Rhinoceros

'I have promised never to reveal that.'

'Couldn't be Rondel, could it?' he asked casually.

Lisa looked down at her lap.

'No, it couldn't be,' she said.

'You know…' Tweed began doodling faces on his pad. 'If I've no idea where I can contact you we simply can't work together.'

'He said you were not only very clever, but also very tough and never gave up. I'm not living at the flat off Ebury Street any more. I've moved to The Hangman's Noose. It's a pub in the East End near Reefers Wharf. You could always get me there or, if I'm out, speak to Herb, the owner.'

'Is he trustworthy?'

'He should be.'

'Why, if I might ask?' interjected Mark, who had kept silent while he watched her.

'Why?' She turned on him. 'Because at one time he served with bloody Military Intelligence.' She took a folded sheet from her shoulder bag, handed it to Tweed. 'That is a list of the probable targets tonight.'

Tweed read slowly through the typed list. He was careful not to show his anxiety. He looked straight at her.

'This covers a lot of territory. My guess is that Herb, with his Army experience, has helped build up this list.'

'You've hit the nail on the head.' She smiled. 'He also said you were very quick on the uptake.'

'Herb, you mean?'

'No, the man who sent me over here as the Messenger to warn you. You said there will be six of us…'

'Seven. Including yourself.'

'We'll need transport to move us from the West End to the East.'

'And we have loads of it,' said Harry Butler. 'In all makes and sizes.'

'I've worked out how we'll travel,' Tweed announced. 'Three cars. I'll drive Car One with Paula next to me. Newman will drive Car Two with Lisa and Mark as passengers. Car Three will be yours, Harry, taking Pete Nield with you, if he does ever get here.'

'He will,' Harry said. 'And mine will be the four-wheel drive. I've reinforced the ram at the front. Might come in useful.'

'Could I go to the bathroom?' Lisa asked as she finished her coffee. 'That was very good,' she added, turning round to look at Monica. 'Thank you.'

'I'll take you,' Paula volunteered. The two women left the room.

'Well, what do you think of her?' Tweed enquired, glancing round the office.

'She'll do,' said Butler. 'I've been watching her.'

'Resourceful, reliable.' Newman gave his verdict.

'I second Bob,' Mark agreed.

'I case you're interested in my opinion,' Monica began, 'I think she's the tops. And in a rough-house my bet is she'd give a good account of herself. Notice the steel rims on the toes of her shoes?'

'No, I didn't,' Newman admitted.

'That's because she'd covered the steel with thick polish.' 'Sounds as though she could be an asset in our car,'

Mark said to Newman. 'And I thought we'd have to look after her. ..'

'You may find she has to look after you,' Monica commented wickedly.

'Weapons,' said Harry.

'I'm taking my Smith amp; Wesson,' Newman remarked.

'Now listen.' Tweed raised his voice. 'There is to be no shooting on this expedition. Only if your life is in danger or you fear serious injury. The police will be there.'

'When it's all over,' Newman replied cynically.

He had just spoken when Pete Nield came in. He gave Tweed a little salute.

'Sorry I'm so late. Saw an accident on my way here. A lady had a broken leg. As usual, no one knew what to do. I lifted her into the back of a car which was going to drive her to a hospital. Got a glass of water from a nearby house and got her to swallow a couple of painkillers. Always carry stuff like that with me.'

'Ruddy walking medicine chest, you are,' Harry snorted.

The two men often worked as a team, knew they could always rely on each other. The contrast between them was striking. Butler always wore a shabby windcheater, denims which had seen better days, a pullover ragged at the cellar. Whereas Nield, slim and erect, was smartly dressed in a blue suit with shirt and tie.

Tweed began talking, bringing Nield up to date tersely with everything that had happened. Nield listened carefully, perched on the edge of Paula's desk. Tweed repeated his warning about the use of firearms, showed him Lisa's list of targets, which caused Nield to whistle softly.

'Going to try and level London to the ground, are they?'

'As I told you,' Tweed snapped, 'it's supposed to be a rehearsal for a major event later.'

'If you say so…'

He stopped speaking as the door opened and Lisa entered with Paula behind her. Everyone stared. Carrying her heavy raincoat with capacious pockets Lisa wore a leather skirt ending way above her knees. For a top she was wearing a gaudy silk blouse which fitted her tightly. It was sleeveless. Newman stopped staring, looked anywhere except at her legs.

'Sorry to dress like a tart,' Lisa explained. 'But a major target is the huge discotheque in the West End. I need to merge with the atmosphere. When we leave the place I'll put on what's in my raincoat pockets. Rolled-up sweater, pair of jeans, old windcheater.' She smiled. 'I'm only showing you this outfit so you don't get a shock later.'

Saying which, she slipped on the raincoat. Then she checked her watch, looked at Tweed.

'Shouldn't we leave during the next half hour? It's got late suddenly.'

'Transport,' growled Harry, jumped up, left the room.

Tweed introduced Lisa to Pete Nield, who shook hands, smiled at her.

'Welcome to the war party.'

'I don't want to hear any more language like that,' Tweed told him. 'It's the wrong attitude.'

'You hope,' Newman said under his breath.

'That SAS team I wanted here from Hereford has arrived, I hope,' Gavin Thunder snapped at the aide who had replaced Jeremy Mordaunt.

'It's across the street, secreted in a building near what used to be Scotland Yard, sir. I hope you don't mind my saying this – but don't they come under the control of the MoD? ^ 5

'Yes, but I talked the Defence Minister into agreeing. I can talk him into anything. You've heard the rumours. Tonight that foreign scum we've let in has planned an inferno. We'll keep the SAS in reserve, see how it develops.'

'I hope, sir, the Cabinet will go along with you.' 'None of your damned business. But as you've raised the point, I talked the Cabinet into agreeing, albeit reluctantly.

We may need to show our iron fist.'

'Which, I hear, sir, is your nickname inside the Cabinet.

Iron Fist.'

CHAPTER 8

Action this day.

The words went out on the Internet, from Ponytail at his base in the apartment on the shores of Lake Washington in Seattle. Went out to be decoded by 'chief executives' in London, Paris, Rome, Brussels, Berlin and Stockholm.

Even as they were deciphered, 'tourist' buses were moving in to the centre of each city. There were no convoys to attract the attention of the police. Single buses packed with men drove in from different directions, heading for their targets.

Ponytail then turned to operating on the home front. The same coded instruction went out to San Francisco, Chicago, New York, Los Angeles and New Orleans. In the States Greyhound buses had been hijacked at prearranged points in the countryside, their passengers herded into barns where they were trapped once the doors had been locked. All mobile phones had been confiscated. Waiting gangs of rough-looking men boarded the empty buses which then proceeded to their destinations.

And no one realized that these three words of the instruction had once been the favourite phrase of Winston Churchill, urging lethargic civil servants to do what he said immediately.

It was 10 p.m. in London. Tweed and his team had entered the basement restaurant off Piccadilly in separate groups, had sat at three different tables. The only member absent was Harry Butler, which left Pete Nield by himself.