Rhinoceros

'Could I have a copy?'

'Course you can. I'll borrow it off Bert now. Can't think why you want it but you keeps yourself to yourself. Then, you're a smart lady

…'

Customers were filling up the pub but Lisa was able to go to the end of the bar by herself. She copied Bert's list, then used the phone to call Tweed again. The same nice woman answered, regretted that Tweed was out again, asked if he could call her.

'I'll try again later, thank you…'

Tweed and Paula went inside Marlows, an obscure club located on Pall Mall alongside more prestigious establishments. Tweed was asking the porter if Mr Gavin Thunder had arrived when a small well-dressed man in a grey suit appeared in the hall. Well-built, he couldn't have been more than five feet four inches tall, Paula estimated, and he exuded physical energy as he held out a hand, smiling.

'Welcome, Tweed. Too long since we last met. And this must be the hyper-efficient Miss Paula Grey. And an attractive lady, if I may say so.'

'Thank you,' replied Paula as she shook his firm, muscled hand. 'I don't know about hyper-efficient but I get by.'

'With flying colours, according to many who know you. Shall we adjourn to the library? Very quiet in there. I'll lead the way…'

He was just as she'd expected. In his forties, he had dark brown hair, a high forehead, a commanding nose, a strong mouth. He walked rapidly and had an aura of amiability that put people at their ease. His most striking feature were his eyes, intense blue eyes that looked straight at you.

They followed him into a room lined with bookcases from floor to ceiling. The room was deserted except for a waiter and Thunder sat them at a small table circled with comfortable arm chairs.

'Coffee for everyone?' he suggested and nodded to the waiter. He sat forward, hands clasped in his lap, looked from one guest to the other.

'Got your reports, Tweed, as I said on the phone. Read both of them.' He spoke rapidly, like a man with an agile brain. 'Doesn't seem to be any doubt about what happened to poor Jeremy Mordaunt. Murder.'

'I'm afraid it was,' agreed Tweed and fell silent.

'What worries me, frankly,' Thunder continued when he realized Tweed was not going to say any more, 'is the inquest. It will, of course, be held at Eastbourne. That might just keep most of the press away. The government can do without yet another scandal.'

He kept quiet as the waiter returned and served the coffee. He only resumed speaking when the door had closed…

'Incidentally, I'm Gavin. Have I your permission to call you Paula? Thank you. I get so fed up with being addressed as "Minister".' He smiled. 'I feel like looking round to make sure I'm not in church.'

Paula chuckled and Thunder waved both hands as much as to say what a world we live in. He stared at Tweed, his expression grave.

'May I ask you a personal question? If you don't want to reply I'll quite understand.' He leaned forward again. 'At the inquest will you be telling the coroner you are still pursuing your investigations and request an adjournment?'

'I'm going to do exactly that.'

'Thank you for answering – between the three of us only.'

'Am I then to assume,' Tweed began, his voice sharper, 'that I am still in charge of the investigation? That would be most unusual.'

'You are to assume that, yes. I know it's unusual – there are people who would call it irregular. But there could be political implications, now we know it was murder. You see, Jeremy was very bright technically.' He paused. 'I have again to ask you to keep this just between the three of us.' He paused. 'A couple of days before Jeremy travelled to Alfriston he discovered my office was bugged.'

'And you'd discussed confidential matters in that room?' asked Tweed.

'Heavens, yes, I had. Thought I was safe there. So Jeremy removed all the listening devices. I decided not to report it to anyone.'

'Why?'

'Because I was beginning to wonder who I could trust.'

'Even among Cabinet members?'

'If you don't mind, I'd sooner not answer that question.

But I've been doing all the talking. Have you something you'd like to ask me?'

'Yes, I have. Do you know why Jeremy Mordaunt travelled down to Alfriston? Who he was going to see?'

'I have absolutely no idea. I kept him on a loose rein -he was clever and wouldn't tell me certain things until he had the complete story. I have made enquiries.'

'What about?'

'Discreetly, about who lives in that part of the world. So far I have only come up with Lord Barford. But since he gave up the job as chief of the Special Branch hasn't he retired?'

'One would expect him to have done that.'

'Oh, there is something else.' Thunder checked his Rolex watch. 'I'll have to go shortly. A Cabinet meeting.' He looked at Paula and smiled. 'You wouldn't care to come and keep me company – to prevent me from being bored stiff?'

'I don't think they'd welcome me,' she said, returning his smile.

'Before we go,' Tweed said, 'what was the something else?'

'I'd appreciate it if you'd liaise with Chief Inspector Roy Buchanan about your investigations. It would go some way to regularizing the situation.'

'I was going to do that anyway.'

They left the library. Thunder collected his coat, and they walked into the street. As they did so a limo pulled up at the kerb. Thunder swore, apologized to Paula.

'I did tell them to send an ordinary car for me. All this pomp and circumstance is so idiotic. Now, thank you both so much for giving me your time. And I've enjoyed your company.' He whispered the rest as the chauffeur opened the door with a flourish. 'Which is more than I expect to do when I get back to Downing Street…'

'You have your lunch with Aubrey Barford,' Tweed reminded her as the limo moved off. 'Is there time for us to walk up St James's Street before you get a taxi?'

'Yes, there is.' They began to stroll. 'Well, that surprised me. I expected him to rave.'

'He can, I've heard. If a subordinate isn't quick enough or forgets something. And Thunder is the right name for him when he's speaking in the House of Commons. A magnificent orator. I've heard gossip that there's a cabal of Ministers plotting to remove the present PM – so they can instal Thunder in his place.'

'What did you think of his story about Jeremy locating and then removing the bugs from his office?' queried Paula.

'Gavin Thunder has an ingenious brain.'

CHAPTER 5

At about the time Tweed and Paula entered Marlows a helicopter landed at Heathrow. Two passengers emerged and parted company as the sun came out. Both were men of the same height and in their forties. Here the similarity ended.

The athletic man with blond hair that gleamed in the sunshine boarded the motorized passenger trolley which had driven out as the chopper was landing. He radiated wealth. Clad in an Armani suit, he wore Gucci shoes, a Chanel tie and carried an expensive brief-case.

Once aboard the executive jet and settled in his seat he heard the engines starting up. An attractive stewardess brought him a glass of champagne and he leaned back to enjoy himself. The pilot had earlier filed a flight plan for Schiphol Airport near Amsterdam.

The flight took less than an hour. Landing at Schiphol, the passenger left the machine and stepped into a waiting limo. It drove him to the best hotel in the city where he alighted while the chauffeur, who had collected his case which had been aboard the jet before he'd arrived, handed it to a porter.

He registered at the desk. Victor Rondel. Once alone in his suite he noted with satisfaction a bottle of champagne waiting in an ice bucket. He went into the bathroom, locked the door.

Removing the blond wig carefully, he exposed thick dark hair. He checked the time. Have a sleep here first, he decided, then a good dinner downstairs. When it was nightfall he would leave the hotel and wander down a certain street Amsterdam was famous for. Beautiful girls, wearing very little, would be sitting in showcase windows. He would take his time selecting the one he preferred.