Blood Storm (29 page)

The first post attracted his attention. The man swinging
the axe brought it down in a sweep, sliced off a foot above
the ankle. Blood spurted. The axe was raised and brought down again. The second foot was severed. The prisoner's mouth was wide open, doubtless in an unheard scream of terror. The axe was hoisted again, brought down on the
prisoner's right shoulder, severing half the shoulder and the
arm.

Noel forced himself to glance at another screen. A similar
scene, but the axe held by another man descended on top
of the prisoner's head, splitting the skull in two down to the
neck.

Radek felt for the knob on the other machine, turned it
on, his grin even more sadistic. Fitch had earlier inserted his
earplugs. Noel had omitted to do this. A diabolical sound
filled the warehouse room.

Desperately Noel jammed the plugs into his ears,
fumbling one, so he was still subjected to the noise from
hell. He rammed the second earplug in place, heaved out a
deep breath.

The room had now gone crazy. The bestial pictures. The penetrating screech, rising and falling non-stop. Noel could
hear it even with the plugs in place. He looked at Fitch, seated on the floor, staring at one screen, then another.

Noel saw no point in staying in the warehouse any longer.
He knew now how Radek was going to operate on Tweed
and on Paula. He shouted at Radek to switch on some light.
The Slovak turned on his torch, aimed it at the door he
guessed Noel would head for, which he did.

Radek was amused as Noel walked quickly, opened the
door, disappeared, pulling the door shut behind himself. Not a man for the High Tatra, Radek said to himself. He
saw no point in telling Noel he had given him less effective
earplugs than those he'd handed to the motionless Fitch.
He leant down, pressed the buttons. The screens went
blank.

'Think what one hour of this would do to Tweed and
Paula,' he told Fitch, who had removed his plugs. 'Two
once normal people, now insane. Spending the rest of their
lives in an asylum.'

24

'Do sit down, Benton,' Tweed greeted his visitor. 'Would
you like a cup of coffee or tea?'

'Coffee would be very acceptable, thank you,' Benton
replied.

He had phoned Benton at his home in Hampstead,
inviting him over. The Cabal member had accepted the
invitation at once.

Only Paula and Monica were also present. Tweed had
thought his visitor might talk more frankly if the other members of his team were absent. There was a pause and Tweed studied his guest.

Shorter than Nelson, Benton was in his early forties
Tweed guessed, as he had when he had visited the Cabal at
their HQ with Paula. Now he had a better chance of
weighing up the man's appearance and personality. Round-
headed, he had a bald patch on top of his head. His small
eyes were greenish and shrewd under heavy lids. He wore a
conservative grey suit which did not flaunt expense. His
hands were folded in his lap. He gave Tweed the impression
of someone with perfect self-control. Monica brought in
coffee and Benton took it black, thanking her.

'I am sorry I was not available when you phoned, asking
to come and see me,' Tweed said amiably. 'What is
worrying you?'

'You are perceptive,' Benton observed in his quiet voice.
'May I ask, have you sent your report to the PM?'

'Not yet. It may come from my Director, Howard. He
has just returned from a visit abroad.'

'I see.' Benton sipped at his coffee, then turned to look at
Paula. 'I'm losing my manners. My apologies for not
acknowledging your presence when I arrived.'

'That's all right,' Paula replied with a smile. 'Welcome.'

'I am worried,' Benton said, turning back to Tweed, 'at
the near state of war which has broken out between our two
departments. It's unseemly, dangerous.'

'Mainly operated by Horlick, your half-brother?' said
Tweed, using shock tactics.

'Oh, so you know about Noel.' Benton chuckled, glanced
over again at Paula. 'I'm impressed by
your sources of
information. I shouldn't be. Your reputation is well known.
Noel is the youngest of us, sometimes a bit of a wild lad.'

'Wild enough to screw a cat's neck through a hundred
and eighty degrees?' asked Paula quietly, following Tweed's
lead with shock tactics.

'May I ask how you know about that?' Benton asked, his
manner now disturbed.

'Someone took a photograph of the pillar at the entrance
to your father's mansion,' Tweed fibbed. 'Someone else
here in London told us about the mysterious incident,' he
went on.

'Mysterious is the word,' Benton said quickly. 'We never
did identify the culprit.'

'Here is a draft of my report for Mr Howard,' Tweed
went on, producing a thick typed sheaf from a drawer. 'It is
only a draft, subject to toning down,' he emphasized as he
handed it to Benton.

His guest took out a pair of rimless spectacles, began to study the report. Paula noticed that the glasses transformed his whole appearance, gave him a sinister look.

