This United state

'No idea. The staff who opened the doors saw no signs of forced entry. In addition they had neutralized the alarm system, then re-set it so the staff wouldn't be alerted when they came in first thing.'

'Someone trying to cause panic?' Tweed mused.

'If it was, it worked. Oxford Street was deserted before I had it closed off. The news spread like wildfire. Thank you,' he said to Monica, who had brought him a second cup of coffee. 'It was an atrocity,' he concluded.

'Any idea who was responsible, then?' Tweed asked.

'None at all. It's early days.'

'Roy, you were coming to see me anyway. What was that about?'

'First, a body was washed up on a mud-bank just south of the East End. A small, thickset man with a bald head. A Hank Waltz.'

'How do you know that?'

'Had a soggy American diplomatic passport in his pocket.'

'You're informing the American Embassy?'

'No, I'm not,' Buchanan said vehemently. 'And, would you believe it – I've lost the passport. Let the Yanks ask me – if they do. Then there was a second body.'

'Also dragged out of the Thames?' Tweed suggested. 'No. Had an anonymous call. For some reason I decided to go myself. Probably to see if it was another American. Found the deceased on some steps off Regent Street. This one had a rifle bullet through his head.' 'Any identification?'

'Yes. A Swiss passport with the name Kurt Schwarz.' 'He was murdered, then?'

'No doubt about it. Just one rifle shot. Why did I think of the Phantom?'

'Maybe because the PM, Keller in Germany and the Minister in France were also shot through the head with one rifle bullet. Any witnesses?'

'I had the team with me call at every house, waking people up. One of them was Basil Windermere. We know he lives off playing up to rich women.'

'And what did Basil have to say?'

'Said he'd been woken up by a faint crack! Thought it was a car backfiring, so he went back to sleep. He had no idea of the time when he heard the noise.'

'Was he sleeping alone?' Marler interjected.

'Yes.'

'Was he in his pyjamas?' Marler persisted.

'Yes. Why this interest in Windermere?'

'Suppose I just have the natural instincts of a detective.'

'I see.' Buchanan drank more coffee. 'You're not usually so vocal.'

'One more question, Roy,' Tweed said to divert the policeman from the subject of Windermere. 'The Chrysler in Strangeways' garage at Parham. Did you manage to check the vehicle?'

'Yes. I sent a team down to Irongates. They had a search warrant but they were careful. The entrance gates were closed. There were no lights on in the house – even though it was almost dark as night. They scaled the side wall. A locksmith released the padlock on the garage doors. There was nothing inside. No sign of a Chrysler.'

'They'd got out in time.'

'Seems so.' Buchanan took a folded sheet of paper from his pocket, handed it to Tweed. 'That is for your eyes only. Do you recognize any of the names?'

'Yes. Two Cabinet ministers. Several prominent MPs. And a number of well-known businessmen.'

'All of them have been bribed by the Americans. Given large sums in dollar bills inside executive cases. Special Branch officers have been watching the Embassy in Grosvenor Square. They have followed Americans coming out carrying executive cases. They meet the recipient of the bribe in out-of-the-way places. Obscure bars and pubs. They have a drink with the target, then leave alone, having propped the executive case against a bar or table leg. After they've gone one of the men on that list leaves, after picking up the executive case. Three of them opened the case before they went off – produced several stacks of one-hundred-dollar bills and dropped them back inside the case. It's bribery of key British figures on a massive scale.'

'This is getting even more dangerous.'

'What I've told you all in this room is strictly confidential.'

'And will remain that way,' Tweed assured him.

Howard burst into the room at that moment. Seeing Buchanan he apologized. He spoke very quickly immediately afterwards.

'I think all of you ought to come to my office. There's a TV report on the bomb left in an Oxford Street department store. Have you heard?'

Paula led the way out of the room and upstairs to Howard's office. Newman and Marler followed her. Tweed turned to Buchanan, not sure whether he would spare the time.

'I think I'll come with you,' the policeman said. 'Sometimes whoever has committed a crime has an irresistible urge to revisit the scene of what he did…'

Inside Howard's room his secretary had arranged chairs and the TV was on. No one sat down. They stood in silence, waiting.

'How did the TV people get through?' Tweed whispered to Buchanan.

'I left instructions for them to be allowed in. The people who did this thing may rub their hands with glee, thinking it will terrify the population. I take a different view. I think it will cause universal outrage and fury. Here it comes…'

Unusually, there was no commentary, which made what followed more horrifying. The cameras panned round inside the store. The floor was covered with lethal shreds of glass. Paramedics were helping injured women and some men to leave. The counters and checkout points were shattered. No item of furniture remained undamaged. Bloodstained shoppers were still lying on the floor, attended by paramedics and doctors. One man had an arm missing. A prone woman's skirt was dripping with blood, her face slashed by flying glass. A number of bodies were lying very still, sprawled on the ground. The camera panned to the exit.

A woman, lying flat, her neck bandaged, blood seeping through it, was being carried out on a stretcher by two paramedics. She raised herself up, staring at the camera as though unaware of its presence.

'My husband. Where is my husband?'

Behind her, where she couldn't see, the paramedic carrying the rear end of the stretcher, shook his head. Paula gasped.

'Oh, my God,' she said half under her breath.

'It's like a battlefield,' Newman said to Tweed.

Paula stood up to leave. In the open doorway Monica stood staring as though she couldn't believe her eyes. She went down- back to Tweed's office, followed by Newman, Marler, Tweed and Buchanan. The policeman tapped Tweed on the shoulder before they were about to enter the room.

'I'll have to go now. There was no one shown who wasn't with the ambulance men or paramedics. My men did their job. Try and keep in touch with me.'

'You do the same…'

There was complete silence when he went into his office, shut the door and sat down behind his desk. Monica sat stunned, her hands in her lap. Paula gazed at – each of her colleagues, made no comment. Marler, leaning against a wall, was about to light a king-size, decided against it.

Tweed leaned forward across his desk. They all stared at him, knowing he was going to say something important. When he did speak his voice was calm, resolute.

'We use any devious ruthless method to defeat them.'

13

The Executive Action Department was again meeting in the large room at the American Embassy. Jake, at the head of the table, was again shuffling his cards. He made them wait before he spoke. Outside, beyond the windows, branches of the trees in the square shook under the onslaught of the late morning wind.

'Guess I ought to hand out half-congratulations to Vernon and Brad.'

'Why only half?' Vernon, the thin man with the boney face asked indignantly.

'Because the second bomb didn't go off. You must have fouled up the timer. If that bomb had detonated half the people in that store would have been killed. That would have been sensational.'

There were glum faces round the table. Jake Ronstadt was, as usual, in a bad mood. Brad, the squat man with shark-like teeth, risked opening his mouth.