'The essence of our strategy,' Tweed intervened, 'is to entice them out of the house. By now they'll be getting to know its layout. We haven't the faintest idea of that. So we bring them out to us.'
'And how exactly do we do that?' Paula wanted to know.
'You've noticed lights are starting to come on inside the house. So we-'
'Shows overconfidence,' Newman interrupted. 'That's helpful.'
'I was going to tell Paula that Bob will throw grenades inside the house through the windows. That will shake them up, bring some of them outside where we'll be waiting for them.'
'That's clever,' Paula replied.
'We'll soon be there,' Newman warned.
The track had now entered the gulley, which was steep and wide. Newman felt relieved. There was no sign so far that the thugs inside had noticed their approach. He reached the top of the gulley and then the point where the track forked in three directions.
'They may not hear our cars coming,' said Paula. 'As you know, I have acute hearing, and I can hear machines whirring inside the place.'
'This is where Keith and Tweed drop off,' said Newman. 'In the rear-view mirror I can see Nield leaving Marler's car ready to join you.'
'Keith,' Newman called out, 'I suggest you crouch against the wall of the house – between the front door and the ramp. Less of a target.'
'I'm going to do just that,' Kent replied.
Both Tweed and Kent were careful not to slam their doors as they left the car. Tweed had his Walther in his right hand, spare magazines in his left. The moonlight did not reach the outside of the house and the two men disappeared like wraiths. As Newman drove on at a slow pace Paula bent down, picked up her machine- pistol.
'We'll make a good team,' said Newman.
'If you say so,' she snapped, still annoyed.
They were moving along the track which ran past the side of the large house. In the distance Paula could just make out the silhouettes of three parked black Audis. All of them were turned round for a swift getaway. They were crawling past the side of the house when she called out.
'Stop!'
'Why?'
'Stop! Damn you! There's a side door at the top of a flight of steps. I'm getting out. No bloody argument.'
Newman sighed, stopped. It was no use arguing with Paula once she'd made up her mind. And she had a point. They hadn't expected a side entrance. She opened the door, smiled at him, slipped out, closed the door. He drove on with Marler following him with only Butler in his car now.
The first thing that occurred to Paula as she stood for a moment, adjusting to the huge drop in temperature, was the extent of the flight leading up to a closed door. At least a dozen steps. Her eyes were becoming accustomed to the pitch darkness and she saw the ground was littered with boulders.
She crouched behind one, then decided crouching would restrict her movements. It would all happen so quickly if some of the thugs did emerge from the side door. She found a flat-topped rock in the shadows. She checked behind her, listening for the sound of someone prowling. Maybe they had posted sentries outside. No one had thought of that. Satisfied with the heavy silence, she perched on the rock, putting spare mags in her lap. Then she elevated the machine-pistol until the muzzle was aimed at the platform outside the door. She lowered it swiftly, repeated the exercise.
'This is a damned quiet forest,' she said to herself. 'No bird song. No sign of night birds.'
She had removed the glove from her right hand – her trigger hand. It would freeze but she'd have to put up with that. She kept flexing the finger round the trigger.
'Come on, you swine,' she said under her breath. 'Your lot has killed enough people with the bombs in London…'
More lights had come on in the house, Newman observed as he began circling the building. He had another reason for choosing his role. He wanted to check that everyone was in as safe a position as possible. He saw Paula sitting erect on her rock and he sighed. He was going to go to her to say something, decided not to. Paula had come a long way, knew what she was doing. He recalled how she'd dealt with Hank Waltz in the Eagle Street warehouse in London's East End.
He went in the opposite direction to the rear of the house. He found Marler behind a tree, his Armalite at the ready. Beyond was Butler, crouched behind a shrub. Both were watching yet another exit – this door level with the ground. He continued walking round the far side of the house.
Nield peered out from behind a small wooden hut.. He waved his Walther at Newman. Further on, closer to the ramp and under its slope, Tweed stood waiting, unconcerned, staring upwards. He didn't even look as Newman passed him and reached the front.
As he'd suggested, Keith was beyond the top of the staircase leading to the massive front door. He was crouched with his back to the wall of the house. He must have heard Newman. He suddenly swung round, Walther aimed. Then he lowered it. Time, he decided, to wake up the thugs inside, to throw a few grenades through the lighted windows.
When the three black Audis arrived at the parking place, Ronstadt was first out of his car. As he hurried towards the door at the back of the house he was accompanied by three men – Leo Madison, Chuck Venacki and Vernon Kolkowski. They had all travelled in his car.
'Moonhead,' he warned, 'you've seen a few tough guys in your time, but prepare yourself for Bernhard Yorcke.
'Guess I've seen all the tough guys,' Madison said dismissively.
'You keep your big mouth shut. I hadn't finished. Yorcke is about five foot three tall. He's a gnome – and a hunchback, and strong as an ox. He gets very nasty if you says the wrong thing. Admire his work. Tell him what a great guy he is.'
'OK. If you say so.'
Ronstadt pressed the door bell three times slowly, then twice, then three times again.
They waited. Madison shuffled his feet. Behind him the other three thugs stood back. Ronstadt liked men to observe the courtesies where he was concerned. Which meant he led the way and the others followed like hired lackeys.
'Where the hell is he?' snapped Madison. 'Friggin' cold stuck out herd!'
He had just spoken when they heard the door being unlocked from the inside. When it opened a strong light shone from the large room inside. Madison sucked in his breath. Standing crouched in the doorway was the ugliest, most evil-looking man he'd ever seen.
Bernhard Yorcke had a high forehead and lank, greasy dark hair. His nose was hooked and the dark eyes which stared out strangely were black and menacing. Below the nose a wide, thin-lipped mouth was twisted at an odd angle, which gave the impression he was smiling permanently in a sneering way. A most unpleasant smile. Clean-shaven, his long face tapered to a pointed chin which increased his gnomelike look. His fingertips were black. They would always be black – with printer's ink.
'You are late,' he said nastily.
'Sorry 'bout that,' Ronstadt replied, smiling. 'Difficult drivin conditions. A lot of snow and ice.'
'You're still late. You had better come inside with your men. There will be no food for them. I cannot waste my valuable time looking after strange visitors.'
Yorcke spoke English slowly, with great precision, emphasizing syllables. His voice was high-pitched, which added to the sinister aura of his personality. He stood to one side as Ronstadt's thugs filed in, then locked the door with his left hand. In his right hand he held a long black iron bar which terminated at one end in a sharp point. At the top a small bar extended at right- angles. It gave Madison the feeling of a vicious dagger.
'You are wondering what I am holding in my hand,' Yorcke said to Madison. This horrible guy misses nothing, thought Madison; who had been glancing at the bar. 'It is an instrument of my trade.'
'Bernhard is the greatest printer in the whole world,' boomed Ronstadt. 'He gives you a date and the work is finished by that date.'