Rhinoceros (24 page)

'Echoes of Jason Schulz,' Mark commented. 'Found
slumped down at the bottom of a tree trunk, the gun
clasped in his hand. He should have toppled sideways.'

'Echoes of Jeremy Mordaunt,' Tweed said. 'And I saw
the body. I've just decided - after what Bob told us - that
I'll call in at the Ministry of Armaments on the off chance
Gavin Thunder is behind his desk.'

'Want me to come with you?' Paula suggested.

'No. From what I've heard of Gavin, a married man,
no less, he'll ask you for your home phone number. I'm
going now.'

Lord Barford was sitting in his study in the manor. From
the windows he could see the sweep of the rolling Downs,
the sun reflecting off a quarry face. He had unlocked a
drawer in his desk and was studying a ticket he had bought
at Heathrow the previous evening. Yet another journey
into Europe loomed. He shoved it quickly inside a large leather wallet as his younger son, Aubrey, came in.
'Well, Pater, I was early to meet you at Heathrow last
night,' Aubrey remarked as he sat down and languidly
crossed his legs.

'What's that red mark round your forehead?' Barford
growled. 'You haven't been tearing around on that motorcycle with a filly on the pillion, I hope.'

'Given up the old motorbike. That red mark is a riding
cap I wore which was too small for me.'

'So you say. How can I believe one bloody word you say?
Incidentally, I'm off again on business tomorrow. An early
start. Not sure how long I'll be away.'

'Can I drive you up to Heathrow, Pater?'

'No. The chopper will get me there.' Barford made sure
the drawer containing the leather wallet was locked. 'I'm
off to bathe . . .'

When Lord Barford had gone, Aubrey began poking
round the study. For the second time he picked up the French newspaper which had arrived a week ago. His
father had several foreign papers delivered to him by
air mail.

Settling himself comfortably, after raiding his father's
cocktail cabinet and helping himself to a double Scotch, he reread the item. It reported the return of Louis Lospin
to Paris after conferring with the police in Corsica about
the bandit problem on the island.

Inside the control room of his house, Eagle's Nest, below
the quarry on the Downs, Rondel pressed the lever that elevated the apparatus up the chimney-like tower. Then
he went outside into the warm night and watched and
listened.

The device rose smoothly, noiselessly appeared out of the chimney's mouth, continued to rise until its targeting
apparatus focused above the rim of the Downs. Satisfied, Rondel returned to the control room, pressed another lever which withdrew the system down and inside the chimney.

'Is you ready for dinner, sir?' Mrs Grimwood asked
when he walked into the spacious dining room. 'Cook
has roasted a nice chicken for you. She left you to choose
the wine, as usual.'

'Good. I shall be going abroad tomorrow. May be absent
for quite a while. Phone you when I'm returning.'

'My. You do travel, sir. I'd be tired out if I had to travel
as much as you do. All those trips by airplane.'

'That's modern business. And I think I'm ready for
a meal.'

When he was away Mrs Grimwood often used one of
his older cars in the evening to drive to a pub in Alfriston.
She loved the gossip. 'Was it true Mildred was expectin'?
And 'er not married . . .'

There were times when a friend would ask her where
Rondel had gone to this time. Always seemed to be
gallivantin' off, the friend would comment hopefully. Then
Mrs Grimwood, after
taking another sip at her strong gin, would look mysterious.

'Now, Elsie, you know I can't talk about me employer.
Not right 'an 'e 'as secrets. Mum's the word.'

The truth was that Mrs Grimwood hadn't an idea on
earth where Rondel disappeared to.

CHAPTER 14

The junior civil servant seated behind his desk in the
entrance hall of the Ministry of Armaments stared stiffly
at Tweed. His attitude suggested some sacred protocol had been abused.

'The Minister cannot possibly see anyone who has not
made an appointment.'

'Tell him my name. He will see
me.'

'I have to tell you that is impossible. Without an—'

'Look at this.' Tweed produced his SIS folder, opened
and closed it before it was possible to see what was inside.
'Now, if you want to keep your job, stop wasting my time
and get on with it. You will find yourself in a most difficult
position if I report your obstruction.'

Tweed's manner was autocratic, a pose he rarely adopted.
He did, however, know how to deal with government
officials full of their own self-importance. He twirled the
rolled umbrella he rarely carried. His whole aura sug
gested someone who was a high-ranking member of the
Establishment.

I'll see what I can do,' the arrogant young man said, getting up slowly from behind his desk. 'Tweed, you said the name was?'

'Didn't you hear me the first time?' Tweed snapped.

