can eliminate any signals from all the satellites orbiting the earth.'
'Tell Fred to continue his researches, to drop everything else and concentrate on that dish.'
'I will. Can I go now?' Art asked timidly.
Paula knew he was not comfortable with a crowd of people. He practically lived in the basement. Had his meals brought in from a local deli. She blinked at Tweed once.
'Of course you can go,' Tweed said breezily. 'And my thanks for the good work you've done.'
'Just doing my job,' Art mumbled and almost ran to the door.
Tweed walked over to the windows and gazed across at distant Regent's Park. He remained there for several minutes, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. Paula put her index finger to her lips to stop anyone talking. When Tweed swung round he walked briskly to his desk, sat down, looked round the room.
'I checked the number plate of that limo which drove away from Eaton Square,' Newman reported. 'Through contacts I've got. It was hired from Malibu Motors in Mayfair. I called them, saying I was Special Branch. A Miss Leatherbrother, accompanied by a uniformed chauffeur, paid the deposit and an extra amount in banknotes. The chauffeur has returned the car.'
'A dead end,' Tweed commented. 'What I expected.'
'There was something I should have told you earlier,' Harry said. 'Probably not important, but when I biked up to the summit of the Down overlooking that weird house . . .'
'Eagle's Nest?' Paula prompted.
'That's it. At the summit, about twenty feet back from the edge of the quarry, were a lot of rabbit holes, or so I thought. Shoved my arm down one and couldn't touch the bottom. It's like a rift circling the Down about twenty feet from the edge. Unstable, I'd say.'
'I'm sure a man who could afford a house like that had the area properly surveyed,' Tweed replied dismissively.
'What I was going to say was I think my first instincts were right. This scenario which is unfolding mysteriously has to be something very big, very dangerous. With international implications. Don't ask me what it's about because I have no idea.'
The phone rang. Monica answered, put the caller on hold, told Paula an Aubrey Barford was wanting to have a word. Paula looked puzzled, shrugged, took the phone and in a cool voice asked how she could help. The call was brief and when she handed the phone back she shrugged again as she went back to her desk.
'For some reason Aubrey Barford has invited me to have lunch with him at Martino's. One o'clock. I accepted - maybe I'll get some information out of him. At least he's the nice one. Couldn't abide his brother, that stuck-up ponce Lance.'
'See whether he'll talk about his father's way of life these days,' Tweed suggested.
'I'll do that. . .'
The phone rang again. This time Adonica pulled a wry face when she looked at Tweed.
'The Minister is on the line for you. Gavin Thunder. By now those reports on Jeremy's death will have reached him . . .'
'Tweed here
'Thank you so much for sending the reports. I have a favour to ask you. Could you meet me for a quick chat? I'm a member of Marlows, rather an unfashionable club in Pall Mall.'
'I'd like to bring my assistant, Paula Grey.'
'She would be most welcome. Marlows has no apartheid where women are concerned, thank heaven.'
'When would you like us to come?'
'You couldn't make it in about half an hour's time? Or is that an imposition?'
'Just a second.' Tweed checked his watch. There was time to agree and Paula could still make her appointment at Martino's. 'Yes, we can be there.'
'I'll look forward to seeing you both. Thank you again...'
Paula lifted her eyes to the ceiling. 'I bet he nearly blasted your head off after getting the reports.'
'On the contrary, he was very polite, most cordial. We'll get a taxi.'
Monica was surfing the Internet when the most hellish screeching filled the room. She stared in disbelief at her screen, her hands clapped over her ears. She used her head to gesture for them to come and
'Tell Fred to continue his researches, to drop everything else and concentrate on that dish.'
'I will. Can I go now?' Art asked timidly.
Paula knew he was not comfortable with a crowd of people. He practically lived in the basement. Had his meals brought in from a local deli. She blinked at Tweed once.
'Of course you can go,' Tweed said breezily. 'And my thanks for the good work you've done.'
'Just doing my job,' Art mumbled and almost ran to the door.
Tweed walked over to the windows and gazed across at distant Regent's Park. He remained there for several minutes, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. Paula put her index finger to her lips to stop anyone talking. When Tweed swung round he walked briskly to his desk, sat down, looked round the room.
'I checked the number plate of that limo which drove away from Eaton Square,' Newman reported. 'Through contacts I've got. It was hired from Malibu Motors in Mayfair. I called them, saying I was Special Branch. A Miss Leatherbrother, accompanied by a uniformed chauffeur, paid the deposit and an extra amount in banknotes. The chauffeur has returned the car.'
'A dead end,' Tweed commented. 'What I expected.'
'There was something I should have told you earlier,' Harry said. 'Probably not important, but when I biked up to the summit of the Down overlooking that weird house . . .'
'Eagle's Nest?' Paula prompted.
'That's it. At the summit, about twenty feet back from the edge of the quarry, were a lot of rabbit holes, or so I thought. Shoved my arm down one and couldn't touch the bottom. It's like a rift circling the Down about twenty feet from the edge. Unstable, I'd say.'
'I'm sure a man who could afford a house like that had the area properly surveyed,' Tweed replied dismissively.
'What I was going to say was I think my first instincts were right. This scenario which is unfolding mysteriously has to be something very big, very dangerous. With international implications. Don't ask me what it's about because I have no idea.'
The phone rang. Monica answered, put the caller on hold, told Paula an Aubrey Barford was wanting to have a word. Paula looked puzzled, shrugged, took the phone and in a cool voice asked how she could help. The call was brief and when she handed the phone back she shrugged again as she went back to her desk.
'For some reason Aubrey Barford has invited me to have lunch with him at Martino's. One o'clock. I accepted - maybe I'll get some information out of him. At least he's the nice one. Couldn't abide his brother, that stuck-up ponce Lance.'
'See whether he'll talk about his father's way of life these days,' Tweed suggested.
'I'll do that. . .'
The phone rang again. This time Adonica pulled a wry face when she looked at Tweed.
'The Minister is on the line for you. Gavin Thunder. By now those reports on Jeremy's death will have reached him . . .'
'Tweed here
'Thank you so much for sending the reports. I have a favour to ask you. Could you meet me for a quick chat? I'm a member of Marlows, rather an unfashionable club in Pall Mall.'
'I'd like to bring my assistant, Paula Grey.'
'She would be most welcome. Marlows has no apartheid where women are concerned, thank heaven.'
'When would you like us to come?'
'You couldn't make it in about half an hour's time? Or is that an imposition?'
'Just a second.' Tweed checked his watch. There was time to agree and Paula could still make her appointment at Martino's. 'Yes, we can be there.'
'I'll look forward to seeing you both. Thank you again...'
Paula lifted her eyes to the ceiling. 'I bet he nearly blasted your head off after getting the reports.'
'On the contrary, he was very polite, most cordial. We'll get a taxi.'
Monica was surfing the Internet when the most hellish screeching filled the room. She stared in disbelief at her screen, her hands clapped over her ears. She used her head to gesture for them to come and
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