This United State (66 page)

'Fire away.'

'Howard told me that everything that mattered here is now down at the Bunker. I reckon one of the prime targets of that task force will be the Bunker. So I went down there to check out the defences. They seem OK to me.'

'Good. What is your suggestion?'

'I think we ought to send Alf's mob down there. I can contact Alf.'

'I agree. They won't travel in convoy, I hope?'

'No. Alf has his head screwed on. Also, if they drive down just after dark no one will spot them.'

'I agree. Monica, phone Mrs Carson and warn her seven men with their cabs will be descending on her. You can explain to her about Alf's mob.' He looked at Marler. 'They'll have to find somewhere to hide all those cabs — so they won't be seen from the air.'

'Alf will think of that himself. He does have all his marbles.'

'One more thing.' Tweed opened a drawer. 'Give him this map, otherwise he'll never find the place.'

'I was about to ask you.' Marler looked out of the window after taking the map. 'Talk of the devil. Alf's cab is parked on the main street. I think he's stopped to light a fag. I can tell him now if I move. See you all later. Things to do.'

'Blow!' said Tweed. 'One thing I forgot to tell him. When I've finished, Monica, phone this data to Mrs Carson. Tell her to warn Alf and his mob as soon as they arrive. I've warned everyone else down there, including Cord.'

'Warn him about what?' Paula enquired.

'When Marler was supervising the construction of the Bunker he found there were a number of very deep shafts in the grounds. He guessed, as they looked so ancient, they were ventilation shafts. They're like vertical tunnels which lead down to horizontal tunnels the smugglers used in the old days. Marler had metal gratings put over the top of each shaft so nobody would ever fall down one. They already had ancient grilles over them but they were crumbling with the passage of time, so he had them renewed. I worry he might have missed one.'

'I'll make it all one call to Mrs Carson,' Monica promised.

'So you're sure Sharon is Charlie?' Paula remarked. 'If we've time to relax for five minutes.'

'We not only have the time — we need it.'

'Were you suspicious of her earlier?' Paula suggested.

'Yes, up to a point. Who was always on the spot when attempts were made to kill us? In Basel? In Freiburg? In Strasbourg? Sharon Mandeville. Someone had to be instructing Ronstadt and his thugs.'

'Monica,' Paula went on, turning in her chair, 'while building up your profiles did you ever fill in those long strange gaps in Ed Osborne's life?'

'No, I was never able to fill one of them. A mystery man.'

Paula turned back to Tweed. 'I noticed that Sharon never admitted she was Charlie. And Osborne was always on the spot. In Basel. In Freiburg. In Strasbourg.'

'You are a very observant lady,' Tweed told her.

'And I was also struck,' she said, `by Chuck Venacki, the smooth-faced man we met in the corridor. He was so much more polished, spoke very well, an educated man who was very well dressed.'

'A lot of Americans are,' Newman said. 'We've been meeting the dregs of American society. We do have the same type over here.'

'Are you sure,' she pressed him, 'that you saw him in that car by the side of Ronstadt at Schluchsee?'

'I am sure. I know I was jumping for my life out of the way but I saw him clearly. Don't ask me who the other two were.'

'It's weird,' she said. 'And when do we all go down to Romney Marsh?'

'That reminds me,' said Tweed. 'I have to phone a friend of mine at the MoD. What he tells me will answer your question.'

Paula got up to stretch her legs. She gazed out of the window. Marler was still talking to Alf. As she watched he got into the cab as though he were a passenger. Alf had not got his light on. Not available for taking fares.

'Philip,' Tweed began, using Beck's mobile, 'Howard has told me about—'

'Hold it, please,' a cultured voice interrupted. 'Is this a safe line?'

'Absolutely. I'm on a hacker-proof mobile, advanced Swiss version. Can I go on? Good. Philip, I need to know the progress of that American task force – how dose it is.'

'You're talking to the right chap, Tweed. I'm in charge of monitoring it. It's still heading straight for us. We estimate it will be well inside the English Channel late tomorrow night. I can keep you informed of its progress, if that would help.'

'It would be a life-saver. A plan I'm working on depends on my knowing their timetable. If I'm not here could you give the latest news to Monica? You know how reliable she is.'

'Think I'd trust Monica before I trusted you,' Philip joked. 'I'll keep you in close touch with developments. Let's have a drink when this is all over.'

'Time you paid for your round. Bye...'

'There's something else,' Newman remarked.

'And I thought we'd got enough on our plate,' Paula chided him.

'We mustn't forget the Phantom is still on the loose,' Newman warned.

'Oh, he'll turn up again,' Tweed assured him. 'Maybe next time he will make a fatal mistake. I wonder who's paying him.'

'Sharon?' Paula suggested.

'Possibly.'

'So when is zero hour? I imagine you know, after talking to your old chum, Philip.'

'At a guess I'd say between 2200 hours and midnight, So it will be dark, which worries me.'

At that moment Marler returned. He gave Paula a little salute and took up his favourite position. Leaning against a wall he looked at Tweed.

'Alf is all clued up. He's gone off to meet his pals one by one. He'll brief them. He's going to photocopy that map in some small all-night shop he knows about. All knows where to get anything done.'

'I'm glad you came back so quickly, Marler. A friend of mine at the MoD has warned me that task force will arrive after dark tomorrow. That's when I think they will launch their attack on the Bunker. The dark will make it difficult to see them coming.'

