'Contact Commander Buchanan. Tell him someone tried to shoot me as I left the building, but Newman, who was outside, fired first, killed the assassin. Named Radek. Don't tell Chief Inspector Hammer anything. It must be Buchanan…'
'Are you all right?'
It was Paula who had practically thrown herself down the staircase and was shivering. Not from the cold. He repeated to her his instructions, adding something.
'Get a sheet of canvas to cover Radek's body. Be careful not to move it. Tell Buchanan when he gets here I had to leave in an emergency on my murder investigation. You don't know where. I must go now. See you…'
She left George to cover the body, told him to stand in the open door's shadow to watch over the corpse. Rushing back upstairs, she called Buchanan, reached him immediately on his mobile.
'Understood, Paula. I'm in the East End. I'm leaving now.'
Paula grabbed her windcheater, gave Monica a brief report on what had happened. She had put on the windcheater and explained quickly.
'I'm off to join the others and Newman has waited for me,' she lied.
Checking her watch, she saw she was late. She hurtled down the stairs. She paused in the empty hall to check the loaded Browning was OK, then checked the Beretta in her leg holster. Outside she paused to tell George she was on her way to join the others, then rushed to her car, dived behind the wheel. At that time of night there were no crowds in Park Crescent rushing out to see what had happened – they had all gone home. She started the engine and drove off as fast as she dared through fairly deserted streets to her destination. Covent Garden.
39
It was after 9 p.m. when Paula parked in the street where Coral lived. The street lamps at intervals created a pleasant glow in the moonless dark. A few couples strolled slowly, stopping to chat, to engage in an embrace.
On the first floor above the entrance to the flat a window of frosted glass was illuminated by a pink lamp inside. It was almost red and Paula suppressed a shudder. With the key Coral had given her she opened the front door. There was a groan from the hinges which startled her. She went inside the wide hall which was also lit by a ceiling lamp.
She closed the door slowly and avoided it groaning a second time. She was very late and wondered whether Coral was taking a bath behind the frosted-glass window. Her rubber-soled shoes made no sound as she ascended the stairs at the end of the hall.
The door to the living room was open. Paula glanced inside, then entered the bedroom where the door was also wide open. The double bed was a very low affair, only a few inches off the floor. The floor was wooden, covered here and there with rugs.
She moved cautiously, very quietly. In the far wall a glass door was slid half-open. She could now hear the shower going full blast. Under the cover of the noise she walked quickly to the second closet which contained Coral's coats. She didn't think Coral would open this closet unless she was going out. Which seemed unlikely – there was a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, two glasses on a table.
She opened the closet door slowly. It stuck at first, then gave way with a loud creak. She glanced at the bathroom but the noise of the shower had muffled the noise. Beyond a glazed door she had a glimpse of Coral's figure. She looked away quickly.
She had stepped inside the roomy closet, pushing coats aside, when the shower was turned off. She heard Coral talking on a mobile, her voice soft, excited.
'Hi, there. Great to hear your voice. What was that?'
Presumably the caller had said something, then Coral replied.
'Sure I'll be ready for you then.' She giggled. 'In fact I'm ready for you now.'
Again, presumably, a response from the caller.
'No, I'm not. Don't be naughty…'
Another pause while the caller said something.
'Didn't say I loved you. Liked you a lot, I said.'
Another pause.
'That's all right. Get here when you can.' Another giggle. 'I'm not going anywhere. Bye.'
Paula, behind the coats, tensed. If she came into this closet.. . Unlikely with only three coats for outside wear, but still…
She remembered seeing a neatly folded pile of underwear on a chair in the bedroom. Also a dress had been folded carefully over the back of another chair.
The closet door looked heavy but the next thing she heard distinctly was the clink of a glass. Coral was not dressing for her visitor. Instead she was sitting down to drink champagne. Wearing nothing.
Paula wished she'd taken off her windcheater – it was warm inside the closet. She decided she dare not risk it. She might make a noise, hit one of the coats hanging from the brass rails.
She settled down to wait.
40
Seated in the passenger seat at the rear of the cab, Tweed was checking maps of the area round where the Parrot lived. He was busily changing several of the positions Newman had suggested for the watchers.
'Told 'im you'd muck about with the sentry posts. Guv,' Harry called back.
'How close are we now?' Tweed called back.
'Five minutes away at the most. Then we're outside the side street where the Parrot 'ibernates. We're in 'Ammersmith already.'
'I want you to cruise round very slowly so I can check up on the team.'
'Parrot's pad is in sight now.'
Tweed peered out. The Parrot's first-floor flat was on the corner of the main street and the side street. It had two windows on the main street side. They were a blaze of lights. He could also for a moment see the windows overlooking the side street. Again the lights behind them were on. The Parrot was at home.
He saw a decrepit-looking individual sweeping the pavement with a broom. The sweeper was tall, was wearing an Australian-style hat with the brim pulled well down. He suddenly realized it was Newman.
Harry crawled so slowly past the end of the side street he was almost stationary. Tweed spotted a down-and-out leaning against a wall opposite the entrance to the Parrot's flat. A beer bottle, held by the neck, was dangling from his left hand.
'That's Pete Nield,' Harry told him.
'And Marler?' Tweed queried.
'Never spot him. Why do you think we call him the Invisible Man?'
'I want to know now where Marler is,' Tweed demanded. 'That is an order, Harry.'
'OK. He's merged in the shadows of the house next door to the entrance to the Parrot's place. No one can enter that building without Marler being within feet of them. So how far do you think an intruder – or a visitor – can get?'
'Thank you, Harry. This means the Parrot's place is sealed off. Which is what I wanted. Now cruise slowly back and forth as though looking for a customer. I'm slumped down out of sight. I'll appear if someone tries to hire you.'
'They won't. I've got the light off, showing I'm busy. I suggest you relax and eat your meal.'
Tweed slowly ate his meal, drank from his water bottle as he kept an eye on the silent streets and thought.
He was going over in detail the reports the team had given him about their interviews. Somewhere there was a clue. No one under pressure of interrogation was able to avoid making a slip at some time.
Then he had an idea. He asked Harry to lend him his mobile, then to turn on the overhead light. From his top pocket Tweed extracted the card General Macomber had tucked into it. He rang the General's phone number. A woman, sounding like a housekeeper, answered quickly. 'General Macomber's residence. Who is this?' 'Tweed of the SIS. I'm sure the General has told you I met him this morning…'
'Yes, sir, he did. I know who you are.'
'Then could I please have a word with the General?'
'I'm afraid not. He left early this afternoon for London. He wasn't able to say when he would be back.'