Rhinoceros (9 page)

'The chopper in the background,' Newman said. 'Can
we bring that up more clearly, please?'

Art unfolded the small boxlike magnifying glass, pos
itioned it over the helipad area. Newman peered down at
it, grunted. Then he straightened up and whistled before
he spoke.

'That, ladies and gentlemen, is a Sikorsky.'

'So,' mused Paula, 'that chopper which followed us . . .' She broke off, remembering Baldwin was with them. She
had been going to say 'the helicopter could have come from Rondel's place.'

'I'm also deeply interested in that mast with a complex
dish at the top of it,' Tweed said.

'Fred,' Baldwin began, 'who, as you know, is an expert
on communications systems, said that dish is something advanced, something entirely new.'

He placed the magnifier over the dish. Paula sensed that Art was nervous, wasn't going to say anything more. She
looked at Tweed and realized he'd had the same reaction.
Newman peered at the image and shook his head. It meant
nothing to him.

'That was it?' asked Tweed.

'Fred did tell me to keep his other conclusions from you
until he'd completed his researches,' Art replied.

'So what is he keeping secret? I need to know now,'
demanded Tweed.

'He is wondering whether the dish is designed to operate
laser beams of enormous power that 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 look.

The terrible noise was so violent they all had hands
protecting their ears as they joined her. Paula frowned. She had never seen anything like it. Thick lines, like
missiles aimed from different directions, were shooting
non-stop all over the screen. Newman used one hand to
click the mouse. Made no difference. He hastily re-covered
his ear.

Paula had glanced at her watch the moment the Internet
went crazy. The diabolical racket continued, the eye-
boggling lines never stopped skidding across the screen. When the noise ceased and the screen returned to normal Paula checked her watch again.

'That glitch lasted for exactly sixty seconds,' she
announced.

'Let's go,' Tweed suggested. 'This new technology
hasn't settled down yet.'

'But I've never experienced anything like that before,' Monica protested. 'Something very strange has just happened,' she insisted. But they were on their way out.

CHAPTER 4

It was 11.30 a.m. Lisa had eaten the breakfast Herb had brought to her room. Her body was tingling with the second shower she had enjoyed and she'd decided she would go out. She was dressed to merge with the area outside The Hangman's Noose. A shabby old pair of jeans, an ancient blouse, a windcheater that had seen better days and an old pair of shoes with metal rims. She slung a well-worn shoulder bag over her shoulder and her hair was covered with a ragged shawl.

Going downstair
s into the bar she was looking forward
to wandering round the market. She loved the atmosphere.
As she headed towards the door Herb called out to her from behind the bar.

'Wait a tick, I'm comin'
with you.' He turned to
a formidable fat woman also behind the bar. 'Millie,
dear. Look after the place. I fancies a breath of fresh
air

They had just stepped into the street when the sun came
out. Wandering among the market stalls Lisa revelled in
the aroma of fresh fruit and vegetables. The cobbled street
was littered with discarded cabbage leaves, and inhabitants
of the old houses, attracted by the brilliant sunlight, leaned
out of first-floor windows. Lisa stopped suddenly for a second, then resumed her slow walk.

'You've seen 'im,' said Herb.

'Yes.' She grabbed a pair of tinted glasses from her bag,
put them on. 'Delgado. What's he doing here? He's a long way from Bulgaria or wherever he comes from.'

'That's why I came with you.'

Delgado, holding a large brown paper bag in his left
hand, was standing on the far pavement, his
dark eyes
sweeping the area slowly. A giant, over six feet tall, he
had a body to match his height. His greasy black fringe
needed trimming and below it was a vicious face. A large nose broken in several places loomed above a wide cruel
mouth, an aggressive jaw. He wore a long dark coat that
almost reached his ankles.

'And he's brought a small gang of thugs with 'im,'
Herb remarked. 'All foreigners. There's one.'

A small, powerfully built man, wearing a dirty baseball
cap back to front, had stopped at a stall, grabbed hold of
a banana, was eating it. The stallholder asked him to pay
for it. The small man turned round slowly, finished his
banana, threw the skin in the other man's face, waited. The stallholder decided not to make an issue of it when
he looked at the culprit closely.

'I saw Delgado grab a leg of lamb off a stall, shove it
into that bag he's holding. When payment was demanded Delgado produced a knife from somewhere. Blade must
have bin eight inches long. He didn't pay.'

'What's going on?' Lisa asked.

'They're scanning the area. 'Ad a good look at my pub.
They check out alleys, anywhere they could 'ide. That squat thug pinched the cap off Bert.'

'When?'

'They first appeared a couple of hours ago, got out of
cars, scanned this area quickly, then drove off. I sent Bert
after them on his motorbike. They drove to the West
End, parked, then checked out expensive restaurants,
discotheques. You name it. Now they're back 'ere.'

'You think they're getting ready for a riot?'

'Not yet,' Herb told her. 'Not if I read the signs aright.
They're choosin' targets for somethin' later. Here come
six more of the tykes. Foreigners again. Walkin' separate
as though they don't know each other.'

Selecting an apple from a stall, Lisa asked how much.
The stallholder grinned, shook his head. He exchanged
banter with Herb, who explained as they continued walk
ing while she munched the apple.

'That was because you was with me. See that villainous
lot that's just arrived? They're passin' Delgado as though
he didn't exist. That's deliberate. Ever seen that brute
before?'