'Problem solved. I'll go back to my office now to call down to the mansion in deep and darkest Surrey. They have a collection of mobile hand-operated searchlights. And a goodly number of star shells would come in handy. I'll talk to the one man who knows where the Bunker is, tell him to load up a van immediately, to drive it himself through the night to the Bunker.'

'You're a genius,' said Tweed.

'Oh, I know. But it's nice to have it confirmed. See you.'

'Why didn't I think of that?' Tweed asked when Marler had gone.

'Because you're not a genius,' said Paula. 'Incidentally, I'm not going to ask you what you discussed with the PM. Out of bounds. But what was your objective during our visit to those people at the American Embassy?'

'To destabilize them, the way they're trying to destabilize us. It worked better than I'd hoped. Morgenstern is the kingpin.' He looked at his watch. 'By now he should be airborne in his Gulfstream jet, heading for Washington.'

'You certainly destabilized Sharon.'

'A trifle dramatic, wasn't it? I'd wondered what lay under her deep calm at all times. Now we know. A volcano. And I managed to trigger it off. A real eruption.'

'What do you imagine she's doing now? Checking out the first flight back to the States in the morning?'

'Maybe. And maybe not.'

In her white office at the Embassy Sharon Mandeville was her normal cool self. Leaning back in her tall chair she was on the phone to Washington.

'Hi there, Senator, this is Sharon. How goes it?'

'Great. Just great, honey. You'll be needed back here soon to start your campaign. All the posters are printed for the billboards. You look a winner on them. You will be. I'm banking on it.'

'I'm very grateful to you, Grant. I hope you know that.'

'Hell with that. I'm looking forward to retiring, to putting you in my place. Don't forget this is a big state, a key state when it comes later to the nomination for a presidential candidate. A whole load of electoral college votes in your pocket.'

'I've got to get there first, Grant. To become a senator as a springboard for the big one.'

'You'll walk it. Both elections. For senator. For presidential candidate. Lord knows you've made enough speeches so far. And everywhere you spoke the crowds went wild. I know it hasn't hit the press or TV yet, but that's the way we want it. You come out as the big surprise. Is this phone OK?'

'Totally OK.'

'Got a bit of great news. Keep it quiet. Your nearest rival for senator is withdrawing from the race.'

'He is? How the hell did that happen?'

'Wise old me made it happen. Had him investigated. He's taken bribes from the Chinese. Needed a whole load of dough and Beijing coughed up. Needed that dough to try and keep his companies afloat. He's still bankrupt. Nobody knows, but I got hold of documents. Went to have a chat with my old enemy at that palatial house of his. Told him to announce his withdrawal — for reasons of health — or I'd send the documents to CNN and the
New York Times
. He's making his announcement tomorrow.'

'You're wicked. That's blackmail.'

'Aren't you glad I'm on your side? You know what?' 'Do tell, Grant.'

'I'm looking forward one day to telling my grandchildren how I propelled the first woman in history into the White House.'

'Thank you, Grant.'

'With your money and my know-how you're home and dry.'

'Thank you again, Grant.'

'When can I expect you to reach Washington?'

'Soon, very soon now. I'll let you know when I'm flying over, give you my ETA.'

'I'll be there to meet you. With flowers.'

'Anybody ever tell you that you're a great guy? I'm telling you now.' She paused. 'I've some unfinished business to attend to.'

'Goodnight, Madame President.'

Crag had sat immobile in his chair as the task force headed at speed for its objective. A few minutes later an aide appeared, crossed the deck, saluted, handed the Rear Admiral an envelope.

'New maps, sir. Just transmitted to us from Washington.'

'Thank you.'

The aide saluted again, left the deck. Crag opened the envelope, extracted several maps. An attached signal explained the aerial photos the aide had called maps had been taken by a helicopter flying over the vital section of the Kent coast. Crag reached for a powerful magnifying glass resting on his work table.

He grunted as he studied the photos carefully. Then he looked up. He handed the photos to his Operations Officer.

'Bill, I guess we ought to rush these over to the SEALs commander. Seems to me the operation will be a piece of cake. They land on a flat beach of pebbles just east of some place called New Romney. Then they strike inland over territory as flat as a pancake. Only a short distance to that communications HQ.'

'I'm worried, sir, that the Brits may know we're coming. That commercial airliner which flew above us just when there was the only break so far in the overcast.'

'I wouldn't worry.' Crag stretched his long arms, suppressed a yawn. 'Passengers on those flights soon get tired of looking out of the windows. They'd either be tired or drunk — or both. And it was at pretty high altitude. We estimated thirty-five thousand feet.'

'I'd better report to the Chairman that we've received the signal and the maps.'

'Aerial photos, Bill. Hold on sending a report. Let's first get the reaction of the SEALs' commander aboard the warship he's travelling on.'

Crag sat thinking. In his mind he was checking over the sections of the task force he'd contacted recently. Some admirals in his position, he knew, had a written list they ticked off. Crag carried the list in his head.

Fifteen minutes later — ten of which had been taken up lowering the fast boat over the side which had taken the data and its racing to the warship — his Operations Officer returned with a signal in his hand.

'May I read this to you, sir? I emphasize I'm using the words used by the SEALs' commander.'