungry,' Paula told her, 'I could devour it. I hadn't the patience to make myself something at the flat.'

'Bring your chair over this side,' Monica ordered.

She waited until they were settled, facing each other across the desk. Then she bent forward.

'Have to do this properly like they do in posh restaurants, she announced.

Monica grasped the covers of each carton, paused, then with a flourish she removed the covers. Tweed realized he was famished as an appetizing aroma drifted into the room.

'Thank you, waiter,' said Paula.

'There'll be a pot of tea shortly. Don't wait for it – your food will get cold.'

'I have things to tell you,' Tweed said between mouthfuls.

He told her about his conversations with Philip at the MoD, about the arrival of Alf's mob at the Bunker, about the delivery of the searchlights and star shells. They were still eating when Howard came into the room, a rather dishevelled Howard. His shirt collar was open at the neck, his hair was only roughly brushed, his jaw whiskery.