appear with a false name.'
`Doesn't get us much further. In any case he's not our problem.' He waved a hand at the pile of files on his desk. 'My job is to deal with these reports from agents overseas. Probably most will have sent meaningless reports to show they are active. I don't want to be disturbed while working on them.'
Robert Newman, a key agent of Tweed's, was sprawled in an armchair near Tweed's desk. Thoroughly vetted long ago, he had once been the most respected international news reporter in America and Europe. His occasional articles had been reprinted in full in the Washington Post , Der Spiegel in the German Republic and many other influential papers, including London's Daily Clarion .
Six feet tall, well built, in his early forties, his strong, good-looking face was often stared at by women when he walked down a street. He frowned at Tweed's response.
`Tweed,' he began forcefully. 'I think what Paula said was very shrewd. Defining the character is halfway towards identifying the man. Give her credit.'
`I asked for no more interruptions,' Tweed said quietly. 'We're not concerned about this Doubenkian. But since you all have him on the brain, everyone can go out and trawl your contacts. Don't go south of the river. Criminals and spies avoid that better-off area.
They're worried they would be conspicuous.'
`I'm going to the ladies' room,' said Paula and left the office.
On the morning of the third day after Calouste received the disturbing news that Tweed and Paula Grey were alive and probably back at Park Crescent, he decided to move. He never stayed in the same place for long wherever he might be.
He had spent the whole night out of bed in his hotel room, seated in an armchair, drinking cup after cup of coffee. His agile brain had come up with the only answer to eliminating Tweed. He knew that Tweed was formidable . Picking up his case, always kept packed for a swift departure, and sliding back the bolt of the interconnecting door, he opened the door, spoke quietly to Max, standing by a window.
`We are leaving. When will you be ready?'
Now, sir. Immediately.'
Settled beside Max in the second-hand Ford he spoke as soon as they were in open country. The glaring sun shone low through the windscreen. Calouste pulled down his visor a moment after Max had taken the same precaution.
`We are moving,' Calouste informed his henchman, `to one of the houses I own outside the village of Leaminster on the borders of Sussex and Hampshire. It's ten miles away from Hengistbury Manor and The Forest.'
He produced a map to hand to Max, who shook his head. 'Just show me. Some of those people who bought second homes out here assume there'll be no traffic, drive in the middle of the road.Young macho types.'
He glanced at the map Doubenkian was holding out for him. His chief's small thumb was pointed to Leaminster, and Max nodded.
`I can drive on a quiet roundabout route. Be there by lunchtime.'
`I have solved the Tweed problem,' Calouste said as he struggled to refold his map. 'Every man had his weak point. Even a man of Tweed's eminence. That is the lever we will use. As we successfully did in Vienna. You will lure Paula Grey out of SIS HQ, grab her, then you phone Tweed. Inform him you have the Grey girl, that she will be tortured for three hours, then murdered unless he comes along within an hour to rescue her. Before you phone him you start the torture, then put her on the phone so he can hear her scream.'
As he explained his plan Calouste was still trying to fold the map. He therefore failed to observe the grim expression which appeared on Max's face.
7
The Park Crescent office was occupied only by Monica, Tweed and Paula when, in the late afternoon, the call came through. Monica waved to Paula.
`It's for you. A Mr Evelyn-Ashton. Posh voice.. `Yes?' said Paula.
`Miss Paula Grey?'
`Speaking. Who is this?'
`Evelyn-Ashton. You won't know me but I have information for you concerning a certain gentleman of
`Doesn't get us much further. In any case he's not our problem.' He waved a hand at the pile of files on his desk. 'My job is to deal with these reports from agents overseas. Probably most will have sent meaningless reports to show they are active. I don't want to be disturbed while working on them.'
Robert Newman, a key agent of Tweed's, was sprawled in an armchair near Tweed's desk. Thoroughly vetted long ago, he had once been the most respected international news reporter in America and Europe. His occasional articles had been reprinted in full in the Washington Post , Der Spiegel in the German Republic and many other influential papers, including London's Daily Clarion .
Six feet tall, well built, in his early forties, his strong, good-looking face was often stared at by women when he walked down a street. He frowned at Tweed's response.
`Tweed,' he began forcefully. 'I think what Paula said was very shrewd. Defining the character is halfway towards identifying the man. Give her credit.'
`I asked for no more interruptions,' Tweed said quietly. 'We're not concerned about this Doubenkian. But since you all have him on the brain, everyone can go out and trawl your contacts. Don't go south of the river. Criminals and spies avoid that better-off area.
They're worried they would be conspicuous.'
`I'm going to the ladies' room,' said Paula and left the office.
On the morning of the third day after Calouste received the disturbing news that Tweed and Paula Grey were alive and probably back at Park Crescent, he decided to move. He never stayed in the same place for long wherever he might be.
He had spent the whole night out of bed in his hotel room, seated in an armchair, drinking cup after cup of coffee. His agile brain had come up with the only answer to eliminating Tweed. He knew that Tweed was formidable . Picking up his case, always kept packed for a swift departure, and sliding back the bolt of the interconnecting door, he opened the door, spoke quietly to Max, standing by a window.
`We are leaving. When will you be ready?'
Now, sir. Immediately.'
Settled beside Max in the second-hand Ford he spoke as soon as they were in open country. The glaring sun shone low through the windscreen. Calouste pulled down his visor a moment after Max had taken the same precaution.
`We are moving,' Calouste informed his henchman, `to one of the houses I own outside the village of Leaminster on the borders of Sussex and Hampshire. It's ten miles away from Hengistbury Manor and The Forest.'
He produced a map to hand to Max, who shook his head. 'Just show me. Some of those people who bought second homes out here assume there'll be no traffic, drive in the middle of the road.Young macho types.'
He glanced at the map Doubenkian was holding out for him. His chief's small thumb was pointed to Leaminster, and Max nodded.
`I can drive on a quiet roundabout route. Be there by lunchtime.'
`I have solved the Tweed problem,' Calouste said as he struggled to refold his map. 'Every man had his weak point. Even a man of Tweed's eminence. That is the lever we will use. As we successfully did in Vienna. You will lure Paula Grey out of SIS HQ, grab her, then you phone Tweed. Inform him you have the Grey girl, that she will be tortured for three hours, then murdered unless he comes along within an hour to rescue her. Before you phone him you start the torture, then put her on the phone so he can hear her scream.'
As he explained his plan Calouste was still trying to fold the map. He therefore failed to observe the grim expression which appeared on Max's face.
7
The Park Crescent office was occupied only by Monica, Tweed and Paula when, in the late afternoon, the call came through. Monica waved to Paula.
`It's for you. A Mr Evelyn-Ashton. Posh voice.. `Yes?' said Paula.
`Miss Paula Grey?'
`Speaking. Who is this?'
`Evelyn-Ashton. You won't know me but I have information for you concerning a certain gentleman of
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