'That's a copy, but I must keep it,' Tweed continued.

Benton read the report slowly. Then he stared at Tweed.
'I would certainly hope this is toned down.'

'We'll have to see.'

Paula noticed Benton, thrown off-stride, was slowly
turning the thick sheaf into a roll. Absentmindedly he
squeezed the roll with both hands. Paula felt a wave of
shock pass over her. The motion of twisting the report
reminded her of how someone would screw a cat's neck. As
though the thought had been transmitted telepathically,
Benton suddenly turned again to look straight at her. His gaze from behind the rimless glasses was disturbing. Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde flashed into her mind.

'Oh dear, I'm sorry,' Benton said, turning back to
Tweed. 'I was thinking and I've spoilt your copy.' He began
unrolling the report, used thick fingers to smooth it out
before passing it across the desk.

'Doesn't matter,' Tweed said. 'It's only a copy. So how
do you propose to calm down the tense state of affairs
growing worse almost by the hour?'

'How do you propose to do that?' Benton rapped back.

'Touche!' Tweed threw both hands into the air. 'We are
going round in circles. You could talk to your colleagues.'

'Oh, I most certainly will.' He removed his glasses. 'May I assume you will do the same thing?'

'Depends on any further developments.'

'What does that mean?' enquired Benton, finishing his
coffee. He turned in his chair to address Monica. 'That
coffee was the best I've drunk for a while. My thanks.'

'It means that there must be no further attempts to attack
my staff.'

He stopped speaking as an object hurled from the outside
struck one of the metal blinds Paula had lowered. The
object bounced off, fell into the street and exploded. Paula
jumped up, peered out of the window just in time to see a
man in a dark overcoat diving inside a Ford which took off
immediately, racing into the main street, fortunately empty
of traffic for a brief moment.

'Grenade.' Tweed stood up. 'That's what I'm talking
about.'

'Lucky no one was on the pavement in the Crescent,' Paula snapped. 'They'd have been killed.'

'Surely,' Benton began, standing up, 'you don't think
that had anything to do with us.'

'I think,' Tweed replied grimly, 'you had best go back to
your HQ and have a long talk with your colleagues. By the
way, did either Nelson or Noel know you were coming
here?'

'No, they were both out. . .' Benton hesitated as though
he'd made a mistake. The implication was that the grenade
would not have been thrown if they had known Benton was
going to be in the office. 'I did mention earlier that I was
coming to see you,' Benton added quickly.

'When was "earlier"?' Tweed demanded, keeping up the
pressure.

'I really think I'd better go now.' He paused. 'Truce?' He
held out his hand to Tweed who appeared not to notice it
as he slipped from behind his desk and opened the door for Benton to leave.

25

In the evening Paula was on her way to meet Coral Flenton.
She had phoned first and Coral had sounded delighted she
was coming. Tweed had planned protection for her and she
had accepted the
idea without a murmur. The grenade
hurled at the steel blind had shaken her. The protection was
heavy.

'We are facing ruthless men capable of anything.' Tweed had warned. 'The interview with Benton did nothing to reassure me . . .'

It was a murky evening as Paula drove slowly into Covent
Garden. The dark was intensified by a low ceiling of black
clouds. Close behind her Newman drove in his car with Nield in his car behind him. A motorcyclist purred past
them. In the saddle was Harry, who pulled up a few yards
beyond the entrance to Coral's apartment.

Paula saw that the space she'd used on her previous visit
was empty. She turned into it, got out, locked the car,
inserted coins into the meter. By now both Nield and
Newman had found parking spaces. They had planned in advance where each of them would wait. Newman bought
a cup of coffee and a newspaper he'd pretend to read
opposite Coral's entrance. Recalling the photo sent to them by persons unknown of the scene outside Viola's
flat, he was disturbed to see the lighted frosted-glass
window.

As soon as Paula pressed the bell the door was opened
and Coral stood there, smiling. As she stepped inside Coral threw both arms round her visitor, hugged her. Paula used
her foot to kick the door shut behind her.

'I am so relieved to see you,' Coral said as she led the way down a long hall and up a flight of stairs. They went into the
living room, modestly but tastefully furnished.

'Has something happened to disturb you?' Paula
enquired as she sat on a sofa.

'I suppose it has. I don't know where the hell I am.'

Coral picked up a glass and drank. Paula sniffed brandy.
Then she saw the bottle perched on a small table near the sofa. She asked for wine when Coral offered brandy.

'What's the problem?' Paula asked after sipping her wine.