Precipice

'Oh, dear, you'll add fuel to the flames.'

'Exactly. I'll be taking along a can of petrol with me.'

'How is everyone?' Howard asked in an off-hand tone.

'Thought you'd never ask. They are your people. Newman nearly got killed but is all right. Paula and Philip were engaged in a firefight in Geneva. The outcome was six dead bodies – fortunately not theirs among them. The thugs involved in both cases belong to Leopold Brazil.'

'Brazil?' Howard repeated in a dazed voice.

'Yes, Brazil – the individual, not the country. The nice man the White House, Downing Street, and the Elysee hold champagne dinners to entertain. That Brazil.'

'You're sure?' Howard bleated.

'No, I'm not sure, I'm certain. I have had it from the horse's mouth. The horse in this case being Brazil. Get that camp bed out in your office, throw some blankets over it, flop there, and go to sleep. Monica will come and tuck you up.'

'That won't be necessary.' Howard forced himself to stand up. 'I'll do as you say. How are things out on the front in Europe?'

'You don't want to know. They are – and will be -taken care of. Bedtime, Howard…'

Monica glared at Tweed as soon as they were alone. Tuck him up, indeed!'

'I thought that would get you.' Tweed told her mischievously. 'Now get the PM's private secretary on the phone. You speak to him. Tell him I'll be arriving at Downing Street thirty minutes from now to talk to the PM. If there's any protest tell him in that case I won't be coming. Now or ever.'

'That's pretty tough.' she said, reaching for the phone. 'I feel pretty tough.'

In his office in Geneva, where he had earlier returned from Zurich, Bill Franklin picked up the phone. It was Lebrun, his man watching Cornavin Station.

'Yes, what is it?' Franklin enquired amiably.

'The Zurich express came in five minutes ago. One of the passengers who alighted was Robert Newman. He went into the buffet and is eating breakfast. Another intriguing point is three other men off the express came in by themselves at intervals. It's early and there are normally hardly any customers in the buffet at this time. I think they may all be together.'

'What types are the other three men?'

'I wouldn't like to cross swords with any of them.' Lebrun replied. 'And I'm pretty sure they're waiting to board the Milan express, due shortly. In about half an hour.'

'What makes you think that, Lebrun? Rather a wild assumption.'

'Not so wild. I wandered into the buffet and Newman was studying a rail timetable – open at the page with trains for Milan.'

'And he let you see what he was looking at?' Franklin asked sceptically.

'Well, I only paused a moment by his table.'

'A pause which Newman would notice. He deliberately let you see the page he was looking at. I must get moving. Get me two tickets for Milan – one first-class, one second-class. Wait on the platform and hand the tickets to me when I arrive. I'll be boarding the Milan express myself. Better go to the ticket office now…'

Franklin sat thinking for a short time just after the call had ended. Milan? He doubted it. He had just discovered Leopold Brazil had a villa in the mountains outside Sion. 'I'd better go and see what's happening in that part of the world.' he said to himself as he got up to collect an already packed case from a cupboard.

Newman didn't give a damn who else boarded the express. He could find out by sending Marler on a patrol along the train once it began moving. So, as his team entered other coaches, he didn't see Bill Franklin, carrying a suitcase and wearing a trench coat, climb aboard near the back. But Franklin saw him disappearing inside a coach midway along.

Fifteen seconds before the train left Cornavin another passenger entered a coach at the very rear. Wearing a black beret and glasses with plain lenses, he chose a corner seat, parked his bag on the next seat in the otherwise empty compartment. Archie was unrecognizable. He had even got rid of his half-smoked cigarette stub.

Much earlier, during the night, he had been standing in Zurich Hauptbahnhof when Beck's army of detectives had invaded the station. The detective who checked his identity saw no reason to be suspicious of the mild-mannered little man.

Archie had immediately grasped why the round-up of a number of ugly-looking characters was taking place. He had rushed to his small hotel nearby, used mostly by travelling salesmen, had paid his bill, collected his bag, and returned to the main station. There he had resumed his vigil.

Archie could wait for ever without becoming impatient or tiring. His persistence had been rewarded when eventually he had seen Newman boarding the first express for Geneva. He had then boarded the same train himself and had gone to sleep until shortly before it arrived in Comavin. Now he was aboard yet another train.

Anton Marchat, he thought as he sat in his corner. I'm sure they are forgetting Marchat. I will go to see him myself when this train reaches Sion…

Marler had not yet begun his patrol of the express to check who was on board when Newman, in a compartment by himself, heard the door opening. He slipped his right hand inside his jacket, grasped the Smith amp; Wesson as he looked up.

'No cause for alarm, Bob.'

Bill Franklin was grinning when he entered the compartment and closed the door. He dumped his bag on a seat and sat opposite Newman. He carefully folded his trench coat and placed it on top of the bag.

'Hope you don't object to the intrusion. You're like lightning with a gun.'

Momentarily annoyed that Franklin realized what he had done, Newman recalled his new companion had once been in the army.

'You just never know.' he responded.

'You never know.' Franklin agreed. 'Mind if I light a cigar?'

'Go ahead. I'd have thought you'd have smelt the smoke from the cigarette I've just extinguished.'

'I did. But it's polite to ask.' Franklin said with a smile.

Newman had heard that Franklin played the devil with the ladies. He could understand the reason for his success with his amorous adventures. Franklin had an easy manner, was courteous, smiled a lot.

'How did you know I was on this train?' he asked suddenly.

'Because I have a good team of detectives. I've had one man watching the airport, another down at Anne-masse, a sleepy station on Geneva's southern frontier with France. Just the place where Brazil would bring in his thugs – and he did. Then a third man watching Cornavin. He spotted you.'

'So you decided you'd come along for the ride?' Newman enquired, watching Franklin's reaction closely.

'No. I decided you needed all the back-up you can get. I don't think you know what's waiting for you in the Valais.'

'What is waiting for me?'

'At least forty of Brazil's professional thugs have passed through Geneva, then boarded a train for the east.' He paused as, having trimmed the end of his cigar, Franklin passed a match backwards and forwards, getting it alight to his satisfaction. 'And undoubtedly we missed some of them.'

'So you've come as back-up?'

Franklin heaved his case across to the seat next to Newman. Unlocking it, he lifted the lid, exposing a neatly folded jacket. He lifted the jacket after glancing into the deserted corridor. Nestling on a pair of pyjamas was a Heckler amp; Koch MP5 9mm sub-machine-gun.

'You don't believe in doing things by halves,' Newman commented as Franklin quickly put back the jacket, closed the case. He took a long puff at his cigar.

'No, I don't believe in doing things by halves. You'll know that little baby has a rate of fire of six hundred and fifty rounds per minute. And I've got plenty of spare mags.'

'I'd call you a pessimist,' Newman said with a smile.

'I'd call myself a realist. We're approaching a major battlefield. You know Brazil has a villa up the Col de Roc, overlooking a glacier? Above Sion.'

'No, I didn't.' 'Had it built to his own design. It's equipped with a high-power radio transmitter. Yes, Bob, that's what is ahead of us. A major battlefield.'