'Herb called me. A riot's breaking out near The Hangman's Noose. A big one. I told Herb we're coming…'
Leaving the West End, everything became quiet. Paula welcomed the peace, the lack of violent people. At one point Tweed overtook both Newman and Butler, putting himself at the head of the column while Paula, a map open on her lap, navigated.
Realizing it was time for a news bulletin, Tweed switched on the radio. The announcer was just beginning.
'Reports are coming in of serious riots in the centres of Paris and Berlin. A commentator said they had the appearance of being coordinated since they started at the same time in both capitals.. .'
Tweed switched off, his expression grim.
'And here too,' he said.
'What does it mean?' Paula asked.
'That it's international. Which worries me. Which means we have to locate the top man.'
'And I think Lisa knows who he is. Which would put her on the other side.'
'It's a mystery, one I'm determined to solve.'
They said no more until they were approaching the East End. Tweed slowed down, drove more cautiously. In his rear view mirror he saw that Butler and Newman were close behind them.
'We'll soon be at Reefers Wharf,' Paula remarked.
'I wonder why they call it that? I suppose it's on the edge of the river.'
'No, it isn't. I was asking Lisa about it when I took her to the bathroom. The end near The Hangman's Noose is a quarter of a mile at least from the Thames. Apparently it was once a real wharf. Barges and small freighters used it to unload. Then some property speculator had the idea that if he filled it in he'd have some valuable real estate. So now most of the warehouses are offices occupied by companies paying sky-high rents. We're very close now, I think.'
They turned a corner and the street where in daytime the market was held stretched about before them. In the distance Tweed could see, by the light of flames, The Hangman's Noose. Someone had hung from the sign board a real noose with the mask of a grotesque head inside it.
'If it was chaos in the West End this is anarchy,' Paula said grimly.
There seemed to be far more thugs than those they had left behind. When it closed, the stallholders' tables used in the market were folded up, stacked against the far wall. These had been dragged into the road, piled up, set alight. Tweed stopped in front of The Hangman's Noose. They got out as Newman's and Butler's vehicles arrived.
Lisa jumped out, ran along to Tweed and Paula, pointed to a stocky man emerging from the pub. All the windows were boarded up and Herb was carrying a heavy club.
'It's been hell,' he said, addressing Tweed. 'They've been attacking women as well as men.'
Lisa left them. A thug was battering a man with his club. He turned, grinned when he saw her. She stiffened the side of her hand, hit him with a karate chop. He sagged and she grabbed his club. A fire engine had arrived and men in helmets were preparing to deal with the bonfires dotted down the street, flaring up viciously. Tweed noticed groups of thugs were gathered along the opposite pavement, listening to a strange tall fat man in a pink shirt, waving a malacca cane.
Harry Butler saw a fireman bent over a hydrant, attaching a big hosepipe. Then he had difficulty turning on the water. A thug, holding a knife, came up behind him as the fireman removed his helmet, which was getting in his way.
'Look out!' shouted Butler, running forward.
The thug hit the fireman with a club in his other hand. The fireman fell down. The thug turned to face Butler who smashed him in the face with his fist. The thug dropped the knife, lost his club, dazed by the tremendous blow. Butler grabbed his long hair, rammed his head back against a brick wall with such force he thought he heard the skull crack.
Glancing round, he saw the army of thugs, divided into groups, advancing across the street. Further down the street Mark, Newman and Nield were grappling savagely with different opponents. Bending down, Butler checked the hose. It was firmly screwed to the hydrant. With his gloved hands he picked up the hose and it needed all his strength to twist the tap of the hydrant. Water gushed from the tip of the hose. Raising it, he directed its powerful flow at one advancing group, then another. The power of the jet was so great it knocked flat each thug he aimed at.
Thugs with knives were assaulting the firemen trying to get down off their vehicles, preventing them from intervening. Once he had flattened each group of thugs he could see, Butler switched the jet to the fires burning in the street.
Paula, on her own, was stalking the fat man in a pink shirt. His behaviour seemed very odd. Holding his malacca came in both hands, she suspected he was directing the onslaught. At the very least he was closely observing the effectiveness of the attack. He was facing away from her as she crept up behind him. She rammed her. 32 Browning automatic into his back.
'This is a gun,' she yelled in a fierce voice. 'Shove off and don't come back.'
The fat man dropped his cane. Then Paula was knocked off balance as a thug collided into her. She swung round, hit the thug across the jaw with the muzzle of her gun. He staggered back, slid down a wall, lay still. When she was free to turn round to confront Pink Shirt the fat man had vanished. She couldn't see him anywhere. And his cane had vanished with him.
Tweed was running after Lisa, who was pursuing Delgado. Her raincoat flapped as Delgado disappeared round a corner. As she peered round the corner he struck at her with a club. It grazed the side of her head. She staggered back, fell. Delgado came back, raised his club to finish her off. Tweed grabbed hold of the Beretta, tucked in the back of her raincoat belt. He hauled it out, aimed it point-blank at the giant. Delgado changed his mind, disappeared round the corner. Tweed peered round cautiously, in time to see the giant vanish down an alley. He turned his attention to Lisa.
Her pulse was irregular, her eyes closed. He lifted her as Newman appeared. Appalled, he gazed down at Lisa. Tweed snapped at him.
'We've got to get her to the clinic. No help round here. So drive my car if we ever reach it.'
Newman went wild, using brute force to clear the route to the car. He opened the rear door and, gently, Tweed carried Lisa inside, sitting down with her head on his lap. The rear door was slammed shut, Newman got behind the wheel. The car took off like a rocket, Newman keeping one hand on the horn, blaring non-stop.
CHAPTER 9
They had been waiting at the clinic for an hour. Newman sat on a chair against a wall in the gleaming white-walled corridor. Tweed was pacing up and down, couldn't keep still.
'Why are they taking so long?' growled Tweed.
'They have to give her a thorough examination, I expect,' said Newman. 'She's in a private ward?'
'All the wards are private here. Who were you calling on that wretched mobile?'
'Harry, so he knew where we were. He's on his way…'
He stopped speaking as Butler appeared, hurrying down the corridor. His face was damp with sweat and he had obviously moved after hearing from Newman.
'How is she?' he asked.
'We don't know yet.'
The consultant, Mr Master, a friend of Tweed's, appeared in the corridor accompanied by a tall horse-faced sister Tweed immediately took a dislike to. Master looked at all three visitors with a serious face.
'I have a problem, Tweed…'
'Damnit, how is she? That's what we want to know.'
'Of course. She has concussion at least. The odd thing is she's now conscious and desperately anxious to see you. It can only be for a few minutes. Oh, this is Sister Vandel who will be looking after her.'
'Mr Master, I don't agree with her seeing anyone now,' snapped Vandel.