Thoroughly cowed now and uneasy, the young man
hurried up the large staircase Tweed had mounted on his earlier visit. When he glanced down from the first
floor, Tweed was making a ceremony of checking his
watch.

A minute later, Tweed was ushered into the Minister's large office. He came forward from behind his massive
desk, hand extended.

'My dear Tweed, how good to see you. Do sit down. Coffee - or something stronger?'

'No, thank you, Gavin.'

'You're here, I'm sure,' Thunder said, sitting on a
couch facing his visitor, 'to tell me whether you're still
investigating the case of the unfortunate Jeremy Mordaunt.
I know you asked Superintendent Buchanan to attend the
coroner's inquest.'

'I was called away on a very urgent matter.'

Thunder was in his most amiable mood. He had a
habit of stroking people he wished to use, stroking them
verbally.

'Of course. You have so much responsibility. As you
wanted, Buchanan asked for - and obtained - an adjournment, pending further investigation. Or have you now decided it was suicide and therefore the case is closed?'

'No. And it wasn't suicide. It was murder.' Was it
Tweed's imagination or had he detected a flicker of dis
appointment in Thunder's large dark eyes? 'In fact,' he
continued, 'I suspect Mordaunt's murder was part of
a far larger picture which may well have international
implications.'

'International?' Thunder's long foxy face went blank.
'How do you make that out?'

'Because the same man who killed Mordaunt had earlier
murdered Jason Schulz in Washington. Now we hear Louis
Lospin has been assassinated in Paris.'

'I see.' Thunder took out a gold cigarette case, lit a menthol. 'This is so startling I can hardly believe it.'

'You'd better,' Tweed went on relentlessly. 'Exactly the same
modus operandi
was used in all the murders.

I won't bore you with the details. Take my word for
it.'

'Of course, if you say so.'

There was a long pause. Then Tweed continued.

'Furthermore, another strange matter I'm investigating
has led me to think it could be linked with the three murders.'

'And . . . ?' Thunder reached for a crystal ashtray,
stubbed out his cigarette. '. . . Can you give me a hint
of what you referred to as another strange matter?'

'Only when I have solved the whole mystery. Then I will
be able to give you a full report.'

'I see . . .' The gold case appeared again, another men
thol was lit. 'Have you any idea when that will be?'

'You never can tell. But I expect you'll be here if it is solved quickly.'

'I could be away.' Thunder was choosing his words carefully. 'Not for more than a week, I expect. A visit to
a country interested in negotiating a big arms deal with
us. A lot of money could be at stake for Britain. If that
happened I'd call you when I got back.'

He was stubbing out his second cigarette, hardly smoked,
as though the interview was nearing its conclusion.

'Are you prepared for the second - and much more
dangerous - outbreak of riots?' Tweed asked suddenly.

Thunder's right hand went towards the pocket contain
ing the gold cigarette case. He changed his mind, relaxed,
folded both hands behind his neck.

'You really think this is on the cards?'

'Don't you?'

'I was going to tell you, Tweed. When we had those
riots weeks and weeks ago I had a small SAS team ready.
We did not need to call on their services.' He smiled.
'It was based not five hundred yards from where we're
sitting.'

It would be,
Tweed thought,
so it could protect Downing
Street and the Ministries, including your own.
He looked at
his watch.

'I think I should go now. Thank you for your time.'
'And you will keep me informed of your investigation
into what you called another strange matter?' Thunder said
as he followed Tweed to the door, opened it for him.
'Only when I have solved a very complex mystery . . .'
As Tweed left the building he was satisfied that he had
left behind a thoroughly rattled Gavin Thunder.

'Bad news, Tweed. I'm furious.'

The phone call from Roy Buchanan had come through within five minutes of Tweed returning to Park Crescent.

'What is it, Roy?' Tweed enquired. 'You do sound
livid.'

'I am. You recall those two thugs who were going to kill
Helga Trent's sister, Lisa? Barton and Panko?'

'Yes.'

'Well, they've escaped from custody already and they're
on the loose. I had given strict instructions they were to
be held in a top-security prison, Parkhurst on the Isle
of Wight. Some idiot ignored my orders, sent them to a certain prison in London noted for its insecurity.'

'When did this happen? How did they manage it?'

'Last night. They put a warder in hospital — seriously
injured and recovery unlikely. How? The old trick - they
smuggled themselves inside the laundry truck just before it
was leaving. The driver ran into traffic, had to stop several times, so obviously they left the truck during one of those
stops and vanished. I have put out an alert - armed and dangerous.'