This United state

'Engagement possibly imminent.'

'Tweed…' Howard paused, appeared embarrassed. 'I have to tell you I made a real botch-up. I was tired out, hadn't slept for forty-eight hours – but I wouldn't take that as an excuse from a subordinate. I was driving down to the Bunker in daylight, middle of the afternoon. I was vaguely aware of a chopper hanging around. Took no notice. Drove straight into the courtyard of the Bunker. Mrs Carson tore me off a real strip. Deservedly so. The damned machine then circled over the complex for several minutes, flew off. Mrs Carson said the helicopter had no markings. I'm sorry, very sorry. Let the side down in a big way.'

'Don't be sorry.' Tweed smiled. 'No one is infallible. I have made some pretty stupid mistakes myself in the past. Do you mind if I leave now? I had a lot to do anyway, but after what you've told me I must move like Concorde.'

'I feel better now you're back.'

'I'll keep you fully informed about developments. Everything is going to happen very quickly now.'

He was on his way when Howard jumped up, followed him to the door. Howard almost whispered.

One more very important point. The PM is anxious to see you as soon as possible.' He smiled ruefully. 'I think he regards me as second best.'

'Nonsense…'

Returning to his office, Tweed found an impatient Monica waiting for him. She waved a bit of paper.

'Jefferson Morgenstern says he'll see you at his office in the Embassy. He'll wait for you. Any time this afternoon.'

'Good. Now I want you to get me Sharon Mandeville on the phone. She's probably at the Embassy.'

Paula was behind her desk, Newman had settled himself in an armchair, Tweed was just about to seat himself in his own chair when the door opened. Marler walked in, an unlit king-size in his right hand.

'Sorry to barge in but I have someone downstairs I think you'd like to meet. All Rudge, boss of my cabdriver mob.'

'Ask him to come up now.'

When the door opened again everyone stared at the figure Marler ushered in. All Rudge was at least six feet tall, in his fifties, with a burly figure. In his hand he held one of the old-fashioned caps many cabbies used to wear. His blue eyes scanned the room quickly.

'Pleased to meet you, Alf,' Tweed said, extending a hand. 'I am Tweed. Make yourself at home. Try that armchair.'

'Hold that call for the moment,' he called across to Monica.

Tweed then introduced All to everyone in the room. All got up, shook hands with them. He struck Paula as being rather shy – or reserved – as his large paw squeezed hers. The big man then sat down in the armchair again, looked across the desk.

'I've 'eard a lot about you, Mr Tweed. No one except an idiot tries any monkey business with you.'

His cockney accent was very pronounced. Tweed immediately warmed to Alf. The salt of the earth, he thought. The backbone of England which really counted.

'Anything we can do to 'elp,' All went on, 'we'll do. Marler 'ere has knocked 'ell out of us in his trainin' out in the country.' He looked over his shoulder at Paula and Monica. 'Excuse me, ladies.'

'We may need you as reinforcements at a moment's notice,' Tweed told him. 'Tomorrow at the latest, I would guess. How can we have your people close at hand?'

'Easy, Mr Tweed. I've got my mobile and the boys 'ave got theirs. Tell you what, if you agree – from this evening I'll have all of 'em patrolling the streets near here. They won't pick up no customers. Don't think they should be parked – make 'em obvious.'

'They'll patrol throughout the night – without sleep?'

'Won't worry 'em one little bit. They can always park for forty winks if they feels they needs it. Shall I lay it on?'

'Yes, please, Alf. Keep in touch with Marler. And thank you for offering to help us.'

'It's nothin', Mr Tweed,' Alf said, embarrassed as he stood up to leave. He turned at the door. 'If this means we 'ave a go at the Yanks the boys will love it…'

Marler returned almost immediately after escorting Alf to the front door. He looked round.

'Well, what's the verdict?'

'If all Alf's friends are like Alf,' Tweed said, 'then we have the equivalent of a very tough army platoon at our disposal.'

'They're all like Alf,' Marler declared.

'I really took to him,' Paula enthused. 'I was touched by his shyness, but I detected underneath it a man who would never let us down, however desperate the situation.'

'I'm on the side of Alf,' Newman agreed.

'But what about weapons?' Tweed queried.

'You know me,' Marler said, leaning against a wall, 'I break all the regulations. For training purposes I had a whole armoury of weapons sent up from the Surrey mansion a few weeks ago. Alf and his mob are armed to the teeth. Including bazookas.'

'You trained them to use bazookas?' asked Tweed. 'Yes. And they really know how to use them.

Especially the three who were in the Gulf War. All will have thought of weapons. His boys will be carrying them secreted inside their cabs. Now, I'll love you and leave you. Things to do.'

'Make that call, please, Monica,' Tweed requested when Marler had gone.

'Tweed!' Sharon's soft voice purred with delight over the phone. 'You're back in London? Wonderful. You have neglected me, you know. You can't deny it.'

'I wouldn't even try, Sharon. Good to know you are safely back. If possible, I'd like to come and see you this afternoon. The answer is yes? Splendid. Oh, do you mind if I bring Newman and Paula with me? You'd love to see them. Sometime this afternoon, then.'

As he put his coat on he gave Monica an instruction.

'Please inform Howard where I'm going. Tell him Paula and Bob are coming with me. Then Howard won't worry.'

'Who do we see first?' Paula asked.

They were sitting in the back of the car Newman was driving towards Grosvenor Square. The good weather was lasting. It was a brilliantly sunny afternoon with not a cloud in a duck-egg blue sky. The air was fresh and pedestrians were walking briskly as though enjoying the return of the sun.

'The sequence is important,' Tweed said. 'First we see Morgenstern. Afterwards we call in on Sharon.' 'So you can ask her out to dinner,' she teased.

'I thought I came first,' Newman called out. 'Am I supposed to stand in line?'

'We'll see,' Tweed replied.

'And you are clutching that package of evidence from Buchanan as though the fate of the world depended on it,' Paula commented.

'Maybe it does,' Tweed told her.

'What's inside it?'

'Among other things, photos of the dead Umbrella Men who tried to kill me in Basel near Market-platz. With their names.'

'How on earth did you get hold of them?'

'Reliable Arthur Beck again. He omitted to mention it, but he sent the material to Roy Buchanan at New Scotland Yard. The two men met at an international police conference a few months ago. Roy told me they got on very well together.'

'I can spot some of them already,' Newman reported as they neared Grosvenor Square.

'Some of who?' Paula wanted to know.

'Buchanan's plain-clothes sleuths. Stationed to keep a close eye on who comes and goes from the American Embassy. I think he's told some of them to make their presence obvious – to act as a deterrent. Roy Buchanan really never, under any circumstances, misses a trick.'

For Tweed, as they mounted the steps and walked inside the spacious entrance hall, it was like a replay of a film he had seen before. The girl who had treated him so offhandedly on his previous visit was behind the reception desk. But this time when he gave his name her attitude was very different. Standing up, she gave him a beaming smile.

'Mr Tweed, Mr Morgenstern is waiting to see you. His suite of offices is on the first floor. Here is the number,' she said, handing him a plastic disc. 'And could you please take this card? There are a lot of guards about who may stop you. If you show them this they will let you straight through.'